#i should have maybe just told them to pick the other option for that task since they clearly completely missed the point of this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttywonwoo · 3 years

Text

high-rise || k.sy x reader

Summary: (ceo!au… ish) walking around your apartment naked has never been a problem, since you live in a high-rise and no one can see in, at least that’s what you thought…

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

Word Count: 9.1k

a/n: reworked this piece originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

additional warnings: mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, spanking, choking, degradation, sir kink if you squint

Your scarf was the first thing to hit the floor, followed shortly by your blazer. You toed off your heels as you simultaneously fumbled with the zipper on the back of your skirt, cursing when the fabric snagged the metal teeth. You were sweating with effort by the time you started rolling off your tights, making the task at hand that much more difficult. You kept your button-down on and kicked the rest of the clothes to the side, making a mental note to add them to the laundry later.

One of the (admittedly many) perks of living in a New York City penthouse was the view. Your apartment was ninety percent windows, which were a bitch to clean, but the sights you were privy to made it all worth it.

Manhattan was beautiful at any time of day, but you especially enjoyed it in the evenings. By the time you got home from work the late afternoon sun had begun to set, and you got to watch the soft pinks and oranges of the sunset fade into dusk. Rainy days and snowy days were up there on the list too. You were so high up that your apartment sometimes found itself submerged in the middle of a cloud. You could watch the rain fall onto the city below, or try to make out the horizon through the fog.

Even though your apartment was practically a glass box, being so high up offered you the luxury of privacy, which was why you usually didn’t bother with clothes. The only reason you were still wearing your shirt now was to shake off the chill from outside, but it would soon join the pile by the door.

You turned on the gas fireplace in the living room before making your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of the white wine you had opened earlier that week. It was a gift from a client, and not something you would have picked for yourself, but alcohol was alcohol and you wouldn’t dream of letting it go to waste.

You knew you should probably eat something before diving back into the paperwork you had brought home with you, but you were itching to get to it. You would never admit it, but your relationship with your job wasn’t the healthiest. All of your friends knew you were married to your work. Your colleagues and bosses knew it too. And deep down so did you. Maybe that’s why you hadn’t been on a date in... a while. It’s what you told yourself.

Even as you were perusing the options of takeout containers full of leftovers in your fridge you couldn’t stop thinking about the files waiting for you in your briefcase. You had to go over resumès and applications for an open position in your company to familiarize yourself with the candidates before you interviewed them in-person tomorrow.

Your fridge beeped at you, letting you know its door was still open as if you had walked away and forgotten to close it, unaware that you were still standing right in front of it.

“I know, I know,” you sighed and grabbed the styrofoam box of half-eaten sarme from your favorite Albanian restaurant down the street.

As the food warmed in the microwave, you gave in to the urge and retrieved your briefcase from by the door, discarding your shirt with your other clothes while you were over there.

You were just in your panties now, a thong if you were being specific. As much as you hated wearing them, they were the only underwear that wouldn’t show through your skirts and slacks.

You settled on the floor in front of the coffee table with your glass of wine and folder full of documents. The fire burned steadily as you flipped through them and made notes in the margins. Your cabbage rolls were lukewarm around the edges and cold in the middle, but still good nonetheless and you finished the rest. You had been hungrier than you thought.

“Mark Wescott... graduated from Georgetown University in 2013, nice! With a degree in... business admin... real fucking original,” you muttered to yourself, “but he’s got good references and decent experience... so... maybe?”

You uncapped the yellow highlighter in your hand with your teeth and ran it over his name and info at the top. You had a color-coded system for applicants. Pink for top priority, yellow for mid, and orange for low.

“None of these are impressive,” you decided after combing through all of the applications. You shook your head at the stack of papers and pushed them to the side. “Maybe they’ll be better in-person.”

You knew that wasn’t true, but it was getting late and you knew you should get at least a little bit of sleep before tomorrow. You had a lot riding on this hire, so you knew you needed to be coherent enough to sit through eight hours of interviews.

You brought your glass of wine to your lips and downed the last of it. “Here’s to hoping we’ll find the one.”

Soonyoung ran a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh. He was already overwhelmed just looking at the stacks of cardboard boxes in front of him, he couldn’t even think about unpacking them yet.

He needed to find the box with all of his suits, at the very least. He couldn’t roll up to his interview tomorrow in the gray sweats and t-shirt he was wearing now, not if he actually wanted the job.

Moving into his new place the day before an interview had been a good idea in theory. But as he grabbed the box cutter from the counter and started slicing open random boxes with no sense of direction Soonyoung was beginning to rethink his decision.

“Why didn’t I label any of these?” he muttered to himself, cursing at yet another box full of DVDs.

It didn’t help that everything was wrapped in newspaper and impossible to identify at first glance. He knew it helped protect things from breaking and shifting around during travel, but it was already making the task at hand twice as long. He had planned to route the walk from the subway station to the office that evening. He wanted to practice the commute and time it so that he wouldn’t be late in the morning, but as the sunlight began to dwindle from the room he knew he wouldn’t have time. He would just have to get up extra early tomorrow.

At least the new apartment was nice. His last job back in Seoul had set him up nicely to be able to afford a place in the heart of Manhattan. It was on the small side compared to what he was used to, but he didn’t need much space since it was just him living there.

Everything was up to date and all of the appliances were brand new. There was an in-unit washer and dryer tucked away in one of the closets, and the dining area had real exposed brick walls. Soonyoung didn’t know what those things meant, but his realtor had told him they were good.

The sun had set completely by the time Soonyoung finally found his suits. He’d had to plug in one of his table lamps and set it on the floor in the middle of searching just to be able to see what he was looking at.

He hung a few options up in his new closet, hoping some of the wrinkles would ease from the fabric overnight.

With that done, Soonyoung figured he might as well unpack some of the boxes he’d already opened. It wasn’t efficient work, seeing as he had neglected to label anything, but Soonyoung managed to put away some dishes, shoes, and miscellaneous sheets and towels before he finally checked the clock again and realized how late it was.

Most of the windows in the surrounding buildings had already gone dark for the night, except for those of the apartment directly across from his. It was in the only other high-rise that was as tall as his, making the illuminated unit at the top stick out even more.

It was then that Soonyoung realized he could see directly into the apartment. He smiled to himself, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone in being up at such a late hour. He wondered who his night-owl of a neighbor might be. His question was answered moments later when a shadow of movement caught his attention.

A woman who looked to be about his age emerged from a hallway carrying a stack of papers. He couldn’t make out the details of her face from where he was, but as she stepped into the light he could tell that she was naked.

Soonyoung immediately averted his gaze, snapping his head in the opposite direction so fast that he heard his neck crack. He gave it a second or two before looking back, assuming she was gone annnd nope. He squeezed his eyes shut a second time and turned his entire body away from the window. Now she was just... sitting in her living room? Completely naked? He wasn’t one to judge, but the knowledge alone was enough to make being a gentleman harder... amongst other things.

“Focus,” he told himself, resisting the urge to glance at the window. “Don’t be a creep.”

He attempted to resume his unpacking, only to find himself distracted every few minutes, sneaking glances at the window unconsciously. Every time he caught himself looking he was doused in a fresh wave of guilt. He knew it was wrong, but for whatever reason he couldn’t stop himself. The irony of being a peeping tom was not lost on him.

Soonyoung watched as the girl in the window stood from her spot on the floor and stretched, watched as her muscles tensed and relaxed when she raised her arms above her head. A mix of shame and arousal burned in his stomach as his eyes traced the outline of her curves.

All of the sudden it occurred to him that she could also probably see into his apartment. If she were to look over right now she’d see him standing like an idiot in the window practically gawking at her from fifty feet away. He panicked and lunged to turn off the lamp that was still sitting on the floor so that the whole room went dark.

That night as he lay in bed trying to fall asleep, Soonyoung thought about the stranger across the way. He wondered if there was a reason for her state of undress. If she had been waiting for someone, or if that someone had just left. Was that why she was up as late as he was? At least she was getting some. He wished he could say the same for himself.

“This is starting to get sad,” he mumbled and buried his face in his hands. ‘Starting to’ was being generous and he knew it.

He wished the morning would come, wished he was on his way to his job interview already, but every time he checked the time only a few minutes had gone by. He knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep anyway, at least if it was morning he’d be able to do something productive and get his mind off the girl in the window.

Soonyoung rolled over away from his bedroom window and pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders. He could hear ambulance sirens and car horns from the street down below, the ambience of the traffic lulling the city to sleep.

Your morning started like any other. Your alarm went off at six-thirty and you snoozed it until seven, groaning when you finally dragged yourself out of bed. You turned on the shower and brewed a pot of coffee while you waited for the water to heat up.

You had been trying to get into tea recently, slowly working on cutting coffee out of your life completely and making the switch to the much healthier alternative. Tea had less caffeine and offered a whole range of health benefits that coffee didn’t. You’d read endless articles about how much better it was for you, but it wasn’t as coffee

The switch would be going a lot better if you didn’t let yourself make excuses to keep drinking coffee every morning. It would probably also be going a lot better if you weren’t guilt-chugging that cup (or two) of coffee before leaving your apartment six minutes earlier than usual to catch the 8:00 train instead of the 8:10 train just so you could grab a to-go cup of earl gray from the tea shop down the street from your office and drink that as you walked into work so that you could continue to keep up the charade that your tea-drinking endeavors were going well in front of your coworkers.

The glass was already foggy when you returned to take your shower. You wanted to be at the office early today to set up for the interviews so you tied up your hair and quickly rinsed off. The soapy water hadn’t even finished draining from the tile floor before you were out and wrapping yourself up in a towel.

You dried yourself off and dropped the towel in your hamper, not bothering with clothes yet. You walked back into the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of coffee.

You sipped it as you turned on the stove and cracked an egg into a pan. You usually liked to have a bagel or a quick granola bar before work, but when you were feeling fancy you liked to make yourself a couple slices of avocado toast for breakfast. You had decided that today was a fancy day.

You popped the bread in the toaster as the eggs fried and sliced a ripe avocado in the meantime. As soon as you were done with that, it was time to flip the eggs and put the toast on a plate.

You finished your first cup of coffee and went to pour yourself a second, but thought better of it. You’d be sitting in one place for a majority of the day and too much caffeine would make you fidgety and anxious if you didn’t have a way to diffuse the energy.

You ate your breakfast at the bar in your kitchen, looking over the stack of resumes one last time as you did.

“Are you ready for today?” one of your supervisors, Carolina, asked as soon as she saw you walk in the door.

You took a sip of tea from the paper cup in your hand and grimaced. “I’ve been dreading it all week.”

“At least it’ll be over by tonight.”

“Sure, this round will be over, but then there’s still follow-up interviews and training and-”

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is the worst part, and we’ve just got to take it one thing at a time.”

You sighed. “You’re right, sorry.”

Carolina smiled and nodded her head in the direction of the hall. “Conference Room B is all set up for you when you’re ready. Page me to let me know when I can send the candidates in.”

“Got it, thanks.”

You set yourself up with your laptop and paperwork at one end of the table, and left the seat across from you open for the interviewee.

The morning dragged by at an agonizingly slow pace. Each potential hire seemed determined to bore you to death with their graduate school anecdotes and corporate buzzwords. They were all the same. Too stiff, too self-absorbed, too-

“Y/n, we’ve got your next one ready for you.”

You cleared your throat before pressing the speak button on the intercom, having been lost in thought when Carolina’s voice began echoing throughout the room.

“Sounds good, you can send them over to me.”

You sat up a little straighter in your chair and brushed yourself off. You’d been interviewing for a couple hours straight already, but you still wanted to look fresh-faced for everyone who came in. You were representing the company, after all, and interviews were just as much about trying to impress the candidates as it was about them trying to impress you.

You reached for your cup of tea before remembering it had probably long since gone cold and grimaced, perking up when you heard the familiar squeak of the door.

The young man offered you his hand before settling in the chair opposite yours with a polite smile.

“Mr.... Kwon,” you said, reading his name off of his resume in front of you. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he agreed. “And you can call me Soonyoung.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. Straight past his last name and right to Soonyoung, interesting you mused to yourself as you scanned his profile again.

“Nice to meet you, Soonyoung. I’m y/n y/l/n. I’m a Senior Associate here and I’m just going to ask you a few questions about yourself, your work, typical interview stuff. Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

You paused and pretended to organize the papers in front of you while you discreetly gave him a once-over, making mental notes to yourself. He wore a Rolex on his left wrist. That told you that his last job had paid well enough to be able to afford one- either that or his parents came from money. You had a lot of trust-fund kids wasting your time today, you hoped he wasn’t another. Your office already reeked of nepotism and you just wanted this new hire to be on your side of things.

He was rather handsome too. Smartly dressed, sharp jawline, hair that was just barely tamed by gel, warm brown eyes that crinkled up in the corners when he smiled- you had to remind yourself not to stare.

“Alright, Soonyoung, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” The question always tasted bitter when you asked it and it was hard not to cringe. It was the most basic question in the book, but it was a good way to get to know what kind of an employee someone was.

“Uh, well, I just moved here from Seoul. I got in yesterday afternoon and still have loads to unpack, but I’m hoping to adjust quick. I was an Executive Consultant for five years at my last firm, and had just been promoted to Executive Manager last spring.” He paused to think. “What else... I really love to golf on my days off, and if I’m not golfing I’m usually at home watching movies.”

“A lot of our clients like to golf,” you commented off-handedly. “Are you any good?”

Soonyoung shrugged, smiling humbly. “I’m decent. I haven’t had the chance to play for real in a while.”

“Why’s that?” you were aware you were moving away from interview territory, but you told yourself it was relevant enough to pursue.

“Most of my recent games were taking clients out to golf at my old firm. I had to play like shit on purpose so they’d win and we’d close a deal.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe they were just better than you?” you asked.

Soonyoung narrowed his eyes the tiniest bit, but kept a polite smile on his face. “Trust me, I had to try very hard to lose.”

“So you had a pretty successful closing rate?”

“About twenty-six percent.”

You tried to hide your surprise, nodding as if that was a completely normal closing rate for your company.

“May I ask why you moved?” you continued.

“I’ve lived in Seoul my entire life. I wanted a change of scenery, I suppose.”

“Moving across the globe without the security of a job? That seems like quite a big risk.”

He gave another shrug. “What’s life without a few risks?”

You nodded, writing what he’d said down on the yellow notepad in front of you. Soonyoung shifted in his seat, subtly craning his neck to see across the table at what you were jotting down.

“Moving on,” you said and flipped the notebook over abruptly. The slap of the movement startled Soonyoung momentarily and he only let the deer-in-the-headlights look cross his features for a second before recomposing himself. “Do you consider yourself to be a leader or a follower?”

“I’m a switch,” he answered easily, eyes only widening in realization once the sentence left his mouth. “I mean, I can switch. I was in a management position at my last job, but I still had plenty of superiors to answer to. I started at an entry level in that company and worked my way up, so I have experience with both.”

“And do you have any qualms with being a subordinate to a woman? I ask because if you’re offered the position I would be your boss.”

Soonyoung shook his head in response, giving a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “Like I said.”

The rest of the interview passed by smoothly, and you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you glanced up at the clock above the door. You straightened the stack of papers in front of you to indicate that you were wrapping things up and stood from your chair to shake Soonyoung’s hand again.

“To be completely candid, Mr. Kwon- Soonyoung, you are overqualified for this position. However, our company offers plenty of mobility and your starting salary would be almost equal to your previous one. If you’re interested, I’d like to set up a follow-up interview with you tomorrow.”

Soonyoung smiled, and there went the crinkles of his eyes again, softening the sharpness of his features and making him look a couple years younger. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.”

“Great. On your way out you can schedule a time to meet with Carolina.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he assured you. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow?” you hoped the question didn’t sound too hopeful.

“See you tomorrow.”

You went home feeling a thousand times better than you had that morning. The rest of the interviews had been a blur, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Soonyoung. He surpassed all of the other candidates in almost every aspect, and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

You knew your attraction to him was a problem. You couldn’t hire someone just because you thought they were hot. It was insanely biased, and extremely inappropriate, yet you couldn’t shake the thought of him from your mind. You would be crossing every line in the existence of lines by sleeping with him- that was, if he even felt the same way about you. It would be an unethical use of power, and totally unprofessional so you resolved not to even think about him in that way. Because there was no way around it. He was the best candidate for the job and a perfect addition to your team. You couldn’t not hire him.

The route home usually took about half an hour, but you walked at a faster pace this time because you were supposed to have dinner with a colleague at your apartment and you needed time to cook so there’d be food on the table when he got there.

You made it home in half the time, and kicked off your shoes by the door like you usually did, but kept your work clothes on.

To say you were unprepared for this dinner was an understatement. You barely had anything in your pantry and your cooking skills were subpar at best. Add the time crunch into the equation and it was a recipe for disaster. You could only throw a pot of water on the stove and crack open a jar of marinara sauce and hope for the best.

Soonyoung tried not to smile too wide as he walked out of the interview. He needed to remind himself that the job wasn’t his yet. He still had another interview to get through. Still, he figured a follow-up to be somewhat of a success and a good enough reason to treat himself to pizza.

By the time he made it back to his apartment it was almost dark out. His interview had been in the morning, but after walking two miles to get to the pizzeria he’d found on Yelp, getting on the wrong train twice and missing his stop, it was well into the afternoon. He was glad he’d ordered a whole pizza so he could have the leftovers for dinner, and wouldn’t have to venture out into the city again.

The cardboard boxes sprawled across his living room floor were an unwelcome sight, taunting him with their unlabeled contents, but he tried not to think about it. He deserved at least an hour of rest before he started unpacking again.

He pushed one of the heavier ones into the center of the room to use as a table and set the pizza box on top of it. After changing back into a t-shirt and sweats he settled on the floor with a grunt, twisting the cap off a bottle of beer with the hem of his shirt. He took a sip and let the bubbles soothe his throat.

He stared off out the window, attention snapping to the apartment across from his. Soonyoung realized he hadn’t thought about the girl in the window all day, and silently patted himself on the back for it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to live with, and he wouldn’t have to spiral into a pattern of self-loathing every time he found himself looking. As long as he kept himself in check.

He let himself look for a little longer, promising himself that he would look away if he saw anything he wasn’t supposed to. The lights were on, like they had been last night, but he didn’t see the woman. He scanned the array of windows until he saw her sitting at the kitchen table. She wasn’t alone tonight. There was another person at the table with her, a man.

Soonyoung bit his lip and tried to ignore the way his heart sank. He didn’t even know this person, didn’t even know what her face looked like and here he was getting jealous of another person he didn’t know.

He tore his gaze away from the window and stared down at the floor.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself and took another bite of his pizza even though he had lost his appetite.

People had crushes on strangers all the time. His would fade and soon he wouldn’t even be thinking of whoever it was in that apartment across the way. And if things went well with tomorrow’s interview, he had you. He hadn’t expected to be interviewed by someone his age, let alone someone as pretty as you. It had caught him off guard in the best way possible, and he found himself hanging onto every word you said.

But he wouldn’t be able to act on his feelings with you either, because if he was hired you would be his boss. And it would be completely inappropriate to harbor feelings like that for a colleague. He’d only lived here for a day. He would meet someone eventually. He just needed to give it time.

Joshua Hong wasn’t in town for long. He never was. You wondered why he bothered flying all the way to New York for a few conferences when he could just join them online, but he insisted that having face-to-face interactions were important for interpersonal connections and relationship building and so on.

Secretly, you believed the real reason to be that he missed you and your colleagues on the east coast and used business as an excuse to see you. He had lived in New York for a few years before moving to the LA division of your company. The shift in the dynamic of your team had taken a toll, and it took you months to forgive him for leaving. The first few times he came back to visit were nearly impossible to endure. Everyone was happy to see him, but you. You faked a smile and played along, but your relationship had never fully recovered.

Maybe it was because you’d always had a little crush on him, or because no one was there to take his place, leaving your team dividing his workload amongst yourselves with no additional compensation. The position you were currently hiring for actually used to be Joshua’s. It had taken nine months to convince the CEO to finally fill it, and he only agreed after one of your coworkers threatened to sue over breach of contract.

Even though you were certain that you and Joshua would never be as close as you had once been again, he still had you wrapped around his finger in some ways because you could never say no to him. When he’d asked to have dinner with you under the guise of work, you’d agreed on instinct, not considering how tired you would be or how strenuous it would be to see him again.

“This is really good,” Joshua complimented, twirling spaghetti around on his fork.

“You’re just saying that,” you countered and rolled your eyes as you sipped your wine.

“I’m not!”

“Please, I know LA has ruined you and turned you into a food snob. I watch your Instagram stories.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t love a good classic.”

“You and I both know this marinara is from a jar.”

He chuckled. “So? That doesn’t change the fact that it’s good.”

“Whatever.”

Joshua gave you an amused smile from across the table and placed his fork back down on his plate. “So I hear they’re finally replacing me?”

You nodded. “They are. ‘They’ being me.”

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Anyone promising?”

“There’s this guy, Soonyoung, who might fit.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s Korean, actually just moved here. He’s pretty charismatic too, but not in a sleazy salesman way. Kind of like you.”

“Is he better than me?” Joshua pressed, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“You know there’s no way to tell that yet,” you chided. “But he shows promise.”

“Let me see his profile.”

You shook your head. “Sorry, but you don’t have the clearance to see it.”

Joshua’s eyes widened like he couldn’t believe you were saying no to him, probably because he rarely heard it from you. “What, do we work in a government agency all of the sudden?”

“I have a lot riding on this hire, Joshua. I can’t let anything screw it up.” He seemed to surrender at that, nodding in understanding. “Did you ask me to dinner just to grill me about the new guy?”

“No! I wanted to see you,” he paused, “and make sure that you wouldn’t forget about me when I was replaced.”

You sighed, giving him a tired, perhaps wistful look. “Trust me, I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

Joshua left around eleven, after several glasses of wine and helping you with the dishes. As much as you hated to admit it, you missed him. But you needed to move on, in more ways than one.

You stripped as soon as you locked the door behind him and threw your work clothes into the laundry basket.

You were a little tipsy from the wine, but you still had work to do before you could go to sleep. There was paperwork to finalize, and you still had to draft a rejection email for all of the candidates who weren’t moving on in the interviewing process.

You grabbed your briefcase and returned to the kitchen table, rolling your neck as you realized you had another long night ahead of you.

Soonyoung wasn’t aware that he was staring until the man stood from his seat and took the dishes from the table to the sink. The sudden motion pulled him back to reality and reminded him that he was sitting alone in the dark once again. He cursed under his breath and chugged the rest of his beer.

His pizza had gone cold in the time he’d spent trying to determine the relationship between the man and the woman in the apartment across from his. He couldn’t tell what they were, and not being able to read their facial expressions made it even harder.

He watched as they washed dishes shoulder to shoulder, telling himself that it was no different from people watching, which was untrue since the people in question weren’t in public, but he ignored the guilt twisting in his stomach and continued to watch. At least no one was naked this time.

The woman’s shoulders moved up and down in laughter, suggesting the man had said something funny. But then she was walking him to the door and letting him out, and that was it. Show was over.

So they weren’t together. At least, not yet. Soonyoung hated himself for the conclusion he’d just drawn, and he hated himself even more for feeling relieved.

Soonyoung leaned back to reach the lamp that was still on the floor and flicked it on so that he could see. He shoved the leftover pizza into the back of his fridge and returned to the living room to try and get a little more unpacking done.

He started with one of the boxes he’d opened the day before when he had been in search of his suits, and began sorting through its contents. He allowed himself another glance at the window to check if the man had returned, only to see the woman completely naked. Again.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he groaned and forcefully turned his eyes to the floor. He needed to buy some curtains as soon as possible because there was no way he would be able to be a respectful neighbor otherwise.

He blinked the image of her silhouette from his mind, trying not to dwell on the thought of her sitting at her kitchen table with nothing between her thighs and the chair.

He couldn’t focus. Every time he tried to get back to the task at hand his thoughts went to her. It was getting pathetic.

One more look. One more and then never again.

It seemed like a simple enough resolution and he promised God he would go to confession at the end of the week- even though it had been years since he’d been to mass.

He gave in to his curiosity and gave the window one final, longing glance. The woman was still at the table, concentrating on something in front of her. But something else caught Soonyoung’s attention this time. It was a snakeskin briefcase that sat on the table next to her. He had only noticed it because of the gold details on the bag that reflected the light, just like the one you-

A thousand different emotions flooded Soonyoung’s senses as the realization set in. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. There was no way-

It had to be a coincidence. Had to be. Two people could have the same briefcase... and the same body... and the same hair. As he thought back to his interview earlier that day he saw more and more similarities between you and the girl in the window.

He definitely needed to go to confession now. Not only had he been staring in the window of some naked woman, the woman might just be his future boss.

He felt sick, and despite it all he felt the familiar burn of arousal flicker to life in his stomach. There was no way he’d be getting any sleep tonight.

Soonyoung seemed different. Yesterday he had been confident, charming, and on top of every question you threw at him. Today, he seemed nervous. He was fidgety and distracted. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with you. He kept his gaze trained on your briefcase instead, refusing to take his eyes off of it.

You had been so sure that he was the one, but now you were thinking you might have to start from scratch.

“Soonyoung, are you okay?” you asked, your frustration turning into concern when he failed to answer your question for the third time. “Do you need me to repeat the question again?”

He looked up at you finally, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “Sorry,” he apologized.

“It’s okay.”

“No, I- I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I- fuck,” he paused to take a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t know how to put this, but I think... we’re neighbors.”

“Oh, you live in my building?”

You didn’t see a problem with that. You weren’t sure why it was something he would be tearing himself up over either.

“No, I don’t.”

“So... then how would we be neighbors?”

