#my hand hurts in two different directions

[justmymindandstuff]

Can you do Aemond x f!reader? And the reader being a lot like Helaena (I'm projecting lol, I want an autistic reader basically). Just fluff between them, maybe newlywed?

Learn to Love you - Aemond Targaryen x WifeReader

summary: Aemond tries to understand his new wife, but you are too much like his sister. He can't get through to you. One evening he tries it with direct confrontation and is rewarded with a glimpse of you and hope for the future. After this evening his wife is not a complete stranger anymore.

words: 2.818

warnings: softAemond, a bit angst

a/n: based on the request above. Unfortunately it didn't turn out quite as fluffy as it should. I hope you like it anyway :) I'm not autistic myself and don't want to hurt any feelings with the portrayl of the Reader. I based her on Helaena in the show.

Gif not mine// English is not my first language// no use of Y/N // AO3 // not proofread// requests are open

Aemond moves quietly through the halls of his home. The Red Keep slowly goes calm. The sun has already set, and most have retreated to their private chambers. Aemond is tired and longs for his own chambers and his bed. He had spent the evening a little longer than usual talking with Ser Criston. The sworn shield of his mother and he had trained together in the courtyard in the morning. Criston had discussed a few improvements with him. If his sore muscles would allow it, Aemond would try out the improvements tomorrow. But before he can retreat for the evening, he still has a task to complete. He still has his evening visit with his wife to attend to.

His marriage is not really how he imagine it would be. It's been almost a week since you two got married. You've known each other for 10 days. When you arrived at the Red Keep and he saw you for the first time, he had been relieved. A pretty face and a friendly smile had greeted him. Aemond tried to get to know you and realized that you are more than just a pretty face. You are nice, polite, smart, well-read, but strange. Often you drift off into your own world. Captured by your thoughts. You will be in a place where Aemond cannot follow you. And he quickly realized that you can't stand it when he touches you.

During your wedding ceremony, you didn't touch him more than necessary. The touch of your lips almost triggered a panic attack for you. You tore your hand away from his. Aemond would have liked to hold your hand a little longer. On this night, he did not dare to lay with you. This didn´t change over the last week, so you are still a maiden. Not that Aemond has told anyone, and as far as he knows, you haven't said a word either.

Maybe it's because he is a stranger to you? Aemond doesn't really know what to do. He doesn't like the situation. But he also doesn't know how he should change it. His usual solution, Vhagar, will definitely not work here.

He tried to seek advice from his brother. I don't know. With Helaena, it was different. I knew her well before we got married. For your wife, you are just a stranger. Aegon is right but Aemond didn't know how to change that.

So he went to his mother. Give her time to get to know you.

Both pieces of advice only led him to visit you every evening and try to get to know you. However, you mostly sit there in awkward silence and do not look at each other. You still feel uncomfortable in his presence he knows this.

Arriving at your chambers, he takes a deep breath once more and steps inside. The room is still lit by a few candles. He closes the door and watches as you pace restlessly in front of the fireplace.

"You are later than usual." you say, stopping in your movement. Now that Aemond is here, the unrest fades a little. Still, it bothers you that he doesn't come to visit you during his usual time frame. It's actually almost time for you to call your maids so they can help you change and you can go to sleep.

“I apologize for being late.” Aemond says even though he doesn't understand why it bothers you. Have you already gotten your hopes up that he won't come today? You look at him for a moment and then nod.

Without saying a word, you sit down in the armchair by the fireplace where you sit every evening. Aemond takes off his sword belt and places his weapon next to the door. He had considered that it might make you nervous that he carries a sword with him. So he puts down his weapon every evening before he sits down with you. Fortunately, you know nothing about the dagger in his boot.

Aemond even had a dagger made for you as a wedding gift. A beautiful weapon, with a gracefully curved handle and on the blade, just before the hilt begins, is a small dragon embossed that is inspired by Vhagar. Aemond hasn't had the chance to give you this gift yet. He knows that you need to get to know him better in order to understand the thought behind it. You should always be able to protect yourself, in case he might not be able to someday.

He shakes off the thought and sits down in the other armchair next to the fireplace. You don't look at him, but into the flames. Just like every evening. When you start to speak in a quiet voice he almost flinches.

"Why are you later than usual?" your hands are playing with the fabric of your skirt. You haven't changed for the night yet. You´re never when Aemond comes into your chambers. Even your hair is still braided into tight braids. Aemond feels like a visitor in his wife's chambers.

"I discussed my training with Ser Criston. There were a few problems this morning," he replies honestly.

Your face shows no reaction as you respond. “Are you hurt?”

Are you worried about him? No. Why should you? He is a stranger to you. But he still worries about you even though you are a stranger to him. After all, you are married. He wished he could read your thoughts.

"No, I am not hurt. Even though I don't really want it, Ser Criston is always a bit cautious during training with me." he is trying to ease your worries. If you are worried. Again, he tries to read your expression, but your face remains still. Your only reaction is that you turn your head to look at him. The fire in the fireplace casts warm light on your profile and your skin shimmers almost like gold. Once again, Aemond notices how beautiful you are. You look at him, and your gaze prompts Aemond to continue speaking. "I don't want him to hold back because, in a serious situation, my opponent won't hold back either."

"Which serious situation?" you still ask in a quiet voice.

"I don't know. If my family is in danger." and then he adds quietly. "If you are in danger."

The corner of your mouth twitch slightly and you almost smile. Then you turn your gaze away again and look into the fireplace. Aemond suppresses the urge to reach for your hand in your lap. Silence spreads again between you. The uncomfortable silence causes a hot burning sensation in Aemond's gut. Still, he can't take his eyes off you. You seem a bit sad. He decides that it can't go on like this. Aemond has to swallow and gathers all his courage to speak again.

"You are not happy."

This time you turn not just your head towards him but your whole body. He is surprised when your gaze meets him and you look directly into his eyes. Rarely can you hold his gaze. Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you think. It takes a moment before you respond.

"No. No, it's just that it's hard for me. My father brought me here, and this is a strange place for me. All the people around me are strangers. I miss my family and my home. Everything I knew was taken away from me. I was used to everything at home. I had my routines and everything. It's hard for me to adjust to all these new things around me. But it doesn't have anything to do with you."

Aemond is surprised by your words and needs a moment to truly understand what you have said. Guilt overwhelms him. It is his fault that you were kidnapped from your home. Because you had to marry him.

"I'm sorry," he says. Now it is him who cannot withstand your gaze and he looks at his hands.

"I don't blame you." once again, you surprise him your voice is now a bit firmer. "It wasn't your decision to marry me. Just as it was not my decision to marry you. That was agreed upon by our parents." you sigh. "You are not happy either. And that is my fault. I know that I'm weird."

"No! I don't find you weird."

You laugh softly and at the sound Aemond's heart skips a beat. He is looking at you again, he wants to hear you laugh once more.

"You don't have to lie."

"I am not lying. I don't find you weird. You remind me of my sister."

Your eyes start to shine. "Hel. I like her a lot."

He feels a slight tug at his heart. Aemond knows that you usually spend your days in the company of his sister Helaena. He has seen both of you walking in the garden a few times or engrossed in conversation while eating. He would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of Helaena.

"Yes, I know. Do you spend a lot of time with her?“

You nod. "Yes. I enjoy being with her." "What are you doing all day?"“ Aemond is clinging to every strand. Everything is better than this uncomfortable silence between you.

"Oh, very different things. Sometimes we read together, or she explains something to me about insects. Sometimes I read one of my poems to her. Or I’ll give her one to read."

Aemond is captivated by the sparkle in your eyes.

"You write poetry?" he asks, annoyed with himself for not knowing this about you, but Hel did. Your cheeks are slightly turning red, and for the first time, Aemond feels like he can read your emotions from your face.

"Yes, among with other things. I also enjoy reading poetry. My favorite poet is Marcus Hill. He writes incredibly well. My poems are not even close to being that good. But I don't just write poems, I also write short stories. This helps me organize my thoughts better. But I like most writing poems.“ you speak a little faster than usual, which reveals your excitement to Aemond. He can't help but smile at the sight. Now that you are passionately talking about your interests, you are even more beautiful.

Suddenly you jump up from your chair. Aemond's hand instinctively goes to where his sword's hilt usually is. In the next second, it becomes clear to him that there is no danger, and he relaxes again. You didn't notice anything because you turned away immediately and took a few uncertain steps through your chamber before turning back to him. Uncertain, your hands begin to play with the fabric of your skirt. You take a deep breath and then search for his gaze for a second before looking away again. Aemond leans forward a bit, tense with anticipation. Finally you start to speak. "Would you like to… I mean just if you want? You don't have to." You stop yourself, take a deep breath and gathering your thoughts. "Would you like to read one of my poems?" you ask softly.

Aemonds heart skips a beat and a pleasant warmth spreads within him. "Yes. Very gladly."

You nod, turn back around, and walk to your nightstand. You pick up a book with a leather cover and open it. Aemond notices from his seat that it is stuffed with written pages, and almost every book page is filled with your neat handwriting. You rummage through the loose papers and then pull out a page before you close the book again and carefully place it back in its spot. You are coming back to him.

"I wrote this on the day of our wedding," you say, handing him the sheet of paper. In that moment, your fingertips brush against his. The touch is so fleeting that Aemond is not sure if he might have just imagined it.

He turns his gaze away from you and directs it to the folded paper between his fingers. He wants to open it to read your poem, but before he has really moved his fingers, your hand shoots forward and holds his hand firmly. Aemond skin tingles and he lightly closes his hands around yours.

"No. Please don't read it here. That would be too embarrassing for me. Please read it later and tell me tomorrow what you thought," you say quickly. Aemond looks up again and directly into your eyes. He saw you that close for the last time on your wedding day in the sept. A shiver runs through his body and he can only nod. You also nod and allow him to briefly squeeze your hand before you pull back and sit down again in your chair opposite to him. He already misses the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

Aemond folds the paper with your face completely again and then puts it in the pocket of his shirt. Suddenly, this piece of paper is his most precious possession.

"Now you know something about me." you notice. Aemond can't gauge whether the fact bothers you or not. He hopes it  doesn´t. Before he can ask, you are already speaking again. "You like sword training. I could watch your training?” you suggest.

Aemond thinks about the training courtyard. About the loud clashing of the swords striking against each other, the sreams of the knights, the swearing and the rough manner of speaking among men. And then he thinks of you, his gentle, fragile wife. Sometimes the gentle background music that plays during dinner is too loud for you. You would hate it.

"No, this is not a suitable environment for you, my Lady. The men do not know how to behave in the presence of a princess." he explains.

"Oh."

Aemond sees how you stiffen a little again and turn your gaze back towards the fireplace. The fire is almost out. Aemond is afraid that the closeness he has found today will slip away from him again, and as a result, he starts to speak a bit too quickly.

"But if you want, I can join you on your walk tomorrow?" he is momentarily afraid that this will disrupt your routine, but you look at him again.

"Yes, that would be nice. I always take a stroll through Queen Alyssa's garden after afternoon tea."

Aemond must suppress a smile. He is, of course, well informed about your daily routine. Even though he hasn't really been able to talk to you until today, he has always kept a close eye on what you're doing. "I am happy to be allow to accompany you." his gaze falls on your hands folded in your lap, and once again, longing pulls at him to reach for your hand. "When we go for a walk. Would you allow me to hold your hand then? I know you don't like my touches. But...

"No. It's not your touches that I don't like.I don't like touches from anyone, regardless of who." you clarify things quickly. "But yes. I will allow it. I know about it know, so I can prepare myself for it. If I´m prepared I can hold your hand.”

This time Aemond cannot suppress his smile. A pleasant anticipation for tomorrow fills him and he feels as if he has made a significant step forward in his marriage today.

The ringing of the bell in the great sept makes you both flinch. Startled you look out the window, then you get up and walk through your rooms. "I have to call my maids and go to bed.It's already past my usual time."

Aemond quickly gets up as well and nods. Bad conscience about the fact that he disrupted your routine today weighs on him. He turns to the door and goes to his sword belt to put it back on. As he just fastens the buckle and turns to leave, you turn to him once more.

"Thank you, Aemond. Our conversation was good for me. I enjoyed it very much. I´m looking forward to our walk tomorrow and I'm curious to hear what you think of my poem."  and then you smile directly at him for the first time.

His heart starts to race immediately, and Aemond is sure that he has just fallen in love. Unconsciously, he places his hand on the pocket where he has put your poem. Then he returns your smile.

"Yes, I also enjoyed it very much. Good night, my Lady Wife. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night, my Lord Husband.” you respond still with a smile on your face.  

Aemond nods briefly and then leaves your chambers. His steps are light, and he intends to speak with the steward first thing tomorrow morning so that he can arrange for the poet Marcus Hill to be invited to the Red Keep as soon as possible.

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

oughh......

[sttoru]

fav concubine trying to top but sukuna is... sukuna so he fucks her full nelson <3

𝝑𝑒 SYNOPSIS. trying to show lord sukuna that you can indeed be on top of him in bed ends up backfiring almost immediately & results in you nearly passing out.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. size difference. full nelson position. degredation. objectification. mention of (almost) passing out. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl, woman.’ beta read? nope

“i can do it, my lord,” you huff stubbornly. you don’t know where you got the courage from to be so assertive tonight. maybe it’s because of sukuna’s earlier words—those mocking words that he uttered to get a rise out of you. or to see you scared, perhaps.

‘y’re gonna need to do a lot more to keep me entertained, doll. gonna get bored of ya if y’ don’t.’

the sentences repeat in your head like a never ending chant. on one hand, you know sukuna was simply trying to play with your emotions, but on the other hand, you’re afraid that there might be some truth to his words. so, you take up the challenge.

“y’ can’t do shit, little girl,” sukuna rolls his eyes as he sees you climb onto his lap. his thick thighs are spread, his broad back against the headboard of the bed.

he doesn’t even try helping you like he usually does, with his hands guiding your hips. if you’re stubborn enough to try and be on top of the king of curses out of all people, you’re going to get minimal help.

“yes i can,” you mumble with a sense of uncertainty in your voice. you’ve never really done any of this. you’re usually on the receiving end, having sukuna easily move and bend your body however he sees fit. you’ve never imagined being in his place, “just watch me, my lord.”

you’re desperate to please him. you’re scared to lose your position as his favorite. you let the words get to your head—just like sukuna expected. the fact that you’re so gullible makes him stifle a condescending laugh.

“all ‘m seeing is you struggling to ride me,” the tall man clicks his tongue and his eyes lazily watch your attempts to sink down on his two, hard and dripping cocks. the contact his leaking tips makes with your cunt is enough to make sukuna grunt.

he’s trying hard to not slam you down on him fully. he’s used to take control—too used to it. seeing you struggle to even start is making him impatient.

“i-i’ll get it eventually, my lord,” you hiccup, nervous because of the fact that you’re on top of such a huge man. he’s staring at you menacingly, all his arms crossed over his chest. your hips tremble as you slide one of his cocks into your warm pussy, both of you hissing at the direct contact.

you try to fit the other in the same hole, but you simply cannot handle it at the moment. his upper dick slips right out and bumps against your clit instead. you clumsily fumble with the same one, trying to make place for it in your cunt.

sukuna can’t hold it in anymore. having you clamping down on one of his massive cocks, his girth stretching your small canal to fit all of it to the base and your face contorting in both discomfort and pleasure is making him lose it. “this isn’t gonna work. need to fuck you properly, doll.”

you’re not even one minute in and he’s yanked your small body off his lap, forcefully turning you around until your back is pressed against his chest and your head is rolled back to rest near his shoulder. sukuna’s upper hands hold your legs up by the back of your knees. his bottom set of hands wrap around his cocks and pushes one through your sensitive cunt whilst he fists the other.

“fff— mhhh! my lord! nonono,” you tear up. partially because the sudden intrusion hurts your insides and the stretch is unexpected, but mainly because you’re scared that sukuna’s angry with you. you don’t wish to lose his interest in you, “i’m sorry, let me try again.”

the king of curses slaps your clitoris harshly after that comment of yours. “that a demand? foolish woman,” he scoffs and his hips thrust upwards against the fat of your ass. squelchy noises fill the chambers and spill outside of the room—it’s loud. the bed creaking is unmissable as well with how fast he’s pounding you.

sukuna bites into your shoulder and holds back his grunts like that. he’s relentless, drilling into your cunt so hard that you’re getting numb. your body is limp in his beefy arms and your rationality leaves your mind. you’re more than overwhelmed.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you whine and try to babble about something, but it’s all incoherent. you’re feeling lightheaded due to how much you’re taking of him. it feels amazing, soul ascending, but your emotions are in the way. even when you try not to show any attachment to the man you swore not to like.

sukuna ignores your pleas. his focus is on your slutty cunt swallowing every inch of his lower dick like its nothing. you’re used to it—he’s made you used to it—and somehow you’re still as tight as the first time. that and your submission to him is exciting. your adorable noises. the form of your body as it fits perfectly against his like you’re made for him.

you are made for him. your purpose is to please him, submit to him and give him what he deserves. that’s why he keeps you around.

“stop y’r whining,” sukuna grumbles. your knees are forced up against your ears and your tits are bouncing with each harsh thrust. “y’r a dumb fucking thing,” the king of curses presses down on the bottom of your stomach, increasing the pleasure for you, whilst also pleasing himself by knowing how deep you’re taking him, “do you think ‘m actually going to let you go?”

your eyes widen as sukuna picks up on your internal worries. you know there’s no hiding your feelings from him, even if you don’t talk about them to him. it’s like he can sense them. or see right through you with those piercing red eyes that leave you shivering for days.

“y’re too delicious to let go of. i don’t intend on letting anyone else get a taste of this pussy,” sukuna smirks and his tongue rolls out to lick your left ear. you gasp at the feeling and moan right after. you don’t try being quiet. you don’t care if anyone hears you. the reassurance was all you needed.

everyone around the estate knows you’re getting your guts rearranged by the same lord they serve. it’s the same routine every day.

“y’re mine,” sukuna grumbles and speeds up his thrusts until you’re seeing stars. you’re not sure if you can hold out for much longer. you can already feel your orgasm building up—and judging by sukuna’s tight grip on your thighs—he’s close to emptying himself deep inside you as well.

you try your best to keep up with everything, but your human mind can only focus on so much at once. you mumble some words in agreement as your head tilts to the side, your vision turning blurry and fuzzy, “all yours, m’lord.”

sukuna grins mischievously. he’s completely won you over. he’s got you wrapped around his finger. you’re easy, even if you think you’re the complete opposite. the skilled curse knows just what to say to make you all putty in his hands.

you’re gullible. easily manipulated. a perfect target for his mockery and teasing. that’s why he always has fun with you—whether it’d be in bed or not. his comment earlier was just to mess with you.

and expected, you walked right into his trap. you’re his favorite. his favorite to play around with. his favorite human.

“all mine. only mine.”

[foldingfittedsheets]

I grew up lucky for a queer person. My area wasn’t actively hostile to me. My parents accepted the news that I had a crush on my best friend with no major upset.

There was homophobic comments made in my household in line with the era, but without hatred behind the words. I got called “lesbian” by bullies but honestly it just rolled off of hurtful and hit funny.

That’s why I was so ill prepared for my move to Arizona. I was moving to live with my at-the-time girlfriend, Taylor. She was native to the state and I’d met her while living there for one miserable year in high school. I’d had a crush on her for ten years before we started dating.