He averted his gaze again and swallowed harshly. “I live in the high-rise across from yours.”

You raised your eyebrows in question, feeling your pulse jump in warning. Your fingers inched toward the phone, ready to call security at a moment’s notice.

“And fuck, I really wanted this job, but um, I only know that because my apartment is literally right across from yours. And you have a lot of windows... that I can see into.”

You let his words sink in, hand retreating from the phone. “Oh my god.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to look or anything, I promise. Your windows are just so big. I didn’t even want to come in today because I felt so bad about it, but I figured you should know that it was possible to see into your apartment. Like other people might also be able to see you too. I just came to tell you that because I don’t think I’d be able to live my life just knowing that information and not telling you.” Soonyoung stopped talking finally, giving you an opportunity to respond. The tips of his ears were red with embarrassment and he looked like he wanted to jump out the window.

You were covering your mouth with shock by now, absolutely mortified. “I am so sorry,” you yelped. “I had no idea, oh my god. I hope you don’t feel... violated or anything.”

“Oh, not at all,” he assured you. “I felt the opposite, actually- I mean, I hope you don’t feel violated.” He stood from his chair before you could say anything else. “Anyway, thank you for your time.”

Soonyoung kicked himself the whole way to the subway station. That job had been the best opportunity he had at breaking into the industry here in New York and he’d fucked it. He could’ve kept his big mouth shut and pretended like everything was normal- but just the thought of that made bile rise in the back of his throat.

No, he was glad he had been honest. It just sucked that he’d lost such a good position, and ruined whatever nonexistent chance he had with you.

When he got home he threw all of his energy into unpacking. He was determined to make a real dent in the pile of boxes this time, and then maybe afterward fill out some job applications.

His apartment was actually starting to look livable by the time he took a break to eat leftover pizza for dinner. He’d unwrapped the plastic covering and bubble wrap from his couch so that he actually had a place to sit now, and he’d found a standing lamp to replace the table lamp sitting on the floor.

He was about to move on to a box full of clothes when he risked taking a look over at your apartment. To his surprise, you were standing in your living room, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. He furrowed his eyes in confusion, wondering why you were still choosing to walk around your apartment undressed with the knowledge that he could see you. But before he could look away his phone started buzzing in his pocket. It was an unsaved number, but he suddenly had the feeling he knew who it was.

“Hello?”

“Soonyoung?”

He recognized the voice immediately, and snapped his attention back over to the windows where he could see you looking back this time, phone pressed to your ear.

“Y/n.” He realized he had never called you by your first name before, and hoped you weren’t offended by it.

“The job’s yours if you want it.”

He blinked, staring right at you. “What?”

“The position. It’s yours if you want it. You were the best candidate by far and I think you’d make a great addition to the team.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am.” He heard you take a breath before continuing. “You have time to think it over, of course. Let me know by the weekend.”

“I don’t need time to think,” he heard himself say.

“No?”

“No. I’ll take it.” “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Soonyoung?” you asked, reaching behind you and unclipping your bra. You caught the fabric and pressed it against your chest so that it wouldn’t slip down.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me if I’m overstepping.”

“You’re not overstepping,” he breathed, hand already traveling down to the waistband of his shorts.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He watched with a slack jaw as you let the bra fall to the floor. You moved to the couch and draped yourself over it, opening your legs to give him a view of your whole body, from your pussy up to your neck. He pulled off his shirt and shimmied out of his shorts quickly so that you were on an even playing field. It was still uneven in his opinion. You were so beautiful, he felt inadequate in comparison. But the moan you let out upon seeing him shirtless boosted his ego the tiniest bit.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured quietly into the phone.

“I don’t want to stop,” Soonyoung admitted.

“Me either.”

His breath caught in his throat as you pulled your panties down and let them join your bra on the floor. He was too far away to see anything in detail, but he could imagine. You brought a hand down in between your legs, spreading your wetness around with your fingers.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

He was hard. He was so hard that it was starting to hurt, and all he could think about was running his cock through your folds. Being the one to make your back arch off the couch like it was now.

He spat into his palm and began working his hand up and down his cock, sighing in relief.

“You sound so pretty,” you echoed, and Soonyoung straight up whimpered in response. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “God, I wish I had your fingers instead of mine. They’re so much longer.”

“Guess you’ll just have to imagine them,” Soonyoung said, finding his voice out of nowhere. It was your turn to whimper. “Picture them working you open, stretching you for my cock.”

“Soonyoung?” you asked hoarsely.

“Yeah?”

“Come over.”

“Fuck, right now?”

“Yes, right now. I need you,” you whined. “Fiftieth floor, the door code is 0717.”

He heard the phone click as you hung up and that was all it took. He scrambled for his pants and shirt that he’d thrown somewhere in the room, tripping when he tried to jump into both legs of his shorts at the same time. He rushed out into the hallway and pressed the down button on the elevator repeatedly, like it would make it come any faster.

He tried to act like he wasn’t out of breath and held his hands together in front of his crotch in an attempt to hide his erection. The other people on the elevator ignored him, only addressing him to ask which floor he was going to.

Soonyoung swore he’d never run so fast in his entire life. He dodged taxis, bikers, and pedestrians as he crossed the street illegally and made it to the elevator of your building right before the doors shut.

You had put on a sheer robe while you waited for Soonyoung, not wanting to open the door completely naked, but you were beginning to have second thoughts. You were officially Soonyoung’s boss now, which meant that having sex with him was at the very top of the list of things you shouldn’t do. It would no doubt be considered a gross misuse of power, and to make matters worse he had literally just been hired. His first experience with you shouldn’t be in bed-

You heard the lock click and turned around to see Soonyoung standing in your doorway. He was breathing hard and practically dripping with sweat. All doubts about crossing the line vanished when you looked into his eyes and saw how dark they were. He hadn’t even said anything, yet you knew how much he wanted you.

Even more evident was the outline of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his sweat shorts. You tried not to stare, but you figured it was only fair, given how he was staring at you.

Soonyoung let the door shut behind him before approaching you. His hands trembled as he brought them up to your shoulders, like he was unsure of where to start. He slipped his thumbs under the hem of your robe finally and you shivered at the contact. You bit your lip and nodded at him to keep going.

He pulled the fabric down off your shoulders and let the robe pool at your feet. You looked down at it and then back up at him expectantly. He took the cue to follow and yanked his shirt off over his head, followed by his shorts so that he was in his underwear.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. His voice sounded an octave lower than it had been over the phone and it made your knees weak.

“Please,” you choked out.

He placed one hand on your cheek and tilted your head to the side, pressing his lips to yours. It was needy and desperate, strung with promises of what was to follow. His peppermint chapstick made your lips tingle and you leaned in, deepening the kiss. His fingers dug into your waist as he took control, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Soonyoung’s hands made their way down to your ass and squeezed, making you yelp in surprise. He chuckled against your mouth and broke away from the kiss.

“Should we move this to my bedroom?” you asked, breathless.

Soonyoung shook his head. “I want to take you here.”

“Where?”

“Here,” he repeated and nodded toward the windows.

“O-okay,” you agreed, a little unsure on the mechanics of how it would work. But Soonyoung seemed confident, beckoning you over with a wave of his hand.

“C’mere,” he said. “I know you said you wanted my fingers, but I’m dying for a taste of you,” he admitted. “Is that okay?”

You nodded desperately as you watched Soonyoung sink to his knees in front of you. He pushed his hair back with his hand and used the other to hike your leg up over his shoulder. You felt his breath on your clit before anything else, felt the way he was hovering inches in front of your cunt like a goddamn tease.

“Soonyoung, please,” you begged.

You jolted when he suddenly buried his face in between your thighs, letting out a strangled moan as his tongue circled your clit. It was all too much and you had to pull on his hair to maintain your balance. Soonyoung didn’t seem to mind too much, in fact it only spurred him on as he moved even further down and began to tongue fuck you.

His nose bumped against your clit as he worked his tongue in and out of you and it was all you could do not to black out from the pleasure. You braced yourself against the window with one hand, trying to hold off the orgasm building in the pit of your stomach.

“Soonyoung, wait,” you cried and tugged him away from your pussy by his hair.

He jutted his lip out in a pout and frowned like he was disappointed he hadn’t gotten to finish you off. His chin was glistening in your arousal and his lips were pink and swollen from sucking on your clit.

“I want you inside of me,” you pleaded. “Please, Soonyoung?”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose from his knees, smirking as he took the advantage of height back.

“Of course, angel,” he said, pulling you closer so that he could kiss you again. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue, ignoring the way he laughed at your neediness. “Turn around for me, love,” he instructed as he pushed his boxers down. “Hands on the window.”

You did as you were told and bent over. Soonyoung’s hand made contact with your ass just once, the harsh smack echoing throughout the room. You cried out, body shaking even when he ran a hand over the mark to soothe it.

He took his time lining himself up with you, wanting to tease you as much as possible before he finally gave you what you wanted. You tried pushing yourself back against him, but he was having none of it and put you back in your place every time.

“I didn’t take you for a brat,” he mused.

“I didn’t take you for a tease,” you bit back through gritted teeth.

“Yes you did.”

“Fine, but I didn’t take you for someone who was all talk and no follow-through.”

That seemed to work because Soonyoung pushed himself inside you as soon as the sentence left your mouth. You lurched forward, hands on the window slipping as you cursed him out.

“What were you saying?” he taunted, running a hand down your exposed back.

“N-nothing!”

“That’s what I thought.”

He gave you a few moments to adjust to his size, but you were too impatient to wait and began fucking yourself on his cock, desperate for the release that had built up when he was going down on you. Soonyoung brought his hand down against your ass again and stilled your hips.

“Did I say you could move?” he demanded. “Answer me.”

“No!”

“Then why did you?”

“I’m sorry!” you cried.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Your cock-” you choked out, “felt so good. I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, darling. You’re going to be a good girl for me now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer and thrust into you once, then again, slowly building up to a steady rhythm.

For a moment or two all that could be heard was the slapping of skin and your shaky gasps. Soonyoung’s cock was bigger than you expected, and each time he hit your g-spot you couldn’t help but let your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure.

You weren’t even trying to hold back your moans at this point, too fucked out to care. Soonyoung let a hand wrap around the front of your body and travel up to your throat. He rubbed his thumb along your jaw, pressing it against your lips for you to suck on.

You took it into your mouth eagerly, letting him push it further and further until you were practically gagging on it. When he was satisfied with your work he took his finger out of your mouth and wrapped the same hand around your throat, squeezing lightly.

“Fuck,” you whined.

“Are you close?” Soonyoung asked, likely because he was also teetering on the edge.

“Yes, so close.”

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” he pressed, tightening his grip on your neck. “Think anyone watching you get fucked like a slut against the window deserves to see you cum?”

“No one can see me,” you insisted. “It was only you.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t,” you admitted, feeling like the invisible string inside of you would snap at any second.

“You could have a whole audience and not even know it, y/n. What do you think, should we give them a show?”

All you could do was nod as he continued to pound into you from behind, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Soonyoung, please let me cum I can’t hold it-” you gasped as you tipped over the edge before he could respond, clenching around his cock harder than you knew you were capable of. It felt as if you were falling from the window of your apartment, hurtling toward the ground some fifty stories below.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” Soonyoung muttered, his hips faltering.

“Cum inside me, please cum inside me,” you begged. “I’m on the pill you can cum inside me.”

He came with a groan of your name, pumping his cum further into you with every thrust. “So fucking tight,” he sighed as he continued to lazily rock his hips into yours. “Is your poor cunt so sensitive now?” he asked, voice dripping with fake sympathy.

“Yes,” you answered quietly, feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes at the overstimulation.

Soonyoung pulled out of you finally, making you whimper at the empty feeling. He chuckled and helped you stand up straight, ready to catch you if your legs gave out.

“That’s what you get for cumming without permission,” he said.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumbled, eyes only half open. “I’m your boss. You should let me cum whenever I want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Soonyoung assured you.

You watched as he picked up his clothes from around your living room and wondered if you had just ruined everything. Once he was dressed he made his way back over to you and kissed you chastely on the lips. The kiss didn’t help you relax at all. It only confused your feelings for him even more.

“See you monday?” you asked hopefully. If nothing else, you hoped he would still accept the position for the sake of your team, even if things between you were awkward and he never wanted to sleep with you again-

“See you monday,” he repeated in confirmation. “And next round’s at my place.”

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sunkissedpages · 3 years

Text

high-rise || th x reader

(ty @softholand for making this lovely moodboard!!)

Summary: (ceo!au... ish) walking around your apartment naked has never been a problem, since you live in a high-rise and no one can see in, at least that's what you thought...

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

Word Count: 9.1k

Masterlist

additional warnings: mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), tiny bit of switch!tom but mostly dom, spanking, choking, degradation, sir kink if you squint

Your fridge beeped at you, letting you know its door was still open as if you had walked away and forgotten to close it, unaware that you were still standing right in front of it.

“I know, I know,” you sighed and grabbed the styrofoam box of half-eaten sarme from your favorite Albanian restaurant down the street.

As the food warmed in the microwave, you gave in to the urge and retrieved your briefcase from by the door, discarding your shirt with your other clothes while you were over there.

You were just in your panties now, a thong if you were being specific. As much as you hated wearing them, they were the only underwear that wouldn’t show through your skirts and slacks.

You brought your glass of wine to your lips and downed the last of it. “Here’s to hoping we’ll find the one.”

Tom ran a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh. He was already overwhelmed just looking at the stacks of cardboard boxes in front of him, he couldn’t even think about unpacking them yet.

“Why didn’t I label any of these?” he muttered to himself, cursing at yet another box full of DVDs.

At least the new apartment was nice. His last job back in London had set him up nicely to be able to afford a place in the heart of Manhattan. It was on the small side compared to what he was used to, but he didn’t need much space since it was just him living there.

Everything was up to date and all of the appliances were brand new. There was an in-unit washer and dryer tucked away in one of the closets, and the dining area had real exposed brick walls. Tom didn’t know what those things meant, but his realtor had told him they were good.

The sun had set completely by the time Tom finally found his suits. He’d had to plug in one of his table lamps and set it on the floor in the middle of searching just to be able to see what he was looking at.

He hung a few options up in his new closet, hoping some of the wrinkles would ease from the fabric overnight.

With that done, Tom figured he might as well unpack some of the boxes he’d already opened. It wasn’t efficient work, seeing as he had neglected to label anything, but Tom managed to put away some dishes, shoes, and miscellaneous sheets and towels before he finally checked the clock again and realized how late it was.

It was then that Tom realized he could see directly into the apartment. He smiled to himself, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone in being up at such a late hour. He wondered who his night-owl of a neighbor might be. His question was answered moments later when a shadow of movement caught his attention.

Tom immediately averted his gaze, snapping his head in the opposite direction so fast that he heard his neck crack. He gave it a second or two before looking back, assuming she was gone annnd nope. He squeezed his eyes shut a second time and turned his entire body away from the window. Now she was just... sitting in her living room? Completely naked? He wasn’t one to judge, but the knowledge alone was enough to make being a gentleman harder... amongst other things.

“Focus,” he told himself, resisting the urge to glance at the window. “Don’t be a creep.”

Tom watched as the girl in the window stood from her spot on the floor and stretched, watched as her muscles tensed and relaxed when she raised her arms above her head. A mix of shame and arousal burned in his stomach as his eyes traced the outline of her curves.

That night as he lay in bed trying to fall asleep Tom thought about the stranger across the way. He wondered if there was a reason for her state of undress. If she had been waiting for someone, or if that someone had just left. Was that why she was up as late as he was? At least she was getting some. He wished he could say the same for himself.

“This is starting to get sad,” he mumbled and buried his face in his hands. ‘Starting to’ was being generous and he knew it.

Tom rolled over away from his bedroom window and pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders. He could hear ambulance sirens and car horns from the street down below, the ambience of the traffic lulling the city to sleep.

You dried yourself off and dropped the towel in your hamper, not bothering with clothes yet. You walked back into the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of coffee.

You popped the bread in the toaster as the eggs fried and sliced a ripe avocado in the meantime. As soon as you were done with that, it was time to flip the eggs and put the toast on a plate.

You ate your breakfast at the bar in your kitchen, looking over the stack of resumes one last time as you did.

“Are you ready for today?” one of your supervisors, Carolina, asked as soon as she saw you walk in the door.

You took a sip of tea from the paper cup in your hand and grimaced. “I’ve been dreading it all week.”

“At least it’ll be over by tonight.”

“Sure, this round will be over, but then there’s still follow-up interviews and training and-”

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is the worst part, and we’ve just got to take it one thing at a time.”

You sighed. “You’re right, sorry.”

Carolina smiled and nodded her head in the direction of the hall. “Conference Room B is all set up for you when you’re ready. Page me to let me know when I can send the candidates in.”

“Got it, thanks.”

You set yourself up with your laptop and paperwork at one end of the table, and left the seat across from you open for the interviewee.

“Y/n, we’ve got your next one ready for you.”

You cleared your throat before pressing the speak button on the intercom, having been lost in thought when Carolina’s voice began echoing throughout the room.

“Sounds good, you can send them over to me.”

You reached for your cup of tea before remembering it had probably long since gone cold and grimaced, perking up when you heard the familiar squeak of the door.

The young man offered you his hand before settling in the chair opposite yours with a polite smile.

“Mr.... Holland,” you said, reading his name off of his resume in front of you. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he agreed, his accent catching you off guard. “And you can call me Tom.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. Straight past Thomas and right to Tom, interesting you mused to yourself as you scanned his profile again.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. I’m y/n y/l/n. I’m a Senior Associate here and I’m just going to ask you a few questions about yourself, your work, typical interview stuff. Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He was rather handsome too. Smartly dressed, sharp jawline, curls that were just barely tamed by hair gel, warm brown eyes that crinkled up in the corners when he smiled- you had to remind yourself not to stare.

“Alright, Tom, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” The question always tasted bitter when you asked it and it was hard not to cringe. It was the most basic question in the book, but it was a good way to get to know what kind of an employee someone was.

“Uh, well, I just moved here from London. I got in yesterday afternoon and still have loads to unpack, but I’m hoping to adjust quick. I was an Executive Consultant for five years at my last firm, and had just been promoted to Executive Manager last spring.” He paused to think. “What else... I really love to golf on my days off, and if I’m not golfing I’m usually at home watching movies.”

“A lot of our clients like to golf,” you commented off-handedly. “Are you any good?”

Tom shrugged, smiling humbly. “I’m decent. I haven’t had the chance to play for real in a while.”

“Why’s that?” you were aware you were moving away from interview territory, but you told yourself it was relevant enough to pursue.

“Most of my recent games were taking clients out to golf at my old firm. I had to play like shit on purpose so they’d win and we’d close a deal.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe they were just better than you?” you asked.

Tom narrowed his eyes the tiniest bit, but kept a polite smile on his face. “Trust me, I had to try very hard to lose.”

“So you had a pretty successful closing rate?”

“About twenty-six percent.”

You tried to hide your surprise, nodding as if that was a completely normal closing rate for your company.

“May I ask why you moved?” you continued.

“I’ve lived in London my entire life. I wanted a change of scenery, I suppose.”

“Moving across the globe without the security of a job? That seems like quite a big risk.”

He gave another shrug. “What’s life without a few risks?”

You nodded, writing what he’d said down on the yellow notepad in front of you. Tom shifted in his seat, subtly craning his neck to see across the table at what you were jotting down.

“Moving on,” you said and flipped the notebook over abruptly. The slap of the movement startled Tom momentarily and he only let the deer-in-the-headlights look cross his features for a second before recomposing himself. “Do you consider yourself to be a leader or a follower?”

“And do you have any qualms with being a subordinate to a woman? I ask because if you’re offered the position I would be your boss.”

Tom shook his head in response, giving a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “Like I said.”

“To be completely candid, Mr. Holland- Tom, you are overqualified for this position. However, our company offers plenty of mobility and your starting salary would be almost equal to your previous one. If you’re interested, I’d like to set up a follow-up interview with you tomorrow.”

Tom smiled, and there went the crinkles of his eyes again, softening the sharpness of his features and making him look a couple years younger. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.”

“Great. On your way out you can schedule a time to meet with Carolina.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he assured you. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow?” you hoped the question didn’t sound too hopeful.

“See you tomorrow.”

You went home feeling a thousand times better than you had that morning. The rest of the interviews had been a blur, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Tom. He surpassed all of the other candidates in almost every aspect, and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

You made it home in half the time, and kicked off your shoes by the door like you usually did, but kept your work clothes on.

Tom tried not to smile too wide as he walked out of the interview. He needed to remind himself that the job wasn’t his yet. He still had another interview to get through. Still, he figured a follow-up to be somewhat of a success and a good enough reason to treat himself to pizza.

He stared off out the window, attention snapping to the apartment across from his. Tom realized he hadn’t thought about the girl in the window all day, and silently patted himself on the back for it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to live with, and he wouldn’t have to spiral into a pattern of self-loathing every time he found himself looking. As long as he kept himself in check.

Tom bit his lip and tried to ignore the way his heart sank. He didn’t even know this person, didn’t even know what her face looked like and here he was getting jealous of another person he didn’t know.

He tore his gaze away from the window and stared down at the floor.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself and took another bite of his pizza even though he had lost his appetite.

“This is really good,” Joshua complimented, twirling spaghetti around on his fork.

“You’re just saying that,” you countered and rolled your eyes as you sipped your wine.

“I’m not!”

“Please, I know LA has ruined you and turned you into a food snob. I watch your Instagram stories.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t love a good classic.”

“You and I both know this marinara is from a jar.”

He chuckled. “So? That doesn’t change the fact that it’s good.”

“Whatever.”

Joshua gave you an amused smile from across the table and placed his fork back down on his plate. “So I hear they’re finally replacing me?”

You nodded. “They are. ‘They’ being me.”

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Anyone promising?”

“There’s this guy, Tom, who might fit.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s English, actually just moved here. He’s pretty charismatic too, but not in a sleazy salesman way. Kind of like you.”

“Is he better than me?” Joshua pressed, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“You know there’s no way to tell that yet,” you chided. “But he shows promise.”

“Let me see his profile.”

You shook your head. “Sorry, but you don’t have the clearance to see it.”

Joshua’s eyes widened like he couldn’t believe you were saying no to him, probably because he rarely heard it from you. “What, do we work in a government agency all of the sudden?”

“No! I wanted to see you,” he paused, “and make sure that you wouldn’t forget about me when I was replaced.”

You sighed, giving him a tired, perhaps wistful look. “Trust me, I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

Joshua left around eleven, after several glasses of wine and helping you with the dishes. As much as you hated to admit it, you missed him. But you needed to move on, in more ways than one.

You stripped as soon as you locked the door behind him and threw your work clothes into the laundry basket.

You grabbed your briefcase and returned to the kitchen table, rolling your neck as you realized you had another long night ahead of you.

Tom wasn’t aware that he was staring until the man stood from his seat and took the dishes from the table to the sink. The sudden motion pulled him back to reality and reminded him that he was sitting alone in the dark once again. He cursed under his breath and chugged the rest of his beer.

The woman’s shoulders moved up and down in laughter, suggesting the man had said something funny. But then she was walking him to the door and letting him out, and that was it. Show was over.

So they weren’t together. At least, not yet. Tom hated himself for the conclusion he’d just drawn, and he hated himself even more for feeling relieved.

Tom leaned back to reach the lamp that was still on the floor and flicked it on so that he could see. He shoved the leftover pizza into the back of his fridge and returned to the living room to try and get a little more unpacking done.

He blinked the image of her silhouette from his mind, trying not to dwell on the thought of her sitting at her kitchen table with nothing between her thighs and the chair.

He couldn’t focus. Every time he tried to get back to the task at hand his thoughts went to her. It was getting pathetic.

One more look. One more and then never again.

It seemed like a simple enough resolution and he promised God he would go to confession at the end of the week- even though it had been years since he’d been to mass.

He gave in to his curiosity and gave the window one final, longing glance. The woman was still at the table, concentrating on something in front of her. But something else caught Tom’s attention this time. It was a snakeskin briefcase that sat on the table next to her. He had only noticed it because of the gold details on the bag that reflected the light, just like the one you-

A thousand different emotions flooded Tom’s senses as the realization set in. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. There was no way-

He definitely needed to go to confession now. Not only had he been staring in the window of some naked woman, the woman might just be his future boss.

He felt sick, and despite it all he felt the familiar burn of arousal flicker to life in his stomach. There was no way he’d be getting any sleep tonight.

Tom seemed different. Yesterday he had been confident, charming, and on top of every question you threw at him. Today, he seemed nervous. He was fidgety and distracted. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with you. He kept his gaze trained on your briefcase instead, refusing to take his eyes off of it.

You had been so sure that he was the one, but now you were thinking you might have to start from scratch.

“Tom, are you okay?” you asked, your frustration turning into concern when he failed to answer your question for the third time. “Do you need me to repeat the question again?”

He looked up at you finally, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “Sorry,” he apologized.

“It’s okay.”

“No, I- I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I- fuck,” he paused to take a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t know how to put this, but I think... we’re neighbors.”

“Oh, you live in my building?”

You didn’t see a problem with that. You weren’t sure why it was something he would be tearing himself up over either.

“No, I don’t.”

“So... then how would we be neighbors?”

He averted his gaze again and swallowed harshly. “I live in the high-rise across from yours.”

You raised your eyebrows in question, feeling your pulse jump in warning. Your fingers inched toward the phone, ready to call security at a moment’s notice.

“And fuck, I really wanted this job, but um, I only know that because my apartment is literally right across from yours. And you have a lot of windows... that I can see into.”

You let his words sink in, hand retreating from the phone. “Oh my god.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to look or anything, I promise. Your windows are just so big. I didn’t even want to come in today because I felt so bad about it, but I figured you should know that it was possible to see into your apartment. Like other people might also be able to see you too. I just came to tell you that because I don’t think I’d be able to live my life just knowing that information and not telling you.” Tom stopped talking finally, giving you an opportunity to respond. The tips of his ears were red with embarrassment and he looked like he wanted to jump out the window.

You were covering your mouth with shock by now, absolutely mortified. “I am so sorry,” you yelped. “I had no idea, oh my god. I hope you don’t feel... violated or anything.”

Tom kicked himself the whole way to the subway station. That job had been the best opportunity he had at breaking into the industry here in New York and he’d fucked it. He could’ve kept his big mouth shut and pretended like everything was normal- but just the thought of that made bile rise in the back of his throat.

No, he was glad he had been honest. It just sucked that he’d lost such a good position, and ruined whatever nonexistent chance he had with you.

When he got home he threw all of his energy into unpacking. He was determined to make a real dent in the pile of boxes this time, and then maybe afterward fill out some job applications.

“Hello?”

“Tom?”

He recognized the voice immediately, and snapped his attention back over to the windows where he could see you looking back this time, phone pressed to your ear.

“Y/n.” He realized he had never called you by your first name before, and hoped you weren’t offended by it.

“The job’s yours if you want it.”

He blinked, staring right at you. “What?”

“The position. It’s yours if you want it. You were the best candidate by far and I think you’d make a great addition to the team.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am.” He heard you take a breath before continuing. “You have time to think it over, of course. Let me know by the weekend.”

“I don’t need time to think,” he heard himself say.

“No?”

“No. I’ll take it.” “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Tom?” you asked, reaching behind you and unclipping your bra. You caught the fabric and pressed it against your chest so that it wouldn’t slip down.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me if I’m overstepping.”

“You’re not overstepping,” he breathed, hand already traveling down to the waistband of his shorts.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured quietly into the phone.

“I don’t want to stop,” Tom admitted.

“Me either.”

“Fuck,” he whispered.

He was hard. He was so hard that it was starting to hurt, and all he could think about was running his cock through your folds. Being the one to make your back arch off the couch like it was now.

He spat into his palm and began working his hand up and down his cock, sighing in relief.

“You sound so pretty,” you echoed, and Tom straight up whimpered in response. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “God, I wish I had your fingers instead of mine. They’re so much longer.”

“Guess you’ll just have to imagine them,” Tom said, finding his voice out of nowhere. It was your turn to whimper. “Picture them working you open, stretching you for my cock.”

“Tom?” you asked hoarsely.

“Yeah?”

“Come over.”

“Fuck, right now?”

“Yes right now. I need you,” you whined. “Fiftieth floor, the door code is 0716.”

Tom swore he’d never run so fast in his entire life. He dodged taxis, bikers, and pedestrians as he crossed the street illegally and made it to the elevator of your building right before the doors shut.

You had put on a sheer robe while you waited for Tom, not wanting to open the door completely naked, but you were beginning to have second thoughts. You were officially Tom’s boss now, which meant that having sex with him was at the very top of the list of things you shouldn’t do. It would no doubt be considered a gross misuse of power, and to make matters worse he had literally just been hired. His first experience with you shouldn’t be in bed-

You heard the lock click and turned around to see Tom standing in your doorway. He was breathing hard and practically dripping with sweat. All doubts about crossing the line vanished when you looked into his eyes and saw how dark they were. He hadn’t even said anything, yet you knew how much he wanted you.

Even more evident was the outline of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his sweat shorts. You tried not to stare, but you figured it was only fair, given how he was staring at you.

Tom let the door shut behind him before approaching you. His hands trembled as he brought them up to your shoulders, like he was unsure of where to start. He slipped his thumbs under the hem of your robe finally and you shivered at the contact. You bit your lip and nodded at him to keep going.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. His voice sounded an octave lower than it had been over the phone and it made your knees weak.

“Please,” you choked out.

He placed one hand on your cheek and tilted your head to the side, pressing his lips to yours. It was needy and desperate, strung with promises of what was to follow. His peppermint Chapstick made your lips tingle and you leaned in, deepening the kiss. His fingers dug into your waist as he took control, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Tom’s hands made their way down to your ass and squeezed, making you yelp in surprise. He chuckled against your mouth and broke away from the kiss.

“Should we move this to my bedroom?” you asked, breathless.

Tom shook his head. “I want to take you here.”

“Where?”

“Here,” he repeated and nodded toward the windows.

“O-okay,” you agreed, a little unsure on the mechanics of how it would work. But Tom seemed confident, beckoning you over with a wave of his hand.

“C’mere,” he said. “I know you said you wanted my fingers, but I’m dying for a taste of you,” he admitted. “Is that okay?”

You nodded desperately as you watched Tom sink to his knees in front of you. He pushed his curls back with his hand and used the other to hike your leg up over his shoulder. You felt his breath on your clit before anything else, felt the way he was hovering inches in front of your cunt like a goddamn tease.

“Tom, please,” you begged.

You jolted when he suddenly buried his face in between your thighs, letting out a strangled moan as his tongue circled your clit. It was all too much and you had to pull on his hair to maintain your balance. Tom didn’t seem to mind too much, in fact it only spurred him on as he moved even further down and began to tongue fuck you.

“Tom, wait,” you cried and tugged him away from your pussy by his hair.

“I want you inside of me,” you pleaded. “Please, Tom?”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose from his knees, smirking as he took the advantage of height back.

You did as you were told and bent over. Tom’s hand made contact with your ass just once, the harsh smack echoing throughout the room. You cried out, body shaking even when he ran a hand over the mark to soothe it.

��I didn’t take you for a brat,” he mused.

“I didn’t take you for a tease,” you bit back through gritted teeth.

“Yes you did.”

“Fine, but I didn’t take you for someone who was all talk and no follow-through.”

That seemed to work because Tom pushed himself inside you as soon as the sentence left your mouth. You lurched forward, hands on the window slipping as you cursed him out.

“What were you saying?” he taunted, running a hand down your exposed back.

“N-nothing!”

“That’s what I thought.”

He gave you a few moments to adjust to his size, but you were too impatient to wait and began fucking yourself on his cock, desperate for the release that had built up when he was going down on you. Tom brought his hand down against your ass again and stilled your hips.

“Did I say you could move?” he demanded. “Answer me.”

“No!”

“Then why did you?”

“I’m sorry!” you cried.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Your cock-” you choked out, “felt so good. I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, darling. You’re going to be a good girl for me now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer and thrust into you once, then again, slowly building up to a steady rhythm.

For a moment or two all that could be heard was the slapping of skin and your shaky gasps. Tom’s cock was bigger than you expected, and each time he hit your g-spot you couldn’t help but let your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure.

You weren’t even trying to hold back your moans at this point, too fucked out to care. Tom let a hand wrap around the front of your body and travel up to your throat. He rubbed his thumb along your jaw, pressing it against your lips for you to suck on.

“Fuck,” you whined.

“Are you close?” Tom asked, likely because he was also teetering on the edge.

“Yes, so close.”

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” he pressed, tightening his grip on your neck. “Think anyone watching you get fucked like a slut against the window deserves to see you cum?”

“No one can see me,” you insisted. “It was only you.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t,” you admitted, feeling like the invisible string inside of you would snap at any second.

“You could have a whole audience and not even know it, y/n. What do you think, should we give them a show?”

All you could do was nod as he continued to pound into you from behind, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Tom, please let me cum I can’t hold it-” you gasped as you tipped over the edge before he could respond, clenching around his cock harder than you knew you were capable of. It felt as if you were falling from the window of your apartment, hurtling toward the ground some fifty stories below.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” Tom muttered, his hips faltering.

“Cum inside me, please cum inside me,” you begged. “I’m on the pill you can cum inside me.”

“Yes,” you answered quietly, feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes at the overstimulation.

Tom pulled out of you finally, making you whimper at the empty feeling. He chuckled and helped you stand up straight, ready to catch you if your legs gave out.

“That’s what you get for cumming without permission,” he said.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumbled, eyes only half open. “I’m your boss. You should let me cum whenever I want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tom assured you.

“See you monday,” he repeated in confirmation. “And next round’s at my place.”

this is the longest oneshot i've ever written and was an idea that's been rolling around in my brain for literal years and it's finally a full fic!! lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#high-rise #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem reader #tom holland x female reader #tom holland smut

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

To Be Seen

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Warnings: Hints at neglect

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: All superpowers seem to have a downside to them. Invisibility is no exception.

You got your first pair of glasses when you turned seven. The black frames were a birthday present of sorts. You had your eye set on a transparent blue pair, or honestly any of the many colorful options that lined the shelves, but your mother had grabbed the black ones without a word to you and placed them on the counter. Then the two of you went home, back to the always busy house, buzzing with the sounds of your siblings’ chatter and the television that entertained your constantly preoccupied father. There was no cake, no other presents, not even a “congratulations” or a “happy birthday,” but that was okay. That was okay because you had already gotten the gift of sight.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself that night, your younger sister already sound asleep beside you while you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark shapes taped to the ceiling. The glasses turned the green fuzzy blobs into actual stars, their points clear and easily counted as you drifted off to sleep with the lenses still on. “You can see now.”

---

You found out you could make yourself invisible on the day you hit ten years old. When you woke up, the first thing you did was look at yourself in the mirror, trying to see if you looked any different from the day before, when you were nine. Double digits should mean double the change, right? But there was no change from when you weren’t in the mirror to when you were.

At first, you thought it must’ve been a prank from your older brother, but one look in the bathroom mirror told you that this was something else. It took you about half an hour before you somehow managed to become visible again, but when you did, you walked into the kitchen to find everything the same as it was the night before. No one hung streamers around the house or left a card on the counter, but that was okay. That was okay because you had a gift.

---

On your twenty-seventh birthday, you were recruited to be an Avenger. Three years ago on that exact day, you had quit your office job and joined SHIELD, only as a trainee, but you made your way through the ranks. You had the advantage of a mastered superpower—turning invisible came useful on the countless days you wished the world would just swallow you whole—but you still had to learn to use it like an agent. You were never remarkable, never being praised as the top of your class nor critiqued as one of the worst. You were always in the middle. Always just… there.

But Fury had seen something in you, and now here you were, packing your things to move into the Avengers Tower. You honestly weren’t sure what he saw in you; no one did. There were other SHIELD agents with far more useful powers and much better combat skills, yet he had picked you and no one else, making you the third SHIELD agent to join the Avengers since Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

You looked around the empty apartment, scanning for something you and your imperfect vision might have missed, but saw nothing. Was that what others saw when they looked at you, thinking they had packed the whole room while you were standing right in front of them, arms waving in their face and voice begging for them to acknowledge you? No matter. Fury had told you Natasha would be picking you up at 2, meaning you had just over thirty minutes before she got here. Life moved on, and so would you.

Just like in years prior, there were no claps on the back, shiny bows, or patterned gift wrapping, but that was okay. That was okay because you had gotten the gift to protect and serve others.

---

You laid into the punching bag, twenty-eight non-stop uppercuts for your new age as of today. You brushed one hand across your forehead to interrupt the sweat droplets that ran from your hair, Bruce doing his best to praise you in the meantime.

“Good work, Y/N, yeah. Um, stronger than the ones you’ve been doing in the past. Better form too. I think.” You were sure you weren’t meant to hear his last sentence, but a roll of Natasha’s eyes next to you was enough to make you laugh it off. It wasn’t like you could blame him. Training others wasn’t his forte. You weren’t even sure if he trained himself.

Fury’s interest in you had been short-lived, it seemed. To be fair, you were lucky he recruited you in the first place and even luckier that he let you stay on the team. Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed in how you turned out to just be a new puppy to him. With your novelty now wearing off, you became the responsibility of people like Bruce, who never quite wanted you in the first place.

You had nothing against the gentle and kindhearted scientist, but Steve, Nat, or even Clint would’ve been much more obvious choices. Yet somehow the scientist was who Fury appointed. Maybe he was just the only one who accepted the task, the only one not bold enough to deny Fury’s orders outright. Strangely enough, Nat always showed up, but you weren’t entirely sure why, seeing as she usually sat there silently for most of it. She’d occasionally lean in to whisper something to Bruce, but she rarely said anything to you.

Much to Bruce’s—and maybe Natasha’s—relief, Tony strutted into the gym, his charisma already filling in the awkward gaps between you guys that never seemed to disappear, no matter how much time passed.

“Bruce, Nat, just the people I was looking for! It was great to see you guys at the party last night.” You pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose before going back to the punching bag; obviously, he was not here to speak with you. As you beat into the bag, getting lost in the rattling of the chain and the rhythm of the combinations, you thought back to last night, when you heard the Avengers’ laughter as they prepared for the gala.

You sat in the living room watching a movie with the tiniest but fiercest hope that someone might see you and ask you to come along. This was a party for the Avengers, after all, to celebrate the success of a mission that you had been part of. It had been up to you to cut the power and incapacitate the leader. Somehow the credit had gone to Clint, all the news stations celebrating the archer and his amazing feat. It was fine, whatever, just another chip to brush off of your shoulder—a teeny, tiny chip, really, honestly probably more of a scratch—but you thought you would’ve at least been invited to the party. Yet there you were, your posture slowly drooping as you sank into the leather sofa while your teammates gathered in the elevator to head up to the party. You had taken your phone out and opened the camera app, checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow triggered your invisibility, but, nope, you were very much there. The tears that fell were very much there.

“Alright, Tony, I’ll be there for Movie Night tonight, but you gotta go. I need to get back to my training duties.” It was then that Tony finally seemed to realize your presence, turning around with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. You, um, you should come tonight too.” All of his charm was gone, the relaxed smile only hanging on by the tiniest lift of the corner of his mouth. So you did your best to reassure him with a small nod. The smile came back immediately. All was well; Tony Stark does indeed have a heart.

Later that night, as you sat alone on the three-person couch, you drew the blankets closer to you. The same movie you had watched last night was playing on the TV. The original plan had been to watch Jaws, but Sam was delighted to find the DVD box to Space Jam on the coffee table, insisting that he’d been wanting to watch it again and how it was such a coincidence it was already out. He wasn’t saying that last night when you asked if anyone wanted to watch it with you, but at least you weren’t watching it alone this time. You looked around at the small groups the Avengers had formed on the other couches, some of them even sitting on the floor—there wasn’t enough space, you guessed—before letting out a sigh. There were no party hats or festive noisemakers, but that was okay. That was okay because… A tap on your knee brought you back to the present moment. You looked down to find the outstretched arm of a familiar redhead, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.

There was no time for wallowing in self-pity. That was okay. You were okay.

---

The harsh sunlight woke you up in time for your thirtieth birthday. Or maybe it was the stiff and lumpy mattress that did it. Either way, you were hoping you’d be able to sleep through it. The rational side of you knew that wasn’t possible—what with being on the run from the US government and all—but one can always hope, right?

You’d stuck with Natasha during the Avengers’ split, pushing for the team to stay together even though you’d never really been part of the team. It wasn’t about you though; you’d seen the amazing things the Avengers could do when they were together. The world needed them.

Well, that line of thinking got you here, in a small cabin in the woods with all the Avengers who had followed Steve, Natasha joining the group later. Happy birthday to you. Although to be fair, it wasn’t like any of your past birthdays had been much better. Once your childish naivety had faded away (which probably took much longer than it should have), the day became something you dreaded, something you hoped each year you would forget about but never quite could. This time, though, you had a small plan. It was going to be different this year.

Your knees cracked as you stood, announcing to no one in particular that you were heading off to bed. Rather than heading straight down the hall to your room, though, you cut through the kitchen and grabbed a few things.

Your shoulders dropped slightly as you closed the door, and you allowed yourself to study the contents of your hands: a lighter, candle, and one of the leftover store-bought cupcakes from Steve’s birthday. The cupcakes weren’t great, but no one had the time, energy, or ingredients to make a cake, and, let’s be honest, most of the people here couldn’t bake anyways. Plus, this one had frosting in your favorite color, so you couldn’t complain, especially since it was more than you’d had for your birthday since you could remember.

The wooden bed frame creaked as you shifted to place the candle in the frosting and light it. For the first time that day, you were grateful the windows had no curtains, as they allowed you to see the stars that dotted the sky.

“Happy birthday,” you murmured to yourself, your eyes never leaving the constellations, instead darting around to watch in awe as more and more of the twinkling lights showed up the longer you cared to look.

Just as you tore your eyes away to blow out the candle, a knock rang out against the door. Were you guys spotted? Did you have to leave? You immediately ran to open the door, running through a list of things you’d have to pack the second you heard the order. You weren’t exactly surprised to see Nat standing outside your door, but you were surprised to see her holding a small rectangular box and a bottle of champagne.

“Hey, um, sorry to interrupt.” Your cheeks immediately heated up when you noticed her eyes dart to the cupcake still in your hand. You must’ve forgotten to put it down in your rush to open the door. At least the candle’s flame had gone out. “I get it if you don’t want to celebrate with anyone, but I figured you still deserve a treat on your special day.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly.

“What special day?”

“Um, well, isn’t it your birthday?” You nodded, still not quite understanding what she was asking. Not to mention, the spy’s continued use of filler words surprised you. Sure, the two of you hadn’t interacted with each other much, but a lack of familiarity didn’t usually make her this uneasy. Were you really that invisible that she felt uncomfortable around you despite having known you for three years? But you couldn’t dwell on it with Nat speaking again, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “And, um, I noticed the only alcohol you drink is champagne, so… this is for you.”

You stepped back slightly as she nudged the objects towards you, but the spy misunderstood you, taking your surprise as an invitation to enter the room. Before you knew it, you were asking her to sit next to you on the mattress. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, though; keeping her standing would be rude, and there were no chairs in your room. The two of you sat at least a foot apart, both of your spines straight and neither of you quite meeting the eyes of the other.

“So, um, do you want to open the present first or have your cupcake? Or we can open the champagne if you want.”

“This is a present?” You eyed the brown box she held in her hand. You weren’t sure what it could be. Based on its size, maybe a watch or a pocket knife? But Natasha laughed, simply pushing the box towards you.

“Of course it’s a present. Open it!” So you set the cupcake down on the unstable bedside table, making sure the dessert wouldn’t fall due to the furniture having one leg shorter than the rest. You cast one last glance at Natasha, who gave you a reassuring yet pointed nod, and with that, you lifted the cover.

It took everything in you to prevent the tears springing in your eyes from overflowing. You lifted the goggles with shaking hands. You had to touch them to make sure they were real, to make sure this wasn’t some sick and twisted dream your brain had forced on you to make you remember how disappointing your past birthdays had been.

“Do you like it?” The blonde asked you softly, her lower lip caught in between her teeth. Had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve been surprised at how apprehensive she sounded, how unsure she was. “I thought it could be something you might want to wear on missions. I noticed your other ones kept slipping down or breaking, and um…” Both of you became antsier as Natasha rambled on, you at how she was being more intimate with you than anyone ever had, and she at how she just couldn’t seem to stop talking despite the fact that, in her opinion, she was digging herself into an increasingly deeper hole. “It’s a lot more sturdy, and there are some other features that I think you’ll appreciate. I had Tony and Bruce make it for you… before, you know, this whole thing happened. And I brought it with me when I left.”

The frames reminded you much of the glasses you had first wanted as a kid, the ones your mother had looked past in favor of the plain black ones. They matched your combat suit, though, even having a small carving of your symbol on the side. You nodded as you choked down a sob, forcing yourself to meet the former assassin’s gaze to try to thank her properly.

“I love it, Natasha. Thank you so much. I- it’s… it’s amazing.” Nat dipped her head as if to nod, but you didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed red or how a hint of her characteristic smirk appeared.

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” Your eyes returned to the glasses in your hand. You’d try them out the second Natasha left. “So, cake now?”

“Yes, right, of course,” you nodded immediately, shaking your head at how you had managed to forget about the one thing you had planned to do for your birthday. Before you could reach for the frosted dessert, Natasha relit the candle and handed the cupcake to you as she began to sing “Happy Birthday.” When she reached the last note, you could hold it in no longer, and all the tears immediately began to flow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Is my singing really that bad?” The redhead wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or move away as she ran a hand through her hair, but she felt slightly comforted when she noticed you shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s just…” Natasha hesitantly began to rub your back in an effort to calm your sobs, “No one’s ever sang that for me before.”

“Ever?” She winced slightly at how her voice cracked, betraying her emotions to you despite her attempts to remain composed.

“Well, there used to be a video of it from my third birthday, but… I was three. So I don’t really remember it.” Natasha thought back to the many birthday celebrations the team had held, none of them being for you. The door to your room was always closed on your birthday. She’d always thought you had just gone out with friends and family, people outside of the Avengers, and who was she to get in the way of you and those you loved? But it had been the opposite. You had been hiding away in your room, and she hadn’t helped matters at all by waiting for three years to do anything. If only she’d gained the courage earlier, she could’ve helped ease your pain much sooner.

But all you saw through your tears was the way her head was cocked to the side, her spy training paying off as you couldn’t even begin to predict what she might be thinking. Your confusion slowed your tears somewhat, but that didn’t last for long as your mind shifted gears. You were ever the fool for sharing something so vulnerable with someone you barely knew.

So it was much to your surprise when Natasha finally reached her hand toward you, using her thumb to brush off the last few tears that made their way down your cheeks.

“You’ve never been invisible to me, Y/N. I see you. Always.” And with that, without responding, you turned away from her with a sniff to blow out the candle. “What’d you wish for?” the spy asked lightly, hoping the joke would help lift your mood.

“Nothing. This was more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Nat nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on you as she reached to take out the candle. Your eyes remained on the cupcake as if it would be ripped away from you if you turned away for a second. With her hand returned to your back, you began to dig into the cupcake, your eyes closing as you savored the taste. A cupcake just for you, on your birthday. Sure, it was a leftover cupcake, the frosting a bit too sweet and the cake itself dry and somewhat stale, but that didn’t matter. It was still the first in thirty years.

That night, you lay in bed with the stars overhead, a smile on your face as you thought about the day’s events, your best birthday ever.

And maybe it was naive of you to believe what Natasha had told you earlier that day—it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind several times in the few hours since she told you that—but then you thought about the champagne and the glasses she’d given you. You thought about the way she’d examined your apartment with you one last time before she brought you to the Avengers Tower, about the way she gave you an encouraging smile during training when you became exhausted with Bruce’s cluelessness, about the way she’d shared her popcorn on movie nights with you and only you.

And in the room next to you, Natasha thought about your confusion, your tears, and the way desperation, hope, and amazement filled your face when you looked at her right before you blew out the candle. It was then that she made a vow to herself, to show you that you’d never be invisible, especially not to her.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” she whispered, “You are seen.”

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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shiftylookingcrow · 3 years

Text

A (not comprehensive) List of Little Self Care Things I Do When Everything Feels Like Too Much:

Bathing

Wash just your body, or just your hair. You may not be completely clean, but you ARE cleaner

Still feels like too much? No problem!

Take off any jewelry from your hands/wrists and wash your hands up to your elbows, just taking your time

Then wash your arm pits and groin, those are the stinkiest parts of the body

If you're feeling up to it, wash your face too

Once you're done washing, take your favorite body lotion and massage it in anywhere you washed

Shaving

Shaving takes time and patience (especially if you prefer to be mostly hairless), but you don't have to go through the whole process every time

Wanna wear that cute tank top/crop top but don't feel comfortable with how hairy your pits are today?

JUST shave your arm pits then

Wanna wear shorts/capries/a skirt, but feel your legs are too fuzzy?

Where on your legs do the cuffs/hem sit? JUST shave from there down

Facial hair looking kinda scruffy? Got an electric shaver? It won't give you as close a shave as a razor, but it'll help neaten you up a bit

After any shaving, get back in there with your lotion and work it in well

Laundry

Don't have the energy to drag that big basket you've been avoiding down to the washing machine? Out of clothes but need something to wear tomorrow?

Wash ONLY what you'll need for the next 1 or 2 days. A smaller load means less to put away after

Need a bra/binder/mask/etc for tomorrow? Wash ONE, then hang it to dry with a fan blowing on it.

The air movement will help it dry faster, and while it may not be 100% dry by morning, it should be dry enough to wear comfortably

This can be done for underwear and socks as well

Dental

Mouth feeling like sandpaper, but you still can't find it in you to go through the whole tooth care routine?

JUST brush your teeth before bed. You can floss in the morning

No energy to get in there and really scrub like your dentist told you to? Even just a quick scrub is better than nothing

You know those little Gum brand toothpick things? With runber bristles on them? They can't replace proper flossing, but the CAN at least get the worst of the gunk from between your teeth

Food

Hungry but can't bring yourself to put together a whole meal? That's okay!

Get all the fixings for a sandwich (bread, spreads, cheese, meat, etc), put them on a plate and eat that. You're still eating a sandwich, it's just not an assembled sandwich

Want a smoothy, but don't want to fuss with the blender? Put it all together as a yogurt bowl instead

Want a salad? Grab a couple lettuce leaves, a stick of celery, half a tomato, or whatever else you'd have in there, and toss it on a plate. Grab some dressing (or not) and you've got a personal size veggie platter

Cut an orange in half and eat the pulp out with a spoon

Cut an apple in half, and eat JUST one half. You can save the other half for later, or eat it right after the first if you feel up to it

Cutting a banana in half and squeezing out the fruit means you don't have to worry about those gross stringy bits

Simple Smoothie Recipe:

1 banana

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 tsp honey/sugar

Milk (dairy, soy, almond, whichever)

Berries, yogurt, chocolate chips, jam (optional)

Directions

Put all ingredients except milk in a blender (or 4 cup measure if using a hand mixer)

Pour in milk until ingredients are ALMOST covered. There should be about 1 inch/2.5 cm of solid ingredients visible

Blender/mix for 30-60 seconds, or until desired consistency. Pour into your favorite glass, or drink straight from the container

Simple baked potato:

Clean a medium to large potato and use a fork to stab holes down the sides and at each end. Depending on the size, you should have stab your potato somewhere around 9-12 times.