In the process of moving my parents were helping by driving a uhaul with my stuff while Taylor and I drove down in my car. It was a two day drive and we rolled into my new city one warm desert evening. We stopped to get some water and wait for my parents to catch up in the uhaul.

We got out of the car, stretching our achy limbs and heading toward a little fast food place in the strip mall. Across the parking lot a group of men started hooting and whistling at us. Words like “beautiful,” and “come here” drifting along the still evening air. We didn’t react and they grew louder until I casually flipped them off.

The tenor of their calls changed instantly. Now we heard “dykes” and “bitches” and “teach you a lesson”. For the first time, I felt afraid to be walking along in a lit parking lot. I looked at Taylor and to my horror she had started to turn in their direction.

I grabbed her arm and she shook me off. The men were moving away but I didn’t want to see a fight or worse break out if she caught up. But Taylor wasn’t heading to follow them. She was arrowing toward the truck they’d been lounging across.

“What are you doing?” I asked her anxiously.

For answer she reached for guys front tire and started letting the air out. A nervous giggle escaped me and I stood to keep lookout. She had the front two tires done before the trucks owner came storming across the parking lot.

“You should have just slashed them!” he snarled, “Woulda been faster.”

Taylor rose and coolly said, “That’s destruction of property, I was just checkin’ your tires, bro.”

Emotions flitted across his face from surprise to rage but after a moment he mastered his anger and said, “Okay. I get it. We were out of line before.”

He held out his hand as if to shake hers and I tensed. His eyes told a very different story than his mouth. Taylor casually flicked his air cap at him and it bounced off his chest. We turned and walked away without another word.

It was my first night in my new town. The scene would set the stage for later interactions. People who would ask me if I couldn’t empathize with parents who kicked their gay kids out for spreading sin. I’d go on to be followed and harassed on more than one occasion. That night showed me how privileged I’d been and how vulnerable I was at the time. But I at least had the satisfaction of thinking back to that man filling his tires back up with air.

[amourane]

kick in the right direction

pairing: football player!seungcheol x mascot!reader

genre: fluff, university au

w/c: 0.9k

summary: seungcheol is the star football player in your university but he becomes a bumbling mess in front of you.

warnings: none, you do get hit by a ball though

a/n: i have decided to start writing fics for seventeen too because i just love them way way too much <3 also disclaimer this post used to be under my old url httphannie <3

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to say. He usually has an explanation for his actions. There doesn’t seem to be anything coming to his mind when he sees you on the ground. The problem with being the star player on the football team was the amount of trust his coach put on him. As well as the thought that they needed to win every game, that wasn’t a problem though because Choi Seungcheol was a beast when he was in game mode. His aim was the best on the whole team, he’d never missed a goal. 

Obviously today was an off day.

“You’re staring, Cheol.” Jeonghan gives him a hearty slap on the back. “You really like our school mascot don’t you?” All Seungcheol can do is nod, watching as Seungkwan helps you up.

He really wants to go over and say sorry for nearly knocking you out with his kick but he can’t. Not because he doesn’t want to but because he simply can’t. It’s stupid really. Choi Seungcheol, star player of the football team, can’t say two words when he’s faced with you. He’s tried speaking to you. Once after a game, not the best choice because he’d become so nervous he spilt his water bottle all over you. Even after you told him it was fine he was still stuttering his words. Another time he’d managed to catch you walking down the hallway. The moment you smiled and said ‘hi’ his mind blanked. No words could come out of his mouth and he stood there gaping like a goldfish.

Talking to girls was easy for Seungcheol. He could give them a smile and they’d be fawning all over him. You were different. There isn’t one time he’s had a full conversation with you with nothing embarrassing happening. He’d stumble over his words or nothing would come out of his mouth. The only thing that kept him from giving up was the fact you would grin every time he came up to you and he didn’t like giving up.

“Of course I like her!” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “I just don't know what to do?”

“You could ask her out.”

“I can’t!” 

His friend arches an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean you can't ask her out? Like you're scared, or you don't know how to, because those two are completely different things." Jeonghan's tone is gentle but probing, urging Seungcheol to confront the root of his hesitation.

“That’s not it. I’ve got everything planned out. I know what to say and I know where I want to bring her to. There’s a whole plan in my notebook, it’s coloured in and everything!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Seungcheol fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Whenever I go up to her to ask her out my throat closes and I can’t find the right words. Or when I try to even write my confession, my hand freezes and no letters can be written. It’s even worse because I manage to make a fool of myself whenever I’m in front of her!” He kicks the football away.

Jeonghan sighs, staring at Seungcheol as he aimed a perfect kick to the goal. The boy was completely enamoured by you. Practically the whole school knew about his crush on you. Everyone was just waiting for the day the both of you would come in hand in hand. 

//

“Y/n, oh my god! Are you okay?” Seungkwan was shaking you by your shoulders. You rub your head. That football was really hard. Who knew air could hurt you? “How many fingers am I holding up?” He waves three fingers around and your eyes struggle to adjust to his trembling hand.

“Calm down. I just got hit in the head, I don’t have a concussion or anything.” You just know there’s going to be a huge bump on your forehead tomorrow. “It’s partly Stuart’s fault.” You pat the dragon costume you had on. The fuzzy green body was heavy and the long swishy tail at the back was quite annoying to lug around.

"Why are you blaming our mascot? Stuart did nothing wrong," Seungkwan interjects, shooting a pointed glare at Seungcheol. "Star player my ass." He mutters under his breath, clearly unimpressed.

“Hey, don’t blame him. I’m sure it was an accident.” You give Seungcheol a little smile and an ‘okay’ sign to tell him everything was fine. 

“I can’t believe you like that dumbass, he can’t string two sentences together when he’s in front of you.” Seungkwan helps you up, handing you Stuart’s head. You dust off the dirt on your costume. 

What was there not to like about Choi Seungcheol? He was popular, athletic, smart and talented in everything. Not to mention he was the literal definition of eye candy. There hadn’t been many occasions where you two had met. He’d always stutter helplessly or his cheeks would resemble a fire truck, which was very endearing. It was quite funny seeing him stumble over his words whenever he tried to ask you out.

“Why don’t you just ask him out? You already know he likes you, not that he makes it the most obvious thing in the world.” 

“But isn't it just the cutest thing when he tries to ask me out but he’s a stuttering blushing mess?” You giggle when you catch sight of the pout Seungcheol has on his face. “I hope he asks me out soon though, I can’t wait to finally go on a date with him.” 

The smile you shoot at Seungcheol has him tripping over his feet, face planting into the ground. Suppressing your laughter behind your hand, you watch as he hurriedly picks himself up, only to see his teammates rolling on the floor with amusement.

“How long are you even willing to wait?”

“As long as it takes.”

[pathologicalreid]

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.  

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

[reidrum]

the prophecy part 1:

cards on the table, mine played out like fools in a fable | s.r.

A/N: trying something new…..this one’s been on my mind for too long and the angst hurt too good. sorry in advance ! perhaps a part 2 who’s to say ..,,,..,. ?

cw: bau!fem!reader, spoilers for prison arc, implied talks of SA (referring to when lindsey doses spencer in mexico), maeve donovan, just angst bro this doesn’t end well

summary: you and jj accompany spencer to cat’s correctional facility to play her games, except there’s more than one loser

wc: 2.1k

part 2

——————————————————————————

Cat Adams’ taunts and demands have led Spencer, JJ, and you to visit her in her correctional facility to play whatever game she has for him. Emily had you and JJ go with him given his erratic state from just being released, in hopes that you both could regulate and monitor the whole meeting.

You and JJ watch Spencer walk in stoically, sitting down across from Cat as she smiles at him. He angrily demands for his mother’s location, but she gets upset and tells him that he doesn’t get to treat her like a criminal. She only agrees to tell him the location if he plays her game, and figures out the secret she knows about Spencer.

Spencer’s brain works overtime to figure out what he’s missing, what Cat could possibly be holding against him that would make him deny the truth of it. He runs through all the scenarios; Spencer being able to now understand how it feels to have a parent used as a pawn, Cat wanting him to admit his love for her. But she shakes her head and reveals that a clue was left in a scrapbook in Spencer’s apartment.

You remember you took a picture of it when you went with Spencer to scope it out, and pulled it out to show JJ.

“Is that an X and a Y?” She ponders, “What could that mean?”

“I think it’s…” You stop halfway, realizing what it means. Your face drops and you look back in the room to watch Spencer come to the same conclusion.

“We’re pregnant!” Cat sings.

You and JJ look at each other in shock, the blonde’s voice slowly drowning out as you sink further into the Cat shaped hole. You vaguely hear her mention going to the guard to find her medical records, but all you can think about is how she could be bearing Spencer’s child.

Spencer and you had been together for a little over two years now. While still in the relative early stages, a lot about your relationship had been figured out and solidified. It was the most secure you’d ever felt with anyone, and despite the road bumps with Mexico you felt that you both came through it as well as any couple would in that situation.

You loved Spencer, and Spencer loved you. Right now was just another one of those road bumps, just like Mexico. That’s what you needed to tell yourself.

JJ bursts through the door with the medical documents, “I got them.” breaking you out of your spiral. You both anxiously look at the paper to find a little (+) sign ticked next to the pregnant box.

Cat Adams really was pregnant. You think you could be sick, you feel JJ’s hand grip your arm in an attempt to tether you back down, but it’s a futile effort. Your brain has already taken the information and ran a billion different directions with it, each coming up with a more crazy conclusion.

You stare blankly into the interrogation room as Spencer vehemently denies the child being his, denying any such way that it could even be his. The disbelief is ruling his words as he shuts down any theory that gives it truth, until Cat reminds him of the heavy dose he was given in Mexico. It hit him then, if he could barely remember the third person in that room, he had no bearing on whatever else transpired.

Spencer tries not to let the anxiety and shock show on his face as he sits down to face Cat in the eyes, “How did you do it?”

“I gave Lindsey very specific instructions to get you in the mood.”

“She pretend to be you?”

“Why, would that have worked?”

“No.” he says sternly.

She pauses, ego clearly bruised, “Yeah, I know. I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid "Hot or Not" list. I told her to pretend to be Maeve. Maeve Donovan, who had her brains blown out right in front of you before you two could even kiss.”

Spencer’s face falls. No, he thinks, no no no. He looks back at the one way window behind him, knowing very well he can’t see you but you’re watching everything unfold disastrously.

Your heart drops so fast it could have very well been seismic. To your horror, Cat continues.

“I thought about telling her to pretend to be your little BAU girlfriend,” she chuckles, “But then I realized, you only had one love of your life. and you won’t let anyone else measure up.” She leans in closer, “By the way, I know that you still think about Maeve when you’re, you know, with your little crime fighter over there. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” She gives an over exaggerated wink to the window.

Spencer feels like he’s seeing white, anger coursing through his body as the reality of his situation comes to a head. He’s definitely not thinking when he pushes the table aside harshly, grabbing Cat by the collar and pushing her against the wall. He’s only able to stop when JJ is beside him suddenly attempting to pull him back, reminding him that she’s pregnant.

His fists are clenched and without a second thought he storms out of the room, his tunnel vision taking him right past you and JJ.

JJ doesn’t know what to do, she looks back into the room to see Cat smirking to herself, and god if she didn’t have morals she’d finish what Spencer started. She thinks it’s wise to go after Spencer and check on him, knowing that Cat’s timer is still ticking and the faster he gets back in there the sooner they can find his mother.

But then she looks at you and suddenly her feet are rooted next to yours.

She lays her hand on your shoulder and gently speaks, “Hey, I’m right here okay?”

You nod mindlessly, hoping you can keep the ocean of tears at bay with whatever resolve you can muster. She squeezes her hand at your acknowledgment and doesn’t move.

How is she supposed to even comfort you? How are you supposed to process this?

You knew how important Maeve Donovan was to Spencer. The whole thing had happened a year before you joined the team, only having heard the story through your teammates. It was tragic, there was no other way to put it, and your heart clenched for Spencer for having to go through that by himself. When you both first started dating, he disclosed the more intimate details to you, wanting nothing to be left unspoken about his past to affect his future with you.

What a cruel twist of fate.

“I—I think,” you stutter, “I have to go, JJ, I can’t be here right now.”

“But—“ She starts.

You cut her off, “No, JJ you have to go talk to Spencer and get him back in there. The longer his mom is with Lindsey…” you trail off.

She nods, understanding that you’re thinking about the priorities right now, “Okay, okay I’ll go find him. Where are you going to go?”

You could go home, the one you share with Spencer. Or you could go back to the office, the one you also share with Spencer.

Every realization adds another needle to your stack, and you’re about to crumble under the weight. “I—I don’t know.” You whimper.

JJ closes her eyes to think quickly and grips your shoulders, “Go back to the BAU okay? I’m going to call Emily and tell her to expect you back, you go straight there, do you understand me?” she emphasizes. JJ is smart enough to know that you cannot be alone right now, and that Spencer wouldn’t be able to scrounge up whatever focus he could into getting answers from Cat if he knew you had left by yourself to god knows where.

All you could do was nod, and hope and pray that your feet would carry you to the car and back to the bureau. JJ was nervous having you drive back, but she really didn’t have a choice. All she could do was notify Emily, as well as Penelope for tracking purposes, that you were headed back, and to not ask you too many questions.

After you left, JJ stood in the waiting room for a brief moment before going to find where Spencer went. She finds him sitting on the floor of an unused interrogation room with his head tucked into his knees.

She speaks quietly to not startle him, “Hey.”

He looks up at the voice, JJ noticing his eyes flit around and behind her as if looking for something, or someone. His eyes sulk back when he’s unable to find it.

Spencer opens his mouth to speak, “Is she—“

“She’s going back to the BAU, Emily knows she’s on the way,” she cuts him off already anticipating his question, “Listen, whatever you’re feeling about what just happened right now has to be paused. You need to focus and finish this stupid game with Cat so we can find your mother and be done with her.” She grits out.

He sighs shakily, he doesn’t even want to think about what must be going through your head. As much as it pained him to experience her vitriol first hand, you were on the other side of that window listening to every word Cat spewed out. And somehow, knowing you watched all of that hurt worse than Mexico, worse than Tobias Hankel, and even worse than Maeve Donovan.

Cat was playing a deeply fucked psychological game with him, and she had now called you in as a pawn. You, his darling girl. The one who made him see the light of the sun after it was constantly being put out, the one who loved him through his mother’s illness and wrongful imprisonment, the one who is, with all and every bit of certainty, the love of his life.

If the velvet black box in his sock drawer was any testament to the power that love held, he hoped it would take mercy on him in this moment.

He stands up and paces the room for a moment before kicking the chair to the other side of the room. JJ startles, her eyes widening but attempting to remain neutral faced as Spencer sorts out his emotions.

“Spence, we need to focus,” she reminds him, “Time is running out.”

“I know,” he mumbles and paces the room hoping to have a stroke of insight, “I have an idea.”

———

You must be no better than a zombie in the final apocalypse when you walk into the bullpen, stumbling around with glassy eyes, no regard for what’s in your way. The apathetic coping mechanism you’ve deployed almost makes you seem as mindless as those monsters, if it weren’t for Penelope to show up and steady you.

“I gotcha, honey,” She makes eye contact with Emily, acknowledging that she’s got you, before turning back to you again, “Come here, let’s sit down.” Penelope sits you down in the nearest chair and drags another one for her to sit right next to you.

You don’t speak for an hour after sitting. Penelope doesn’t ask, only checking in every ten minutes to see if you want a snack or some water, to which you shake your head no every time. She’s too busy typing away on her laptop getting information that could help the team find Spencer’s mother, the last thing you want to be is a bump in the road for them.

Another hour passes before the team exits the conference room, alerting you and Penelope that they think they’ve found the cabin where Diana and Lindsey are. Emily gathers everything they need before approaching you in the bullpen.

“Do I have to be here when you guys come back?” You ask quietly.

Emily sighs, understanding the gravity of your circumstance, “No, you don’t. Will you let Garcia drop you home though? Give us all a peace of mind.” She chuckles humorlessly, unknowingly squeezing the other shoulder JJ didn’t.

You know the ‘all’ she’s referring to really just means one person. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but you don’t think it’s meant to. She brings you in for a tight hug, “I’ll check on you after, okay?”

You nod and release from her embrace. Penelope gathers her things next to you and you both walk to the elevator.

“Honey,” It pained Garcia to see you like this, and she didn’t know how she could help, “What can I do?”

You sniffle and shrug, there isn’t much she can do. There isn’t even much that you could do. Not that anything you could do would be enough, it was never enough. Not for you, not for the team, and not for Spencer.

With a bitter chuckle you answer Penelope’s question,

“Bring back Maeve.”

[cvnntagious]

Girls | M. Sturniolo

"Fuck your ex-man, I'm the man now / Think I feel bad? He was fanned out." -The Kid Laroi

pairing : Exesbsf!Matt x Fem!Reader

summary : What happens when you finally break it off with your cheating hoe of an ex, only to quickly find out his best friend can easily treat you better?

warnings : use of y/n, drinking, swearing, random ex bf name, slight chris x tara mention (i don't ship them, it's js for the plot), smut, bigdick!matt, gentle sex, body praising, 18+

a/n : this took a long time to finish, so sorry to anyone who was waiting for it. this fic was requested by my friend lily 👅 if anyone has any requests/ideas, feel free to dm me on here or put it in my ask box! (or feel free to just say anything, i get bored a lot so i'll answer fs)

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

You weren't exactly enthusiastic about this party, unlike most parties you ran around at over the past few years, earning you the title of LA's number one party girl. You usually loved the loud buzz of chatter muffled by the music, and the blinding lights filling large houses. This time was different. You couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling.

It'd only been about two weeks since you broke up with your ex boyfriend, and you'd already seen him posted up with multiple girls, seemingly loving the single life. Not like this was anything new though. It was the reason you'd dumped his cheating ass. Didn't mean it hurt any less though.

When you were invited to this big influencer party by a mutual friend, you immediately knew Cole would be there too. The thought of bumping into him alone was enough to make you reluctant to attend. Even so, you were expected to attend, just like you did almost every other party. Lord did you wish you could just get a break.

As you scoped out the party, eyes scanning the crowd while you slowly inched into it, you took small sips of your cooler. It didn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, your ex sitting on the couch with a girl under his arm as he spoke inaudibly to his friends around him. You had to rip your eyes away from him, honestly just glad you knew what part of the house you'd have to avoid for now as you pushed through the crowd to figure out what could be in the opposite direction.

It took a few minutes for you to make it to the kitchen because of all the people you had to excuse yourself past, but when you finally made it, slightly out of breath from the sweaty bodies thickening the air on the way there, you gawked at the display of large bottles set up all around you. "Someone came prepared." You heard a familiar voice say from behind you, causing you to turn your attention to him with a small chuckle.

"These parties never have the drinks I like, Chris," You replied defensively, placing a hand on your hip as you held your can of alcohol up to show him.

Chris couldn't help but chuckle with you. "Yeah?" He hummed, grabbing the can out of your hand to taste before making a sour expression, sticking out his tongue with a pant for dramatics, "Maybe that's 'cause nobody likes Smirnoffs." He handed your drink back to you with a small burp.

You rolled your eyes at the display, wiping the rim of your drink with your finger to rid it of Chris' saliva. "Clearly I do."

"All this alc in front you and you still somehow find a way to be picky," He replied teasingly before grabbing your wrist to guide you with him, "Come on. Me, Nick, and Tara are chillin' outside."