Place the potato in the microwave just off of center, one end facing the center of the spinning plate

Microwave for 15 minutes, flipping the potato end for end after every 5 minutes

Put the potato on a plate with some sour cream or ranch dressing, and dip it like a big ol' french fry

House Cleaning

Feel like there's too many dishes? Pick ONE place setting (bowl, plate, knife, fork, spoon, cup), and ONE pot/pan, and clean those. Do the same at the end of each meal, and while it might take a while, you'll eventually get things down to a manageable level

Dust bunnies breeding in the corners? Pick ONE room or hallway every couple days and just clean there. ONE clean room is better than NO clean rooms

Your room is so messy you don't know where to start? Every time you enter your room, put ONE thing back where it belongs. Every time you leave your room, take one thing that doesn't belong out with you and put it where it belongs.

Sink looking kind of gross? Give it a quick wipe down the next time you wash your hands

Toilet needs a clean? Pick a part (lid, seat, back or bowl) and just clean that bit. Even if you're just wiping some of the dust off the back.

Scum ring building up in the shower/bathtub? Give it a quick scrub next time you bathe. Maybe you don't get the whole thing, but you DID make a start.

Fitness

No energy for a full walk? If you can, walk around your house/apartment building. You might not have gone far, but you were UP and you were OUTSIDE.

Can't get out for whatever reason? Are there stairs in your house? In your apartment building? If you can, walk up and down those a few times.

Not really able to do stairs? Do some simple stretches instead.

Reach down and try to touch your toes, holding for 20 seconds. Reach up over your head as high as you can, holding for 20 seconds. Repeat 5 times

Sitting in a chair, reach your right hand across your body and over your left shoulder and try to grab the back of the chair without lifting your butt. Hold for 20 seconds. Do the same with your left arm, holding for 20 seconds. Repeat 5 times

Standing, or sitting on a chair, gently pull your head towards your shoulder (right hand, right shoulder; left hand, left shoulder), reaching the other hand down towards the ground. Hold for 20 seconds, then gently push your head upright again (lifting your head with just your neck muscles can cause them to seize after a stretch). Repeat 5 times

Miscellaneous

Need to trim your nails, but don't feel like sitting through both hands? Pick one finger on each hand, and just trim that nail. Do another nail on each hand tomorrow, and another the day after that. You don't have to do them all at once

Having trouble remembering to drink enough water? Find a water bottle/mug/glass that you like and try to keep it near you as much as possible. I find actually having a bottle with me helps me remember to keep sipping.

Still having trouble with your water intake? Fruit and veggies (specifically like apples, oranges, tomatoes, bell peppers and avocados to name a few) have high water content and can help keep you hydrated

Even if you can't get to sleep, lieing in bed with your eyes closed is more restful than trying to wear yourself out by reading or something

Alternatively, doing some mild stretches, or a few sit ups/push ups/jumping jacks can help wear you out without engaging your brain too much

You are aloud to say "no". You don't even need to give a reason. If everything feels like too much, taking on more responsibility will only make it worse, which will only make your output poorer as a result.

A reminder that this is by no means a complete list, just some things I've found helpful in my journey through adhd, depression, and anxiety. Not all tasks need to be done all at once. Maybe you can't do much, but that doesn't invalidate the some you did. Just because you take longer to do a task doesn't mean your bad at it, or that it isn't worth doing. You'll get there when you get there.

Please feel free to add to this post, I'd love to see what self care tricks other people are using!

#long post #mental health #self care tips #depression help #adhd help #anxiety help #autism help #there's probably others i can't think of right now #also i can't for the life of me figure out how to do a 'read more' on mobile #so i'm really sorry for this

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Buds of Marigold. Yan Childe x Reader x Yan Scaramouche

Warnings: Implied forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, depictions of anxiety, darling threatening violence against someone, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 2.5k.

“I never thought the day would come where I’d be so stumped,” Ying’er runs her fingers over glass bottles of essential oils and varying plant nectars. “For such an important customer too… everything needs to be perfect.”

You don’t lift your eyes from the task in your hands, scrubbing valiantly at a stain blemishing an incense pot. To affirm you have been listening, even if you won’t spare her a glance until you’ve finished cleaning, you hum with a rising intonation. Ying’er sinks to the ground with all the grace of a drunken sailor, sniffling in a final attempt to pry out your sympathy.

She hobbles over to where you’re sitting and places her head on your lap. Your body tenses at the sudden touch, but you steady your breathing before it can get noticeable.

“Oh, almighty Yun, the lost Archon of fragrances, have thee no pity for thy devout follower,” Ying’er lifts the back of her hand and presses it against her forehead in a show of unparalleled theatrics. The sight does as she intended, a light giggle leaving your lips at the impromptu melodrama. Her timing lines up well as the stubborn grime you were fighting finally concedes.

You place the incense pot aside and sheepishly pat her head. “Ying’er, how are you going to learn if I give you the answers every time?”

“By your ingenious example!” She exclaims, jutting out her lower lip into a pout. “I’ve already picked out the base, I just need a little nudging in the right direction for the top and mid notes.”

Your eyes soften and your heart is strum with conviction. You soothe your grumbling friend by stroking her hair, humming a soft tune, all the while feeling somewhat baffled by your growth thus far. A few moons ago, you couldn’t have pictured allowing yourself to be touched like this by anyone. It wouldn’t matter how innocent the contact was. The moment someone got too close for comfort, you were willing to reduce them to nothing but a pile of cinders.

You pause your ministrations and sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll help you compose your perfume. This is the last time though, okay?”

Ying’er ailments seemingly vaporize into the air at your begrudging assistance. She shoots up from her kneeling position like her feet were coiled springs, an overflow of gratitude fumbling past her lips.

“You’re the best, Yun,” she praises and pinches your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Now that I’ve won you over with my charms, how about—”

The front door’s chimes ring, alerting you both of someone entering. You two exchange a look of confusion, as Scent of Spring is closed for the day, the oil lanterns extinguished and doors locked. Your finger twitches by your side in anticipation. Ying’er is blissfully ignorant to your Vision and subsequent ability to command forward a blade, a façade you wish to sustain.

“I’ll handle it,” Ying’er says before you can contemplate your options another second. You nod, an unspoken appreciation etched onto your countenance. The details of your circumstances were purposefully murky and she never presses. Whatever conclusions Ying’er has come to, you prefer it stays that way, not wanting to upset the delicate balance that is your current life.

You straighten out her collar which had wrinkled. “Call me if anything’s wrong.”

Ying’er winks reassuringly and presses her hands over yours, the touch featherlight. “I’m a fearsome opponent, no one would dare cross me.”

Let’s hope that’s true, you think. Frowning, you observe her retreating figure, taking caution to remain out of sight. Ying’er steps out of the backroom, the thick wooden door closing loudly behind her. You keen your ears to listen, cursing internally over how the thick walls muffle their voices. Her voice is one you instantly recognize, but the other belongs to someone with a deeper timbre. Your boss is an elderly woman, so that rules her out. A Millieth, perhaps?

You’re not left waiting for long, much to your relief. Ying’er pops her head back in a few minutes later.

“It was just a returning customer who was pleased with his latest commission, the one you helped me with no less. He had nothing but high praises for it!”

Waves of relief crash over you, but your senses remain on high alert.

“I’m happy to hear that. Still, how did he manage to get in? Didn’t you lock up for the night?” You inquire, hoping you don’t sound overly paranoid. In the back of your mind, you can’t fully discount the idea that it’s him, the thought alone enough to have you shaking in place.

“Must’ve forgotten or something,” she shrugs. You let out a breath you were holding in at her nonchalance, it seems plausible given her airheaded nature. “By the way, Yun, can we work on the perfume in the morning? I just realized how tired I am.”

“Of course. It has been a long day... I’ll finish things up here, go home and get some rest.”

Ying’er waves and wishes you a good night.

It’s now your turn to slump onto the ground, grasping your chest when your knees hit the floor. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be okay.

This peaceful existence that you’ve fought tooth and nail to build for yourself… the only way it could ever get be stolen from your hands is if air no longer filled your lungs. Your fingers travel underneath the foreign fabric of your Liyue garments, the warmth of your pulsating Vision giving you solace. Tending to the last few chores, your subconscious drifts elsewhere, to an island beyond the sea. What is it you would be doing this time of day again? Ironically enough, you realize you’d be working with incense as you are now, but for different reasons. The reason you excel with curating incense to produce the best aroma is because you were trained to do so.

Your work now is your lifeblood, giving you enough to scrape by undetected. Those days, however, were a different story. It constituted survival like now, but to a far more humiliating degree. It was expected of you to perform your duties with grace and discipline. You would retire early to your shared chambers, prepare and burn your husband’s favorite incense, and fuss over your appearance in the vanity. Then you would loosen the sash of your obi, just enough so that if it had been a frustrating day, he could lose himself in your body for a momentary escape. Those customs had been ingrained into your mind. Had you needed to, you’re certain you could’ve done everything with your eyes closed from memory.

You head for the back exit. Surely, your past self would be thrilled to know your meticulous plans had come to fruition. All those smiles through gritted teeth, submissive language, and patience that could rival that of a god… everything was worth it.

Now you’re no longer the number Six of the Fatui's Eleven Harbingers’ spouse. You’ve taken the identity of Yun, a Visionless worker for a perfume shop in Liyue, everyday defined by freedom. To do as you please, go where you please, speak to who you please. The little details that were stolen from you by his hands return like tentative buds in spring.

You’ve yet to fully assimilate with Liyue’s cuisine, but it’s steadily growing on you. Maybe you’ll make an Inazuma-inspired dish tonight? In the months that have passed, you’ve found a taste for your nation’s food coming back. So as not to repeat Ying’er’s mistake, you double-check the backdoor’s locks, finding it is as it should be. Behind the humble shop is an alley which you use to creep back home. It’s best not to risk traveling out in the open if you can avoid it, you never know what eyes might be hiding in plain sight.

“Liyue apparel compliments you very well.”

With the speed of a descending phoenix, you pivot on your heel, summoning your weapon and pressing it to the jugular of whoever spoke just now. Squinting, your eyes take a few long seconds to adjust. Once they do, your body feels like it’s being drug into the underworld, the air in your lungs forced out. This man… you’ve seen him before. He gives you an all teeth grin, azure eyes swirling with delight and face contorting in amusement.

You remain steadfast through your bewilderment. “Try and scream and I’ll slit your throat.”

“I’m not much of a screamer,” Childe replies, laughing as if the situation was comical. “It’s good to see you too, [First]. Never thought I’d happen upon an old face in Liyue. I knew I recognized that unique combination of perfume, looks like I was right.”

It hits you that this is the first time you’ve heard your actual name in months. How Childe says it doesn’t feel right, he utters it with familiarity. Though, from what you remember, he’s never been known for having boundaries. Scaramouche would complain about his conduct for hours if given the opportunity. This would be the first time you’ve spoken with him, not from a lack of trying on his behalf. When Childe paid a visit to your husband’s estate, you were expected to be present at the start of their meetings. They would discuss business together while you stood there and looked easy on the eyes. Occasionally, you would refill their tea, but that was all you were permitted to do.

The look Scaramouche shot Childe when the latter tried speaking with you was enough to give you nightmares for days.

“What… what are you going to do now?” You murmur, anticipating the worst. This isn’t going to end well no matter what. If Fatui are in Liyue, that means Childe’s likely told someone where he was going; meaning that him going missing would be suspicious and warrant an investigation. On the other hand, who is to say he won’t just return you to Scaramouche if you let him live? You doubt your tears and pleading would have any effect on the youngest Harbinger. He’s similar to your husband — acting altruistic and kind — only to show their true colors when it suits them best.

“Right now? I’m trying not to get my throat slit,” he raises an eyebrow like that was the most obvious answer.

You bite your lower lip. “We both know you could get out of this hold if you wanted to.”

“Emphasis on the ‘if I wanted to’ part. As of right now, I don’t believe I do, being held by you is rather enjoyable,” Childe tests the waters by moving forward, humming in contentment when you lessen your grip as not to slice through his skin. ��See? You’ve never even killed someone before. Call it intuition, but I don’t think you could.”

He reconsiders the proposition for a second. “Well, maybe if it was him...”

“You’re as insufferable as I remember,” you hiss, imbuing heat into your blade. Childe barely backs off and the unspoken threat. “Everyone who refuses to take me seriously comes to regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I fully agree with that. The Balladeer reduced you to nothing but a pretty little ornament. He underestimated you and this is the consequence.” Childe has an easier time maintaining eye contact than you do. It’s another minute detail that expresses the gap in your experience. You may be adequately trained in combat, but that pales in comparison when faced with a trained killer. This sorry charade will end the moment he wants it to.

Hate floods through your veins like venom. He’s looking down on you, just in a different way than how your husband would. Where Scaramouche was condescending and sadistic, Childe is brutally honest and teasing. It’s a split-second decision on your behalf, one motivated by the desire to prove this smug bastard wrong more than self-preservation. You loosen your grip on him and jump back. It’s not a lot of space, however, it should be enough to allow you room to react when he strikes.

He goes silent. It’s painfully obvious that he’s trying to get a read on you, now that you’re veering into unexpected territory.

“You were waiting for an opening, weren’t you?” Your words come out with more strength than you thought possible, deep from the chest and guttural. “Well, here you go. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Childe blinks. Once, twice. His shoulders start to tremble, his chest following soon after, and he lifts his gloved hand to cover his mouth. Hearty laughter leaves his lips and pierces your self-esteem. You don’t understand what’s so humorous to him — though you’re well aware these Harbingers hold no humanity — repulsion flooding your system. This feels nostalgic in the worst ways possible. Early on in your marriage, Scaramouche would regard your resistance with a similar air of blatant dismissal, like your protests were nothing but a tantrum.

“You were wasted with him,” Childe’s loathsome cackling dies down, a maniacal grin splitting his face ear to ear. “Now I understand… the way you’re looking at me now is chilling. Exciting. In what ways have you evolved to survive? I love the fight in you, unlike him. Your adaptability is remarkable, like that of the most cunning prey. ”

Prey. The dehumanizing word makes you frown, yet you remain firm in your stance. This is the best chance, you think, now that you’ve managed to surprise him once. There’s plenty more where that came from. Tendrils of molten flames, like they were stolen from the sun itself, would make for a considerable challenge. Harbinger or not, he should know better than to charge in without thinking twice when you hold a Pyro Vision.

His face returns to a more casual visage and he waves his hand. “I never had any intention of bringing you back to Inazuma. You think a Mora reward would be a good enough motivator for me to do that?”

“T-then why are you here?” You challenge, ever the skeptic. Childe can weave a tale of lies as much as he wants. That doesn’t mean you’ll allow yourself to be ensnared in it.

“I wanted to see how you’d react,” his nonchalant admission leaves you speechless. “Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint. A pretty face with the feist to match. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” you snarl, your vision almost going red from the fury holding you hostage. Now that you no longer need to play the subservient partner, vulgarities come to you with ease, and you have no shortage of them for this blight in the flesh.

Childe’s smile widens. “No can do, I’m afraid. My curiosity has gotten the better of me this time. Could I tame you? Break your spirit better than he did? So show me your resolve to be free, sweet [First].”

He readies himself and you do as well. It’s in the dull illumination of the overhead lanterns that you realize there is no light in his eyes. How fitting, you think. That even his body has come to accept his lack of humanity.

“Go on. I’ll give you a ten second head start. After that... well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

#childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche x reader #tartaglia #scaramouche genshin impact #yandere scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #my stuff

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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years

Text

B is for Blindfolds

Summary: The BAU Christmas party is held at the office. Penelope is full of terrible ideas, but somehow Emily’s are worse.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, use of a blindfold (for a fun game, not anything sexy here), pining, idiots who don’t realise their love is reciprocated as HELL (they will, but not quite yet).

Word count: 3k

A/N: okay so i really had fun writing this one!!! i have a solid solid direction of where this is headed now and i’m EXCITED about it! as always, please let me know what you think :) this is technically Wednesday’s update, and there’ll be another on Friday!

This is the second chapter of the A-Z of Spencer Reid series, but can be read as a stand alone.

The team, yourself included, are more than ready to let off a little steam. There was no point trying to book anywhere in advance, not with the sporadic nature of festive serial killers, so you’d taken over the office. Penelope had, in eager anticipation of your return, decked it out like a winter wonderland.

“Seriously, it looks like someone robbed a grotto,” Emily had joked.

She wasn’t wrong. A seven-foot Christmas tree, God knows how she’d smuggled that into the building, obscured the hallway outside Hotch’s office. It was dripping in tinsel, baubles, you name it. It even had a nutcrucker man. Mistletoe was hung, obviously in a way she believed to be covert, and maybe it would have been if you weren’t all deeply familiar with the antics of Penelope I-Love-The-Holidays Garcia. You’re all careful to sidestep it as you walk in, knowing she’s a stickler for the rules. All equally reluctant to invoke her wrath before a glass of eggnog or two.

On the table, there’s a selection of alcohol laid out. Alongside a bunch of pink glittery cups.

“I got everything!” Penelope chirps.

“I can see that baby girl,” Morgan chimes in, greeting her with a hug.

She really has: there’s juice, fruit, almost every liquor you can think of (including the fancy whiskey that Rossi and Hotch like to get out at dinner), wine of varying colours, and what looks to be some fancy fruit cider. From the spread, and the mischevious twinkle in her eye, you’re sure she won’t be letting you escape unscathed.

At that thought, you can’t help but steal a glance to your right.

Spencer. The man is stood next to you with folded arms, surveying the options in a way that almost looks pensive.

Got to behave myself

I will behave myself

Will he be drinking?

That question is answered when he takes a step towards the table, stepping behind it. He picks up a plastic cup and, playing bartender, asks.

“So, what can I get you?”

***

“Mixology is pretty much the same as any other kind of chemistry,” Spencer explains, gesturing with the hand that’s holding his cup and swilling the liquid, “It’s about balancing the right components to get the combination you want. A lot of the recipes call for more alcohol than is strictly necessary for the flavour they provide. Usually the other elements of the drink are designed to bring out the flavour or mask it, depending on what alcohol you’re using. Almost always you want to mask the taste of vodka, but tequila you try to balance it out.”

Spencer is leant on the desk next to you, rambling, having been allowed to be in charge of making everybody’s drinks over the past couple of hours.

Sipping the concoction he’s made you, you have to admit he’s done a pretty good job.

He clearly agrees, since he’s consumed more than a couple himself. He’s just tipsy enough to push at the boundaries of affection, his shoulder pressing against yours, his happy eyes a little glassy. You listen, hanging on every word he says, watching him lick his lips before he continues speaking again.

“That’s why they serve tequila shots with lime and salt.”

“And here I was thinking they were just making it fun for body shots,” Emily cuts in, making Morgan and Penelope laugh.

You see the look on Penelope’s face and intercept her before she can start, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But!”

“No!” You shake your head, “You really think Hotch is going to go for body shots?”

Hotch laughs dryly, taking a sip of the whiskey he’s been nursing, “That’s one I think I’ll refrain from participating in.”

“Fine,” Penelope pouts, “But everybody’s doing pin the tail on the donkey!”

“Pin the tail on the donkey? What are we, 5 years old?” Emily laughs.

You lean in against Spencer, who has been quietly surveying the last few moments. Your fingers slip slightly beneath his buttoned sleeves, coming to rest on his forearm.

“Balance,” You whisper quietly.

He nods, shifting to allow you to lean more closely into him on the desk.

It’s hard not to get distracted by your proximity to him.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. If you squinted, you might just look like a couple. That’s certainly what it looks like to Dave, who gives you a cursory once over before training his gaze elsewhere. Your heads are almost touching, Spencer is slouching but keeps his neck just stiff enough to avoid resting atop of yours. You’re casually against his body, the two of you strewn across the desk. It looks comfortable, familiar.

It feels comfortable, familiar.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

***

After a singular round of pin the tail on the donkey, during which a blindfolded Emily decided to go rogue and try to pin the tail on the moving-very-quickly-out-of-dodge Hotch, it’s decided the blindfolds will be used for a different purpose.

Trust falls.

Well, not so much trust falls, as you’re each blindfolded and tasked with the challenge of walking across the bullpen without falling.

“We’ll pair up!” Penelope announces, rubbing her hands together with glee, “Hotch you’re with Rossi, Emily you’re with me, Derek you’re with ____, and Spencer you’re with J.J!”

You will away the tinge of disappointment that flares in your chest at not having been paired with Spencer. Although, when you look up at him, you swear you can see a similar feeling sitting behind his eyes.

Probably reading too much into it

“Reid has an unfair advantage,” J.J argues, interrupting your thoughts.

“How do I have an unfair advantage?” Spencer asks.

“Eidetic memory,” She replies.

There are murmers of dissent, then Rossi pipes up.

“If you can’t make it across the bullpen you walk everyday without falling, I think you seriously need to consider whether you should be out in the field with a gun.”

Everybody laughs. They laugh more, though, when Rossi falls on his first attempt, crashing into Hotch. The two decide to resign from the game after that. Hotch plays the health and safety card, but privately you think it’s the double whiskeys that have betrayed him.

“You think you can do it?” You ask Spencer.

He smirks, “I could do it in my sleep.”

You shake your head, “Your legs are too long. You’re like Bambi at the best of times, let alone three mai tais in.”

“Two,” He objects, you quirk a brow and he relents, “Fine, three. And a whiskey Rossi gave me which was awful. I drank it fast and then he told me that one glass I’d had would cost $40. Who would pay $40 to drink that voluntarily?”

“Rossi, Hotch, Emily,” You smile, nudging him with your elbow, “And don’t think you’ve distracted me Spence, I’m still betting you fall.”

“You’re betting?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re that confident in my ability to mess up,” He teases.

“Something like that.”

He grins, “You’ll see.”

He takes the blindfold when it’s his turn, smirking at you as he adjusts it onto his face. It’s with a great degree of annoyance that you watch him clear the bullpen in five easy, and somehow very elegant, steps.

“Go Spence!” J.J cheers, her previous displeasure completely forgotten.

“Pretty boy!” Morgan cheers.

Without taking the blindfold off, Spencer tilts his head to exactly where you’re standing, smirking, “You wanna go next, ____?”

It’s hard not to visibly react to what his cockiness does to you.

You swallow, “Fine. Give it here.”

***

You move your feet confidently one in front of the other. After almost a year of walking the bullpen, you’re pretty certain you can get across it unscathed. You even remember to swing your hip to the right to miss the Santa gnome gone fishing currently hanging off Derek’s desk. In doing so, however, you manage to get yourself all caught up.

With a single step, you feel yourself slipping, arms flailing and managing to catch on to absolutely nothing. You panic.

"Spencer!"

"Spencer?!"

Spencer.

You recognise the feeling of his hands steadying you at your waist. He pulls you against his body, tucking your outstretched arm into him to steady you. You vaguely register Derek’s amused chuckle from behind you.

“I got you,” Spencer says, “Stay still, I’ll take the blindfold off.”

His hands gently slide up your cheeks, lifting it with care to avoid yanking on your hair. He pulls it up and away from your head smoothly.

The lights are dizzyingly bright. You blink rapidly, allowing your eyes to adjust on the face of the slightly concerned, slightly amused looking Spencer hovering above you. His left hand lingering against your cheek. You forget yourself entirely, lost in the intimacy of his touch, barely daring to blink in case it’s gone.

“Mistletoe!” Penelope cackles with glee, breaking your reverie.

“What?” You ask.

Spencer looks up. You follow his gaze, seeing the strategically placed mistletoe. In guiding you to safety, Spencer had walked right into Penelope’s trap.

Oh.

Derek teases something, underscored by a quip from Emily that has them both in hysterics. Neither you or Spencer are really listening.

He’s already so close to you. The pressure of his hand on your cheek starting to make you flush with warmth. His thumb strokes downwards, over your cheekbone. You tilt yourself a little towards him. Trying desperately to act casual, but ultimately failing miserably. His breath fans over your face, smelling faintly of rum and lime.

“Not like this,” He whispers, so quiet that only you can possibly hear him.

He presses a kiss to your cheek instead.

Fuck.

“Very exciting stuff guys,” Emily chirps.

Vaguely, you’re aware of J.J admonishing her, Rossi’s eyes studying you, Derek’s laughter, Penelope’s squeal of delight that someone had finally fallen into her trap.

Your heart thumps in your chest, and you wonder if it’s loud enough for Spencer to hear. From the way he swallows thickly, stepping back with a degree of caution and a look of a deer caught in the headlines, you think it probably was.

Fuck.

What did he mean not like this?

***

After the mistletoe debaccle, the party starts to die down a little. Hotch makes an excuse to leave, shortly followed by Rossi.

You stick around for a little while longer, devoting most of your time to the decidedly tipsy Penelope who’s hanging off Derek’s arm. The mood is nice, actually, a welcome change from the tense atmosphere that often clouds the bullpen, and its occupants wherever in the US they may be.

It’s a little after 1am when you decide to make your exit.

“Do you want to share an Uber?” You ask Spencer, gripping onto his elbow as he walks past.

“Yeah! I was planning on taking the metro but you’ll be safer in an Uber.”

“Are you...sharing it with me?” You ask, feeling a little awkward at having to repeat the request for clarification. The tipsiness you’d initially felt has started to wear off; it leaves both tiredness and an odd shyness in its place.

“Oh no! Of course!” He smiles, grabbing his satchel from where it’s slung over the back of his chair, “We’ll get them to drop you off first, then me.”

***

The wait for the Uber is silent, but not uncomfortable. You loll against Spencer, comfortable in the quiet. The only sounds to be heard of keys as various other agents leave the building. It’s easy to tell which are coming from the grind of the paperwork and which are coming from their own parties. You’d like to attribute it to a years worth of profiling experience but the tinsel around Jerry from White Collar Crimes’ neck is a tad on the nose.

You don’t speak until it arrives, climbing in and closing the door. Clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about embarassing us before,” You say, purposely being ambiguous.

He squints at you for a moment before opening his mouth, “You mean calling for me when you fell?”

“Yeah,” You say,

“You didn’t embarass me,” He says, quiet, “It was nice actually. Nobody’s ever called for me when they’ve been in trouble before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I uh, I guess I’m not the most athletic. People usually go to Morgan if they need some kind of physical help. It was nice. That you wanted me. Even if you are drunk.”

“I’d have asked for you sober,” You admit.

He squints in response, and you continue, “I trust you Spence. I trust you to always have my back in the field, to protect me. I’d trust you with my life. I mean, of course I’d trust any one of the others, the team wouldn’t work otherwise. But,” You trail off, a little embarassed.

“But it’s different.”

“Yeah. Like you’re the person I’m closest to I guess. In the almost year I’ve been here, we’ve worked together the most. I think I have the best working relationship with you. If ever there was a crisis, I’d want you. Even if the crisis is me tripping on my own shoelaces while blindfolded.”

You both laugh at that. It’d be easy to succumb to a comfortable silence again, let the moment fizzle out.

“I think the same about you,” He says, his voice cracks a little with the sincerity, “Whenever anything goes wrong. You’re the person I want to talk to.”

You move your hand forward to close the gap between you two, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it, “I’m really glad we have each other Spence.”

“Even when I beat you?” The playful glint in his eye is back.

“Even when you beat me.”

“If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you actually owe me for losing the bet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you said ‘I’m still betting you fail.’“

You smile, “We never agreed what we were betting.”

“We didn’t.”

"So what do you want as your prize then, Rudolph?”

“Rudolph?” He laughs a little, incredulously.

“Well I called you Bambi before and obviously you’ve proved you’re more talented, I needed to pick a respectably agile deer.”

“Rudolph was known for his nose, not his agility.”

“The song says he guided the sleigh Spence, he couldn’t have done that if he wasn’t agile.”

He shakes his head at you, “He was just in charge of the lights.”

“Did they or did they not get around the world safely?”

“The song never clarifies that.”

“It’d be a little dark for them to kill off Rudolph.”

“Probably why they didn’t include it in the song.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes, “Well anytime you decide to stop nitpicking my compliments and decide what you want as your prize is fine by me, honestly.”

He smiles, obviously having decided to answer you sincerely. You study him as he, presumably weighs up his options, his teeth momentarily catching his plush lower lip. You swear you see his eyes flicker to your mouth. But then you blink, and he’s studying you thoughtfully.

Just wishful thinking

"Caramel,” He settles on.

"Caramel?”

“Last year I went to this coffee shop and I got their festive caramel coffee. It was amazing. But they only did it that one year, they gave me the recipe for the syrup but...” He trails off, looking embarassed, and when he speaks again his voice is quieter, “I kept burning it. I had a thermometer but I couldn’t get the temperature quite right.”

"You want me to make you caramel syrup for coffee? Mixologist skills don’t extend quite that far?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips together in a thin line. Almost as if he’s worried for your reaction.

You're quick to follow yourself up, “Well I’d be happy to give it a try, but I think I’ll need somebody to taste test it. Make sure I’m getting it right.”

He grins, “I’m probably a better taste taster than maker.”

“Well, we’re off for a few days, assuming we don’t get any cases. You’re at Ethan’s for Christmas, right? When are you back?”

“The 27th. But I’m going to visit my mom over new years, so I’m leaving again on the 30th.”

You nod, “Well, how about the 28th?”

“The 28th sounds good.”

It’s impossibly good (bad) timing that the Uber pulls up outside your building.

“Well I’ll look forward to it,” You say, undoing your seatbelt.

“Me too.”

There’s a silence. Not uncomfortable, but definitely not like the one earlier. Your eyes linger on one another, almost cautious. There’s a buzz in the air, one that can't quite be attributed to alcohol.

Ask him what he meant by not like this

Ask him

“This your place?” The Uber driver asks, clicking his tongue with a degree of impatience.

“Yeah,” You reply, nodding. Reluctantly, you push open the car door, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Spencer as you depart.

His mouth hangs open a little, words seeming to play across his lips. Not making them out of his mouth. The driver clears his throat, and you throw him an apologetic glance. Spencer’s Uber rating will be in the toilet after this.

Good job he takes the Metro.

"Have a good Christmas Spence,” You say, wondering if he can tell. Wondering if he can sense how badly you want to stay, to let this Uber drive you around the backstreets of Virginia. They’re not particularly pretty. But there isn’t much you wouldn’t do just to spend time with him. You’d even allow yourself to promise caramel syrup you know you’ll butcher.

If he knows, the wistful look in his eyes doesn’t betray it.

“Have a good Christmas, _____.”

---

Next part: C is for Caramel

Series tagslist: @altsvu @reidingmelodies @muffin-cup @reidscanehand @bvttercupbby @jessicarabbit09 @lukewearingbeanies @lady-anon-x @aperrywilliams @southsidemistress @a-broken-pact @jjongs-tae-and-biscuits @reidsnose

(message me/reply to this to be added or removed!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #a-z of spencer reid #the a-z of spencer reid

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 4 years

Text

Just My Imagination (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! We’ve entered the 70s and part 3! The songs used in this chapter are “Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me)” by The Temptations (1971) and “Lovin’ You” By Minnie Riperton (1975).

Summary: Y/n and Wanda experience life (and pregnancy) in the 70s as Wanda tries to keep everything under control.

Hope you enjoy! :)

“Alright, krasivaya, what decade are we living in today?” Wanda asked in an overly upbeat tone as she took a space beside you on the bed. She hoped that the tradition would be enough to lift your spirts.

You turned to face her with devastated eyes and it took everything within Wanda to not burst into tears at the sight. That wasn’t what you needed right now.

“They don’t want me here, Wanda.” You mumbled dejectedly, brushing over her attempt at making you feel better. Seeing you so downtrodden was such a stark contrast to your usually carefree nature. It was heartbreaking for Wanda to see.

Scooting closer, Wanda wrapped a comforting arm around you. You immediately turned to bury your head in her shoulder, desperately seeking comfort in her arms. “Moya lyubov, that’s not true. You know how Stark is.” She rubbed your arm soothingly. “If it makes you feel better, I may have thrown him through the wall when you left.” A weak chuckle shook your body at her admission.

The smile that formed on Wanda’s lips was instantaneous when the sound she adored filled the quiet room.

The moment didn’t last long though. “He said I was dangerous.” You faintly whispered, hurt lacing your words.

Wanda sighed. “Y/n. Look at me.” You pulled your head up to meet her loving gaze. “You and I both know that’s far from the truth. Your emotions got the best of you once. That’s all.”

You shamefully ducked your head. “I just-… I could have hurt someone. I couldn’t help but think of her when we were there. That’s why I lost control and the building collapsed.” It took Wanda a moment, but she finally understood what this was about. “It was like I was back there, not able to protect her…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to continue as tears welled in your eyes.

Immediately her hold on you tightened as she pressed her lips firmly against your hairline. “Shh… I have you. It’s okay. Let it out.” Wanda whispered as she felt your tears flow steadily against her neck.

You bunched your hands into the front of her sweater as you tried to take deep breathes. “I miss her, Wanda… So much. Anna didn’t deserve what happened. It should have been me-”

If anyone understood your pain it was Wanda, but she couldn’t allow your thoughts to spiral like that. She knew all too well what could come from that.

“Stop.” She interrupted firmly. “The world needs you here. My world needs you here. You did everything you could for her. You loved her so much, Y/n. Don’t carry that burden of blame when it was all Hydra.”

Her eyes offered you comfort and the depths contained nothing but love that enveloped your entire being. You felt lighter. “Thank you.” You finally murmured. “For being here, for knowing what I need. For being you... Every time I think I couldn’t be more in love...” You thought out loud to yourself with a faint smile.

Wanda’s breath hitched as her eyes filled with even more emotion. “There’s no need to thank me. You do the same for me. Constantly. I’ll always be here. I won’t let go of you.” She repeated the words you once told her back at you. Your heart thrummed. “I love you. Endlessly.”

“I love you, too.” You mumbled against her lips, losing yourself in the feeling for a moment before you pulled away.

Wanda dazedly shook her head, regaining her focus. “So?” She placed another tender kiss to your temple as her smile became playful. “What decade are we using to escape from this one?” She questioned again, once again offering you the fictitious escape of reality that you’d both grown to find comfort in.

You shook your head but gave in either way. “The 70s.” you eventually replied with a small smile, settling on your favorite.

You covered your face in mock mortification when Wanda immediately threw up a peace sign with her free hand. “Far out.” She retorted coolly. The outdated saying fell easily from her lips as she settled into her character. You shook your head again. “I’ll get the shows ready, you get the music?”

The smile that grew on your face from her antics was inevitable. “Sounds… groovy, babe.” You responded, playing along. Despite the exasperation that you feigned, you appreciated everything she was doing.

“Oh, god…” You groaned as you watched Wanda disco out of the room to go gather what you two would need.

You were so unfathomably in love with this woman.

For a moment you wished that the world was able to see this side of Wanda, the side that was reserved for you and you alone. The playful side. The side that showed that she was more than just tragedy.

Wanda knew that playing make-believe wouldn’t fix your problems or heal your pain, but it would be enough to ease your mind even if it was just temporary. If this tradition was something that could bring the light back into your eyes, she was more than willing to provide it.

She knows that you’ve done the same for her numerous times before and would do so for as long as she needed it.

When she wandered back in the room she held up two different options. “Okay, I couldn’t decide between-”

“You pick.” You interrupted her. She quirked an eyebrow.

With a shrug, she tossed the items on the bed and took both of your hands, pulling you up from your seated position. “We’ll get to that later then. Where’s the 70s music?”

Taking one of your hands back, you queued the playlist that had the music you were searching for. “There.” You said with a half-hearted smirk, still feeling a little down. Wanda immediately noticed.

The song that filled the room was upbeat and bouncy as Wanda began pulling your hands back and forth to the rhythm of the music. The amused twinkle in her eye not going unnoticed. When she noticed you began moving on your own, Wanda began dancing in an exaggerated 70s fashion, singing along to the lyrics of the song. With a laugh, you easily joined her, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders ever so slightly.

For the remainder of the song you both danced around the room using your best 70s moves as you continued to loudly belt out the lyrics. When the song ended, you both fell to the floor, out of breath and smiling contentedly.

Leaning against each other both literally and metaphorically.

Moments of escape from the heavy lives you lead were few and far between so when they came around they were special. These moments with Wanda… they were special. They were escapes that had transitioned into traditions. Traditions that were forged with great care in the flames of your love.

Without warning, Wanda leaned over and cupped your cheek. She wasted no time before passionately connecting your lips. There was no hesitation as you returned her embrace. The music around you transitioned into something much softer as you both got lost in one another.

“Soon we'll be married and raise a family, a cozy little home out in the country with two children, maybe three. I tell you I can visualize it all, this couldn't be a dream for too real it all seems, but it was just my imagination runnin' way with me…”

The words that drifted from the radio caught your attention, easily pulling your focus from the task at hand. Flashes of moments you didn’t recognize flooded your mind. Despite the upbeat tempo of the song, the lyrics seemed sad… hopeless even. The emotion that the song radiated seemed to fill your body.

An odd sense of longing blossomed in your chest as the song played on. The abrupt sound of someone speaking and a gentle squeeze of your wife’s hand in yours grounded you as you focused on the moment happening before you.

The feeling of longing and hopelessness that filled you faded away and was replaced with excitement as Dr. Nielson began speaking.

Wanda pretended not to notice the way you jumped slightly.

“Definitely pregnant!” The doctor confirmed cheerfully with a broad smile as he pulled the stethoscope from his ears.

A short laugh fell from Wanda’s lips as you shook your head at the doctor’s obvious statement. “Well, that much we figured.” Wanda retorted flatly.

You shifted to face the man fully. Squeezing Wanda’s hand in your own once more. “It’s just taken us a bit by surprise. It was kind of suddenly... Quite suddenly, wasn’t it? Practically overnight.”

A sharp grip on your knee stopped your words as your eyes fell to Wanda, who subtly shook her head. “What my wife means is, we’re just tickled pink… or blue!” Wanda quickly supplied as she stood up from the couch.

The doctor merely nodded, dismissing the comments as he stood up as well. “You’re at about 4 months now, is that right?” He questioned which you immediately shook your head at until you saw Wanda nodding enthusiastically and looking at you pointedly.

You began nodding slowly with an unsure smile. “That sounds about right.” You responded hesitantly. The words practically a question.

“It’s easiest for ladies such as yourself to keep tabs on growing babies with fruit. It makes it simple.” You bristled slightly at the sexist remark as the doctor continued listing the size of the baby in comparison to various fruits.

Disregarding his words, you interrupted him. “How big would the baby be at say… Twelve hours?” You attempted to ask nonchalantly.

“Twelve hours?” Dr. Nielson eyed you skeptically.

Wanda rushed over to the man and began pulling him in the direction of the door. “I think this line of questioning is fruitless!” She joked with a nervous chuckle as the disembodied voices laughed along.

Not being deterred, you followed after them. “Hypothetically speaking, should we be concerned? Or concerned that even though we may have engaged in… “ You coughed awkwardly. “Activities that typically produce children, we both lack the necessary, erm-… equipment for impregnating. Hypothetically speaking of course.”

Wanda choked at your words. “Sweetheart.” She sputtered abruptly, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

The man lightly tapped your shoulder and ignored your words. “Hypothetically speaking, every new parent gets nervous.”

As you opened your mouth to reply, Wanda quickly cut you off. “Y/n. Why don’t you see the doctor out?”

You shrugged, deciding the doctor was no help anyway. “Good idea.” You made your way over to the doctor as you began leading him out.

Before exiting, you glanced back to see Wanda looking down at her stomach with a soft smile. Your heart swelled at the sight. Any questions you may have had vanished if it meant she would keep smiling like that.

When you reached the front yard, Dr. Nielson turned towards you. “You actually caught me just in time. I’m taking the wife on vacation this afternoon.”

“Oh, have a nice holiday. Hey, Herb!” You called out politely as you waved to the neighbor. He greeted you back as he continued to trim his hedges. “Listen, doctor, do you mind keeping the news of Wanda’s… you know, just between us? Everything is happening so quickly, I think we’d like it just between us for now.”

The man mimed zipping his lips. “Mums the word.” He replied easily. “I’m off. Bermuda baby!” He cheered as he walked off.

Just as you were about to turn back inside a sharp screeching sound caught your attention. You turned rapidly, only to see Herb’s hedge trimmer cutting into the brick of the wall. “Hey, Herb,” you called out hesitantly. “I think you may have taken the hedge trimming a little too far, pal.”

Herb looked up at you with an unnerving smile as he continued cutting into the brick. “So, I have. Thanks, buddy.”

“Yeah… don’t mention it.” You mumbled uncertainly. You turned and rushed into the house, eager to get away from the odd behavior. “Darling, the strangest thing just happened outside with Herb…”

Wanda turned to face you. The sight of her stomach appearing even further along in the pregnancy than it was just moments before shocking you. “Woah! Have you gotten bigger?” you shouted with wide eyes.

The woman in question merely shrugged. “Have I? I can’t tell from this angle.”

You wandered over and placed a hand softly over her stomach. “It’s either that or I need glasses.” The disembodied voices laughed. “With how fast you’re developing I think it might be in our best interest to prepare the nursery now.”

“That’s a great idea!” Wanda exclaimed excitedly. “I’ll help you as soon as I satisfy this craving.”

With a chuckle and a nod, you began moving the boxes into the room that would eventually become the nursery. After you had built the rocking chair, a book about pregnancy caught your eye. Taking a seat on the rocking chair, you began reading in hopes of preparing yourself for the pregnancy with all the necessary knowledge. You were deeply engrossed in the book when you noticed objects begin floating around the room.

“Nesting. The overwhelming urge during pregnancy to clean, organize and prepare the home for the new baby.” You read out loud curiously as you took notice of Wanda using her powers to set up the room.

Wanda waved her hand towards a box and a mobile began floating over to hang just above the crib. “See? You’re an expert already. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Wanda replied distractedly through bites of the fruit she was eating.

Absently you flipped through the book. “Well, nothing to worry about besides morning sickness, mood swings, aching back and fe-feet.” you stuttered out as you glanced over at your pregnant wife who was, in fact, on her feet. You closed the book and put it to the side as you stood up. “Darling, you should probably sit down.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Wanda continued moving objects around the room. “Don’t be silly. All I feel is excitement, happiness, and oh!” she exclaimed as she glanced down at her stomach.

“Kicking? Already?” You asked disbelievingly as you placed your hand lightly over her stomach. “Wow…” you breathed out when you felt a gentle nudge against your fingertips.

Wanda smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling with joy. “It’s such a strange sensation. It’s kind of fluttery.” She explained with a cute scrunch of her nose.

As soon as the word fluttery left her lips the plastic butterflies that were previously hanging on the mobile became animated and fluttered over to you. “Oh, did I do that? I didn’t mean to.” She said in surprise as a butterfly landed on your nose.

She turned to you and placed her finger out for the butterfly to crawl onto, her beautiful smile growing even more. You beamed brightly back at the sight of her as she let them out the bedroom window. You opened your book up again.

“If that was the first kick that puts you at about… six months.” Your eyes widened as you flipped through the book. “Six months? That was so… fast! I can’t keep up!” You exclaimed.

Realizing how that may sound, you hurriedly kneeled down in front of Wanda and nuzzled your nose into her stomach. “Please don’t misinterpret, I can’t wait to meet you little Charlie!” You pressed a light kiss to her stomach before standing again.

“Charlie?” Wanda questioned curiously. “I was thinking Billy, just a nice, classic, all-American name.”

You tilted your head in mock thought. “Charming. But then there’s Charlie… named after the great Charles Dickens. “Life is made of so many partings welded together”” You recited to her with an excited smile.

Despite herself, Wanda couldn’t help but smirk in amusement. “Nerd. I guess there’s only one solution for this debate… hope for a girl.”

As you watched Wanda begin painting a stork on the wall with her powers, you began thinking. “I figure we should probably decide on a name soon though. Based on your rapid progression paired with the time elapsed…” You trailed off in thought.

Absentmindedly you spun the wedding ring on your finger as you attempted to figure out the timeline of the pregnancy.

After a few moments of silence, Wanda snapped her fingers in front of your face. “He’s going to be here before you figure it out.” She teased lightly.

“Well, I’m not a robot, dear.” You quipped back distractedly as you attempted to correlate the growth with the timeframe.

“And thank goodness for that.” Wanda countered easily, thoroughly enjoying watching you attempt to figure out the timeline.

Suddenly, you focused your attention back to her. “If I’m thinking this through properly and don’t hold me to this… But… I believe it’s due Friday afternoon.”

Wanda’s eyes widened at the information. “In three days?” She choked out. “Maybe I should sit down.”

“I need to practice!” You shouted unexpectedly as the information settled with you as well. Quickly, you grabbed a toy doll out of one of the boxes, a couple loose diapers and ran out of the room. Wanda shook her head at your antics but followed you out nonetheless.

After several practice rounds, you picked up the baby and stared it down seriously. The sound of laughter floated around you. “I think we have an understanding.” You told the inanimate object determinedly. “Start the clock!” You called to Wanda who immediately began the timer.

Fumbling only slightly, you were able to get the diaper on the baby with ease. “Time!” You shouted triumphantly.

“Your personal best.” Wanda called from the kitchen with a smile.

You pumped your fist in the air in celebration. “Yes! We are nothing if not prepared!”

“Oh!” Wanda breathed out, her face scrunched in discomfort.

At the sound, your head snapped over to Wanda. “Darling?” you questioned in concern.

Once again, Wanda scrunched her face. “Did the book talk about this? It’s not a painful, but a strange…”

Vaguely you recalled reading about the feeling she was describing. You quickly began flipping through the book. Stopping shortly after when you found the information you were searching for. “Tightening sensation?” you offered helpfully.

Wanda nodded, still cringing ever so slightly. “Yup. That’s it.”

You quickly skimmed over the page. “Braxton Hick’s contractions.” You informed her as you read on. “Also known as false labor. Usually begins in the third trimester. Named after John Braxton Hicks in 1875-”

“Honey.” Wanda interrupted, gesturing for you to get to the point.

“Right!” You skimmed further. “This could give us a chance to work on our breathing exercises.” You suggested as you made your way over to her and rubbed her back in soothing circles.

Wanda nodded in agreement as you demonstrated the recommended breathing technique, which she replicated. “Yeah, it’s not working. I can still feel it.” She said with a frown.

You pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Before you could get another word out, Wanda let out a short yell as everything in the kitchen went into a fritz.

“Let’s abandon the kitchen!” you shouted as you protectively took Wanda by the hand and led her out. Wanda’s screams remained steady from the discomfort the entire way, much to your eardrums displeasure.

A sudden, bright flash of light startled you as you both naturally fell into a defensive stance. Standing back-to-back, you both lifted your hands in preparation to fight if necessary.

Almost as soon as you were in position, the house returned to normal. “It stopped.” Wanda said apprehensively as her hands remained in their defensive position.

“I’ll go check outside.” You said and rushed out the door, returning shortly after with the information. “It looks like the whole block is out.”

Wanda wandered over to the couch and took a precarious seat. “And that was just a fake contraction. Who knows what will happen when the real thing starts.” Her brows creased together in worry. “Do you think they know it’s my fault?”

You began making your way over to your wife. “Our neighbors?”

“Well, yes. With all the close calls we’ve been having it seems the people of Westview are always on the verge of discovering our secret.” She admitted worriedly.

Thoughtfully you ponded her question and all the odd occurrences that had happened around you since you arrived in Westview. “I know what you mean.” You began somberly as you took a seat next to Wanda. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Mr. Hart and Ellie, dinner, my dream, outside with Herb…”

Wanda’s eyes glimmered with concern as she watched you anxiously.

“I think something is wrong here, Wanda.” You finished softly. She searched your eyes as the pain in her eyes became more prominent...

“Do you think they know it’s my fault?”

You began making your way over to your wife and took a seat next to her. You gently took her hand in yours. “Yes, I know what you mean. The truth is we are in uncharted waters and you know what? I’m anxious too.” You admitted to her reassuringly. The voices cooed.

A soft smile formed on Wanda’s lips as she stared at you adoringly. “We just don’t know what to expect.” You nodded your head slightly in agreement as Wanda continued. “Will the baby have powers? Will it be my powers? Or your powers? A bit of both? No powers?”

The twinkle in her eyes caused your stomach to flip. “If he’s anything like his mother, Charlie will be perfect.”

Wanda smirked. “You mean Billy.” You were about to respond when Wanda gasped loudly, startling you out of your seat.

“Darling, are you alright?” you questioned fearfully as you scrambled back to your feet.

Wanda braced herself slightly. “This is a real one.” She gritted out.

“What?” you shouted as you began floating away from the ground.

Wanda glared at you from her position on the couch. “I thought you said Friday!”

“I told you I wasn’t a robot!” you defended anxiously as you continued floating higher, losing your ability to control the action.

Through the chaos in your mind you could hear Wanda begin her breathing exercises as she gestured for you to follow along. You nervously began following along, drifting back down to the floor a few seconds later. Wanda stood up and made her way over to you, soothingly taking your hand in hers. For a moment you both stood in place as you matched one another’s breathing. Slowly but surely regaining your composure.

“Better?” Wanda questioned teasingly after a moment.

You took another deep breath. “Yes, darling, thank you.” You replied sheepishly.

Not even a moment later, water began falling steadily over the entirety of the house, drenching you both in a seemingly never-ending downpour.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think my water just broke.”

“Yes, dear…”

In a bid to seek shelter you ushered Wanda to the dining room table as you crawled under after her. Your nerves were on high alert as even the downpour couldn’t pull your worries away from the fact that your wife was going into labor. Your eyes remained anxiously transfixed on the woman next to you who was pouting in displeasure at the water ruining the room. Much to your relief, the downpour finally slowed and then stopped altogether.

You quickly crawled out from under the space. “Let me help you up, dear.” You quickly offered Wanda, not wanting her to strain herself in anyway. As you gently helped her to her feet, her eyes seemed most focused on the room around you.

A small frown tugged at the corner of her lips as she surveyed the room. “What a mess!” Before you could react, she waved her hands and a powerful gust of wind blew in through the door, nearly knocking you off your feet. “That’s better.”

Her contentment was short lived as another groan of discomfort fell from her lips. “Darling, do you think it’s time to-”

“Call the doctor? Yes, I do, dear.” You responded quickly without letting her finish as you sprinted over to the phone only to hear the dial tone fill your ears. “Damn! The phones are down. I better run. Let’s hope he didn’t already leave for vacation.”

Wanda gasp as she rubbed her stomach anxiously. “At a time like this?” she cried.

Attempting to sooth her, you brushed a hand along her cheek lightly. A nervous smile on your lips. “Well, in all fairness darling, the baby is about nine months early. I’ll be back as fast as I can. Will you be alright here?”

A hesitant nod was Wanda’s only response. You pressed a short kiss to her lips and frantically raced out the door.

As Wanda attempted to calm herself through her breathing exercise, the sound of rustling in the nursery caught her attention. Just as she began making her way towards the sound, the doorbell sounded, causing her to jump.