You couldn't help but giggle at the way he dragged you out of the sliding glass door with him, not caring for the people who'd tried to get your attention along the way to the pool. You smiled as Tara let out a loud squeal at the sight of you, instantly wrapping her arms around you as Chris let go of your wrist. "I knew you'd make it!" She exclaimed as she pulled back, holding your arms to take in your outfit, "And who are you trying to impress, girl? I'm loving this slutty look!"

If that comment had came from anyone but Tara, it would've been offensive. But of course, you knew what she'd meant. You smiled, giving her a quick pose at her words as you stuck your tongue out playfully. "Fuckk man, I guess I was just feelin' extra slutty tonight. You really like?" You played along, holding Tara's hand as she nodded.

"I do too," Nick chimed in, smiling as he placed a hand on your shoulder, "It's so cunt."

You turned to look at Nick excitedly, "Bitch, says you!" You looked at Nick's white and black outfit, topped with his iconic Cheetah print hat.

"What about me?" Chris asked, clearly feeling left out as he turned to us with a drink that had seemingly appeared in his hand.

You giggled. "You look great, Chris."

"Where the fuck did you get that?" Nick asked in a disappointed tone, snatching the drink from his brothers hand. "I thought we agreed you'd only have a few drinks tonight — the party just started."

Chris rolled his eyes, "I have only had a few... And then I'll have a few more later on in the night"

"Hey, where's Matt at?" You cut Nick off before he could say anything as soon as you noticed Matt wasn't with the three of them when you'd made your way over, hoping to stop the brother's argument before it started, "Did he not wanna come again?"

Nick, Tara, and Chris gave each other a look as tension instantly built up high in the air. A silence had fallen over the group of friends as they looked anywhere but at you. "He's... with a friend," Chris finally spoke up, clearly nervous.

You gave them a suspicious look before smiling. "Who? I wanna go say hi to Matt," You replied, your tone as bubbly as before to pretend you hadn't noticed the shift in their demeanors.

"It's-" Nick started, hesitant to finish as he forced out a small chuckle, "I'll just call him and tell him to get over here. I'm sure he wants to say hi to you too." Nick pulled out his phone and dialed Matt before you could even respond, plugging the ear his phone wasn't hovering over to drown out the music as he took a small step away.

You were silent for a moment as you looked back at Chris and Tara, who were both already looking at you for tour reaction. Tara cleared her throat after a moment. "Are you planning on getting laid tonight or what? You haven't been single in, like, two years," She finally said happily, stepping into you to hook her arm around yours and pull you away from Chris.

You chuckled, shaking your head at the way she joked around with you. "Planning on it? No," You looked down at her, unable to help admitting, "But I wouldn't be mad if I did.'

"Perfect! The first time we've been single at the same time," Tara spoke a little louder than she'd intended, "Maybe we can both go crazy in the rooms next to each other." She teased, glancing back at Chris, who was sipping his drink obliviously.

You gasped, "You have to be kidding." You tried hard to give her an unamused look, only to smile at her stupid jokes anyways.

She raised her hands as if to claim innocence while she laughed loudly at her own words. "I am, I am. I swear!"

Almost immediately after, you felt an arm wrap around your neck, putting you in a loose headlock as your drink splashed all over your cute, extremely revealing top. "Don't be over here eyedfucking my brother, Tara." Matt hadn't even noticed the spill. You gasped again, this time not because of a playful joke. He finally looked down to see your drink all over you. "Shit, sorry! I didn't mean to," Matt said from behind you, letting you free from his grasp.

You turned towards Matt with a small groan, looking down at your wet shirt. "Always with the stupid shit, Matthew," You complained, looking up into his tired blue eyes.

"Matthew? What are you, my mother?" He noked with a nervous chuckle, though he really did feel bad for soaking your shirt. "I'll help you clean up... let's go."

You rolled your eyes at him as he walked past you, causing you to follow him back into the house. You placed your hand on top of his shoulder to decrease the risk of losing him as he pushed through the crowd of hot bodies for you, nodding his head whenever he made eye contact with someone he knew. As you guys made your way through the living room, you heard the voice you'd been praying wouldn't all night. Cole. "Matt!" He called out, practically screaming over the music, making Matt slow his pace and flick his gaze up to your ex, who was still sitting on the couch only a few feet away.

Matt glanced back at you as you bumped into him, surprised when he'd stopped in front of the couch. "Come hit this," Cole spoke again, holding up a half smoked joint to Matt.

You poked your head out from behind Matt, scowling at the douchbags face. His eyes widened in surprise, his face twisting in confusion before he looked up to meet Matts tight-lipped expression, clearly unwilling to respond to Cole's offer. "What's up, man?" Cole let out a cocky chuckle as he threw he head back for a moment, "You were just hangin' with us and now you're sneaking behind my back with the girl who dumped me like I was some bitch a few weeks back?"

"Sneaking?" Matt questioned, "We're right in front of you."

"What happened to bros before hoes?"

"Hoes? You didn't date her for two years?" Matt replied begrudgingly, unable to contain his smalk smirk, "I spilled a drink on her... Was gonna clean her up, nothing more."

You looked up at Matt, who had defensiveness radiating off of him as he spoke calmly to his close friend. 'So that's why they didn't wanna tell me where he was. He was with Cole,' You thought, your attention switching between the two as they spoke tensely to each other.

Cole sighed, "Yeah, whatever dude. Fuck her if you want, I moved on." He says, laughing as he looks to his right, where a beautiful girl sat prettily under his arm. You grimaced, wondering if he'd do the same to the girl as he did to you.

You didn't have much time to wonder though, Matt gently slinging his arm over your shoulder before you pulling you back on his way. "Clearly, you whore," Matt mumbled as the two of you walked away, thinking you couldn't hear the way he spoke about his supposed best friend.

━━★

And now here you were, standing in a random persons bedroom as Matt stood in front of you. The hunger in his eyes was apparent, but he moved slow. His hands gently grabbed your waist, his thumbs caressing the skin underneath them in circles. "Lift your shirt. We'll hang it to dry." He urged in a soft tone, tugging at the wet fabric.

Your shirt wasn't the only thing wet though. You thought to ask him if you should hang your panties to dry too, but you were too absorbed in his small facial movements. The way he licked his pink lips. Or how his eyes refused to break from yours. You lifted your arms like a toddler, allowing Matt to curl the bottom of the shirt in his hands and lift it over your head.

"You know I knew, right?" He asked as he turned his back to you, hanging your shirt on the top of the door to the walk-in closet in this large room he'd found for you two.

"Knew what?" You asked. You both spoke questly, just above the sound of the muffled music two floors below, as if someone would hear you.

"He was cheating," Matt admitted, "God, I feel awful. I should've told you."

He walked back over to you, genuine sympathy written all over his face as you furrowed your brows at him. "I just... You're both my friends - or were - I didn't know how to tell you without all the drama," He further explained, sort of rambling before he met your eyes again, "And your heart— I wanted him to be the one to break it. Alone. Without me involved"

"Matt, it's oka-"

"So I could be the one to stitch it up," Matt cut you off, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your neck, "I'll show you how he was supposed to make you feel."

Matt wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him to suck little red marks on your lower neck and exposed collar bone. His soft lips on your neck was enough to have you panting, only to let out a surprised hum when they connected with yours. You lifted your arms to wrap around his neck as he slowly lowered you on the bed behind you.

Matt broke the kiss as soon as you were placed comfily on the bed. "I wish our first time wasn't at a party," He said, a little timid as he reached into his back pocket to pull out a condom, "I'd much rather you were laid up in my bed. I'd prefer if there wasn't the nagging feeling of needing to rush, so I could take my time. I just can't help myself... You do want this too, don't you?" Matt rambled on, looking into something that you'd originally thought would be a one time thing. But it seems Matt has other plans.

You couldn't help but giggle at the way his face flushed like a highschool preparing to have sex for the first time, nodding at his question. "Was this planned?" You joked, lazily pointing at the condom he'd taken out.

"This?" Matt started, looking to the condom you'd pointed at before shying away from it, "Oh, no! I'm just— parties, ya know? I'm a safe guy."

"Right." You lifted yourself so you where sitting on the edge of the bed, Matt standing between your legs. "Take it off," You stuck your finger into his belt loop, tugging him forward gently.

He only gave you and eager nod, following you as you scooted back on the big king sized bad, practically ripping his belt out of the loops once he had it unbuckled. His pants slid off of him the further up the bed he got, revealing the almost pulsating bulge in his loose underwear. You laid your head back on the pillow, Matt hoovering over you with an awestruck look on his face as he scanned your half-dressed form.

Matt slipped a hand under your back, unclipping your bra with one hand as he kept his eyes glued to yours. Embarrassingly enough, he let out a quiet gasp when your bra fell loose, lifting it off your chest with two fingers. Your nipples were already hard with arousal, but if they hadn't been, they would've hardened from the cold air hitting them. "You're perfect," Matt let slip, almost whining at the sight.

The uncomfortable feeling in his boxers only grew stronger when he saw you flushed before him, instinctively reaching down to palm himself to relieve some of that tension. You swiftly grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. "Just fuck me, Matt, no foreplay needed. I'm already soaked," You told him hurridly, not wanting to waste time. To be fair, he said it himself, there was a need to rush here.

It didn't take long for Matt to free his length from his boxers, your eyes widening at the sight. He was huge. Bigger than you'd ever seen. Not only long, but girthy, and veiny. If you had to guess, he was a good 8½ inches. Beads of precum had already built up on his angry pinkish-red tip, causing him to spread it with his thumb and a hiss.

He looked up, gaze met with your gawking before he reached to remove your short jean shorts. He couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips when he revealed your soaked underwear, feeling pride in how wet he could make you without even touching you where you craved him most. He sat up again, crouching between your legs before leaning in to rub his member against your clothed clit.

You mewled at the friction muted by the fabric as he stroked himself against you, enjoying the teasing. Your hand reached up to caress his tattooed arm that rested on your thigh, forcing him to look up at you. He gave you a bashful smile at the way you furrowed your brows, then sliding his fingers under your panties and pulling them to the side to reveal your small cunt that leaked your juices.

He rubbed himself against you again, this time sliding between your folds. Your clit practically buzzed, cunt aching to be fucked. Matt leaned down to kiss your inner thigh, "You're so fucking sexy, baby, fuck. This perfect body," Matt praised, his tone desperate as he contined to tease agonizingly slow, "How could someone ever think there's something better than this out there?"

"Will it fit?" You asked, not meaning to stroke his ego as you looked down at the way just his shaft spread your lips wide with each stroke between them.

"Will it fit?" Matt echoed, unable to contain his laughter. "I'll make it fit," He assured you, pulling his length back to rip open the mangnum packaging labeled 'large' with his teeth and slide it on effortlessly.

Quickly, Matt went back to stroking his length between your folds, sliding just your tip in every now and then. You whimpered desperately, which only made Matt want to tease you more. He couldn't help himself, he just needed to hear those sweet noises. "Please, Matt. I want more," You pleaded, looking at him with begging eyes as you squirmed more and more beneath him.

Finally, he began slowly pushing himself into you. Your jaw went slack as he stretched you out in ways no one had before, careful not to dive in too fast in hopes to keep it as painless as possible. Your knees bent on either side of him as he groaned. "Fuck, you're so tight," Matt heaved, bottoming out, "I needed this– shit."

You panted beneath him, looking fucked out already. Matt waited for your nod before slowly pumping in and out of you with one hand on your hip as the other pulled your thong to the side. You squinted in pain at first before it slowly turned to pleasure, causing you to let out long moans. Your sounds let Matt know you were really ready for him, picking up his pace as time went on.

Moans began filling the room as your perfect tits bounced in front of your face. Matt lowered himself into them, not stopping his deep, sensual thrusts as he sucked on the skin of your chest between your boobs gently. One hand reached up to take your soft boob in it, kneeding it a bit before he attached his mouth to it. He swirled your hardened bud with his tongue as you moaned, both of your breathing becoming ragged.

You felt that familiar knot in your stomach, tembling a bit under his touch. He took his mouth from your nipple with a 'pop', itting back up straight to see your eyes screwed shit and one side of your face in the pillow under your head as he fucked into you. The image alone was enough to make him bust then and there, but he knew he had to wait. Your pretty sounds grew louder as his pace picked up, bringing you closer to the edge. "Fuck, Matthew! I'm- I'm so close. So fucking close," You babbled out, unable to open your eyes.

"Matthew?" He grunted, chuckling like he'd done earlier that night. Of course, under different circumstances. "I love it." No one ever called him by his full name, and he'd kill for you to be the only one.

Soon after, you reached your climax, practically screaming as you repeated his name like it were a prayer. "Matt," You chanted as he fucked you through your orgasm, cumming himself not long after with a loud groan.

Matt pulled out slowly and plopped on the bed beside you as the two of you caught your breath, both staring up at the white ceiling. Matt's length slowly softened, still fairly large, to your surprise.

"Who would've thought Matthew Sturniolo had an absolute chopper?" You teased as soon as you caught your breath enough, finally looking at him beside you.

Matt gave you a quick chuckle, rolling his eyes lightheartedly as he forced himself off the aide of the bed, standing up to grab your guys' disgarded clothing. "Whatever. Here, put these back on." He threw your clothes back onto you, including your now mostly dry shirt.

"I mean, seriously. And he knows how to use it?" You continued on as you sat up in bed. "What's the rush with this?" You picked up your bra, reaching an arm out to put it on.

Matt shook his head in embarrassment. "You haven't go to dance yet tonight," He explained as he slid his boxers back on, "It's what you usually do, and I wanna join you."

dt : @mattsturnihoe

[i-loved-silly]

(PART 2) - WOLVERINE x READER x DEADPOOL — fuckup twinsies

dp&w spoilers!! + slight gore description --- part 1

Okay, recap.

Your perfect little day in dimension-travel-jail was interrupted. You almost got knocked out by two muscular men who came down from the sky like little drunk angels, who in turn happened to be famous characters. You don't know how you didn't realize earlier, guess timeline hopping also slowly melts your brain. You should really get an MRI exam sometime.

You almost passed out again when you realized you were chest-to-chest with Deadpool. Wade Wilson. Heart to heart. Body to body. Tip to tip, if that applies to you.

"You're real. I'm real. We're real." You deadpanned, stars almost twinkling in your eyes. No, maybe it wasn't the first time you've met a Deadpool. But this guy? He was the real deal. The original. How the hell did an original end up here?

"Pfft, you thought we were just drawings on paper? Two of the world's sexiest men in skintight costumes? Wrong. We're the real deal here, friendo. Can I call you that? Or will you try to kill me? You know I really didn't mean to crash into you I rea--"

"Alright, listen here. Wade, shut up. You," Logan pointed a finger at him then at you, still being embraced by Wade. "Do you understand any of the...nonsense he's talking about? Because I don't, and I don't. Have. Time for this. It's either you help me get out of here or get out of my way."

"Woah woah woah, since when did that 'we' turn into 'me'?" Wade reluctantly let go of you to walk up to Logan, his hands landing on his hips. "You're not the only one trapped here, you know, we're kind of all in the same boat here. We all fucked up our lives and it was definitely our fault bu--ACK"

You gasped, watching in horror as three silver claws stabbed straight through Wade's torso and out his back. Logan stalked closer, his scowl deepening. "Come again?" He taunted, his teeth grinding. Before Wade could get a word out, Logan turned his hand, twisting the blades inside of him.

"G-owww, FUCK. God, I swear this happened differently in another universe. Somehow hurts more this ti--" Logan stopped him again and began lifting him up in the air. By the torso. With his claws inside, being the only thing holding him up.

Your eyes widened, "Hey, guys stop that! Logan!"  You yelled, taking a step forward, your hands held up in the air defensively.

Logan briefly glanced in your direction and grunted, tossing Wade to the side. “Move aside, bub. We need to settle some things.” Then he…lunged at Wade. They just started fucking fighting each other.

You backed up, watching everything go down. This could not be real. “I thought…you guys wanted out?” You muttered, your voice barely heard over their grunting and blades clashing.

“You know it’s true, so--argh, no hard feelings, right? Plus, I forgive you Wolvie.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you think, Wade. It’s all your fucking fault I was dragged into this. I was doing just fine without yo—“

“Just fine? You call spending all your days at bars and drinking all their supply just fine? While your life crumbles around you like a house of cards. If we were really on the TVA's watchlist, maybe they should've just sent us all to anger management sessions, huh?"

“Stop fighting!” You shouted in a voice heavy with irritation, grabbing a clump of sand from the ground and hurling it in their direction.

Logan, reacting instinctively, closed his eyes and shoved Wade aside, now choking and coughing violently. “What the hell?”

Simultaneously, Wade spun to face away, retching into the sand. “Oh god it’s inside of my mask. It’s in my face hole—“

Logan regained himself quicker than Wade, to where he immediately brushed aside the sand on his face and stomped towards you. You took a step back, by the sight of his fists clenched and white knuckles you swore he was about to beat you. “Waitwaitwait! I don’t have healing factor!” You rambled and held your hands out.

He paused in his tracks, his jaw visibly clenching as he tried to control his anger. Yeah, maybe he was used to taking out his frustrations on himself and now..Deadpool. But he couldn’t do that to you. You’re not even involved in whatever shit they got themselves into. You didn't deserve to get roped in their..mess, whatever it was. He let out an annoyed breath and swiveled away, seething internally. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

You slowly put your hands down, then looked around to see Wade still rolling on the floor. Upon hearing Logan, he snapped his head towards you both, the eyes of his mask widening. Before he could even get a little, tiny, miniscule word out, you spoke.

"ANYWAY...ehm..you both want out, yes? This is all one big mistake? I could help you. I've survived out here this long without being brutally killed." You forced a grin, facing the two. They blinked.

"Killed? What..who is in charge of killing here?" Logan narrowed his eyes.

Wade stood up to his feet, popping his wrist back into place. "There's--" His face under his mask soured, god he could still feel the sand particles crunching around between his teeth.

"ugh, there's others around? What kind of crazies would wanna live here?" He raised his arms, gesturing the vastness of this dystopian desert. Camera pans out, there's an echo to his voice, a tumbleweed passes by, you know what i mean

You scoffed, still very much salty about your own situation even though it's been years. "It's not like it was a choice. The only person could who take us out is Cassandra Nova, and she does not use her powers for that. She's basically with the freaking TVA, from what I know."

A singular laugh escaped Logan, his lips turning up in a knowing smirk, "Really now? How bad could she be?"

"Uh..let's see..multiple counts of murder, enslavement, power abuse, she's sadistic, evil, has a whole paragraph worth of powers. Unstoppable, basically?" You shrugged.

"I think we could get along."

"No, Wade."

"How do we get to her?" Logan crossed his arms. Perhaps he was the only one taking this seriously. You had gotten used to it already, but you too remembered how badly you wanted to leave this place at first.

"You two seem in a rush. "

"Yeah, well we're in a rush because I've got a whole-ass timeline to save, not to mention I also made a pinky swear to this guy over here. I promised the gruff-beard that I'd help him clean up his messy timeline, like a stain of last nights left ove-"

"Got it!" You exclaimed, interrupting him. "But uh, is that even possible? To..fix your guys' timelines, I mean."

"It better be," Logan glared at Wade. "Because otherwise, I'm going to tear you apart." He sneered, really making his point by leaning closer to him. These guys need to kiss already.