“Oh shoot!” She exclaimed, knowing that company meant she would have to explain her unexplainable pregnancy. Thinking quickly, she waved a hand and a coat floated out of the closest and covered her.

“Wanda! What’s up?” Geraldine began as soon as Wanda opened the door. Her brows furrowed when she noticed the coat the other woman was wearing. “It’s 75 degrees out, you making a fashion statement?” She questioned lightly as she walked into the home.

A forced smile formed on Wanda’s face as she attempted to speak through the contractions as they came and went. “Hi Geraldine, you know, now isn’t really a good time.” She informed the other woman politely.

Geraldine turned to face Wanda. “No, no, no, it’s foxy. You’ll have to let me borrow it sometime.” She replied, misinterpreting the meaning of Wanda’s words. “But first, I have to borrow a bucket. Not to wear, to use. Somehow all the pipes in my ceiling burst at once and I have to bail myself out.”

“Alright, sure! Just stay right there, I think I may have a bucket in the kitchen!” Wanda shouted when she noticed Geraldine turn. She quickly ran passed Geraldine and into the kitchen, keeping her coat wrapped tightly around her abdominal area. “I think it’s just here under the s-sINK!” She cried as another painful contraction overcame her.

“Are you alright in there?” Geraldine called out in concern.

Another contraction came as Wanda attempted to control her tone through this one. “Y-yes, I’m just looking-ow!” She stuttered out as her coat magically transformed into a fur coat. Despite the situation she couldn’t help but admire the quality.

“I’ll come help.” Geraldine announced as Wanda quickly took off the coat and threw it to the side.

“No! I mean, no thank you!” she quickly corrected herself.

Her words fell on deaf ears as Geraldine wandered over to the closet in the kitchen, her back to Wanda. “Found it!” As she turned, Wanda grabbed a bowl of fruit to hide her stomach now that the coat wasn’t an option. “Would you look at that?” Wanda tensed. “Fruit! Wanda, thank you!” Geraldine said cheerfully as she took an apple. Wanda’s shoulder slouched with relief.

“Good luck with the leak.” Wanda breathed out as she began to follow Geraldine out. She was glad to have avoided any incident.

Geraldine continued speaking despite having the item she came for. Even though she knew it wasn’t neighborly, Wanda couldn’t help but tune out Geraldine as she spoke. If she wasn’t in the middle of giving birth she knew she would care more about being a good hostess, but that just wasn’t a priority to her at the moment.

That is until a stork appeared behind the couch Geraldine was currently rising from. “Wait, no! Tell me about the temp job!” She urged desperately, sighing in relief when Geraldine smiled and sat back down. The woman excitedly began recounting her story.

Seeing how thrilled her friend was, Wanda did her best to listen half-heartedly as the stork continued to wander around in the background despite numerous attempts to make it go away. Much to Wanda’s relief, Geraldine was oblivious to the chaos occurring around her as she engrossed in the story she was telling. Wanda was able to get away with just making small comments here and there.

As one disaster was averted, Geraldine began making her way into the nursery where the stork had just gone into. “Wait!” Wanda cried as she rushed after her, grabbing a vase to cover her stomach along the way.

“Is that what I think it is?” Geraldine asked, her tone serious as she looked in the direction of where the stork was perched against the painting on the wall.

A nervous chuckle escaped Wanda’s lips. “Oh, a stork. Yes. I can explain.”

Excitedly, Geraldine turned to face Wanda. “No! The crib.” She gestured to the object in question.

Not a moment after Geraldine began admiring the nursery, another contraction overtook Wanda, the force of it causing her to drop the vase. The object shattered at her feet. “Oh, it’s coming! The baby is coming!” She cried out through heavy breaths.

“You’re pregnant?” Geraldine questioned, eyes wide in bewilderment. Instead of answering another scream fell from Wanda’s lips as she placed her hands over her stomach.

Geraldine cautiously led Wanda out of the nursery. “Let’s get you comfortable.” She rushed over to the couch and began gathering the pillows.

Several items in the house began moving on their own as the radio stirred to life at a loud volume.

“Lovin' you is more than just a dream come true and everything that I do is out of lovin' you…”

Wanda began lowering herself to the floor, practically having to shout over the music. “I think I’m going to lay down right here. Y/n ran to get the doctor, she’ll be back soon.” She gritted out as she carelessly fell back against the floor.

Hurriedly, Geraldine shoved a pillow under Wanda’s head before it could make contact with the floor. “There’s not enough time for that. Relax, relax.” She frantically said as she rushed around the area, gathering different items. “You know your breathing, right?”

The radio began playing even louder as Wanda ground her teeth together, attempting to breathe in the rhythmical pattern she had practiced earlier. Rather than the rhythmic breathes, muffled screams slipped passed Wanda’s lips instead.

Geraldine gasped loudly as a chandelier fell near her and the music began playing even louder. “I may be late to the party, but I imagine there’s a logical explanation for this.” She told Wanda in a calming tone as she set down all the items she grabbed.

“It’s all perfectly natural!” Wanda managed in between screams as the volume of the radio continued to rise with her screams.

With wide eyes Geraldine took hold of Wanda’s knee to attempt to ground her. “Hey, hey, you’re doing great. Let’s start by turning off the music.” Geraldine shouted over the radio. Wanda faintly heard her and weakly waved a hand, effectively stopping the music, but the paintings continued spinning on the wall. “Look at me. Look at me.” Geraldine said calmly and began replicating the breathing Wanda had worked on with you earlier.

With terrified eyes, Wanda kept her gaze locked on Geraldine, desperately wishing you were there to comfort her through this. “I can’t.” she cried out, shaking her head as tears slowly fell down her cheeks.

“Yes, you can. You can do this.” Geraldine countered unflinchingly. Wanda continued shaking her head frantically. “Yes, you can!” she shouted at her.

The tears fell more steadily down Wanda’s cheeks as the fear set in. “I can’t.” She repeated tearfully. “I need Y/n. I need Y/n.” She begged, desperately seeking her one source of comfort.

Leaning down, Geraldine checked how far along Wanda was. “It’s time to start pushing.” She said excitedly with a smile. Wanda continued shaking her head. “You’re ready! Push! Push, Wanda!” She encouraged supportively.

With a scream, Wanda began pushing. All of the objects in the house began moving on their own until they suddenly stopped when Wanda’s screaming stopped. The soft coos coming from the baby filled the quiet room. “It’s a boy.” Geraldine announced with a smile. The smile that lit up Wanda’s face was incomparable to the happiness she felt in her heart. Geraldine wrapped him up handed her the baby.

The baby who was a piece of herself and you… the person she loved most in the world. “Hi... Hi.” She whispered to the baby as she traced a finger delicately along his cheek. “Oh, he’s perfect.”

Almost as soon as the words left her lips, you rushed into the home with Dr. Nielson on your back. “Oh no, I missed it.” You whispered sadly. The frown on your face faded when Wanda looked up at you with a smile that stopped your world. The way her eyes shone took your breath away. The world around you both faded as you stared at one another in an awestruck haze of love.

Indistinctly you could see Geraldine pull a shaky Dr. Nielson out of the room as you dazedly made your way over to your wife, kneeling at her side. “Every time I think I couldn’t be more in love...” You breathed out as your eyes fell on the bundle in her arms. Wanda’s breath hitched slightly as emotion flooded her eyes.

“Y/n, would you like to meet your son?” Wanda asked softly.

As gently as you could, you took the baby into your arms. The smile on your face growing even more when he looked up at you. Wanda’s heart fluttered at the sight. “Hello, little Billy.” You cooed as he took hold of your finger. .

Wanda tilted her head in surprise, unable to hold back her smile at your words. “Billy?”

With a nod, you lovingly looked back at her. “Yes. Billy.” Making sure Billy was secure in your arms, you leaned down to kiss Wanda. Just as your lips were about to connect, she began screaming.

Unsure of what was going on, you began yelling as well. “What?” you shouted in bewilderment. When you glanced down you realized what was happening. “Oh! There’s another baby coming!”

“Charlie!” Wanda shouted through the contraction.

“Wanda, push! Push!” You encouraged lovingly, all the while making sure Billy was safe in your arms. With you by her side, the fear that Wanda felt earlier vanished.

With you by her side she knew she could do anything.

When all was said and done, Dr. Nielson did one final glance over the twins. “Twenty fingers and twenty toes. You have one healthy baby boy and one healthy baby girl on your hands.” He declared cheerfully as he handed the baby in his arms back to Wanda.

Wanda eagerly took the baby back in her arms as you gently rocked the other. “Thank you, doctor.” She responded with a smile.

He turned and pointed at Geraldine. “And thank you for all your assistance, young lady. I think you might have what it takes to be a nurse.” Both Geraldine and Wanda shared amused looks with one another at the comment.

“Allow me to walk you out, doctor.” You offered as you gently placed the baby down in the crib.

Dr. Nielson nervously shifted. “As long as we’re actually walking this time.” He replied skeptically as he followed you out the door.

“Well, Dr. Nielson, I hope you’re still able to make your trip.” You said polietly with a smile when you both reached the front yard.

Again, Dr. Nielson shifted in place. “Yes, my trip. I don’t think we’ll make it after all. Small towns, you know, so hard to… escape.” He murmured cryptically before walking off.

For a moment you stared after him, wondering what he meant. Shaking it off, you turned to head back inside only to see Agnes and Ellie whispering amongst themselves by one of the walls that you shared with the house next door. “Hello, neighbors!” You called politely.

“Hey!” They replied suspiciously in unison before going back to whispering amongst themselves.

Unable to help yourself, you wandered over. “Remarkable day we’re having. Did you lose power too?” You asked in a friendly tone, noting the way their postures changed when you were near.

“Sure did, but Ralph looks better in the dark so I’m not complaining.” Agnes joked.

Ellie nodded along. “I barely even noticed it... I’m very resourceful.” She added with a wink.

You chuckled uncomfortably as they joined in with their own laughter. “Well. I better get back to Wanda.” You mumbled awkwardly, turning back towards the house.

“Y/n.” Ellie called after you, causing you to turn around. “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

With furrowed brows you stepped closer to them, feeling unnerved by their behavior. “Yes, why?”

Ellie hesitated, almost as if she was unsure if she wanted to tell you. “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

“No family, no husband.” Agnes added, her expression portraying how odd she found the situation.

You shrugged indifferently. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.” You countered with a confused smile.

Agnes made a short noise of disagreement and Ellie pursed her lips. “No home.” Agnes eventually supplied.

“What?” you questioned disbelievingly. “What do you mean she has no home?”

Ellie shifted uncomfortably. “She came here because-… She came here because we’re all-… You are-…”

“She came here because we’re all what? I’m what? What are you trying to tell me?” You replied, feeling your patience wearing thin.

Shaking her head, Ellie continued. “She came here because you need to-”

“Stop it.” Agnes cut her off sharply as she turned to face her head on. You noticed the way she shook her head.

Almost as though someone flipped a switch, they both became upbeat again. “Well, we better get going.” Agnes rang the bell on her bike with a wink.

Ellie nodded along. “Those papers aren’t going to write themselves.” She said cheerfully as they both walked off leaving you thoroughly confused as you made your way back to your wife. ____________ “You’re such a strong lady.” Geraldine complimented Wanda who waved her hand bashfully in response. “Can you believe it? Twins!” She leaned forward to get a better look at the babies nestled safely in their cribs.

The smile on Wanda’s face was bright with all the love she felt in the moment. She stared at the two babies in the crib with Geraldine, her smile becoming somber. “I’m a twin.” She confessed. Her eyes glimmered with memories as she looked over at Geraldine. “I had a brother, his name was… Pietro. Y/n had a sister too. Anna. One in memory of each.” She whispered out softly her eyes falling to the babies again.

Lost in her memories, Wanda began singing a sokovian lullaby that would forever be nestled into her heart. The memory both painful and beautiful as she continued to sing to her children.

“He was killed by Ultron, wasn’t he?” Geraldine questioned suddenly, her expression grave. “And Y/n’s sister. Hydra murdered her to torture Y/n, didn’t they?”

The song died on Wanda’s lips with Geraldine’s words. Her brows furrowed as she processed what she had just heard. Her shoulders tensed. “What did you say?” A tear fell down her cheek. When Geraldine didn’t reply, Wanda turned towards her. “What did you say?” She repeated, her eyes cold.

A forced smile overcame Geraldine’s features. “I said, Wanda, you’re such a strong lady.” She moved to hover by the couch. “Should I say it again for good measure?”

“No.” Wanda said sharply. “What did you say about Pietro and Anna?”

Geraldine seemed to think for a moment, feigning confusion. “Pietro? Anna?” Wanda tilted her head. The babies began crying. “Hey, I’ll take a shift rocking the babies.” She offered as she began heading back over to the cribs.

Wanda stepped protectively in front of them. “No. I think you should leave.” She told her, her tone dark.

“Oh, Wanda, don’t be like that.” Geraldine retorted tensely.

For the first time, Wanda noticed the necklace around Geraldine’s neck. “What is that?” She insisted, pointing shakily to piece of jewelry. “That symbol.”

“I-uh…” Geraldine stuttered as she took hold of the necklace.

“Who are you?” Wanda demanded. The threat in her eyes sent a chill down Geraldine’s spine.

Geraldine faintly shook her head, her eyes troubled. “I don’t-”

“Who are you?” Wanda repeated sharply. The calm that overtook Wanda was unsettling as she slowly moved forward. Geraldine stepped back fearfully.

The front door burst open as you rushed inside. “Wanda, where’s Geraldine?” You questioned as you looked around the house.

“Oh, she left, honey. She had to rush home.” Wanda replied easily with her back towards you as she watched the babies sleep peacefully. . . . . “If no one is going to say it, I will. That episode was adorable.” Darcy emphasized as she watched both you and Wanda settle on the couch with a baby in each of your arms. Wanda leaned over and lovingly pressed a kiss to your lips as the credits rolled. “Aww… I mean, c’mon. Look at them, they’re so precious. And now they started a family.” Darcy cooed as she watched the screen fade to black.

There was silence for a moment. “The babies are cute.” Steve admitted quietly. The sound of a soft thud filled the room as Natasha once again hit the back of Steve’s head. “What? They are!”

Natasha shook her head. “They are, but the issue here is we’re being given a filtered broadcast. Someone is controlling what we’re allowed to see. And even worse, we don’t know what happened to Monica.”

“Natasha is right.” Fury interjected. “Darcy, you’ll be going to S.W.O.R.D. so you can gain some intel about what they’re planning.”

Darcy’s head snapped up in shock. “I’m just the astrophysicist here, not the Russian spy.” Natasha smirked at the comment.

“Even more of a reason they won’t suspect you.” Fury countered easily. “You can find Hayward’s plan… and find out if they’re the reason agent Fletcher is now a part of this.”

Steve crossed his arms. “Amelia was Y/n’s partner the entire time she was away from the Avengers. I have on good authority that they were close. I can’t imagine she’s there to harm her.”

“That was before the blip.” Natasha said calculatingly. “We can’t assume anything. She’s playing her part a little too well.”

As Steve was about to respond, Fury’s phone went off. They all watched with bated breath as he took the call. When he hung up, he turned to face them a pensive expression on his face. “It seems as though Monica has been found. Blasted through the hex.”

“You called it the hex!” Darcy exclaimed as they all turned to look at her in exasperation. “Sorry, not the time.”

This part may just be the longest piece I’ve ever written because there was so much I wanted to fit in. Also! If anyone wants to know what song I imagined Wanda and Y/n dancing around to in the beginning just let me know because I imagined a specific song in that scene, but didn’t feel it was important to include lol. Sorry for writing out Tommy, creating a different twin for Billy felt important to the story to properly express Wanda’s emotions.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed!

Thoughts and comments always welcome! I love hearing from you all! :)

#wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #mcu x reader #wanda mcu #MCU x Y/N #Avengers #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

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p---ink · 4 years

Text

What’s On Your Mind?

Author’s Note: Hi :) Remember me? I’ve missed you guys, and Tumblr altogether. I felt absolutely guilty about not writing, but the writer’s block was strong on this one guys. And while I’ve had lots of ideas for stories I couldn't quite put them onto paper...or screen. Anyway, wanted to try something new. So this one is about a Thor! I dedicate this one to you @swaggysposts since I know you love Chris Hemsworth. Its pretty short, but still, tell me what you think, my love!

Summary: Avenger reader has a crush on the god of thunder.

Warnings: some lite language and fluff.

Word Count: 4.7k

Part Two Part Three

“I’m sorry? Did I hear that right? You said you can what?” Mr. Stark asked, without a doubt forgetting that there were stranger things in the world.

Clearing my voice, and speaking a bit louder I say, “I can read minds, sir.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Stark voiced out loud placing a sleek pair of sunglasses on his face. He was still pretty skeptical of my claims, but another part of him was very anxious. Or would the word be embarrassed? Mortified? Yes that was definitely the perfect description.

Whatever the feeling was, I knew the cause was because he knew that if what I was saying was true, he would have to start groveling because of the dirty thoughts that raced through his mind when we first introduced ourselves.

‘Forgive me for looking Pepper, but this girl has the ass of a professional volleyball player’ was what he thought as he opened the door for me on the way in.

“I can’t hear what you’re thinking though, because It only works through touch.” I lie, as I watch his worry fade away. I needed this job, and I couldn’t be disqualified because of harmless thoughts that we could all be guilty of sometimes. Besides it wasn’t Tony’s fault: these jeans did do wonders for my bottom.

Something told me though, that if this Pepper weren’t in the picture, he’d have no problem saying what he thought of me out loud. And he was a handsome man, couldn’t be much older than 40, so maybe in another universe I’d consider him. Not this one though.

“Hey Kid,” Stark started, interrupting my own inappropriate thoughts, “just saying ‘I can read minds’, wont be enough. You’ll have to prove it.”

“Of course! Sorry—” I was cut short by the sound of the thick glass doors of the conference room being slammed against the walls.

A brown haired boy with deep chestnut eyes, that looked as frantic as the rest of his face, rushed out apology after apology as he took his seat next to the older man.

Tony, who hadn’t spared the younger boy a glance, said, “Ah, perfect. Tell me what he’s thinking.”

‘Spiderling’ was the name he had assigned him through thought. As I concentrated on his confused features, he looked from me to Stark.

“What who’s thinking? Is Dad—I mean Mr. Stark, referring to me? How could she possibly do that? Oh God, he hasn’t said a word to me since I got here. He must be really upset because I’m late. Geez, I hope he doesn’t take Karen again. I’d rather he kill me.” I repeated, after relaying all of the boy’s thoughts as fast as he could think them.

“Is she right?” Tony asked the boy. He felt both amazed and amused. Amazed with me, and amused by Spiderling for thinking of him as a dad. He would never let him live that one down.

After swallowing his astonishment, and turning his attention from me, Spiderling answered “Yes.”

“Good. And at least we both agree on your punishment. I’d rather kill you, too. Saves me less trouble in the future.” Tony stated. He was punishing him because apparently this was the third time he’s been late to the interviews he was supposed to be in charge of.

Spiderling let alarm overtake his features, but before he could say anything, Tony continued on with more questions.

“Do you have any other skills, we should know about?”

“Well just a bit of hand to hand combat. But it still needs a lot of work. Other than that no—”

“How did this happen?” Spiderling interrupted, wonder getting the best of him.

“Kid,” Tony starts, but he goes ignored by Spiderling.

“Were you bitten by some kind of radioactive insect like me? Or are you super smart like Mr. Stark? Or perhaps it was gamma radiation like Dr. Banner! Or maybe a super serum like Mr. Rogers!—”

“Don’t make me remove your batteries, junior!” Tony interrupted, then he looked to me. “I’m sorry. He’ll keep going if you don’t nip it in the bud early.”

But he didn’t have to tell me that. His own mind, like Spiderling’s, was racing a mile a minute.

“No its fine really. He’s just curious.” I reply with a chuckle. “And to answer your question Spiderling: maybe I was born with it, or maybe its Maybeline.”

I began to grow embarrassed by their silence at my terrible joke, until Spiderling stifled a chuckle. “I get it!” He said between snickers. “Wait why’d you call me Spiderling?” He asked. ‘Is she picking on me?’ He thought.

Needing to correct his thoughts to clear up any offense I say, “No! I would never pick on you, I just thought that was your name because Mr.—”

“Y/N, was it?” Tony interrupts, yet again. “I think you’d make an excellent addition to our team! When can you start?”

“Really?” I ask gleaming, ignoring the fact that he wanted me to shut for outing what he really thought of his younger protégé. “I can start right away! Thank you so much for this opportunity!”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” He hurried. “F.R.I.DAY, will prepare your room, and Peter here will show you around.”

At that Peter hopped to his feet mind racing with thoughts of excitement on the hopes of a future friendship. “Follow me!” He said, grabbing my hand.

“Not so fast, champ. I need to speak with Ms. L/N alone for a moment.” Tony stated, nodding at Peter as he excused himself from the room.

Tony cleared his throat, and relayed his thoughts, thoughts that were hard to separate from Peter’s louder ones earlier. “So Y/N,” He started towards me, leaning in close as he chose his words carefully. “I couldn’t help but notice, that you didn’t need to touch Parker nor I to read our thoughts. Care to explain?”

Flustered at being caught I stumble across my words as I try to explain, “Ah yes, well its rare, but sometimes I don’t need to touch the person.”

“Mmm.” Tony hummed, not believing a word I said, and I knew then the gig was up.

Cocking my head, and wearing a semi-sympathetic expression I say, “Don’t worry. I don’t even know who Pepper is.”

And before Stark could protest, I ran to Peter’s side, so we could begin the tour around my new home.

That was all a little over eight months ago. And so much had changed now. Peter’s hopes became true. We were the best of friends. His boy-like charm never grew old to me, and nor did my gifts to him.

“Cerulean” I’d say, when he’d think things like ‘What’s your favorite color?’. He always thought questions like that as a sort of game. I never got tired of playing along.

It seemed to never click in his mind though that he could never scare or surprise me when he hid behind corners or couches, because I could hear his thoughts before he got the chance to.

But besides the little stunts he’d try to pull by hiding his thoughts in order to frighten me, Peter was as transparent as they were. The boy was an open book, and he rarely kept a secret. It made us perfect friends, because he never seemed to get tired of me knowing every single detail about him.

Though the other avengers treated me like family, Peter seemed to be the only one welcoming of my “gift”.

If you asked Steve, he’d think something along the lines of “I’m too old for this shit” when I’d answer questions he hadn’t had the chance to ask. Then he’d immediately curse himself, for thinking a swear word when I’d tease him with one of the team’s inside jokes, like “language.”

Bucky tried his hardest to keep his thoughts in a vault, but it never worked. I knew exactly how many dead bodies he had under his belt, and where he kept his hidden stash of plums.

Natasha, however, never tried to hide her kill count. She always made it a point to up the number by one as a threat to me, every time I accidentally crept inside her head. I always made it a point to keep my distance whenever she was deep in reflection.

Banner was interesting. His mind had two voices of course, and neither one of them gave a shit about whether I heard them or not. There were the deep thoughts that I struggled to understand most of the time, then others were one-word sentences only. They were louder than the rational side of his brain.

“La, la, la, la, la”, was literally all that Sam would think whenever there was something he wanted to hide. Sometimes he’d do it just to piss me off, because he knew if I said to ‘knock it off’, he could accuse me of evading his thoughts in the first place.

In truth, I never tried to read what they were thinking. I found the process invasive, and distracting from my own feelings. I worked hard to shut it all out, doing my best to make truth of that lie I told Stark all those months ago. But it was very draining, and took more energy than my body could exert. One person was easy enough to ignore, but more than ten, proved to be a task.

Most of my entire life I spent working in order to shut out all of the world around me. I avoided crowds whenever I could, blasted my music through my headphones whenever I couldn’t, and made sure to drug my body heavily with painkillers and vitamins whenever the last two weren’t options.

It was so much work just to go out into the world. So much work until I met him.

The son of Odin was the only person whose thoughts I would pay to hear. Coincidentally, he was also the only person who’s thoughts I couldn’t read. I could never hear him, I would only ever feel him. He radiated a rare intensity I had never felt before. His thoughts, or should I say feelings, even managed to drown out all of those around him. I had no choice but to focus on him whenever he was around.

When I was with him, he literally clouded my brain. I didn’t have to work to shut him or the others out. He did it for me.

I usually thought that was refreshing. But in the time I grew to know him, I found it mostly frustrating at times.

You could say I liked him, but that would be putting it lightly.

Liking someone for me, was a rare luxury. My crushes were always narrowed down to celebrities, and other people who didn’t know I existed.

It was a pain to date people whose thoughts about you were always on display.

And if you thought dating was hard as a telepath, try having sex. Imagine being able to hear all of your partner’s most inner thoughts about the faces you make when you cum, or discovering that you have a small birthmark on your ass that you would otherwise know nothing about.

Yeah, it wasn’t the greatest experience.

I had never experienced the actual joys of feelings for someone, and wondering if they liked me back. Thor was my first. And chances are, he would never feel the same way.

He was a literal god, and he lived up to that fact. I was just an average Midgardian, with a silly school-girl crush. It would never happen.

Silly thing that Fate was. She had to make the only man I found irresistible, unattainable too. What a bitch.

“Hey. Are you ready?” Natasha asked referring to our daily training.

“Yes, what’s on the agenda today?” I ask, a bit confused that she isn’t in her workout attire.

“Well you’ll h–”

“What? Why?” I squeak, before she can finish her thought…well before she can finish her sentence. According to her thoughts, I’d now be training with Odinson.