You nervously smiled. If another fight starts, you swear you were going to start ripping your own face off. "Okay! I know someone, guys! We'll all help eachother out, he's real nice, which means you probably won't like him--but he'll help! Follow me."

Oh, you knew someone alright. He was the most suburban-canadian guy you knew.

Lot's of dialogue in this, oops. This fic is kinda going off the plot of the movie, so I'm sure you know who you'll meet next! Leave ideas in the comments if you have any, since this fic is very freestyle and let me now...should i include the car scene we all wanted or too soon? GOODBYE! taglist <3 : @pink-jello-fish @radiantdanvers @superlegend216 @salted-snailz @wolfsune09 @jxssimae @remuslupinsfavoritebook @flannelforthetoads @rowanlovesmoonknight @bengewatch @i-shall-be-the-possum1 @kyriekurokami @marymustdie @tzurue @euinein @sophiemajokie @itsrainingtodayyy

[unstable-samurai]

ON REFLECTION

Naoi Rei x Male Reader

word count: 7K

The room's light struggles to reach the dark corners of the apartment as you sink into the couch, tired and a little lost. The TV is off, but the screen reflects distorted fragments of you and Rei, who sits in the opposite armchair. She’s sitting cross-legged, and the expression on her face is hard to decipher. The Hello Kitty pajamas don’t match the look she’s giving you. You've known Rei since high school, and now you've been roommates for two years, and in that time, you've seen every nuance of her emotions. But today, she seems different. She watches your fingers toy with the remote. Your head buzzing—maybe from lack of sleep, or perhaps the confusion that has become your life these past few days. Either way, the silence between you both grows heavy, and it eventually becomes unbearable.

"I'm leaving for a few days," you finally say, your voice low, dragging, almost as if you’re testing the words on your tongue before letting them go. "I need to get out of here, out of the city. Go to a friend’s place."

She doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she runs a hand through her hair, playing with the ends as if pondering the best way to voice what’s on her mind.

"Let me guess: because of her, right?" Rei’s question is loaded with an implication you don’t want to face.

And then, she narrows her eyes... daring you to lie.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“What do you mean?"

Rei scoffs, the sound half a laugh, half frustration. "You're going to leave me here alone?" She leans forward slightly, her hands now resting on her lap. "Are you abandoning everything just because she left you?" Her tone is direct, like she’s poking at an open wound, but you know Rei never sugarcoats her words.

"Rei, you've been alone before," you respond, trying not to sound insensitive, but realizing you failed the moment the words leave your mouth. "I… I just can’t take this place anymore. This apartment, the memories…"

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“The problem,” she starts, choosing her words carefully, “is that you’re going to throw away everything we planned. You’re leaving our plans behind because of that bitch.” The word comes out sharp. There’s no hesitation, no trace of guilt or regret.

"Rei, it's not that simple." You feel the need to justify yourself, to explain what you don’t fully understand. "I… I just need some time, you know? Space to think."

"Space to think?" She repeats, as if it’s a bad joke. "Think about what? About how she treated you like garbage? How she made you feel small every time you did something she didn’t like?" Her tone and gaze burn in a way that makes you flinch. "Or maybe you want to think about how she hated when we spent time together? How she made you choose between... her and me..."

You remain silent, the weight of her words crushing any response you might have had.

"Rei…" you try to start, but she cuts you off again.

“No! Now you're going to listen to me!”

She rises from the armchair, the pink pajamas swaying with the movement, and walks toward you with determined steps. “We planned to watch all the Halloween movies, remember? And it wasn’t my idea. I hate horror movies, but I was going to watch them because you wanted to. And now you’re telling me you’re not in the mood?” She stops in front of you, crossing her arms, her expression a mix of anger and hurt.

“Rei, it’s not about you, it’s about… everything.” The words seem insufficient, hollow, as if they can’t capture the chaos in your mind. “I just… need to get away for a while.”

She takes a deep breath, her hands now clenched into fists at her sides.

“You’re really blind, you know that?” she says, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. “I’ve been right here. I’ve always been here.”

You watch her, feeling a knot form in your stomach. “What do you mean by that?”

Rei doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she lets her arms fall and, in a fluid motion, sits on your lap, so close you can feel the warmth of her body, her scent— that soft vanilla fragrance that always seems to follow her.

“I’m saying,” she begins, her hands now gently holding your face, “that you’ve never really seen me. Never noticed what I feel for you. And it seems that even now, you still don’t.”

You feel your heart race, as if you’re running a marathon without moving. “Rei, I…”

“Shh,” she interrupts, her finger touching your lips. “You don’t need to say anything. Just listen to me, okay?” She sighs. “I’ve always been here. Always. Since day one. I’ve taken care of you, helped you get back up every time she knocked you down. And I did it because… because I love you.”

The last word hangs in the air, heavy and inescapable. You feel like the ground has disappeared, like you’re falling endlessly into an abyss of uncertainties and emotions you didn’t know existed.

Rei continues, ignoring the shock on your face. “I know this might seem sudden, but… it’s not. I’ve always felt this way. I was just waiting for you to notice. But it seems you’re too blind for that.”

She leans in, your faces so close you can feel her breath against your lips. “I don’t want to be your friend, never did. I want to be more than that. I want you. And I’m not going to let you run away from me now, not after everything.”

Before you can respond, she kisses you. It’s not a gentle or hesitant kiss. It’s a kiss full of need, of desire, of years of repressed feelings finally released. And you kiss her back, because deep down, you know she’s right.

When the kiss finally ends, you both sit there in silence, just breathing, absorbing what just happened. Rei rests her forehead against yours, her eyes closed, more vulnerable than ever.

“Now do you see?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Because for the first time in a long time, everything makes sense.

Memories come in waves, thick and suffocating like the warm air in the apartment that winter. It’s as if the memories from that week have been waiting for this moment to surface, forcing you to face what you’ve tried to hide for so long.

You remember when Rei got sick, a fever that seemed to burn through her, leaving her fragile and trembling. The flu came out of nowhere, turning her into a weakened version of herself, someone you almost didn’t recognize, except for the look she gave you, that spark that never completely faded, no matter how much her body was suffering.

You walked into the room that first night, the tray in your hands trembling slightly. Ginger tea with honey. Toast, because she couldn’t eat much more than that. She was curled up in a heap of blankets, the Hello Kitty pajamas that always made her seem childlike now seemed like a useless armor against the illness. You placed the tray on the bedside table and sat beside her, the mattress sinking under your weight.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” you asked, knowing the answer would be the same as always.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” she muttered, her voice raspy and trembling. She could barely keep her eyes open, but she forced herself to smile at you, because that’s what Rei did. Even when she was broken, she tried to make you feel better.

“Well, at least you’re still beautiful,” you said, trying to get a laugh out of her like you always did. You reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face, your touch soft, almost reverent.

She rolled her eyes, but the smile widened a bit. “Stop it. I look like crap and you know it.”

“No, seriously. You’re like… the sick version of Hello Kitty. The cutest, the prettiest.” You smiled, and she finally let out a weak laugh, a sound faint but full of life.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, but there was tenderness in her voice.

During that week, daily routines became rituals between you two. Mornings were for medication and warm soups, afternoons for tea and old movies she couldn’t watch to the end without falling asleep. But the nights… the nights were different. They were the moments when everything seemed to slow down, and it was just you and Rei, together in the darkness, talking openly about anything, trying to forget she was sick, trying to make her feel normal.

“When you get better,” you said one night, as she lay on her side, looking at you with those big, tired eyes, “I’ll cook whatever you want. Anything.”

“Anything?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Even sick, she couldn’t resist a challenge.

“Yeah. As long as it’s something I can make without burning down the kitchen,” you replied.

“Then I want… the best pasta you’ve ever made in your life,” she said, her lips curling into a smile.

“Pasta?” you repeated, as if she had just asked for something exotic.

“Yes, pasta. But it has to be special. I don’t know how, but I trust you to figure it out.” She looked at you with a confidence that made your heart ache. As if she knew you would do anything to see her smile again.

You remember how, that week, the apartment seemed to exist in its own universe. The world outside kept spinning, but in here, it was just you and Rei. You remember staying up late, listening to her breathing, holding her hot, feverish hand, waiting for the fever to finally break.

There was a moment, on one of the hardest nights, when you really thought she might get worse. The fever was high, and she was delirious, mumbling incoherent words. You held her hand, squeezing it tight, as if that could anchor her back to reality.

"Hey, I'm here," you said, your voice firm, trying not to let your anxiety spill over. "You're going to be okay. I promise."

She looked at you, her eyes filled with confusion and pain, and for the first time that week, you saw fear there. Not the fear of dying, but the fear of losing something, of losing you.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, and the vulnerability in her voice broke you in a way nothing else could.

"I'll never leave you," you replied, and in that moment, you realized how true that was.

These memories blend with the present as Rei sits on your lap, her eyes on yours, waiting for you to finally understand what she's trying to tell you. She has always been here, by your side, taking care of you, just as you took care of her. And now, with her so close, you finally understand what has always been right in front of you. The world around you seems to shrink until there's nothing left but the couch, the soft glow of the room, and the warmth of Rei's body on your lap. Time slows down, each second stretching to the point of almost breaking. Her breathing, light and steady, echoes in your ears like a persistent whisper, mixed with the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Your eyes meet, and you realize there's nowhere left to run.

Rei doesn't move. She doesn't try to force anything, just watches you, as if waiting for something. Maybe for an answer. Maybe for a sign that you've finally understood.

"What are you going to do now? Ignore this... or face it?"

There's a part of you that wants to retreat, but something stronger, something that pulls you forward. Unconsciously, your fingers move to her waist, finding the soft skin beneath the thin fabric of her pajamas.

Rei closes her eyes for a moment, as if absorbing the moment, and you feel her body relax under your touch. When she opens her eyes again, there's a sparkle there, something you've never seen before. "I love it when you touch me," she says, and there's a smile on her lips, a smile that is both a statement and a confession. "I've always loved it."

Your heart pounds in your chest, the reality of the moment finally starting to take root in you. But before you can process it, she continues, the words coming out fast, as if they've been held back for too long.

"And of course, she knew." Rei's voice is now harsher, carrying a brutal frankness. "Your ex-girlfriend, that bitch. She always knew. That's why she never liked me. Because she knew that at some point, I would take you from her. Because you were always mine, even when you didn't realize it."

You remember all the times your ex-girlfriend made passive-aggressive comments about Rei, the thinly veiled jabs, the looks of disdain. It all makes sense now, as if a piece of the puzzle has finally fallen into place. Rei leans in a little closer, her face now inches from yours. "She knew that deep down, you didn't want her. She knew you were with me the whole time, even when you were by her side. And she knew I was waiting for the right moment."

You try to say something, but the words get lost before they reach your mouth. All you can do is hold Rei a little tighter, feeling her warmth against your body, the sweet fragrance of vanilla lotion mixed with the scent of her hair.

"And now," Rei says, her voice soft, almost a whisper, "the choice is yours. I'm here. I've always been. The question is... will you finally accept my love? Or will you keep pretending you don't feel the same?"

You know there's no turning back. Not after this.

You lean in, your lips almost touching hers, and the decision has already been made before you even realize it. Because finally, you understand. All you need to do is allow yourself to feel.

"I never wanted her," you finally admit, your voice rough, as if the words had been trapped for too long. "I just didn't know that... I always wanted you."

Rei smiles, a smile that lights up the room, and before you can say anything else, she kisses you. And in that kiss, there are all the answers you've been looking for.

Because deep down, you always knew she was yours. And that you were hers.

When your lips part, you say, "Forgive my indecision, Rei."

She smiles.

"Already forgiven, silly."

So this is the moment of truth. Everything is falling apart around you, and the only thing left is this girl, Rei, looking at you with hungry eyes. She’s already made it clear that she wanted you, that she wants you. Always has. Your ex-girlfriend is just a detail now. And at this moment, it's as if every mistake, every wrong choice, was necessary to get here, with her, at the exact moment when the stars collide.

Rei is on your lap, where she’s always belonged. You kiss like you're drowning, each kiss a rescue from a lost past, and she keeps whispering between kisses, "Kiss me," "Kiss me more," as if it’s never enough, as if your lips still can’t reach what she really wants. The sound of her breath, heavy and fast, is like music, and all you want is to get lost in it, to drown in the innocence of this moment. And when you finally stop to breathe, that's when you really see her. There, so close, the adorable face, lips shining with saliva, dressed in that cute pajama that makes her look innocent. As if this were some kind of final test to see if you can resist what she’s become: the perfect girl.

"Make me yours," she asks, her voice a murmur between kisses. Every word carries a need that goes beyond the physical. It's as if she’s offering her soul, and you feel the weight of it, the gravity of this moment. It’s not just sex. It's so much more. It's mutual possession.

"You will be mine," you respond, and it’s a declaration of dominance, that you’ll have her in every way, that she will be yours and you hers, without reservations, without fear.

You feel your cock hardening, pressing against her. Rei notices, of course. She leans close to your ear, that warm breath against your skin, and confesses, whispers, with a malice that makes your blood boil, a malice that makes your heart race.

"I used to ride my pillow, imagining it was your cock." The image she paints in your mind is raw, almost cruel, because now all you want is to feel her fantasy become reality.

That’s all you needed to hear. She asks in a whining, almost childish voice if you’re going to fuck her, and you answer without any hesitation, "I will." The voice coming out of you isn’t just a reflection of arousal, it’s a promise. One you intend to fulfill with every fiber of your being.

You move to the bed, stumbling between laughter and kisses, the bodies colliding awkwardly but filled with a vital need. As you strip off your clothes, throwing everything to the floor like the world is ending, she looks at you with those eyes, almost asking for permission to be adorable. And there’s no way to resist that silent plea, that look that mixes innocence and lust in a perfect combination.

"Do you want me to keep this pajama on while you fuck me?" she asks, biting her lower lip. "Don't I look cute in it?" It's both a tease and a plea for you to want her even more. And it works.

You can only agree. "Very." The words come out almost as a moan, because at that moment, you know there’s nothing sexier than this mix of purity and perversion, this contrast that is Rei.

And then, without more words, she asks to see your cock. When you take off your underwear, the last barrier between you, her eyes widen, impressed.

"Wow..." She whispers with a mix of admiration and desire, as if she’s seeing something she’s dreamed of for so long finally become reality.

You sit on the bed and Rei kneels in front of you with the same devotion as someone kneeling for prayer. The entire room seems to shrink, every noise from the outside world suffocated by the sound of your quickened breath. She wraps her small hands around your cock, almost as if she’s holding something sacred, something she can’t rush. She drags her palm slowly along the length, exploring every vein, every contour, as if she’s trying to memorize every detail.

Her eyes are fixed on yours, a gaze that’s both sweet and wicked, an intoxicating mix that leaves you completely at her mercy. She smiles a wicked smile before tilting her head and brushing her face against your cock, as if familiarizing herself with the texture, the warmth, the weight. She’s in no hurry, and it drives you crazy. She knows what she’s doing, and you know she’s in control.

She starts with small kisses on the tip, soft, almost chaste, but each touch is charged with a sexual tension that makes you want to grab her hair and push her deeper. But you hold back. This is part of her game, and you don’t want to spoil it. She opens her mouth, letting the tip of her tongue slide slowly and provocatively along the slit at the head, her eyes never leaving yours. It's a deliberate act, one that makes every muscle in your body tense with desire.

She licks around the head of your cock, her tongue moving in lazy circles, spreading saliva until it's glistening and slippery. “I’ve always wondered what your cock feels like, always wanted to know what it tastes like…”

Rei slides her mouth down the length, taking you as deep as she can, and the warmth of her throat envelops you in a wet, pulsing grip. She holds you there for a moment, her eyes closed, savoring the feeling of having you so deep, so completely at her mercy. When she begins to move, it’s slow, dragging her lips along your cock while her hands come down to massage your balls, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure that pulls a low, husky moan from your throat.

She alternates between sucking and licking, her mouth wetting your entire length, creating a rhythm that is as erotic as it is torturous. She lets go of your cock for a second, only to lick your balls, one at a time, sucking them gently while her hand continues to slide up and down your erection.

“I want to hear you moan for me… Yeah, just like that… I love it when you moan like that…”

When she takes you into her mouth again, it’s with more pressure, like she’s hungry for more, like she needs to consume you entirely. The sound of her sucking is obscene, wet, the noise of saliva mixing with the sound of her heavy breathing. She sucks harder, the pressure increasing, each movement faster, more urgent. You can feel the heat building in the pit of your stomach, the pressure mounting as she continues, taking you deeper, moving faster.

“Fuck, Rei… you do that so well…” you manage to murmur, your voice fractured by pleasure. She responds with a muffled moan, a sound that vibrates around your cock and makes your whole body shudder. She speeds up, her gaze locked on yours, eyes gleaming with a mix of pleasure and challenge, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you and loves every second of it.

Finally, when she feels you’re on the brink of losing control, she slows down, releasing your cock from her mouth, but not before giving one last suck, hard enough to make your eyes roll back. She looks at you, her lips red and glistening with saliva, a thin string connecting the tip of her tongue to the head of your cock.

“I could do this all night… just to hear you moan more for me.”

She moans around your cock, the sounds vibrating through your body, each movement of her tongue sending waves of pleasure that make your muscles clench. “The taste of your cock is so, so good… way better than I imagined.” She whispers between sucks, looking at you with eyes so full of lust they seem ready to explode.

Rei stops, stands up, and you're still seated on the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, she slides her hands down your chest, her nails lightly scratching the warm skin, before slowly turning around, her slender and delicate body moving with a grace unique to her.

Rei is facing away from you now, and you have the perfect view of the soft, provocative curves that drive you crazy. She positions one leg on either side of your thighs, and with one hand she pulls aside the thin fabric of her shorts, revealing the wet glisten of her pussy, while the other hand grips the base of your cock, guiding it with deliberate precision. She lowers herself slowly, the head of your cock brushing against her tight entrance, while a sigh escapes Rei's lips. She doesn’t rush; every inch is a small torture that makes you grip the bed sheets tightly, as if you need something to anchor you to reality.

When she finally sits on your cock completely, taking you all in, the sensation of being inside her, feeling the heat, the wetness, the pressure, is incredible. Rei begins to move slowly, rising and falling in a deliberate, calculated rhythm, each movement designed to give you agonizing pleasure, as if she’s relishing in testing your endurance. Her hands grip your knees for support, and with each roll of her hips, she tilts in a way that makes you sink even deeper into her, each thrust ripping a muffled groan from your lips.

“That’s it, Rei… slow… I want to feel every second…” you murmur, your voice hoarse, almost a desperate plea to prolong the torture.

She tilts her head back and lets out a low moan, filled with pleasure. “Your cock feels so good… it goes so deep in my tight little pussy…” Her words are like gasoline on the already burning fire inside you. The rhythm gradually increases, her movements become faster, more desperate, as if she’s surrendering completely to the desire that’s consuming both of you. The sound of your skin slapping against hers, the wet sound of her pussy sucking your cock, fills the room with a dirty and delicious melody. She keeps riding you, her moans turning into short screams of pleasure.

You feel the need to take control of the pace, so you grip Rei’s waist firmly and pull her up, making her lift off your cock with a frustrated moan. She turns to you, surprised, but you’re already standing, rising with clear intent. Before she can react, you pull her towards you, turning her to face the wall. Her breathing quickens as she feels your body pressed against hers, your throbbing cock against her skin, and she instinctively arches, pushing her ass out for you.

You position your cock at the entrance of her pussy again, wasting no time, and start fucking her standing up, thrusting hard, as if you want to mark every stroke. Rei lets out a sharp cry of surprise and pleasure, her hands bracing against the wall for balance as you fuck her. Your hips move in a furious rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last, each time faster, as if you’re determined to bury yourself as deep as possible inside her.

“Is this what you wanted, Rei? My cock fucking you like this? Tell me…” you whisper in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe.

“Yes! Fuck, I wanted you fucking my tight little pussy…” she responds between moans, her voice trembling with the force of each thrust. “Fuck me harder… I want to feel you all… deep inside me…”

You grab her breasts through the fabric, squeezing them firmly, feeling the delicious weight in your hands as you continue to fuck her hard. Rei’s moans turn into screams, she throws her head back, her hair sticking to her sweaty skin, her body arching as you keep pounding. The sensation of her pussy tightening around your cock, her internal muscles clenching in pure pleasure.

You pull her by the waist, feeling her tense muscles tremble under your grip, and guide her towards the bed. Rei quickly removes her shorts and gets on all fours, arching her back, showing off her dripping pussy, begging to be fucked. “Look at me… look at this pussy… it’s all yours… only yours… so fuck it, fuck it hard…” The sight alone is enough to make your head spin, your whole body screaming to take what’s yours.

Rei looks back over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with a mix of lust and submission. “Fuck me… I need you… now,” she moans, her voice almost a whisper, but the plea is as clear as a shout.

You position your cock at her entrance, sliding slowly through her warm, pulsing opening before burying it deep in one single motion. She lets out a high-pitched moan, almost a scream, and the sound echoes through the room. Your hips start moving on instinct, your hands gripping her waist tightly, controlling each thrust, each push that drives her forward and then pulls her back for more.

“Just like that… harder… I want to feel every inch…” Rei begs, her voice broken by the moans that escape with each thrust. Her fingers dig into the sheets, her body arching with every movement, and you obey, increasing the force, the speed, until the sound of your skin slapping against hers fills the room. Her body responds to every thrust, her pussy squeezing even tighter around your cock, as if trying to keep you inside, as if she never wants to let you go.

You feel the moment approaching, the peak of pleasure that’s so close yet seems unreachable. With a hoarse groan, you grab her arms, pulling them back, pinning her under you as you continue to fuck. Rei completely surrenders, her moans turning into screams, her muscles tightening, her breath hitching as you drive her higher and higher until finally, she explodes in a powerful orgasm that makes her tremble beneath you. Her body convulses violently around your cock.

When she finally calms down, you lay her carefully on the bed. Rei looks at you with half-closed eyes, her lips parted in a smile that is both satisfied and hungry for more. You lie down beside her, but before you can relax, Rei is already moving again, climbing on top of you, sliding along your cock, swallowing you in one go, and begins to ride you with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Her breasts bounce through the fabric with each movement, the skin of her thighs sweaty and glistening in the dim light of the room. Rei unbuttons her pajama top, and you can’t resist touching her breasts, squeezing them firmly, feeling the heat and weight in your hands. Rei tilts her head back, letting out a deep moan, almost a purr of pleasure, and you realize she's reveling in the control, in the sensation of completely owning you. "I'm going to come again... I need to come again..." she says, her eyes closed as she quickens the pace, each movement faster, more desperate.

You can feel her orgasm approaching, her pussy tightening even more around your cock, the heat and wetness increasing with each passing second. Her body moves with a frantic urgency, riding you with all her strength, as if she’s rushing towards a precipice, ready to throw herself into the abyss. And when she finally climaxes, Rei convulses on top of you, her body trembling, her muscles squeezing with an almost painful force, holding you inside her as she loses herself in pleasure.

It doesn't take long before you feel an intense heat building inside you, an unbearable pressure accumulating. Rei is still riding you, and she notices the change in you. She's moving slowly after her orgasm, her hips moving in a rhythm that teases you, rubbing her slick pussy against every inch of your cock, feeling the veins throb against her hot, wet flesh. Your eyes meet, and she smiles, a smile that mixes triumph and desire.

"You're going to come for me, aren't you?" Rei murmurs. "I want you to cover my face with your cum. I want to feel it dripping down my face, sliding into my mouth. Give me all your milk, baby."

Her words are a spark that ignites the last shred of self-control you had. In a swift movement, Rei dismounts you, kneeling beside the bed. She looks up at you, hunger in her eyes, as she firmly grips the base of your cock, her lips slowly parting, ready to devour you one last time. She slides the tip of your cock between her lips, sucking with a pressure that's both devastating and incredibly erotic, her eyes locked on yours as if daring you to hold on for just one more second.

But you can't. Not now. Her hands move with devilish skill, gliding up and down the length of your cock as her tongue desperately circles the head, licking, sucking, begging for you to drop your huge load on her.

"Come for me, baby," she whispers between sucks, her voice so full of lust that you almost explode right then and there. "Cover my face with your cum, please. I want it all, I want to feel you."

And then, just as you feel the climax explode inside you, Rei pulls your cock from her mouth, holding it inches from her face, her lips curled into a wicked smile. "That's it, come on my face, cover my face with your cum."

The first jet of cum hits her face with force, spreading across her nose and cheek, slowly dripping toward her lips. She closes her eyes, her smile widening as more jets follow, coating her skin. "That's it, baby... more... give me everything," she moans, feeling the cum drip from her eyelashes, slide down her chin, turning her face into a canvas of pure, dirty pleasure.

"Do it, mark me with your cum," Rei continues, running her fingers across her face to collect more of your cum and slowly licking them, savoring it like it’s her own addiction. "Fuck, I loved that... I loved everything, your taste, your smell, your touch, the way you make me feel so... so slutty."

Even after you've given everything, Rei still milks you with her hands, ensuring not a single drop is wasted. She licks her lips, tasting you, moaning softly as she savors every last drop. "Fuck, this is so warm, so good," she whispers, her voice drunk with pleasure, her eyes still closed as she basks in the sensation.

"Fuck… That was amazing, I loved every second, Rei," you say.

Finally, she opens her eyes and looks at you, a sweet smile on her lips. "From now on, our days will always be like this," she replies.

"I didn't know you could be so... perfect," you admit.

She gives an adorable little laugh as she responds, "You haven't seen anything yet."

—

That night was like any other. The bar, lit by neon lights that cast a bluish glow over everything, made the place seem like it was straight out of a dream. The loud music mingled with the bittersweet smell of beer and fried food. You were already on your third round of beers, maybe your fourth.

You leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, as the foam from the beer spilled over the sides of the glass you held with both hands. Beside you, Rei, always present, always reliable Rei, laughed at something one of your friends said, but the sound of her laughter felt more like a tapestry woven from nostalgia than a true response to whatever it was.

Your eyes wandered over her face. She was beautiful that night, more than usual.

"Hey, Rei," you called, half-whispering, but loud enough to be heard over the noise around you. She turned her face toward you, her brown eyes shining under the bar's light. "Have you ever noticed that... that I can talk to you about anything?"

She raised an eyebrow, curious. "Of course." Her response was simple, direct, and, in a way, exasperating. Sure, you were friends. But that wasn't what you meant, though the words weren't forming clearly in your mind.

"No, but..." You tried to think, tried to organize your muddled thoughts. "It's more than that. I can talk to you in a way I can't even with... with my girlfriend."

Her expression changed subtly, almost imperceptibly, but you noticed. She bit her lip, a gesture you'd seen before, whenever she was thinking about something she preferred not to say. "You've said that before," she replied softly, as if she were treading on dangerous ground.

"Have I?" You frowned, trying to remember, but your mind was fogged by the drink. "Ah... well, it must be because it's true."

Rei laughed, a short laugh, not very joyful.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" She shook her head, as if she were laughing at an inside joke. You were silent for a moment, trying to understand what she meant, but the alcohol wasn't helping.

"Maybe we have... a connection," you continued, stumbling over the words, "you know, like siblings."

Rei stopped laughing. The smile disappeared, and she looked at you with a seriousness that almost hurt. "It's not that," she said, her voice low, almost inaudible amid the noise around you. "It never was."

You blinked, confused. "It's not? Then... what is it?" You were genuinely puzzled. She had always been there, always by your side, always laughing at your jokes and listening to your rants. And you always thought that was true friendship, something solid and safe.

Rei sighed, and for a moment, you saw something in her eyes you'd never seen before — a kind of sadness mixed with resignation.

"It doesn't matter," she said finally, looking away, as if she could no longer bear to look at you. "Forget it."

You felt uncomfortable, as if you'd failed some test, but you didn't know what to say. Instead, you did what you always did when things got too complicated: you hugged her. It was an awkward, impulsive hug, but you felt her body relax against yours.

"I like you, Rei," you murmured, without thinking. The words slipped out before you could stop them, but it didn't feel wrong to say, "a lot." And suddenly, her arms were around your neck, and you realized, belatedly, how right that felt.

Rei smiled, a smile you couldn't quite interpret. "I like you a lot too."

And then, one of your friends called your name, something about another round of shots, and the moment dissolved. You were dragged back to the table, to the noise and chaos, and Rei sat there, watching as you walked away. When you looked back, she wasn't smiling anymore.

That night, you went home and collapsed into bed. And somehow, you forgot what happened. But Rei didn’t forget. For her, that moment was a line drawn in the sand, a line you had crossed without knowing. But she knew.

And that was what hurt the most.

—

The darkness in the room is thick, punctuated only by the faint glow of the desk lamp. Silence is never absolute, thanks to the soft sound of Rei’s breathing, a constant reminder that you’re no longer alone in this bed, or in any other aspect of your life.

Rei is nestled beside you, her tangled hair splayed across the pillow, a lazy smile stretching across her lips as she snuggles closer.

“We don’t have to sleep in separate rooms anymore, huh?” She lets out a little laugh, and you can sense her satisfaction in finally being able to say that.

You nod passively as the reality of what’s happened settles in your mind.

Rei turns her head to look at you, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Funny, isn’t it?” She begins, and you already know something is coming.

“What’s funny?” you ask, a part of you already knowing that the answer will make you feel like a complete fool.

She sighs, half exasperated, half amused, like she’s about to explain something obvious to a child.

“All those times I tried to get your attention… And you, completely blind.”

You turn to face her, trying to recall anything that might support what she’s saying. Her smile widens, mischievous and teasing.

“Remember that time I asked for a towel while I was in the shower? Just because I wanted you to take a peek?” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “But you? You just tossed the towel through the door and walked away.”

Your mind starts to sift through memories, moments that once seemed innocent, even mundane. You thought she was just forgetful, always leaving the towel behind. It never crossed your mind that it was intentional.

“And those short pajamas I used to wear?” Her voice had a tone of playful satisfaction. “I chose them just to see if you’d notice, if you’d at least look. And what did you do? You covered me with a blanket, worried that I might be cold.” She giggles, but you can feel the sarcasm dripping. “Cold? I wanted you to see me.”

You feel the blush rising up your neck, a mix of embarrassment and… something else. The images flood your mind: the short pajamas, the forgotten towels, and you never understood. You never realized what she was trying to tell you with those signals, and now you feel stupid.

“And when I used to jump on you out of nowhere?” She asks, laughing more vigorously. “Just to see if I could catch you off guard, make you react in some different way. And you? You’d just laugh and push me away.”

You try to speak, but the shame is almost suffocating. “I… I didn’t know,” you mumble, desperately trying to justify yourself. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, playful.”

Rei shakes her head, still smiling under a new layer of affection.

“You were so caught up in that… thing you called a relationship, that you never saw me as a real woman.”

“Rei, I…” you start, but she cuts you off, moving even closer until her nose touches yours.

“I did those things for you, you know? I turned down so many guys because of you, waiting for you to wake up.” She whispers, her voice a mix of sweetness and frustration.

“I’ll try to make it up to you… somehow. I’m sorry, Rei.”

She smiles again, but this time, it’s a different smile, a smile of victory, but also of understanding. She kisses you, a soft kiss, almost marking the end of a chapter that took too long to write.

“Idiot,” she murmurs against your lips, but the tone is affectionate. “You couldn’t have known. But now you do, and you’re not going to stay away from me anymore.”

Rei cuddles up to you, closing her eyes. And as sleep begins to pull you under, you can’t help but have one last thought, one last question: how could it have taken so long?

—

After the relationship finally solidifies, what was once just the ordinary coexistence of roommates, of best friends who share the trivialities of daily life, now transforms into something much deeper, much more intricate. Rei is no longer just the girl you split bills with and share occasional laughs, or the friend who was always there to listen to your complaints about life. She’s your girl now. And that changes everything.

The daily routine, which once seemed dull, now takes on new colors, new textures. The small details, those moments that would have gone unnoticed before, are now enveloped in a layer of raw, unfiltered intimacy. She greets you at home with an almost childlike eagerness, as if you were the sun and she, a plant hungry for light. Every time you walk through the door, there's a kiss, a hug, a heartfelt declaration of how much she missed you, even if it’s only been a few hours since you last saw each other. The way she looks at you... makes you feel like the only man on earth.

And things start heating up in ways you could never have anticipated. It’s a surprise, but one you embrace with every fiber of your being. Suddenly, she’s wearing costumes in bed, playing characters that range from a provocative nurse to a strict teacher. She dives into these roles with evident pleasure, having fun as she teases you, torturing you in ways you never imagined you’d enjoy so much.

Then there are the moments of complete spontaneity, the ones that turn any mundane situation into something memorable. Like that day in the supermarket parking lot, when she pulled you into the car, the engine still warm, the windows fogging up as she gave you a blowjob that wiped your mind clean, erasing any thought that wasn’t about her, about the moment. It’s clandestine, dirty in a way that only heightens the excitement, leaving you in a state of quiet euphoria as you tried not to moan her name right there in the backseat.

Morning sex becomes almost a sacred routine, the most intense and straightforward way to start the day. No words are needed, just the movement of bodies, the heat spreading, and the way she whispers in your ear. It’s primal, vital, as if without it, the rest of the day simply couldn’t happen.

You explore each other as if discovering yourselves for the first time. Every touch, every kiss, every sigh is a new discovery, a new layer of intimacy that you peel away together. You lose yourself in her, and she loses herself in you.

Every day is a new experience, and you let yourself go because, honestly, there’s nothing you want more than to be immersed in this whirlwind of sensations.

And Rei knows no limits when it comes to teasing you. Like that night when you went to a party with your friends. She seemed innocent, almost naive, in the floral dress that covered her down to her knees. But it was all a facade. During the party, she leaned in to whisper things in your ear, dirty things that made your whole body heat up. And in the middle of casual conversation with others, while everyone was distracted, her hand found yours, guiding it under the table to the part of her that was already wet with anticipation. She whispered for you to stay calm, not to give away what was happening, while she made you desperately wish the night would end soon.

Another time, during an innocent walk in the park, the sun shining, birds singing, the appearance of a perfect, harmless day. Rei, with that look like she wasn’t planning anything serious, led you to a more secluded spot, among the trees, away from curious eyes. "I was thinking," she began, with a gleam in her eyes that you’d learned to recognize, "I wonder if anyone’s ever done it here?" And before you could respond or even process what was happening, she was already on her knees in the grass, unbuttoning your pants.

There are also those moments when she surprises you in the middle of the night. You sleep deeply, your body exhausted from just another day, and are awakened by her soft touch, a caress that starts slow, exploring every inch of your skin, as if she wanted to memorize every detail. She has diabolical patience, letting the desire build inside you until you can no longer pretend to be asleep. And when you finally give in, when your eyes open and meet hers, she’s already watching you with a smile that promises the kind of pleasure that borders on sinful.

Another adventure she created was during a visit to your parents' house. You were there for a Sunday lunch, everyone was in the living room, talking and laughing. Rei, always cheerful and playful, behaved like the perfect girl to introduce to your family. But only you knew what was really going on. During lunch, she would gently rub her foot against your leg under the table, a constant tease that amused her.

"Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit... uncomfortable," she asked, feigning innocence, while her eyes said exactly what she was doing.

After lunch, she pulled you to a corner of the house where no one could see. "I think we need a bit of fresh air," she said, leading you to the garden. But instead of admiring the flowers, she pressed you against the brick wall of the house, her hands already unbuttoning your pants. “Let me ease your mind a little," she whispered before kneeling in the grass, and all you could do was hold onto the wall to keep from falling as she did things with her mouth that made you completely forget where you were.

You couldn’t be more satisfied to be the focus of all this seductive energy she has. And perhaps what surprises you most is how much it completes you. There’s no fear here, no doubts. Just the certainty that, finally, you’ve found what you were looking for. Someone who sees you, who cares about you, who shakes up your routine, who wants you, exactly as you are.

And that, yes, is the greatest achievement of all.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 (PART 2)

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After being the forgotten one your whole life, you thought that they wouldn't forget you.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: poly!marauders x reader

♡ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ : part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual clamor of students, but at the Marauders’ table, an unusual silence hung over them like a storm cloud. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter sat in a tense huddle, their eyes flicking nervously toward the entrance every few seconds, waiting. Hoping. Dreading.

“We’ve really messed up this time,” James muttered, raking a hand through his messy hair. His usual confident smirk was nowhere to be found.

“Yeah, no shit,” Peter added quietly, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he avoided eye contact with the others.

Remus sat slouched over, dark circles under his eyes, his skin pale and sickly. The last full moon had been brutal, and he was still nursing fresh wounds that ran deep, not just on his skin but in his heart. He felt the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him like a vice. He should’ve been there. They all should’ve been there. And now? Now, you probably hated them. He didn’t blame you.

“It’s my fault,” Remus whispered, his voice hoarse. “I should’ve—”

“Moony, no,” James interrupted firmly, though his voice was softer than usual. “It wasn’t your fault. We should’ve told her. We all agreed on that date, but we thought you’d be fine by then. No one expected the moon to be that bad.”

Peter nodded in agreement, but his expression remained grim. “But we couldn’t tell her, could we? Not about… y’know.”

Remus flinched at the unspoken word. His furry problem. His secret. The one they all kept from you. It wasn’t because they didn’t trust you—it was because they were scared. Scared of how you’d react. Scared you’d leave. Scared you’d see Remus as a monster.

“I just… I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Remus whispered, his hand unconsciously tracing the new scar on his cheek, the fresh reminder of what he became once a month. He looked down at the table, ashamed. “She doesn’t know. She wouldn't understand.”

Sirius, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, tried to lighten the mood. “She’ll come around,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’ll understand once we explain, right? I mean, it’s us. She knows we wouldn’t—”

But even Sirius couldn’t finish the sentence. His bravado faltered. The truth was, they had stood you up. They had left you waiting for hours, no explanation, no word. Even for them, this was unforgivable. And deep down, Sirius knew it. He knew they had hurt you, badly.

“We fucked up,” he admitted quietly, the words heavy with the weight of his own guilt.

The others didn’t argue. They knew it too.

The sound of the Great Hall doors opening made all four boys tense. You walked in with Lily and Mary, the two girls chatting lightly beside you. But you… you looked different. Your usual bright smile was gone, your eyes tired and distant. You carried yourself like someone trying desperately to hold it together, and the sight of you like that felt like a punch to the gut for all of them.

James sat up straighter, his eyes glued to you, willing you to look at them. Please sit with us, he thought, as if he could somehow send the message telepathically. But you didn’t. You didn’t even glance in their direction. You walked straight past their table, your shoulders stiff, as if you were physically forcing yourself not to look.