“I think you’ve graduated from me, kiddo. You can read my thoughts fast enough to predict as well as react to all of my oncoming moves.” Natasha relayed, a hint of sadness detectable through her words. Though she behaved like an older sister to me, she would miss throwing me around on the mat. “We’ll have to see how you do against someone whose actions you can’t predict, just in case that problem comes up out in the field.” She informed me while walking away, before I could confront her.

“Can’t it be someone else?” I yell to her, but she doesn’t answer.

“You wound me, Y/N.” That deep familiar voice bellowed from behind me. “And here I thought you enjoyed my company.”

Oh you have no idea, I thought to myself, as I spun on my feet to face him. I craned my neck to peer up at his eyes. One was a pretty hazel, while the other a deep blue. Cerulean. Funny how he’s the reason I’ve grown so fond of the color after all of these months.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. I just don’t think its fair is all. You know? With you being a god.”

“You’re worried you won’t be able to handle me? Do not fret. I wouldn’t dream of giving you more than you could handle.” He said, wiggling his brows suggestively, while flashing a smile. I suppose I failed to mention that he was a massive flirt that could put even Tony Stark to shame. “I promise to take it easy on you.” He furthered, smirking and winking his hazel orb.

“Why do I feel like your idea of taking it easy is vastly different from mine.” I say, trying to settle the butterflies.

“Whatever you’ve heard about me is nonsense. I’m a merciful master.” He assured. “We’ll just do some light work today: of course we’ll start with stretching, then 30 laps around the facility to build your stamina, a few hours of work on the machines to build your muscle—because my lady you are a dainty little thing, and then we’ll end the day with an hour or two of sparring.”

At the sight of my dumbstruck face, Thor says, “I’m sorry that must be too light. How does 50 laps and three hours of sparring, sound?”

“Are you joking?”

“You’re right. I have some matters to attend to on Asgard, but I think we can squeeze in 75 laps, take it or leave it.”

Realizing how deathly serious he was, I quickly say, “I’ll leave it. Let’s get started.” Deciding to address the subject of excessive training later, I turn to begin my stretches.

Quiet. As usual. I was alone with my thoughts, which was something that only happened quite literally when I was alone. I couldn’t help but be immensely aware of his presence.

Moments like these i’d die to know what he was thinking. Especially when I could feel his stare. It burned worse than fire on my skin.

Fire couldn’t compare to his actual touch, however. The same touch I now felt on my upper back. For a man who weighed over 600 pounds, he was as stealthy as a cat when he wanted to be. His thick fingers against my spine raised goosebumps to my flesh. I would have jumped out of my body if he wasn’t there to keep me grounded.

“My apologies. It was not my intention to startle you.” He informed, through a deep hearty chuckle. “I just needed to correct your form. Your time on the field will suffer if you continue with your training like this.”

“Oh.” I replied, tensing a bit as one of his hands traveled around to my stomach and the other pushed against my spine to straighten my posture. My mind was hazy, and if I had even understood the words he spewed a moment ago, that status now changed.

“It all makes me wonder what the Lady Spider has been teaching you.” He continued, as if he didn’t notice the change in my demeanor. “Better.”

When he stepped away from me, I released a small shaky breath. “What’s on your mind?” He asked. Maybe he did notice the change.

I mentally decided that I would ask him the months-long question I had always wondered about. “What’s on yours.” I state instead of ask, trying to resume my stretches.

“Pardon?” Thor asked. “Do you wonder about what is I ponder? Or is that your answer?

“Both.” I say without hesitation. “Why can’t I read your mind?”

“I’m afraid that’s by design, my lady.”

I stop stretching and turn around to ask, “How?” He had my full attention now.

Shortly after he corrected my posture, Thor had propped himself up against one of the machines to properly examine my form while I stretched. I tried to ignore how awkward that made me feel.

“Since an early age I’ve had to learn to guard my thoughts.” He stated. “My brother is the God of Mischief, and Loki often played games of the mind. Mother took notice of how much it was ailing me, and taught me a few useful tricks on how to keep him out. I guess I’ve always practiced them, even in his absence. I don’t know if I even know how to stop it.”

“Oh.” I breathed out. Trying to make sense of his words.

While I was doing that, he asked,“May I ask why it is you wish to know? I thought you hated your gift.”

“I do. But I guess it still feels odd to not be able to use it on someone. I have no clue what you’re thinking let alone how you feel about me. It unsettles me.” I immediately regretted saying the last part as soon as it was out.

His reaction did not aid my embarrassment. A thunderous laugh erupted from his throat. It was the kind of laugh that you could feel in your abs, and I knew this because his whole torso shook as it spread through his vocal cords. He was genuinely amused.

His amusement prompted me to ask, “What’s so funny?”

“How I feel about you.” I think he mutter softly, before following a little louder to himself, “It’s weakened you.”

“What did you say?” I never had to ask someone to repeat themselves unironically, until I met him.

“Your ability I mean. It has impaired you.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I think the word is ‘spoiled’. Yes that seems to be the perfect descriptor.” He teased.

His words made me feel small and silly. Almost insignificant. “Excuse me?”

Sensing my irritation, he quickly told me, “I meant no disrespect. Its just most of your kind and some of mine are not awarded the same privileges that you have. We rely on body language and hidden meanings behind words to determine how someone feels. Well with the exception of me of course, because who would not adore me?” He joked. “But that’s beside the point. You have not yet learned how to read between the lines. Which is why I unsettle you.”

“I know how to read body language, I’m not an idiot.” I say a bit more sharply than I intended. My sense of inferiority getting the best of me.

“I’m not implying that you are, just that if it were not for your talent you would know have known what was on my mind ages ago.”

“That makes no sense. If I couldn’t read minds, i’d be in the same place I am now: unable to know what it is you think.”

“My dear, even if you could read my mind it would make no difference, for I’ve already made my feelings towards you painfully clear. One need not the aid of your capabilities.”

“Thor, could you stop the riddles—”

He ignored my pleas and kept going. “But just to be explicitly clear this time, since obviousness is lost on you—”

“Stop insulting—”

“I shall tell you how I feel about you.” He stepped and leaned in closer, as if what he was about to say was a secret meant for only my ears. “Listen closely because I will say this but once, so be wary not to misunderstand: I desire you.” He explained, words dripping with the utmost sincerity.

My brain started racing. And I suddenly realized just how close he was. “You desire me?” I repeated to myself.

“Yes. I desire you.” He stated again, anticipating my uncertainty.

If my heart wasn’t beating fast before, it surely was now. My poor ribcage wasn’t built for this.

“A-A-as a friend right?” I stutter out. “Because we aren’t, we aren’t close, like the rest of the team? Yes,” I breathe out. “That has to be what you mean.” I say that last part more to myself than to him. Clearly I’ve misunderstood his words, even though he warned me not to.

“While I would value a companionship, I’m afraid that is not all I mean when I say I desire you.”

“Eerr” Words are hard to form all of the sudden. Stammering out sounds is all that I can do.

The air around us stilled, and it was pregnant with silence. He gave me a moment to think before asking, “Would you like further explanation.”

“Yes please.” I rush out quickly. “I think that will clear things up a bit more.”

“Right it would. Well If you wish to know what’s on my brain when you’re near, I shall tell you.” His words are teasingly slow, and he knows this.

"But I doubt,” He continues, “i’ll be able to properly convey just how bad I long to be in your presence when you are gone. Just how much I battle myself when it comes to finding any excuse to touch you. As you know, I lost one of those battles today. I don’t know if you can handle, just how much I imagine your warm embrace to be. How tender I’ve imagined your lips to feel. I just know them to be softer than rose petals and sweeter than nectar.”

“In fact,” He started. I could almost physically see the lightbulb go off over his head. And then, he began ridding us of the rest of our space, extending his long arm to snake around my waist, and pulling me against his chest at a speed faster than lighting. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to put that theory to test.”

It was like a lucid dream. I was only allowed to watch everything play out before me, without the luxury of making any actions myself. It took great focus on my part to even will my head to move. My nod was so subtle I was unsure if he could even see it. But the God of Thunder had more than enough to go off on.

He joined the hand around my waist with his other, and shortly after I could feel my feet rise from the ground. My hands that were previously glued to his chest, found their place behind his neck to support the rest of my body. His head met me the rest of the way, before he blanketed his lips over mine.

He released one of the hands around my waist, to bring it up to my face. His fingers, now fastened to my jaw, slightly parted my lips allowing him to further explore my mouth with his. As massaged my tongue with his own, I could feel his eyelashes dance across my cheeks. That’s how close he was.

Most beards are scratchy and rough, but his felt like silk against my skin. His lips were even softer, and were like velvet in comparison.

I inhaled the scent of rain on freshly cut grass. It reminded me of dewy meadows and Irish springs. His touch was firm, but he managed to hold me with care, like a bull who had trained for years with the sole purpose of entering a china shop.

He tasted like what summer felt like, if you could make sense of it. The kiss had the same intensity behind severe thunderstorms. Beautiful but deadly. I found myself teetering on the edge of a cliff: desperate to chase this thrill, but also wary of whether or not it was worth dying for.

I mentally decided that I could expire in his arms, and be perfectly content with that decision.

I got more into it. I thought that if this was a dream I’d take full advantage of it. Surely dream Thor would be fine with me taking over the kiss. It felt only natural.

I decided it was time for my tongue to do the exploring. My lips needed to memorize the feel of his. My hands wanted to study every strand of hair that lived on the nape of his neck. That was only fair right?

I was enjoying his embrace so much, that I mistook the spinning in my head for shock from kissing a god, instead of the telltale signs of an impending headache. The lack of air in my lungs was because he took my breath away in a figurative sense, instead of the literal physical sense it actually was. The ache that spread throughout my body wasn’t because of the suffocating grip he had to keep me pressed to his chest, but because our bodies were on the brink of fusing into one.

On second thought, maybe dying in his arms is more painful than I previously thought.

I tapped out, and he immediately released me, placing me gently on the ground. I struggled for air, but it was like he didn’t miss a beat. Not a drop of sweat in sight on his gorgeous face. Instead, I could see a bright smile forming.

“Are my thoughts clear enough, now?” He asked, breaking out into smirk.

But I had no time to acknowledge his joke, for I could feel reality setting back in. And reality is, I was a flustered fuck.

“I’m sorry.” I stammered. “I must be holding you from your business on Asgard!”

“What? No—”

But he had no time to argue, for in a flash I was already gathering my gym bag and heading for the door.

“What about your training?” I heard him yell.

“I’m sorry! Maybe another time!” And after that, I practically sprinted to get out of earshot before he could protest or stop me.

I raced passed Peter who was on his way into the gym. “Y/N! Are you okay?” I heard him yell. But what was strange is that I couldn’t hear him think it, despite being more than enough distance away from Thor.

“I’m fine.” I yelled back, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Maybe Peter’s mouth was faster than his thoughts.

No. That wasn’t it, because as I raced through the tower, everyone’s minds were silent, even though they were chatting casually with one another. That never happened.

I burst through the nearest lady’s room, desperate to calm my nerves, when I saw Natasha applying red lipstick. The action by itself wasn’t disturbing, but the expression she wore was.

“Don’t tell the others.” She voiced, in a threatening tone.

“Don’t tell the others what?” I asked confused. Maybe she’d be able to take my mind off of things.

She looked at me like I had grown two heads, much like the first day we met when I proved that I could read her thoughts. “I know you read them. But this is different Y/N, the guys will never let me live this one down.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the date.”

“You’re going on a date?” No wonder she was so panicked. The woman was more comfortable with killing than she was with being vulnerable.

“Yes—What is wrong with you?” She half-yelled, interrupting herself as if she just realized something was wrong.

I had, had enough with trying to not think about him, because the task was damn near impossible so I decided to just say it. “Thor admitted his feelings for me. And then we kissed!” I cried.

Oh, Nat mouthed, taking a more comfortable position against the bathroom sink. She leaned against its counter, and crossed her arms,“And now you can’t take your mind off of him.”

It was my turn to look at her like she was a lunatic. “How did you know that? Are you a mind-reader too?”

Song for the Chapter: Waiting For You by the Aces: Pretty Self-explanatory lyrics. Think of the song from Thor’s POV

part II

A/N: If you made it this far, don’t be afraid to tell me what you think :)

#thor #thor imagines #thor x reader #thor fluff #thor x black!reader #avenger reader #mcu imagines #black avenger reader #fluff #chris hemsworth #black!reader #black!writer #thor ragnorak

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lovebecomeshim · 3 years

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hello! your zutara posting today has finally motivated me to ask this question because I came to atla very late(last year, to be specific) and I Love It Very Much but am 1000% out of the loop as far as why what remains of fandom (at least that I've seen among my friends) is so very strongly zutara. I'm not opposed to it per se I just don't really know what has driven it to apparently be such a popular ship? can you help me understand and maybe convert me a little bit?

Hey!! Your ICON! :D I can try but I’m not sure how coherent I’ll be; however I AM sure someone a lot more competent will be willing to add to this. Either way, I’m glad you asked because my plan was to drag down as many people as possible with me.

*smacks the hood of zutara* this baby can fit so much mutual love and support!

This got so long, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to put it under a cut on mobile and it already got deleted once so I’m scared to mess with it lol. Moving on.

I’m gonna start this with a disclaimer that im on mobile so formatting is tricky and I’m also really new to atla in that I only completed my first watch through in like 2019??? So some of my info is all just based on what I’ve picked up from Discourse 👀 so anyway the sparknotes version: zutara was wildly popular from the beginning. To the point where the atla crew internally disagreed on which ship should be endgame. (Ex. Bryke [showrunners] asked the writers to rewrite The Southern Raiders to make Zuko seem less ideal for Katara than Aang [which failed, depending on who you ask]; the animation team purposefully created a visual parrallel between Oma and Shu in the Cave of Two Lovers and Zuko and Katara in the catacombs under Ba Sing Se in the Crossroads of Destiny; etc.)

The ship was popular enough that Bryke actually chose to display zk fanart at a con for the sole purpose of mocking the fans, but that’s neither here nor there. The entire episode Ember Island Players, while a love letter to/parody of the whole show, was an opportunity to address zutara’s viability as a canon pairing (while, again, mocking zutaras for romanticizing that catacombs scene). Point is! It’s always been popular but with it not being endgame, there’s got to be something that’s given it staying power.

And that’s honestly got to do with three things: their dynamic, thematic cohesion, and potential.

(You know what... you know what, it’s four things. The fourth is they’re so aesthetically pleasing together and individually. Like, they’re just good looking people [specifically when they’re grown but they’re also cute kids] and that absolutely doesn’t hurt) (but it’s not the Point, it’s just nice to point out sometimes)

The dynamic is hard to get into without also looking at the canon pairings, but I think I can do that without unnecessary bashing. It’s just that part of the magic of zutara is really highlighted by what they give to each other that their other relationships don’t.

First off, it’s classic enemies to (would be) lovers. The absolute truest form of it. It’s not too different from how CS started out: a rogue antagonist with a job to do—but no personal vendetta against the future love interest—who is deeply and emotionally invested in his personal storyline (revenge/redemption) with little regard for how it effects other people after his entire life and genuine good nature are marred by suffering, and a fierce warrior girl with a strong moral compass and her own personal investment in stopping him (protect her family and save the world doing it). Obviously frustration and animosity grew between them by the nature of them being on opposing sides, but that just lends itself to the sweetness of their later reconciliation.

The thing is that while they’re wildly different on the surface (he’s a hot-headed prince of a fascist regime who is trying to capture the Avatar to please his father; she’s a nurturing daughter of the chief who is trying to protect and train the Avatar in order to topple his father’s throne) they find out that they have so much more in common both in their experiences and their personalities.

(What follows is an excessive use of the word “both” and I’m sorry about that)(I can edit it. I can do that. That IS an option............)

They both have an innate sense of justice that they are determined to see done (zuko, at the war meeting, sticking up for the Earth Kingdom kid when the guards torment his family, choosing not to steal from the pregnant couple despite his circumstances, abiding by his word to leave the SWT should Aang come willingly, etc.; katara, literally.... at any point). They both have pretty one-track minds at accomplishing certain goals once they’ve put their mind to it, regardless of a lack of support in that endeavor (it goes without saying I guess, but zuko’s entire hunt; katara’s determination to get the earth benders to fight back, her determination to absolutely destroy Pakku until he agrees to teach her, etc.). They both lost their mothers at young ages. Their worlds are war-torn and traumatizing to them both, if in different ways, but that ultimately forces them to grow up too quickly to be wholly independent individuals. They both have issues with their fathers (for WILDLY different reasons, but). They both hold extreme prejudices that they need to learn to overcome (which ties into thematic cohesion)(bit like Lizzie and Darcy in that way but magnified by a million). They’re both extremely emotional and empathetic—which can and often does result in loud outbursts. Katara’s a bit better adjusted and can temper her anger for longer than S1 Zuko can, but they both feel that anger deeply and have no compunctions expressing it (Katara is, usually, more justified, particularly in S1. Again, S1 Zuko is severely maladjusted but at the point when they could’ve feasibly become a couple, he’s so much better off with the way he carries himself). They both struggle with feelings of inferiority in their bending abilities when confronted with prodigal benders like Aang and Azula, but have the work ethic required to double down and become two of the most powerful benders in the three remaining nations. This is a little more minor but it is a parrallel that appeals to some shippers that they both have these alter egos in the Painted Lady (notably fire nation coded) and the Blue Spirit (water tribe coded) that are pretty different from who they are day-to-day and are useful in accomplishing a purpose that they as themselves cannot.

(I’m.... I just realized that this could potentially get very long. Should I have made a slide show with bullet points??????)

Anyway, similar. I know there’s more but there’s literally so much to love about zutara that I’ll drive myself a little crazy trying to compile all the ways they’re similar. (Just gonna say that at this exact moment I went back to add more similarities.... so okay then)

Once they’ve reconciled, we see how all of these things only lend themselves to a deeper intimacy together than they share with literally anyone else. There’s a steady partnership that positions them as the mom/dad of the gaang, while also providing the support necessary to allow the other to not have to carry so much responsibility. A lot of zutaras will point out how zuko is actually depicted doing the more domestic chores that are normally relegated to Katara once he joins the gaang, since the others in the group are two 12-year-olds and sokka. The one that sticks out the most is how he makes tea for the group and then serves them, while Katara is able to just relax with her friends around the fire. Fanon expands upon this a lot to Zuko helping with the laundry or the cooking or whatever else needs doing since he, as a once-refugee, is used to doing his own domestic tasks. Before Zuko joined, Katara was the one mothering everyone, sewing for them, cooking for them, etc. She’s always tending to the needs of the group, and that includes emotionally. She does the emotional labor for the gaang 99% of the time, but when she’s the one falling apart, she’s usually doing it alone and without the comfort that she normally provides for others. Until Zuko. And that’s before they’re even friends.

Which is WHY people romanticize the catacombs of Ba Sing Se so much. Katara is verbally attacking Zuko out of her own righteous anger but also her own prejudice when Zuko, surprisingly, chooses to be vulnerable with her. He’s been on a journey that’s opened his eyes a bit, but he’s never actively chosen to expose the rawest parts of his past to anyone. But for some reason he chooses to do that with Katara of all people. While she’s yelling at him. He sees her humanity, and for once can look past his prejudice and empathize with her. And this time, when she breaks down, she gets to be comforted. Katara normally talks about her mother when she’s trying to explain to someone else that she sees and understands they’re pain, as a form of comfort to them. Here, Zuko uses the exact same tactic. He sees her and he understands. And for zuko? He’s not being shut down. He’s allowed to articulate his pain regarding his mother without being ignored and made to internalize it, and he’s allowed to process how he feels about his scar out loud without being told that he deserved it. And then he lets her touch his scar, something we’ve seen him actively avoid before. He’s completely open to her and she’s completely open to him and all it took was one five minute conversation. She was about to use the little bit of Spirit water that she had, that she was saving for something Important, to heal the scar that still daily causes him pain just because they had, somehow, connected.

Plus there’s the whole parallel to the star-crossed lovers forbidden from one another, a war divides their people—

And then zuko messes up, he regresses, he gets what he wants and he HATES it. And the sense of justice he had as a child has been restored to him against his will and he can’t think of anything he wants to do more than the Right Thing, so he joins team avatar. Before he does that though, we get to see his relationship with Mai, which is where comparison really comes in. And what we see is Zuko, fresh off of his encounter with Katara in the catacombs, trying to be emotionally honest with Mai... and getting shut down and dismissed. Which is just how Mai is and it’s fine, but not for Zuko. Still, he keeps trying, and he keeps getting ignored or scoffed at or yelled at. Which is really a larger symbol for how he doesn’t fit in his old life anymore, but again that’s about thematic cohesion. He tries to articulate his anxieties about returning home, he tries to make romantic gestures, he tries to explain how morally conflicted he’s feeling—and Mai diverts to some kind of physical affection to shut him up and a parting comment that is pretty much always, in essence, “I don’t wanna talk about this.” So they don’t. On the other hand, once zuko and Katara are friends, we see him again emotionally distraught and caught up in his anxieties about facing Iroh, and it’s Katara who comes to him and listens to him and comforts and encourages him.

Similarly, we have Aang clamming up and getting uncomfortable whenever Katara shows any negative emotion, usually resulting in him making excuses or running away. Or, in the case of the Southern Raiders, lecturing her on how she needs to just let go of her anger about her mother’s murder. People have talked this episode to death and usually better than I ever could, so imma... keep it brief. There’s a serious disconnect between Aang and Katara in his ability to empathize with Katara and her needs that has her tamping down her vulnerability and amping up her anger. He tells her that he was able to forgive his people’s genocide and appa’s kidnapping (petnapping? Theft??), which is blatantly not true but also not an entirely equal parrallel to Katara’s situation, and continues making these little remarks throughout the episode. But it’s Zuko that Katara opens up to. It’s with him that she’s able to talk about the most traumatic day of her life, and it’s with him that she’s able to get the closure she needs, cementing their bond as friends and partners. This disagreement between Aang and Katara is then... never resolved. They just never bring it up and hear what the other is saying.

There’s a fic called The Portraits of Ember Island that has a line that so completely sums up the heart of the matter for why people love their dynamic. For context, zuko has woken up early to help Katara with the cooking and they spend the whole time just letting one another talk, and zuko stops to ask why she always just lets him talk. And so she stops to ask why he’s always helping, and it goes as follows:

There’s just... so much mutual support! Trust! Intimacy!! And it just continues like that from the Southern Raiders on, listening to each other, advising each other, watching each other’s backs! And then! Literally saving each other’s lives!! I will never be over the last Agni kai. Not ever. Zuko may have been willing to jump in front of lightning for anyone, but he actually did it for Katara. And in a show, that’s the thing that really matters. It’s a fulfilled trope usually exclusively applied to romantic pairings, and it ended up applying to Zuko and Katara. And then she ran out into the middle of a fight with tunnel vision just to get to him.

Also!! Also Zuko pushing Katara out of the way of the falling rocks at the Western Air Temple!! And Katara catching him as he fell from the war balloon that he fought Azula on!! Before they’re even getting along, they’re the ones reaching for each other. They come to this place of equal ground, as partners, who watch each other’s backs, call each other out but still listen attentively and understand, and provide the support that the other has been sorely lacking up until they knew each other (whether that be from lack of effort or lack of understanding from others, or an unwillingness to accept it for themselves).

Then, trailing along under the surface of this, we see the themes of the show totally embodied by Zuko and Katara as individuals and in their relationship to one another. There’s a YouTuber, sneezyreviews, who has a, like, 2-hour explanation on why she not only loves zutara but also believes that their endgame would’ve actually elevated the writing of atla to new levels particularly because of thematic cohesion and resolved character arcs. It’s the zutara dissertation I never knew I needed, and it’s funny and eloquent and effective, so I’m just going to sum up her section on thematic cohesion to the best of my abilities and then link it for whenever you have the time. And I HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you want a full understanding of what makes zutara so great and gives it such longevity.

Guru pathik has a line that goes something like this: separation is an illusion; things that seem different are just two parts of the same whole. Iroh also tells Zuko something similar: balance and strength are achieved when the different nations come together and influence one another and celebrate what makes them each unique. And this lesson is a massive central arc that both Zuko and Katara go through, moving past a black-and-white, good guys-vs-bad guys, us-vs-them mentality and into a greyer, more nuanced view of the world. Zuko sees the fire nation from an entirely new perspective and while he still loves and hopes for his nations future, he surrenders his blind loyalty to them in exchange for an unflinching loyalty to peace and love. Katara too had to come to terms with the fact that cruel people exist in the earth kingdom and water tribes, while some fire nation citizens are just regular, kind people who also need and deserve to have someone speak on their behalf. And this is honed in directly on how they view each other. They grow in their individual journeys to be open to the humanity in the other and then, once they’ve found that, they’re able to grow more in compassion for others in a beautiful feedback loop. And this is all matched in the symbolism repeatedly and intentionally associated with them in canon: sun and moon, fire and water, yin and yang, Oma and Shu who found love despite their warring nations. Their individual arcs are completed in each other and complement the themes of atla beautifully.

The canon pairs... just don’t. Which, again, is fine. But the very things that give atla longevity and popularity are anchored in zutara. Kat@ang doesn’t accomplish this. They’re... nice. Sweet. Especially when you erase a good portion of their interactions in S3. It could’ve been just a sweet love story. (Personally, the dynamic between toph and aang accomplish the same thing that zutara does, with complementary personalities that fulfill the theme of opposites blending in harmony) M@iko, on the other hand, is less sweet but I think wasn’t even supposed to last. Zuko’s relationship with Mai seems to represent his relationship with his old life as a whole. He can’t be emotionally vulnerable, he’s goaded into abusing his privileges, his agency and opinions aren’t respected. They just don’t have common ground with which to discuss anything that matters, so they don’t. As far as themes, the relationship doesn’t fit with atla. It’s zuko returning to and sticking with what is (on the surface) like him, what’s expected. Fire nation with fire nation. Fluid water bender with the flexible air bender. Like with like, separated from what is different and challenging and complementary.