Remus’s heart dropped into his stomach as he watched you sit down between Lily and Mary. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, though. You looked so… hurt. And knowing that he was the reason for it made him feel like the monster he tried so hard to hide from you.

“She didn’t even look at us,” Peter whispered, his voice laced with panic. “What if they—what if she never talks to us again?”

James didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He was too busy staring at you, silently begging for you to look over. He needed to see your eyes, needed to know if there was still a chance to fix this. But you didn’t.

And then, for the first time, Sirius’s forced optimism broke completely. “We really fucked up, didn’t we?” His voice was low, defeated, and filled with the kind of despair that none of them had ever heard from him before.

Remus closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the guilt that was clawing at his throat. He wanted to run over to you, to pull you aside and explain everything, to beg for forgiveness. But what would he even say? How could he explain all the times they had lied, all the times they had kept him away from you after full moons, how they had kept you in the dark? He couldn’t. Not yet.

And so, they sat there in silence, helpless, watching the person they loved more than anything in the world drift further and further away.

You tried to ignore their stares, you really did. But you could feel their eyes on you, especially Remus’s. There was a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything Lily or Mary were saying. Your heart was aching, twisting painfully in your chest, but you refused to give in to it. Not again. Not after last night.

But despite your best efforts, your eyes betrayed you. For just a moment, you glanced over at their table, and your heart clenched when you saw them.

Remus looked terrible. Pale, sick, with fresh scars on his face that you hadn’t noticed before. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, his shoulders slumped as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them. You felt a pang of guilt twist in your chest, the urge to rush over and hug him overwhelming for a split second. You loved him. You loved all of them.

But then the anger came rushing back, drowning out the guilt. If Remus had been sick, if something had happened, they could have told you. They should have told you. Instead, they had left you alone, waiting, wondering if you even mattered to them at all.

You noticed the fresh scar across Remus’s cheek, and your mind wandered back to the countless times you had questioned him about his scars before. He had always brushed it off, closed himself off from you. And the boys? They gave the most ridiculous, unbelievable excuses every single time. You weren’t stupid. You knew something was going on, something they weren’t telling you, and it hurt. It hurt so much more than you wanted to admit.

How could you be their girlfriend, but still feel so shut out? Why didn’t they trust you enough to tell you the truth? That thought hit you harder than anything. Maybe you weren’t as important to them as they were to you. Maybe you were just… an afterthought.

You clenched your jaw, determined not to let the tears fall this time. You weren’t going to let them see you cry again. You wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

But the truth was, no matter how angry or hurt you were, you still loved them. And that hurt most of all.

[tetsumie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘"

read part 2 here!

pairing: tsukishima x reader & suna x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content: the boys call you clingy but they don’t mean it

a/n: sorry i got carried away writing these ahh i sort of twisted the prompt of "when they call you clingy" into my own sort of thing idk how to explain but hopefully this turned out well :,) also not proofread so sorry about the mistakes! and as always feel free to send me requests and tell me ur thoughts on my writing!

tsukishima kei

tsukishima, you, and a few of the former karsuno volleyball players decided to have a small little reunion dinner after not seeing each other for so long.

everyone's embracing each other with hugs and to be frank, it's really nice of him to invite you to meet his friends from high school! you're really looking forward to getting to know them and maybe even getting to know your boyfriend a bit more.

as all of you are sitting at the table debating what to order, there's much chit chat between everyone and you swear you haven't seen kei so carefree in a while. sure, he's still throwing his sarcastic, snarky comments but they don't hit too harshly towards his teammates.

they are most definitely used to this.

the food has arrived and way too much wine has been ordered. with their slurred words and pink cheeks, you can tell all of them are going to blackout the moment they all get home.

"kei, so how'd you pull this gorgeous girl?" tanaka asks out of nowhere "ain't no way she fell for your snarky ass personality."

you and him both let out a chuckle and he replied with, "nah, they're just clingy as fuck and i guess they were fun to keep around."

you go quiet and the laughter has sort of died out. but the drinks keep pouring and nishinoya speaks.

"god, you're a fucking asshole," nishinoya chimes. "she's way too good for you.

although the conversation begins to take a turn in a different direction, you can't seem to get his words out of your mind.

clingy. he thinks i'm clingy.

a ball of insecurity starts to form in your stomach and his comment starts the train of overthinking. you keep telling yourself that he's had too many drinks.

yet a part of you is telling you that drunk thoughts are sober words.

how long has he thought of me as "clingy?"

the small chuckles and laughs that escape your lips have come to a halt and now you're feeling incredibly insecure. you begin to zone out and start chugging down a few glasses of wine to drown out your surroundings.

after a few eventful hours, you and tsukishima decide to grab a taxi and head home for the night. he unlocks the door to your shared apartment and you immediately head into the bedroom to change your clothes, not sparing him a second glance.

tsukishima enters the bed after cleaning up and his arm drapes over your chest. your body goes completely stiff and you're super uncomfortable with his touch, especially after his comment about you being clingy.

the moment you hear his light snores, you slowly remove his arm off your body and turn to face away from him. a feeling of numbness begins to overtake your body and you feel a sense of emptiness within.

the next morning, tsukishima woke up with a horrible headache and he instantly regretted drinking so much last night. he groans and pats your side of the bed and is greeted by just the bedsheets and not you.

grumbling, he got out of bed in search of you and finds you standing by the balcony with a cup of coffee in your hand. in that moment, his heart skips a beat and he's reminded of how much he loves you.

you yelp in surprise when you feel two arms slither around your torso and his chin resting on your shoulder. "good morning baby," he kisses your cheek.

"hi kei," you say curtly.

"what's for breakfast?"

"i just made myself toasted bread with jam. you can just make some cereal or something. i think we still have your lucky charms in the pantry," you tell him.

he pulls away from you and he feels something is off with you. you feel distant.

the feeling is confirmed when the both of you are sitting on the living room sofa while watching the new episode of your favorite reality tv show. kei expects you to come close to him and rest your head on his shoulder like you usually do yet there you are, in his vicinity, but sitting on the other end of the couch, clinging to a throw pillow.

he can't seem to concentrate on the movie when the only thing he can see is you sitting to yourself, gone completely quiet. he doesn't know what's wrong and he can't rack his mind as to what might have happened that made you so distant.

after the movie ends, he kisses your forehead and he feels your body stiffen.

what's going on? i don't know what i did?

he pulls away and looks at you. "y/n, something's wrong," he states.

you refuse to meet his gaze now and your twiddling with your fingers. he seems to have no recollection of what he's said to you last night. although, he might not recall what he said, it's the only thing you can recall in your mind. ever since this morning, whenever, you look at him, the only thing running in your mind is his words, "nah, she's just clingy as fuck and i guess she was fun to keep around."

"we're good," you reply promptly. "don't worry about it."

he grabs your hands and puts them in his which catches you off guard. you love the feeling of his hand in yours but the rational part of your brain wants to pull away, thinking about how he thought you were so clingy.

"listen, i'm not good at this. i'm not good at communicating my feelings but for you, i want to do better. so please, it would mean a lot if you could tell me what's wrong so i can help you and... us."

this is the most genuine you've seen him in a while and although to most, it may have seemed like some half-assed speech but to you, it felt raw and vulnerable.

"ok well," you began. "last night, when we were out with your friends, you were talking with your friends and well, you mentioned something about me. and it made me wonder if you think i'm clingy?"

he was confused. "no, i don't think you're clingy anymore? i don't know what you're talking about?"

the "anymore" in his response to you was something that saddened you a little. he found me clingy yet never told me?

"so you did think i was clingy, right?"

with a deep breath, he began to explain himself, "when we got together, i wasn't really used to... being so close to someone. you would always hold my hand or loop your arm in mine or something. you would always be holding me or touching me and i wasn't sure how i felt it about it at first. i was never one for physical touch so when you began to show that to me, i just... it felt... suffocating."

you're looking into his eyes, swimming with sadness and searching for answers, and he feels a mixture of sadness and guilt as he continues to explain himself.

"but being with you, i've grown to love your touch and honestly, now that i think about it, i don't know what i'd do if you just stopped being yourself and clinging on to me. i would go insane if you stopped."

kei leans in for a hug and you hug him back. you missed holding him like this and well, you just miss him. but now that kei has said all this, you're not sure about anything anymore.

you pull away and tell him, "i'm sorry you couldn't tell me that you were uncomfortable with my touches. i should have asked you how fast or slow you wanted to go and i shouldn't have forced my affection on to you."

"if you want, we can slow down. i understand," you say with a tone of finality in your voice.

"no!" he immediately replied. "it's.. it's not that. you don't force your affection on to me. you never have. i just am awkward with affection and growing up, i've never had it so i'd get super fidgety and that's why i think i felt like you were being clingy. but i love it."

"i love it when you hold my hand when we're walking to the grocery store. i love it when you doodle on my hand with your fingers when we're waiting for the food to come when we eat out. i love it when you tell me about the little stories from work while you're cooking dinner. i love it when you mumble in your sleep and snuggle close to me when it gets cold at night. i love everything about you."

kei was very much out of his comfort zone as he told you all these things and it surprised you that he noticed all these little details. you could tell he was getting embarrassed, considering how his cheeks were turning pink. you couldn't help but let a little smile seep through your facial features.

"you're so sappy," you reply.

"oh shut up."

you both laugh and then he cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb in circles. "don't ever think you force your affection on me because you never do, okay?"

"okay, kei."

the both of you spend the rest of the day with one another, making comforting memories together that the both of you will fondly remember in the future.

suna rintaro

you're not even sure how this argument even started. all you can remember is asking suna if he could accompany you to a work party that you were invited to. it was supposed to be a relatively relaxing event with not too much worries yet suna was once again trying to bail out.

"come on rin! it's one party and we never get to go out anymore," you try again for the nth time.

"y/n, jesus, i told you this, i don't want to fucking go! practice is draining me out and the one day i get off, you want me to go to some stupid fucking work party. can't you see that i want to be home?"

"we won't even have to be there that long! i just want you to come with me so you can meet some of my friends and support me. i'm really not asking for much," you counter. "i'm always trying to go to your games to support you from the stands and i'm asking you to do this one thing for me."

"i never fucking asked you to come to my games!" suna's voice began to rise and you felt yourself shrink. you had never seen him so intensely angry before. he was always so nonchalant so seeing this side of him made you nervous. "god, you're just so suffocating with everything. you always wanna do shit together, like jeez, give me a break. you're so fucking clingy sometimes; i just want space."

your mouth snaps shut and you can't find it in yourself to even reply. suna leaves the bedroom and you can head the jangle of his keys and the front door opens and then slams shut. a tear escapes from one eye and then all of a sudden, it's a full blown mental breakdown. you're sitting on the bed, crying off all your makeup.

after your cries turn into sniffles, you call up one of your colleagues, telling them you won't be attending the party. that night, you end up crying yourself to sleep.

suna had come home quite late that night after storming out.

in his head, he admits that the argument had blown up for no reason. but he just really didn't want to see your coworkers. he was cranky, annoyed, and irritated, making him deeply irrational.

as he walks into the bedroom, he sees you fast asleep in your clothes that you were planning to go out in and your makeup smudged all over your face. he felt incredibly guilty.

he messed up big time and he had to fix this. he hoped in the morning, the both of you would wake up together so he could talk it out and apologize.

you wake up the next morning feeling a lot better than last night. you turn to see suna lying in bed and a part of you just wants to run your fingers through your hair. as your fingers hover above his head, you're reminded of his words from last night.

you're so fucking clingy sometimes. i just want space.

your fingers immediately retracted and you decided to get up to start the rest of your day. you didn't want to let his words get to you. he said his opinion and there's nothing much you could do other than give him space. you'd be doing him a favor by giving him that space that he wanted, right?

suna shifts in bed, arm reaching out to your side of the bed, subconsciously. as he pats down your side of the bed, he feels the emptiness and he jolts up out of bed.

he's walking out of the bedroom and he sees you sitting on the couch, watching something on the television.

a sigh of relief escapes his mouth, thanking whatever deity out there that you hadn't left. even if you did, he couldn't blame you for it. he hurt you and there was no denying that.

"hi babe," he casually says alouds and plops on the couch next to you.

"hey."

your tone is cold and to be frank, you could care less than speak to him right now. seeing him is just a constant reminder of how clingy you are and you really don't want to be confronted with the feeling of sadness again.

in an attempt to smooth things over with you, he tries to start conversation in hopes that things will get back to normal naturally and maybe.. just maybe you'll know that he's sorry without him saying it.

"osamu was talking about some new onigiri thing he made and he wanted to drop some off for us to try. should i say yes?" he asked.

"sure."

your responses to his efforts are completely shut down and he's just praying that things get better with time. he reassures himself that things will go back to normal, it's just a matter of time. within a few days, things will be back to normal!

that's what he thought until his first volleyball match of the season came about. as he was standing in the court, his eyes scanned the rest of the stadium for your figure in hopes of finding you wearing his jersey but to no avail, he couldn't find you.

he assumed you were running late or stuck in traffic. no matter what you would be here, right?

but the first set is already over and you're nowhere to be seen. taking a quick break, he texts you:

suna: r u here?

suna: i don't see u in the stands.

it's delivered and suna's back in the court. he's misreading all of the opponent's attacks and his blocks are all being haphazardly done. the only thing on his mind is you.

the EJP coach calls for a timeout and sits him out for the rest of the match. "i don't know what's going on with you but you need to pull it together. your slacking is messing up with the rest of the team," coach berated him and all suna could do was nod his head.

he sat on the bench and immediately grabs his phone to text you.

suna: can you please answer?

suna: or call me? please?

suna: fuck y/n

suna: r u ok?

with no response, concern is etched onto his face. he tells his coach that he has to go and although he's about to suffer hell when he goes to practice tomorrow for dipping, he needs to see you.

you're seeing all of his messages.

you've seen all of them.

and you don't want to respond to a single one of them.

you know he's coming home and he's about to bombard you with questions and you don't want to respond to him. you don't want to come off as clingy again.

you hear the jangle of the keys and prepare yourself.

he opens the door and finds you in the kitchen, making yourself some snacks.

"so where were you today?" he begins.

"at home."

his hands find their way to your waist and he slowly turns you around to look him in the eye. "why didn't you come?"

you sigh in frustration. "i don't know what you want from me. you say i'm clingy and you want some space and on top of that you mentioned how you've never asked me to go to any of your games so here i am respecting your wishes like you asked yet you have the fucking audacity to ask me where i was and why i wasn't with you?"

his hands let go of your waist and he steps back to fully look at you.

"rin, i don't know what you want from me anymore."

suna's mouth opens and then shuts, not sure as to what to say to you. you were more upset about his comment than you let on and now all your anger and frustration was coming out.

"listen, i-"

"no, you listen to me," you interrupt, immediately shutting him up. "all i wanted that night was for you to come to my work party. it's all i wanted. that party was mainly for me because i helped our company reach this new milestone! and i wanted you to come and celebrate with me and my colleagues. is it so much to ask for my boyfriend to come support me?"

"and then you go on to say i'm clingy and do you have any idea how much it hurt me when you said that? when you would talk to me about anything, the only thing going through my head would be the fact that you called me clingy and god, i just wanted to vanish in thin air because i hated knowing that you thought that of me which is why i gave you your space. i kept thinking you just didn't want my affection."

you rest your elbows on the kitchen countertop and put your face in your hands. you finally burst out with all the feelings that have been suffocating your mind. it felt good to finally relieve it all but you could only imagine what was going through his mind. was he mad or upset or did he just not care about my feelings?

all of a sudden, you feel two arms wrap around your torso and kisses to the top of your head.

"love, you're not clingy. if anything, i'm the clingy one. i always want you by my side like at my games or when i go out with my friends or even if i'm just lying in bed. i want you."

he strokes your hair and now you're turning around to look at him again. his eyes are wide and a bit glassy. this is probably one of the first times you've seen emotion on his face aside from his regular snarky remarks.

"i wish i could take back what i said that night but i can't. but please know that i don't know what i'd do without you. i was really upset that night and all i wanted to was just sleep it off. but your insistence to go got me aggravated and i lashed out. you don't deserve that. you never deserve that."

"i want to be the one you wake up to in the morning. i want to be the one you take to all your work parties and events. i want to be the one you tell you gossip with. i want to be the one you have your late night talks with. i want to be the one you end your nights with. i want to be the one you spend the rest of your life with. i want to be yours."

tears started to escape your eyes and your heart was swollen. suna was never one to be so open with his emotions yet here he was opening so much to you. you hug his torso and sob into his chest.

"i love you, i'm sorry," you say.

"i love you too, and i'm sorry too," he replies, kissing the top of your forehead.

© tetsumie 2024 all rights reserved 

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Six

— Little Big Gifts

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.9k

You watched as Isabella tugged Max into yet another store with a tight grip on his hand. At this point, you were losing track of how many stores you've been in and out of.

Falling behind a few steps, you took that moment to notice how Max and Isabella could've easily resembled a father-daughter duo to the strangers around you.

Pushing that thought away when Max looked for you, he smiled and held out his other hand—that was still holding a few shopping bags—as a gesture for you to come closer.

"How much money are you planning to spend on her?" You asked, looking at the increasing shopping bags in both yours and his hands, everything bought so far was for Isabella.

You had to physically stop yourself from grasping his bicep, cursing internally when you remembered that it wouldn't be the right thing to do. But you desperately wanted it to be a normal habit.

The first—and last—time you tried to pay was when you were checking out at the register in the first store of the day. Max lightly shoved you aside and tapped his card before you could notice what happened.

The cashier noticed and even commented, "let him pay for it, darling," with a cheeky wink directed at you.

Max looked at you, almost offended at the question you asked. "Until my account is empty," he stated with a shrug and a growing smile on his face when you shook your head. This would've been the perfect time to lean against him and smile at him, but once again you didn't.

"It would take a long time before that happens," you responded and he gave you a knowing look, "that's the point."

Isabella was roaming around the aisles with you and Max following behind. Every time she liked something, she would pick it up and look at you two with the cutest smile on her face while muttering the word, "please."

It reminded you of the day you first met Max through Isabella, since she was doing the same trick as today.

The only difference was that every time that happened, Max looked at you for permission as well and it felt like you were facing two versions of Isabella.

"Mama!" Isabella exclaimed when she laid her eyes on the prize, which happens to be hair accessories.

Little clips with bows, glittery ones, some even had flowers, and she loved it all.

"Pick out the ones you really, really like, Bella." If you didn't limit the items, Isabella would pick one too many. You stood beside her, holding each item that she handed to you.

There were lots of options, but your little girl was picky and this was one of the few times you were grateful for it. She picked out a total of six items, "because I'm six, mama," was her reasoning behind it.

You chuckled, "you can pick out seven things when you turn seven then, okay?" She nodded, and began counting how many months were left until her birthday.

Max watched the whole interaction with soft smile on his face, wondering how he had such amazing luck that he was able to befriend the sweetest mother-daughter duo.

Then, Isabella spotted earrings and asked if she could buy those too. "Your ears aren't pierced, angel." She frowned, "why not?"

“Do you want to get your ears pierced?" You asked, knowing it was a question you'd have to ask one day and it seemed like a good time right now.

"Yes please," Isabella nodded, and looked at both you and Max in anticipation. This time, you looked at Max for reassurance, wanting to know his opinion as well. Though you had no idea why his opinion mattered so much to you.