And all of these things combined of course lead to the potential for the ship. I don’t know how familiar you are with the post-atla canon but... well, miss “I will never turn my back on people who need me”, miss “I don’t want to heal! I want to fight!” ends up living quietly in the SWT as a designated healer who turns a blind eye to the water tribe civil war happening right outside her front door. Which can be fine! People change! Some people just wanna stay inside. I just wanna stay inside! But the potential future for zutara is so much more satisfying, with Katara becoming the most unconventional Fire Lady the uppity old cads who are stuck on the old ways have ever seen. Fanon has her serving as a voice for the other nations within a kingdom at the point of its biggest political upheaval, as a confidante to Zuko who can actually help him while he’s trying to figure out how to move forward and make reparations. They have the opportunity, together, to accomplish what they both have set on their hearts to fight for: positive change that lends itself to harmony and balance. And the steambabies! A popular headcanon is that their firstborn daughter, the crown princess, is actually a waterbender, which causes such an uproar among the people who are adamantly clinging to the old ways. It’s just a future full of potential to be forces for good together, full of trust, intimacy, joy. The exact era of peace and love and balance that zuko announces that he intends to ring in with the start of his reign as Fire Lord is, again, magnified by the very personal zutara relationship. And we love to see it.

tl;dr zutara isn’t for everyone. Some people just don’t vibe with it. Some are nostalgic. Some love the canon they grew up with. Some have been disappointed for years. Some just see themselves in other characters and want their happiness instead. Whatever the reason, that’s fine. But for me, I love the way these two, from the moment they give each other a fair chance, are able to lower their walls and prejudices to see the other for the kindred spirits they are. They see each other’s humanity, and their response is to pour out love and support and compassion. I love that they’re a power couple in battle. I love the symbolism and, honestly, soulmatism that colors their every interaction. I love that they embody the whole storyline of atla in their relationship and how it develops, which is notably why their seasonal arcs always culminate in each finale with how they relate to one another. I love that zuko adopting a waterbending move is what actually saves his life and then katara’s. I love the chemistry! And I love the future they could’ve had, instead of the ones they were given.

So, in conclusion: I just think they’re neat and I hope you do too, at least a little bit. Even if it’s just respectfully from a disinterested distance cause you do you. And now here is the video I mentioned. I’m sorry this post got so long and then I gave you an even longer homework assignment, but I can’t recommend it enough. She says it all better than I can.

youtube

#zutara #atla #zutara rant #like really the way the canon relationships were written throughout s3 #it would’ve been more believable for zutara to happen #or at least be hinted at #all of the major issues presented in those relationship were dug up extensively and then... never resolved #and then they just slapped some kisses on a screen and said ‘there all better’#and we just kinda had to say ‘oh ok guess it’s all better then’#this got long I’m sorry #I wrote it all out and then tumblr ate 2/3 of it #which is why it took so long #and what I’ve written now doesn’t even match what I had before #because there’s too much to say about why I love zutara #and the stuff I left out the first time is what came out this time #rip to my original thoughts but this post is different #anyway that’s why this took so long #and I should’ve just made a PowerPoint...#I can do that too if you’d rather not read all of this lol #I won’t be offended #this is incoherent #Alia rambles uselessly #also hoping this doesn’t end up in any wrong tags because I don’t wanna step on toes lol #it’s not anti!! it’s just critical #in a compare/contrast way #I can pinpoint the moment when I started trying to rewrite my points from memory #because everything gets shorter and more succinct #like... I really said all that??? sounds fake and I don’t remember it anyway so here’s the condensed version #with no!! smooth!!! transitions!!!!#also why am I so lazy with proper grammar over text

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negasonicimagines · 3 years

Text

Love Shouldn't Hurt

trigger warnings: abuse, self-hatred, depression, and any other content warnings that come with the Deadpool franchise

request: Love love love your fics!! Can you please do one where Reader is a human and Ellie saves her from an abusive relationship and they fall in love?

notes: this was… a hard one to write. as someone who’s experienced abuse on a few different levels from a partner, you aren’t alone. you may feel like no one else would’ve loved you before, and that no one else will love you after what you’ve been through, but they will. if you’re struggling with abuse, please reach out to someone, anyone. even me, if you really don’t feel comfortable talking to someone you know. it can and will get better. things might not be okay now, but they will be. you are so loved.

i modified the request a bit, i hope that’s ok. i just adore a good best friends-to-lovers piece. sorry for the cheesy title, but i hope y'all are glad i'm semi-back. trying to write more since i'm in a better place and this is a good creative outlet for me.

synopsis: Ellie’s thrilled to return to her hometown after her senior year at Xavier’s is complete. She’s most excited to see you again. But, what happens when you aren’t the you she knows and (secretly) loves?

Ellie’s favorite part about coming home in the summer is seeing you.

Maybe that’s wrong; maybe she should be excited to see her family, or to be back in her own room, or to be away from the chaos at Xavier’s…

But it’s true.

This time, though, as you come out of your house (next door to hers, the only perk of living in suburbia is that you’re so close) you don’t skip along like you used to. Your smile is… Different.

“Hey, Ellie,” you say, and even your voice sounds different. Normally you’re grinning like an idiot, brimming with a puppy dog disposition that acts as a foil to her catlike aloofness. At the risk of sounding like a creepy teenage boy, where’s her hug?

“Are you okay?’ she blurts.

“Yeah, of course,” you laugh it off, your fake smile growing wider. You don’t wanna tell her? Odd. The two of you had drifted apart over this last school year, more than usual. It was normal for one or both of you to get carried away with your studies or other friends and forget to respond to a text every once in a while, so she hadn’t thought much of it. She knew once summer came, you two would fall right back into your routine of slumber parties nearly every night, catching up on all the crazy shit that’s happened in your lives during your time apart and making some more crazy shit happen together.

“...Okay,” Ellie decides to respond. Your phone vibrates, and you flinch, instantly pulling it out and quickly texting back. Your fingers are like lightning. You quickly lock your phone and slip it back into your pocket.

“How’ve you been?” you ask her. “How are things with Yukio?”

“Oh, we broke up almost as soon as we started fucking dating. Thought we’d work out as more, but decided pretty quickly that we were better off as just friends. Our future plans didn’t really line up, among other things. Other than that, I’ve been pretty good.”

“That makes sense,” you say, but you sound even more tense. “Uh, if we happen to run into Vivien, can you not tell her that? She’s the jealous type, and she knows we’re close, so…”

Ellie feels an odd twinge at that, more than just jealousy. Her mom always told her she had good intuition, so she presses further.

“How are things with you two?” she wonders.

“Oh, just great! She really is the best, words aren’t enough to describe it,” you answer enthusiastically, but it still feels so… Off. Maybe it is just jealousy making Ellie feel awkward. Envy was always her worst sin, coveting what she can’t; what she shouldn’t have. You’re her best friend, you always have been. It would probably end like it did with Yukio, burning fast and bright, but once the initial excitement is over… It’s over.

“That’s awesome,” Ellie says. “So, what were you thinking of doing today?”

“Oh, uh, whatever you want is fine,” you chirp.

“Breadstix?”

“They don’t have a lot of vegan options,” you remind her.

“You like it, though. I’ll cope.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts,’” she insists. “I don’t know why you like that place so much, the breadsticks they’re named for are pure shit, but I’ll just cope and get a salad.”

“Last time you ordered it, they put cheese on it, even though-”

“I remember. I’ll just send it back again, it’s not a big deal,” she insists once more. “Why are you arguing so much? It’s your favorite local place that isn’t fast food.”

You sigh.

“Fine, let’s go,” you cave, letting her pull you along to her car. You sit in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt as she starts it. She buckles her own, passing you her phone. You look at it as if it’s a foreign object.

“You always pick the music. What’s with you?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t like making all the decisions all of the time?” you bite back.

Ellie stammers, not sure how to respond.

“Hangry, huh?” She decides that must be the reason for your change in attitude. It’s already eleven, and you’re an earlier bird than she is. You likely skipped breakfast knowing the two of you would be eating when you hung out. She takes her phone back and just picks one of your playlists on Spotify.

You’re quiet on the short drive there, and it makes Ellie feel even more uneasy. Your chatter-- which she usually pretends is meaningless to her --is sorely missed.

You’re texting again, intently focused on the screen as if the task is difficult.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I said that I’m fine,” you quickly answer, locking your phone again and tucking it back in your pocket.

“I’ll drop it for now, but… If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?” Ellie asks.

“Yeah, of course,” you agree, but she doesn’t feel better.

“Cool,” she replies, parking outside of the restaurant. The two of you get out, it’s early in the lunch rush so you’re still able to be seated pretty quickly. Your drinks arrive just as swiftly, and Ellie catches you texting with that determined expression on your face again. “Seriously. What’s going on?”

“Just Vivien. She wanted to hang out today, but I didn’t know that until I told her I was gonna be with you. She’s just a little disappointed.”

“Well, she can join us, I’m sure-”

“No, no, it’s really alright,” you quickly reassure her. “I- These days, I don’t really spend time with anybody but her. I’m surprised she even let me- That came out wrong, she-”

As you continue to stumble over your words, the pieces continue to fall into place for Ellie, brows knitting closer and closer together.

“Is she hurting you?” Ellie asks. Xavier’s sex education isn’t just about the mechanics, it’s a pretty progressive class. They had a whole unit on abuse. Ellie’s pretty sure she’s seeing signs of it right now.

“No, of course not! I mean, every relationship has its challenges, but-”

“She is, isn’t she? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“‘Cause I knew you’d look at me like that,” you sigh, giving up on the lie.

“Like what?”

“Like… That. So disappointed in how pathetic I turned out to be. I mean, you’re Negasonic Teenage Warhead, for fuck’s sake, I… It must be so- I-”

“Hey, hey, no, that’s not it at all. I’m disappointed in myself, I should’ve fucking known something was wrong, I mean, I did, the second you came out of your house, but before that… I should’ve checked on you more. I’m- I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault I let it get this bad. She- She’s just- When it’s good, it’s good, y’know, but- I don’t know. I love her.”

“Those PSAs are right, though. Love shouldn’t hurt.”

“It always does,” you murmur, and you give her a meaningful look. If only she knew what the meaning of it was.

“Well, it shouldn’t,” Ellie insists. You’re picking at your pasta. You usually inhale it. Ellie almost asks what’s wrong, but she knows what it is. She’s sure Vivien’s taken every opportunity to break you down. “Eat, please. Or it’ll be a waste of my money.”

“Who said that you’re paying? You don’t even like this place.”

“I said I’m paying. Making a decision so that you don’t have to make them, isn’t that what you complained about earlier?”

You sigh in defeat, eating an actual bite instead of just twirling it around on your fork.

Ellie digs into her salad, she can’t help but fondly smile at you despite the situation. She’s missed you so much.

“When are you gonna do it?” she asks.

“Do what?” you wonder, as if you’ve forgotten the context of the question.

“Leave her.”

“I can’t,” you quickly say, but Ellie still catches a fearful tremor.

“Why not?”

“There’s nobody else. I mean, yeah, you and I are still friends, but… When you reject so many offers to hang out, people stop asking. They stop talking to you altogether, eventually. And… She’s the only person who’s ever wanted me, y’know? And now she’s the only one who ever will.”

“That’s not true,” Ellie says.

“It is.”

“It’s not, I swear,” Ellie insists. “I- You’re gonna need some time to heal, after everything, but… I do.”

“You’re just saying that. There’s no way, after all these years, that you finally-“ you stop yourself.

“Finally?” Ellie asks.

“That you finally love me the way I love you.”

“You mean…? I just thought… I’ve loved you just as long, but I thought you only saw me as a friend, and I didn’t wanna ruin that. The way things went with Yukio just reinforced that- That fear.”

You nod.

“Well, I guess that settles it. You’ll- I’ll call her. I can’t do it in person, she’ll… Y’know.”

“I know,” she gently responds.

You call Vivien.

“Hey, I… I can’t do this anymore. Us.”

You flinch. Ellie can hear the sounds. The yelling. And then the crying. And then the yelling again.

“I mean it. You’re right, you can do better, so… Go do better. We’re not good for each other,” you say with a shaky sigh. “Mhm. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. I know. I know. It’s not like that. Yeah. Goodbye, Vivien.”

“I’m proud of you,” Ellie says softly, and you just scoff, rolling your eyes before you sink your teeth in your bottom lip. You cover your mouth. “Hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay.”

“Will I?”

“Yeah. I might be ‘Negasonic Teenage Warhead,’ but you’re Y/N. Twice as strong without the annoyingly long codename.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff again, eyes watering. “I just- I just don’t know why I wasn’t good enough.”

“You’re perfect, she’s just… Some people just don’t… It’s hard to explain. I have a- He’s not my friend, I can’t believe I almost said that, thank the fuckin’ lord he didn’t hear me… I know a guy who deals with those kinds of people. He told me that most of them, they… They don’t ever change. Maybe they could, with help, but due to the ego that makes them abusive in the first place, they’re never gonna get that help. The world’s better off without them. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“That- That makes sense,” you admit. “I just wish we lived in a world where love was enough.”

“Me too,” Ellie sighs, and you take a sip of your drink. She mirrors your action, realizing that she’s actually quite thirsty. The two of you finish your brunch in a heavy silence. It feels like you both should be talking, but nothing feels right to say. That’s okay, though, Ellie’s just missed you so much. As depressing as the current mood is, there’s a bit of hope. You’ll be back to your regular self eventually; a stronger, more mature version, and Ellie will be there to shower you with the respect and affection you deserve when you’re ready.

#tw abuse #cw abuse #negasonic teenage warhead #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister #ellie phimister x reader #ellie phimister imagine #lesbian x reader #lesbian imagine #lesbian fanfiction #wlw x reader #wlw imagine #negasonicteenageimagines

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aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

The Call

summary - emily gets hurt, hotch can’t let her go.

word count - 2.2k (i am currently taking requests. find the prompts here! feel free to leave a plot as well as dialogue if you so choose!!)

It was supposed to be a simple, easy day. A day off. Their day off. Spent under the covers. Spent watching her walk through his home as if she belongs there, because she does. They were supposed to spend it wrapped up together in his sheets, whispering small confessions, promises of a future, smiles and chaste kisses.

Instead he spends it holding her body closer to him while she struggles for breath, gripping at her hand, whispering small pleads for more time through tears while she chokes, gasping for air that just will not reach her lungs.

Instead of spending their day off wrapped up in each other he spends it begging her to hold on before she’s whisked away, sirens and muffled voices surrounding him as he watches the blue lights fade into the distance while he’s pushed into the back of an SUV, his teams voices sounding far away as they rush to their own vehicles.

“I should have ignored the call.” he mutters to himself, staring down at the blood covering his hands, his shirt. “I should have..” he trails off, staring at the hand that latches in his and he turns, JJ’s eyes burning into his, the same pain he feels reflecting back at him.

“She’s going to be okay.” She whispers, a smile on her face as tears roll down her cheek.

Both of their eyes drop to his hands, ones that are coated red with her blood, and he swallows.

Is she?

Twelve Hours Ago

He wakes first, the soft light of the sun poking through the blinds interrupting his peaceful slumber. He peels an eye open slowly, staring daggers at the harsh light as though he could force it to disappear. He turns his head towards the alarm, the early hours of the morning staring back at him as he groans, turning onto his side away from the window and draping an arm gently over the sleeping woman next him, still peacefully resting as she faces him, her hair spread out across the pillow, thin small strands tumbling down her face. He can’t help but smile, gently brushing away the hairs from her face while he looks at her, as he does every morning that he wakes before her. And just like those mornings, her eyes flutter open at the feel of his gaze and he smiles.

“Stop staring at me.” she mumbles, her voice groggy as she closes her eyes once again, sleep still calling her back under. “It’s our day off.” she tells him, her lip curving upwards as she feels his soft fingers trace her arm. “Go back to sleep. Embrace it.”

He goes to protest when she moves, curling her body into his chest and he smiles, resting his chin on her head as his arm wraps around her and he can’t help but close his eyes, drifting back to sleep once again a few moments later, the feel of her in his arms enough to send him back under peacefully.

She wakes up first a few hours later, still safely wrapped in his hold, his arm across her waist and she smiles, tilting her head to find him still asleep, his face peaceful as he rests. Slowly, she moves out of his arms, picking up his shirt from the bedroom floor and tiptoeing to the bathroom. Appearing from the room a few moments later, buttoning his shirt over her small frame she looks at him once more, smiling as she watches him sleep peacefully, something he had only started doing recently, no longer clouded by night terrors that pulled him awake during the night, no longer awake at dawn and unable to fall back under, he now rests, completely, and she can’t help but smile as he does.

Emily pads over to the kitchen, pulling out two mugs as she boils the kettle, looking out of the window as the day starts, she glances at the clock at rolls her eyes as eight o’clock stares back at her, cursing their jobs for their unpredictable sleeping pattern, and their inability to sleep in; The whistle of the kettle is was pulls her out of her thoughts.

Grabbing both cups of coffee she walks back into the bedroom, smirking as she finds him waking up, his arms stretched over his face. She sits on the bed, her legs tucked under her as she sips on her coffee.

“Good morning.” she smiles as he sits up, taking the coffee from her with a grin before leaning towards her, catching her lips in his.

“Good morning,” he whispers as she smiles into their kiss, “You look good in my shirt.”

“So you’ve told me.” she grins as he pulls away, “Many times.”

“And as I will continue to do.” Aaron smirks back, sipping his coffee. “Seeing as it’s our day off I assume I have the luxury of seeing you in this attire all day?”

“Hm.” she shrugs, eyeing him over her cup as she looks at him, “Maybe a little less if you’re lucky.”

He laugh, nodding his head as he smirks back at her, taking her hand and slowly leading her into his arms, as her back rests on his chest he smiles, kissing her temple as she leans into his side.

“I love you.” he whispers, watching as she smiles shyly, dipping her head before tilting to face him.

“I love you too.” she whispers back, pressing her lips into his, smiling as his arm wraps around her front.

His phone rings at half twelve and it makes the two of them groan in contempt. Sighing, she pulls her lips from his and drops it into his shoulder while he chuckles, running his fingers up her spine.

“Ignore it.” she tells him, turning her head and running a finger down his cheek. “It’s our day off.”

“Emily...” he says, laughing as she lifts her head up, looking down at him. He goes to speak again, but instead is silenced by her kiss.

“Ignore it.” she whispers as the phone stops ringing, he catches her lips in his again, dragging his fingers across her shoulders as he rakes his fingers through her hair.

The phone rings again and she groans, rolling off him and flopping onto her back, rolling her eyes as he chuckles, throwing an arm over her gently while he grabs the phone.

“Hotchner.” he says, looking at Emily as she sits up, resting her chin on his shoulder while he talks.

“It’s my teams day off, I don’t know if-” he says, just as displeased with the distribution, “Yes I understand that but surely there must be another team that-” he stops again, the voice on the other line over taking, he rubs a hand over his face then and Emily fake cries, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder as she pouts.

“Really?” she asks as he puts the phone down.

“Unfortunately.” he replies, “Something about a warehouse and a kidnapping. D.C task force asked for us specifically.”

“Maybe we should all just stop being good at our jobs, we’d get a day off.” she comments as he stands, grabbing her hands and lifting her off the bed with a dramatic huff.

“I’ll call JJ.” he says, “Coffee?” he asks on his way out of the bedroom and she nods, before walking into the bathroom.

It all falls apart pretty quickly after that. Four armed unsubs, three girls held hostage, all have been in captivity for over a week. After an hour of discussion and back and fourth with the armed men, a decision is made.

“We’ve got three snipers on the roof of the surrounding buildings, all have clear visuals through the windows but can’t make the shot without hurting the girls. We need someone in there, a distraction, as soon as the girls are out of shot my guys can take the men down.”

“All three girls at brunettes, dark eyes, slim.” One of the task force agents say and everyone’s eyes move to Emily, who stares straight back. “He has a type.”

“Which is exactly why she shouldn’t go in.” Morgan says protectively, “Sure they’ll loose their hold on the girls with enough time for at least one sniper to act but the minute one falls it’s over. They’ll take everyone down with them.”

“I’ll go in,” Emily says, looking back at the building, “I don’t think we have another choice.”

“There’s always another choice.” Aaron tells her, “You can’t go in there.”

“The girls have been in there for almost ten days.” she replies, “Do you have another option?”

“You’re not going in.” he tells her, his voice stern but only she catches the fear behind it, the way his voice shakes as he looks at her with pleading eyes, eyes that beg her please not do this but all she can do look back at him apologetically, already knowing there is no other options. That she has to do this.

“Emily are you sure?” Morgan asks her. Shifting her eyes from Aaron and back to the group she nods.

“You guys better have my back.” she tells the task force, who nod.

“Snipers are at the ready. The minute they turn their backs you grab the girls and you run.”

“This is far too risky.” Hotch says as he shakes his head, “They’re armed. There’s no way she can grab three teenage girls and run out of there-”

“Not alone.” Morgan tells her, “But in a pair it’s easier. One of the unsubs get shot by the sniper, they’re distracted, the girls have the opportunity to run, and while one takes them from the building the other takes the two men.”

“Sending someone else in is risky-” A task force agent says.

“So is sending anyone in alone.” Hotch says, agreeing with Morgan. He turns to Emily, “I’m going with you.”

“You can’t,” She says softly as she looks at him, “HR made is very clear-”

“I don’t care about HR, Emily-” He goes to argue before stopping himself. “I’m going in with you.”

“Okay.” She says, refusing to argue with him.

“Are you sure?” Morgan asks, “If Strauss finds out-”

“She won’t.” JJ says, raising an eyebrow at everyone and they nod. “As far as anyone will be aware Morgan and Prentiss went in.”

“Okay.” they all agree, and they look back at the building.

“Ten minutes.” someone says and the couple nod.

“It’s going to be okay.” sbe whispers, smiling gently at him.

“It’s going to be okay.” he smiles, but there’s a feeling in his gut that argues with him as he watches her walk off.

And it was okay, they walked in the building, guns out as they followed the voices.

All four men were, as predicted, taken aback by Emily’s presence, her appearance fitting their type almost too accurately for Aarons liking.

They dropped their guards surrounding the girls after a few moments as Emily walked closer to them, and as discussed, as soon as the girls dropped to the floor at Aaron’s silent request, a shot came through and a man flopped to the ground, blood pouring from him. The girls quickly ran towards the Agents, the two rushing them out and towards the medics waiting around the corner. Aaron was just three feet away from Emily, gun pointed at one man as he turned to face them, the smirk on his face sending shivers down his spine. He clocked the third man too late, his gun already fired by the time he’d shot his, the man hitting the floor while the other laughed, before Aaron shot him as well, both falling not half a second after the other and he looks towards Emily and he swears he’s never felt fear like it.

Ripping out his ear piece as his team scream down it he runs to her, the word no leaving his mouth more times than anyone could ever count as he rushes to her, grabbing her as he hits the floor, his arms holding her head up as her body limply falls, her head resting in his arms as she gasps for breath.

“No, no.” he says, tears already falling down his eyes as he cups her face, “Stay with me.” he tells her, his eyes on hers as her body shakes, fighting for oxygen that she can’t inhale.

He watches as blood pours out of her abdomen, he removes his hand from her cheek and presses into him, whispering an apology as she cries out.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re okay.” he whispers, she swallows, her hand dropping onto his chest as she tries to reach his face, gasping for air as she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers.

She takes a sharp intake of breath, her voice hollow and harsh, “It’s not your fault.” she stutters shakily, her fingers tracing across his jawline.

Aaron shakes his head as he hand turns a violent red with her blood, looking at her as tears fall from their eyes. “You’re going to be fine.”

She chokes then, gagging for air that she can not inhale, her lungs crying out of the oxygen she just isn’t strong enough to breathe in while they start burning with intensity as she bleeds out.

He can hear the team rushing towards them and he looks up for a millisecond, before dropping his head back down her as head falls into him.

“No,” he whispers with a cry and she looks at him.

“I love you.” sne tells him with a breath that’s hoarse and dry while nodding her head with a smile. “I love you.”

“Please.” he begs, “Just hold on, okay?”

“It’s not your fault.” she says again, gasping for breath, making sure he knows that he couldn’t have changed this. Couldn’t have saved her. Her blood that leeks from her body and clings to his hand as he holds her, shaking his head as tears fall down his face.

“I love you,” he whispers, a sad smile on his face. “I love you… please, please stay with me.”

Her eyes drift closed as her body shuts down, whispering an i love you too as her head drops into his chest and he cries, pulling her into him.

Arms come around him, lifting him off the ground and he shouts as he feels her be taken from him, can only watch as she is placed on a gurney and he rushes to follow. He can hear people talking to him but it’s muffled, unable to understand the words being spoken as he follows her.

“You can’t go in the ambulance.” Morgan says, holding him back and Aaron turns.

“What? Why?” he stutters, watching as the door of the ambulance closes.

“Come on.” Morgan says, pushing him gently towards the SUV, he can see the blue lights fading into the distance as he stumbles into the vehicle. “We should be right behind them.” Morgan tells the team as he rushes into the drivers seat, slamming the door before speeding off behind the ambulance.

“I should have ignored the call.” he mutters, looking down at his blood stained hands. “I should have..”

“She’s going to be okay.” JJ tells him, grasping her hand in his and he looks at her, pain written all over his face.

He turns away to stare back at his hands, red with her blood and shakes his head.

“I should have ignored the call.” he whispers, “she asked me to ignore the call.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #tw / guns #tw / blood

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