"It's going to hurt," Max commented or more so stated directed at Isabella, wanting her to know the process behind it. "I am a big girl!" She responded with enthusiasm, and by the tone of her voice, you knew that she had already set her mind on it.

"Okay, big girl, let's get you some piercings after we buy all this," you stated and she smiled brightly, holding onto your hand as you neared the cash register.

As Max reached for his wallet, you placed your hand over his to stop him, and he looked at you with a questioning gaze. "Max, you already did too much," you whispered, ensuring that your daughter doesn't hear you.

"What if I want to do more?" He countered, and you sighed. Then he added, "plus I promised Bella that I would buy her the clips she wanted, and she also asked for ice cream."

You knew he wasn't going to budge, so you let him pay but you needed to have a conversation with him about it.

You weren't used to this sort of treatment, and even after Max reassured you that it was truly his choice to pay, you felt bad.

As you walked out the shop holding Isabella's hand, who was beaming because of the new purchases, you looked at Max, "are you going to let me pay for the piercings?"

He debated it, knowing that if he kept paying, you might never take him along for shopping again. "If you insist," he shrugged and you smiled, quickly placing a kiss to his cheek in appreciation.

While you and Isabella continued walking, Max faltered and stopped midstep. He brushed his fingers against his cheek that you kissed with a small smile growing on his face. Then, he continued walking before you were able to notice that he stopped.

Isabella's nervousness almost matched her excitement as she sat in the chair. The piercer was a kind lady who understood both Isabella's nervousness and excitement.

She explained the process as it was your daughter's first time getting pierced. "Are you sure you want to do this, angel?" You asked, watching her wiggle around in the chair.

Still, her nod was just as firm, "yes mama."

Once the piercer marked Isabella's ear so the placement was precise, she looked towards you and Max then back at Isabella.

"Why don't you hold on to your mama and daddy's hand, you'll forget the pain and we'll be done in no time."

Isabella grabbed onto your hand but then shook her head, "he's Maxy, not daddy," she clarified. Max took a slight step back after her words, the realization dawning on him that he might've gotten a little too comfortable too quickly.

"I'm going to hold onto mama and Maxy's hand," Isabella stated, holding out her hand towards Max with a wide smile on her face, as if she didn't realize the words she spoke just moments ago.

Technically, she wasn't wrong which was why you didn't correct her. But, the truth of the situation wasn't something you focused on until recently, especially after the words Tyler spoke yesterday.

"Can you count to three for me?" The piercer asked Isabella, deflating the tension.

Your focus was completely on your daughter, mainly because you didn't want to think of the possibilities about your future with Max just yet.

The piercer didn't wait until Isabella finished counting, instead surprising her by piercing her ear a second earlier.

Max rubbed her hand soothingly as he noticed her eyes beginning to water but she didn't let a single tear drop. Inhaling sharply, she commented, "that didn't hurt too bad."

"You're a brave girl. Now let's do the other side," the lady commented and Isabella's eyes widened at her words. "The other side?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at her words, "yes, angel, she has to do your other ear unless you only want one earring?"

Isabella shook her head, and sat through the same process for her other ear.

"Good job!" The lady gave your daughter a high five, then she walked away to gather the items needed for post piercing care.

You kissed your daughter's cheek, carefully avoiding any accidental touches to her ear, "my brave girl."

The chair she was sitting on was higher up, so Isabella held her hands out towards Max. He took a step closer and easily wrapped his arm around her, helping her stand firmly on the ground. “You're going to be the coolest kid in first grade," he told her which made her eyes widen with excitement.

"Really?" Isabella asked. "Of course! You got a new bag, new clothes, and even new piercings. You are going to have so many friends."

After Isabella shared her fear of moving to first grade after kindergarten, you and Max tried your best to reassure her that it isn't as scary as she thinks it is.

You went up to the cash counter to pay and the lady explained the steps that should be taken after a piercing for proper care.

Meanwhile, Max was holding Isabella's hand and whispering to each other but stopped once you returned. "Where to next?"

"Ice cream!" Your daughter cheered, and you couldn't say no to her even if you tried. After all, she did deserve ice cream since she put on such a brave face for her piercings.

After buying three different flavours of ice cream, one for each of you, it was time for a much needed break. You knew that Isabella was close to wanting a nap since you saw her eyes droop slightly once you sat down to enjoy some ice cream.

She leaned against you and wandered off into her own imaginative world. "I think we're done for the day," you turned your head towards Max as you spoke the words.

"You didn't get anything for yourself yet," Max commented and you shrugged, "I don't think I have the energy to shop for myself, plus you didn't buy anything for yourself either."

"And you're sure that you're not saying that because you don't want to spend my money?" He asked and you had a sheepish smile on your face that gave you away, “that too.”

Max tried to understand why you were so adamant on that topic. He didn't know why you were so hesitant to spend his money. He knew that if it were someone else, they wouldn't have hesitated. But then again, you aren't just someone else, you're you.

"Fine, mister rich, don't look at me like that. I'll empty out your pockets one day and then you'll realize what a mistake you made," you teased him, knowing that you would never do that. "But, I seriously don't have the energy to continue shopping."

"First, it won't be a mistake if I ask you to do it, and second, I'm here whenever you need me—or in this case, my card—just give me a call."

You were glad that Isabella was not listening to your conversation, because you wouldn't know how to explain it to her.

"You can't say things like that," you nearly whispered. "It's actually true, I'm free for the next ten days. During that, we're going shopping again."

You shook your head with a smile on your face, "I'll take you up on that offer then."

"Good." You leaned closer to him, without actually leaning on him. Even that little inch closer, brought a smile to both your faces but neither commented on it.

Then, when you looked at Isabella, she had almost finished her ice cream but you laughed when you noticed quite of a bit of it smeared around her mouth. "Oh, Bella." She giggled as she tried to wipe away as much as she could with her tongue before using the tissue that you passed her.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17

[ginnsbaker]

My Sundown

Summary: You’ve been a Hydra agent for as long as you can remember, when Wanda Maximoff and her brother, Pietro, volunteers for Hydra's human experiments.

Word count: 10K+ | Tags: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader | Warnings: Only mentions of smut. Hurt/comfort. Reader is a little older than Wanda. Some angst. | A/N: I missed writing for Wanda, and have always wanted to write canon-ish oneshots for the MCU character. Main Masterlist

-

When they first bring her in, she looks like she's been through hell—eyes hollow, skin pale, a storm simmering just beneath the surface. Her hands tremble, not from fear, but from the sheer, unbridled power flowing through her veins. The room seems to shrink under the weight of it, as if even the walls are aware of what she’s capable of. The other recruits are scared and jittery, but she’s different. Her brother too—both rough around the edges, like two sides of the same scarred coin.

“Where did they round up these rats now?” you mutter to Lev, who’s standing dutifully beside you—the only person you've let close enough to be called a friend in all your years with Hydra.

“Sokovian volunteers,” he corrects you, eyes fixed straight ahead, mirroring your own unblinking focus on the twins. Maybe he feels the strange energy coming off them too, or maybe it’s just the routine numbness that sets in after years of blindly following orders.

You nod slightly, though the term volunteer feels like a cruel joke. No one truly volunteers for this. 

“Agent.” 

Dr. List’s voice yanks you out of your thoughts, dreary and impersonal. He calls everyone that way, as if you're just another tool, interchangeable and anonymous. It’s an intentional tactic—strip away the names, and you strip any sense of humanity.  Without a name, you’re not a person; you’re just a weapon at their disposal.

But you know he means you.

You step forward. “Sir,” you reply, maintaining a ramrod straight posture, your eyes fixed on a spot just beside his perpetually scowling face. It seems all villains share that same dour expression, but if this woman—this girl—makes it through the experiments and officially joins the ranks, she might just break the mold, looking more like an angel than a monster. You quickly shake off the thought, stifling a grimace at the odd turn your thoughts have taken.

When you risk a quick glance at her, you catch a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips, as if she knows exactly what you were just thinking.

“You’re to oversee Wanda Maximoff’s progress,” Dr. List continues without sparing you a second glance. “Ensure she complies. If she doesn’t…” He lets the threat hang, but you don't need him to spell it out. You know what Hydra does to those who don't meet expectations.

“And the boy?” you ask, genuinely curious about the other twin.

Dr. List gives you a sharp look, like he suspects something. Questions are frowned upon here, but ever since you laid eyes on Wanda, a persistent tingling has crept up the back of your neck.

To put it bluntly, she unnerves you, and you'd much prefer to deal with her brother.

“Strucker decided to…take a more hands-on approach with him,” Dr. List says.

“Understood, sir,” you reply crisply, reaffirming your commitment to your orders. You steal another glance at Wanda, only to feel a rush of heat when you realize she’s been watching you the entire time.

-

Wanda looks even more formidable once she’s showered and changed into fresh clothes. You can’t decide if it’s because the sinister gleam in her eyes remains untouched or because the grime and hardships of life on the streets have been washed away, revealing a haunting beauty beneath the dirt. Clean, she’s striking—but that beauty only makes her more dangerous. You’ve tried to delay any direct interaction with her, but this morning, Dr. List visited to follow up on the initial assessment, leaving you no more time to postpone. After a week of stalling, you’re out of excuses, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.

As she steps out of the small bathroom, her damp hair clings to her shoulders, softening her otherwise sharp features. The moment she becomes aware of your presence, her gaze locks onto you, and she begins to comb the wet tendrils back with her slender fingers. Your hand tightens around your keycard involuntarily as you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Wanda is just like any other volunteer who entered the organization and never left its walls to see the light of day. Besides, you’re armed, and Wanda is not. It’s ridiculous to be this on edge around someone who's at a disadvantage.

“You,” Wanda murmurs, her accent rolling off her tongue like a slow, winding river.

“Shall we begin?” you ask, keeping your tone even and detached. You can’t afford to let her see how much she frighte—affects you.

Wanda ignores your request. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, studying you with a keenness that makes your skin prickle. You meet her stare, determined not to show any cracks, even though your heart's hammering away.

Finally, she nods—a small, almost imperceptible movement. 

You clear your throat and motion towards the small cot given to them as beds. “Please, have a seat,” you say.

This time, Wanda complies without a word. 

You glance around the room, searching for a seat, and silently berate yourself for not arranging one beforehand. It’s a small oversight, but it makes you feel foolish. With no other option, you settle against the farthest wall, opposite her, and lean against it, though it doesn’t make you feel any more grounded than you did a second ago.

In your hand is a file detailing everything Hydra knows about her, which isn’t much. You open it with a practiced ease, flipping through the pages, but you’re aptly aware of her eyes on you, watching your every move.

“Wanda Maximoff,” you start. “The procedures you're about to undergo are highly experimental. Hydra won't be held responsible for any injuries, no matter if they're permanent or temporary.”

Including death. But you are prohibited from disclosing this to avoid causing panic or stress among the subjects.

Wanda says nothing, her expression unreadable, but you can sense she’s lingering on a thought. Not sure what it is, you go on, falling back on the lines you've memorized these last few months.

“These procedures will enhance your natural abilities, giving you powers beyond what you may or may not currently possess. However, there are risks involved. Do you understand the nature of these risks?”

Wanda nods again. It’s the same answer you’ve received from countless other volunteers, most of whom had no idea what they were truly signing up for. But there’s something different about her, something in the way she holds herself that tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting into—and she’s not afraid.

“There will be a series of physical and psychological evaluations. We will push you to your breaking point and beyond. It is crucial that you cooperate fully. Resistance will only make the process more difficult, both for you and for us.”

You scan her face for any sign of fear or hesitation, but she's a blank slate. It’s as if she’s made peace with whatever fate awaits her here. That bothers you more than you’d care to admit.

“We will also be conducting interviews throughout the process,” you continue. “These will assess your mental state, your thoughts, your fears. Everything you say will be documented, and nothing will be private.”

Wanda's eyes narrow a touch, the first sign of any emotion since she sat down. It’s subtle, but you notice it. Maybe the thought of her mind being picked apart like a lab specimen is getting to her more than the threat of physical harm. Or it could be something else entirely.

“We’ll begin the physical tests tomorrow,” you say, closing the file and hugging it to your chest. “For now, you should rest and eat as much as you like. Your room is monitored constantly. If you need anything, just ask, though your movement around the facility will be restricted.”

The mask of indifference slips back into place. Wanda leans back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows in a display of casual ease. 

“Do you have any questions?” you ask, mostly because you have to, not because you really want to know. You figure she won't ask anything—most are too scared or too defeated to speak up. 

But Wanda Maximoff isn't most people.

“Why do you do this?”

You can’t help it—a faint smile begins to creep across your face at her question. Most volunteers, when they ask anything at all, are fixated on their own impending ordeal, too scared of what's coming. 

But Wanda isn't asking about herself; she's asking about you. It feels like forever since anyone showed that kind of interest.

Pausing at the doorway, you turn your head just enough for her to see the profile of your face. 

“I do what I'm told,” you say, dodging the deeper question she posed—the real why behind your actions. The truth is, you stopped asking why a long time ago. Reasons tend to blur into excuses when moral lines are crossed in an organization you once trusted.

You're already tapping your keycard against the scanner when Wanda speaks again.

“Will doing what you're told bring them back?”

Her question spins you around so fast it's almost like whiplash. How did Wanda know about that? Was it just a wild guess meant to throw you off? Whatever it was, it worked.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t even remember the last time you even thought about them. You've never shared this with anyone—not even Lev. Only a handful of Hydra figures were ever privy to your past.

Wanda couldn't possibly know. Unless—

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tone dismissive as she curls into a fetal position, turning her back to you.

If your theory holds, Wanda might be the key Hydra has been searching for—the one who can unlock the powers of the scepter that have eluded so many others. Her apparent ability to read minds could be the very breakthrough Dr. List has been waiting for. 

Finding yourself hesitating to report this discovery surprises you. It’s almost ironic how your conscience decides to kick in now, just when Hydra's goal seems tantalizingly close with the acquisition of the twins. You know what Hydra would do if they realized just how special she is, and the thought of them twisting her into something monstrous is something you can’t even begin to imagine.

-

In the days that follow, you keep quiet about your suspicions regarding Wanda’s innate abilities. You tell yourself that Dr. List will probably uncover them through his experiments soon enough. It’s definitely not because you're worried about what they might do if they decide to fast-track her program.

Yes, you’re just staying out of it, certainly not because you want to protect her.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

-

Your next face-to-face with Wanda comes a week later.

Though you have merely been observing her through a two-way mirror, you've been plagued by sleepless nights since your last meeting, and not even the strongest sedatives at your disposal have helped. Thoughts of her well-being nag at you, despite Hydra's strict rules limiting interaction between volunteers and handlers to prevent any emotional attachments. Such attachments have formed before, and Hydra has always dealt with them ruthlessly.

When you enter her room, she's in the same position as before—curled up on her cot, making herself appear small and almost childlike. She looks up as the door closes behind you, her eyes meeting yours with a quiet recognition. 

As you step closer, the hollowness of her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes, and her pale complexion are unmistakable. The word weathered hardly does justice to the toll her first week has taken. You know exactly what she’s been through. The tests here aren’t just tests—they’re torture, meant to break people down, body and mind. Even with her powers and confidence, Wanda shows the same signs of strain. She's slight, frail, and clearly, she's had as rough a time as anyone else here.

This time, you come prepared with a metal chair and a freshly prepared tea set next to it, and take a seat across from her.

“How are you holding up?” you ask, although the answer seems painfully obvious.

Wanda shrugs, barely moving, as if the effort to appear okay is too much for her. But then she surprises you.

“How long until Hydra enhances my powers?”

You weren’t expecting that. After everything she’s been through, she’s asking for more? You thought she’d be wary, maybe even broken by now. But the question says otherwise. She’s been through hell, and she’s still pushing forward, demanding more. Is she courting death?

“You seem in a hurry,” you say, hiding your worry behind a soft chuckle. 

Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t come here to wait around. If they want to use me, they need to make me stronger.”

Use me.

How disconcerting. She’s asking for more—more pain, more trials. As if everything she’s endured isn’t enough, as if she needs it to become something greater. It’s reckless and foolish, to say the least.

“We’re moving as fast as we can—”

“Move faster.”

“Wanda,” you say quietly. “What you’re asking for... it could break you.”

“I’m already broken,” she declares, cold and matter-of-fact. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s only when you notice the disgust in her eyes that you realize you’ve been looking at her with pity. Wanda is about to snap back, likely to tell you she doesn’t need your sympathy, when her expression shifts abruptly to one of curiosity.

She tilts her head, studying you—or maybe, with the mirth in her eye, it’s more like she’s mocking you. 

“You look at me like that again, and I’ll ask you a question,” Wanda says, her voice low, almost a whisper.

You stiffen, uncertain of what's coming next, but before you can say anything, she continues.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you, abrupt and a bit too loud—almost like you're trying to convince both yourself and Wanda how absurd she’s being. But as the laughter dies down, you feel your face heat up, your cheeks flushing a telltale red that you can't hide.

“No,” you say, your gaze dropping to the floor as you shake your head. You clasp your hands behind your back, one finger nervously picking at a cuticle. “This isn’t what this is about.”

Wanda smirks slightly, her lips twitching, amused by your discomfort. “Isn't it?” 

For a split second, you start to doubt everything. Did you really want to sleep with her? It's been ages since you've even considered intimacy with anyone—maybe too long. Life here doesn't leave space for that kind of thinking, and even if it did, the situation wouldn't allow it. Your heart's been shattered so often you're sure there's nothing left to give—especially not to someone you've only known for a week.

Wait—love?

This is, at best, lust—nothing more.

“No,” you repeat with more conviction.

Wanda’s smirk fades into a slow, knowing smile. “Fine. Just know the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

A proposition. It’s not the first time you’ve received one, but this offer sticks with you longer than you’d like. Wanda’s already spent too much time in your thoughts, and you’re desperate to shake her off and get back to the task at hand. But she makes it maddeningly hard to do so.

Without looking at her, you clear your throat and begin the routine interview. You refuse to focus on the fact that she’s just openly considered a physical encounter with you—and you’re definitely not considering it in return. 

“Have you noticed any unusual side effects since the last session? Headaches, nausea, dizziness?” you ask, skipping the pleasantries.

“No,” she says dryly. “No headaches. No nausea. No dizziness.”

You jot down her answers, ignoring her evident disinterest in the proceedings.

“Any changes in your sleep pattern?” you continue.

“No.”

“Any unusual pain or discomfort?” you ask, forcing yourself to meet her gaze, but her focus is on the rings on her fingers. The prisoners—volunteers, you correct yourself—aren't supposed to keep any personal items. It baffles you how she managed to hold on to those cheap pieces of metal and silver.

It takes Wanda a moment to respond. “Just the usual soreness.”

You suspect it's more than just soreness. She’s probably downplaying the pain, so you make a note beside her answer.

“Alright, we’ll keep an eye on that. Any changes in your mood? Irritability, anxiety, anything like that?”

Wanda shrugs. “Depends on the company, I suppose.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Noted. We’ll stick with the same regimen for now. Any concerns or questions about the next phase?”

“What happened to them?” Wanda asks, steering the interview off course.

Annoyance flares up as she probes again, prying into your business. “Don’t you already know?” you snap, your patience wearing thin.

But Wanda doesn’t even blink. She isn’t scared, and that just irks you even more. She should be, if she knew what you’ve done to others who’ve pushed your buttons. You’ve never hesitated to throw your weight around with those who make your job harder.

“Sometimes what really happened and how we remember it are two entirely different stories,” she says, taking a deep breath before she continues. “Our mind protects us from the truth. It obscures what’s real, and what’s not becomes all we remember.”

You're stone-still, your mind drifting back to the past Wanda keeps prodding at. You don't even have a picture of your family anymore. Their voices are gone from your memory, and you're barely holding onto their faces. It used to tear you apart, thinking about them, but now there's just emptiness. You realize Wanda can’t rattle you—she has no leverage because there’s nothing left inside you to disrupt.

You’ve got nothing.

“Y/N?” Wanda presses, her features tightening with concern. 

You consider throwing her blunt words right back at her, but you hold off. Instead, you set the clipboard down on the counter with a soft clack. Turning to the medical cart, you grab a tray of needles and tools, then bring it over to her bed. Wanda's eyes widen slightly, and she scoots back as you sit down on the edge of the mattress. It’s satisfying to finally see her react with something other than that usual smug, unshakable attitude. You pick up a syringe, fill it with a bright yellow liquid from an unmarked bottle, and swipe a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the top.

“What’s that?” Wanda asks evenly, though you can detect traces of doubt in it that suggest she’s trying to put up a brave front. 

“Supplements.”

Wanda raises a skeptical brow. 

You lift the syringe slightly, letting it catch the light so she can see exactly what you’re holding.

“May I?” you gesture toward her arm.

Wanda eyes you warily, then gives a quick nod.

With her consent, you scoot closer until your knees almost touch. You gently roll up the sleeve of her scrubs, exposing her arm. This close, you can see the goosebumps on her skin and feel the slight tremors running through her. You hadn't noticed before, but she's shivering—not from the cold, but probably from a fever.

Instinctively, you press your palm against her forehead. Wanda flinches but doesn’t pull away. Slowly, she settles into your touch and lets out a small sigh.

“You're hot,” you blurt out, and then quickly realize the unintended double entendre. Fortunately, Wanda lets it pass without comment. You retract your hand and hold the syringe up to her arm, poised but something stops you.

“What are you waiting for?” Wanda prompts impatiently.

You're thinking of straying from the usual protocol, knowing the yellow meds might worsen Wanda's condition, especially with her fever spiking. Deciding against it, you put the syringe down and grab another bottle off the cart, this one filled with a clear liquid.

“Change of plans,” you murmur, prepping the new syringe. You nod at her for her arm, and she shifts closer, making it easier for you. When you depress the plunger, it's quick—so quick that Wanda barely feels the needle's prick.

You pull out the needle and press a small bandage onto the spot. “All done,” you announce.

Wanda massages her arm, feeling no real pain at the injection site. “T-Thanks,” she murmurs softly.

You acknowledge her gratitude with a nod and start collecting your notebook and tools. As you rise to leave, Wanda's hand shoots out, her fingers wrapping around your wrist urgently. You turn, meeting her striking, green eyes.

“I’m sorry about your family,” she murmurs quietly. Her words solidify your suspicion: she came to Hydra with powers already in tow. Mind reading or memory extraction would be invaluable to Hydra, and now, with even more power at your fingertips, you find yourself hesitating to use it.

If Dr. List catches wind of your hesitations, the reprisals will be brutal.

You glance down pointedly at where she's holding your hand, but Wanda doesn’t let go.

“It was a long time ago,” you whisper.

“Time doesn't really heal that kind of loss,” she says, still holding onto you.

“No, but you learn to live with it,” you reply, feeling the truth of your own words.

Wanda's hold slackens but remains. You feel awkward standing there, yet something holds you back from pulling away. You hadn't realized until now how starved you were for such a simple, human connection.

“I lost my parents the same way,” she shares.

“I'm sorry,” you say, and you really mean it. You can't read Wanda like she seems to read you, but in this brief moment, with the walls down, you decide to ask, “Is that why you came to us? To avenge your parents?”

Wanda's grip loosens completely, and she lets go of your wrist. You rub the spot where her fingers were, still feeling the warmth she left behind.

“‘Avenge’,” she spits out. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them close. “I hate that word. Pietro and I, we're here to stop them. I wish… I wish they’d just leave Sokovia alone. They won’t leave because we can’t fight back.”

Your own past with Hydra comes to mind as she speaks. Back then, you joined because you were out of options. No country to fight for, no people to call yours. It strikes you how different Wanda's motivations are—rooted in something far more personal and noble. She deserves more than what Hydra can offer. 

Wanda looks at you, waiting for an answer. When you don't say anything, she pushes, “Do you think we made the right decision coming here?”

You're all too aware of Hydra’s real agenda. They're not about peace. They're here to extend their control, to bend the world around their so-called divine mission. 

“Sometimes, you don't know if it’s the right choice until it's too late to change it,” you say, knowing it’s not much of an answer. It's just the bitter truth you've come to know. It's all you can offer Wanda.

“Can you do me a favor, Y/N? Will you look after Pietro?”

The same way you’ve been looking out for me, Wanda thinks to herself, relieved that there’s only one telepath in the room.

“No promises,” you say.

Wanda gives a slight nod and starts to withdraw again. She settles back down on the cot, turning away from you, the conversation clearly over.

-

Lev sneaks into your room just before midnight, the door giving a soft creak as it swings open. Though friends, you typically keep to your own spaces. You blink sleepily at him, fighting to sit up and shake off the grogginess.

“Dr. List decided to skip ahead,” Lev says in a rush, closing the door with a gentle click. “He’s moved forward with exposing the twins to the scepter.”

“When?” You're wide awake now, sitting bolt upright in bed.

Lev’s eyes dart to the small window in your room before returning to you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “An hour ago.”

That can’t be good. It’s far sooner than anyone had anticipated. Dr. List’s decision to advance the timeline without further testing could have unpredictable consequences. You swing your legs off the bed, your brain ticking through the possible scenarios.

“What’s the status now? How did Wan—the twins react?” you ask, grabbing your jacket and shoes and throwing them on without taking your eyes off Lev.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They rushed them to the Observation Chamber right after the exposure. Everything’s been kept under wraps.”

You pace a few steps, mulling over your next move. Exposure to the scepter has been lethal for everyone. Even with Wanda's unique abilities, there’s no guarantee she’ll pull through when others haven't.

“We need more information. Can you get access to the observation logs?”

Lev nods, though his expression shows his apprehension. “I’ll try. But security has been tighter since the exposure.”

You catch the anxious twist of his mouth at the idea of sneaking around, and choose to spare him the risk. His relief is palpable when you tell him, “I'll handle it myself.”

He sighs in relief. “Be careful…”

Only a select few can get into the Observation Chamber, and your badge isn’t on that list. You're going to need something stronger than just caution.

-

You slip your underwear back on, feeling Laura’s eyes tracing the contours of your body. 

After Lev left, you headed straight for her. Laura Brown, the Hydra director's daughter, hadn't seen you in almost a year, but the nature of your previous encounters left little doubt she'd be open to reconnecting.

Laura reclines on the bed, a sheet loosely draped around her, smirking as she watches you.  “I knew you'd come back eventually,” she purrs, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

You straighten up, deliberately avoiding her eyes as you button your shirt. “I need a favor, Laura.” 

She leans back against the headboard, the sheet falling to her waist and revealing her bare chest. “This sounds serious.”

“I need to get into the Observation Chamber. Tonight,” you say. You despise asking her—or anyone, really—for favors, but you need to see Wanda. It's imperative.

Laura's eyebrows go up, her smile growing. “Direct and desperate. What's in it for me?”

“What do you want?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

She thinks it over, then answers, “Keep me company tonight, no strings attached. Just like the old days.”

“Done.”

Laura claps her hands, clearly pleased, and tosses you the badge from the bedside table. 

You pick it up, feeling a bit degraded, like you're picking up coins someone's thrown your way. “I'll be right back,” you promise.

-

The guards give you weird looks as you show up at the Observation Chamber. They had clear orders: only Dr. List or Baron Strucker can go in. But dropping the director’s daughter’s name does the trick. You flash her badge and they let you pass, no more questions asked.

The hallway is pitch-black. This place had been sleeping until now, woken up by the fact that Pietro and Wanda Maximoff hadn’t died like the others who met the scepter. Clearly labeled doors mark the new, grim function of the space.

You think about heading straight to Wanda's room, but you remember her earlier request and decide to check on Pietro first.

The soft beeping of monitors greets you as soon as you step inside his room. He's in rough shape, alive but barely hanging on. You quickly check the chart posted next to the door—it shows low blood pressure and a high dosage of Epinephrine administered, with a note that his chances of survival stand at only 57% as of 11:30 PM.

He looks much thinner and more worn than the last time you saw him, his condition evidently worse. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones. As you move closer, you notice his body trembling, a sheen of sweat covering him despite the room's chill.

Quickly, you pull the extra covers from beneath his bed and wrap them around him, trying to stabilize his shivering. Then, you snag a water bottle from a nearby stand, helping him take slow, measured sips. 

Pietro looks at you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain, struggling to form the words. “Who are you?”

“Just someone who made your sister a promise,” you say, scooping up some water in your palm and gently drizzling it over his head. Pietro sighs in relief. “Get some rest now, and try not to die.”

His eyes flutter shut in seconds, his breath smoothing out as sleep claims him. You linger just a moment to make sure he's really out, then hurry off towards Wanda's room. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear pulsing through you. Pietro was in rough shape; how bad might Wanda be? You cling to a shred of hope that she's holding up better.

The air stays heavy as you enter Wanda’s quarters. You tread lightly, making sure not to disturb her sleep, and check the medical chart by her bed. Unlike Pietro’s dire prognosis, Wanda's stats are steady, but still troubling. Her breaths are regular, without the distressing shivers that torment her brother.

What strikes you is how normal, how peacefully she's sleeping, despite her recent exposure to Loki’s scepter. 

Relieved to see her condition isn’t more severe, you end up at the foot of her bed. There isn’t much to do after confirming she’s stable, and you know you should head back to Laura. But leaving Wanda’s side proves difficult once you're there. Almost immediately, your mind floods with ideas on how to get her out of Hydra’s clutches. If they fully realized her potential, it wouldn't just be dangerous for her—it'd be catastrophic for anyone in their path. Internally, you start plotting escape routes and thinking about who might be willing to help.

It’s strange to think how you went from one of Hydra’s most devoted agents to scheming against them.

Lost in your plans, you're jolted back to the present when you feel a gentle nudge against your thigh. Wanda's foot is pressing against you. She's awake. You look up to find her eyes open, wary and searching.

“Y/N,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from lack of use. “What—what happened?”

You subtly shift on the bed, making sure her toes aren't touching you anymore. You're not sure when you became so acutely aware of Wanda’s proximity, or of the points where your bodies meet.

“What do you remember before all this?” you ask.

She rubs her forehead, straining to recall. “There was a room... a stone emerging from the scepter. Bright lights… then nothing.”

You nod, already knowing half of what Wanda just told you. This is the first time anyone has lived to tell about their experience with the scepter, and you were hoping for more insights into how it unleashes its power. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about trying it yourself, wondering if you could resist its effects. Being Hydra, curiosity about power was a constant temptation.

“You weren't supposed to be exposed to the scepter yet,” you admit quietly. “Dr. List sped things up, maybe because he suspected—”

“Pietro,” she cuts in, her thoughts finally catching up. “Was he exposed to it too?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widen, clouded with worry. “Is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” you say. “I just saw him before coming here. He's stable, but it’s precarious.”

Wanda’s face crumples as soon as the words leave your lips. Before you can react, she throws her arms around you, her face buried in your shoulder. You freeze for a moment, uncertain how to respond. It’s been so long since you’ve held someone like this, since you’ve allowed yourself to care enough to even consider it. But then you feel it—tears, warm and wet against your neck. She’s crying.

After a moment, you hesitantly wrap your arms around her, holding her as she trembles against you. You can feel her fear, her desperation. It cuts through your defenses, the ones you’ve built so carefully over the years.

You tighten your hold on her, offering what little comfort you can, but inside, you’re battling your own fear. You can’t afford to care about her this much—not here, not now. But as you hold her, feeling every shake of her body, you know it’s already too late.

Wanda's sobs slowly subside, and you pull back slightly, intent on offering some kind of reassurance despite how foreign it feels to you. You reach up, brushing away her tears with your thumb, trying to find the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, as your hand lingers on her cheek, she pins you with a quiet stare. Before you realize what’s happening, Wanda leans in and presses her lips softly against yours.

The kiss is brief, just a fraction of a second, but it leaves you utterly breathless. She pulls back almost immediately, watching you, waiting to see how you’ll react. For a heartbeat, you're stunned, but then something ignites inside you, something you’ve been holding back without even recognizing it. 

Acting on pure impulse, you reach up, grasp the back of her neck, and pull her in for another kiss. In an instant, you take control effortlessly, letting the animalistic and Hydra part of you come to the forefront. Your thumb presses roughly against her chin, coaxing her mouth open, and you slide your tongue in, staking your claim. Wanda responds with a gasp, her hands clutching at your shoulders, but you’re too far gone to think about anything except the taste of her, the way her body molds against yours.

You tilt her head back, deepening the kiss further, your other hand sliding down to grip her waist, pulling her closer still. The feel of her, the heat of her skin under your fingers, it’s intoxicating, and you can’t get enough. You've never allowed yourself to want someone this much. Just as you think you can't hold back any longer, Wanda's hand captures yours and guides it under her shirt. You're startled to find out she's wearing nothing underneath when your knuckles brush against her hardened nipple. That unexpected discovery is what compels you to pull back.

Wanda's lips leave yours with a wet sound, and she begins kissing down your jaw to your neck.

“Wanda, wait—”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she says. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you feel her tongue trace a line up to your pulse point, leaving a fiery trail that makes you shiver. “You can claim your reward, you can have me.”

Her words snap you out of the haze, that single word—reward—ringing in your ears like a warning bell. You quickly place your hands on her shoulders, pushing her back gently but firmly.

Wanda blinks, confusion and hurt flashing in her eyes as she looks up at you. “What’s wrong?” She knows she’s attractive and has already glimpsed your desire for her during your visits, reading it in your thoughts. It’s why she finds your rejection so absurd—frustrating, even, given her openness.

“I'm not here for that,” you say, your voice coming out rougher than you intended.

“Then why are you here?”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, unaccustomed to openly discussing your feelings. “I came to see how you're doing after... after the scepter.”

“I'm fine,” she answers flatly.

You nod, still feeling the residual heat of her closeness. “Do you feel any different?” you ask, partly out of concern but mostly to shift the conversation elsewhere.

“I'm just tired,” Wanda says, closing her eyes and running a hand through her tousled dark hair. “Can we do this tomorrow?” She sounds a bit let down, assuming you're here just for a routine check—looking for any new powers or changes—as if she had hoped for something more personal.

“I'm sorry,” you quickly say. “I’m not here on any official orders. In fact, I shouldn't even be here.”

This revelation softens her look, her eyes narrowing slightly with renewed interest.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I'm working on getting you and Pietro out of here. It's not set yet, but—”

“Out of here?” Wanda cuts in, her eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. “Why would I want to leave?” 

“You got what you came for, right? The power of the scepter? Now you can leave. Hydra isn’t what you think,” you explain, trying to make her see the danger.

“Look who's acting all self-righteous all of a sudden. You've been here for years, and I've seen you do things,” she retorts sharply.

“Stop looking into my mind,” you snap, irritated by her knack for sifting through your thoughts without permission and using your past against you. Just because she can doesn’t mean she should.

“You’re saying I’m wrong?” she sneers.

You shake your head. “Look, I’m just trying to help—”

“If you really want to help, just do your job.”

Her words hit you harder than any physical blow could. You knew better than to let someone get this close, to allow your emotions to cloud your judgment. But there’s no one to blame here but yourself. Wanda didn't even have to do much to earn your solicitude; it was your own doing, your own need to make things right that led you here. 

Hydra’s training kicks in like second nature, and you shut down the emotions before they can show, your face hardening into a mask.

“Alright, Wanda. I'll do just that.”

-

It’s easier the second time you’re with Laura that night.

After Wanda's dismissal, you find Laura’s body to be the comfort you need. You lose yourself in her, the way she responds to every touch, every move you make. Pushing everything else from your mind, you focus solely on her, making her come again and again until she’s too bone-tired to do anything but black out beside you.

After it's over, you slip out of her bed, leaving her to sleep off the night’s weariness, and return to your room. You don't think about Wanda. Not even once.

In the following days, Wanda's recovery is swift—too swift for your level of clearance. Dr. List decides she’s beyond your oversight and assigns her to a higher clearance team. You’re left dealing with new recruits, volunteers who are eager yet naïve, none of whom survive the brutal exposure to the scepter. Each failure hardens you a little more, cements the necessity of detachment. 

But even with countless deaths on their hands, Hydra doesn't back down. If anything, they’re more driven now, hungry for more power, spurred on by the success of the twins. Pietro develops superhuman speed, a skill Hydra quickly puts to use by dispatching him to enemy territories for intel. Wanda’s abilities become more varied, showing signs of what could be categorized as psionic powers. She demonstrates capabilities that suggest telekinesis, manipulating objects without touching them, and telepathy—which she employs at her whim. 

Sometimes you wonder if she ever peeks into your mind anymore. But then, with the kind of power she wields, why would she even bother with what you're thinking? You're not special. Not even your badge, which doesn't get you into sections of the base without currying favor with Laura Brown first.

The Sokovian base is sprawling, and encounters with either of the Maximoff twins are rare but unavoidable. Pietro remembers your visit that night. Now and then, he nods at you politely. Wanda, on the other hand, acts as if you don’t exist. If you pass her in the hallways, she looks through you as if you're invisible. So, you make it a point to stay out of her way, blending into the dull walls and shadows as much as you can.

This detachment suits you in a way. It allows you to focus on your duties, on surviving one day at a time in an environment where the stakes are always high and the consequences often lethal.

It leaves you with nothing to lose, because there's no one left to lose.

-

Weeks pass quietly until rumors start floating around that Wanda's been seeing someone inside the complex. It’s hard to call it dating, really, since concepts like love and trust struggle to take root in a place as bleak as this. It’s probably just two people keeping each other company through the colder nights. Still, you can’t shake off how much this bothers you. 

But it's not surprising. The twins' popularity has only grown, especially since, months later, no one else has matched their extraordinary feat of surviving an Infinity Stone—a term you picked up only after Hydra discovered what was really behind Loki's scepter.

Sometimes, you find yourself observing Wanda from afar, trying to figure out if there’s any substance to the rumors. Who makes her laugh? Who does she choose to sit with at meals? The more you notice your own scrutiny, the more you recognize a feeling of jealousy stirring within you, an emotion that’s prevalent among your peers but not in this regard. You're bewildered and annoyed by your own reaction—why should who Wanda spends time with matter to you? Whatever she does, whoever she fucks—it's none of your business.

You hate this feeling, but you combat it by heading to Laura’s room every night, as if she’s the cure you need to keep yourself in check.

-

“They’ll betray us someday,” Lev murmurs as you both amble through the dense woods, taking a rare break from the base for a smoke. He breathes out slowly, watching the smoke curl upwards. You don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about the twins.

“No sooner than Hydra will throw us under the bus when the Avengers show up,” you reply, stepping around a fallen branch. “We’re all expendable. You know that, right?”

Lev takes a deep drag, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead. “Yeah, I know,” he says at last, releasing a plume of smoke. There’s something in his eyes, a look that tells you he’s not saying all he could about the twins.

You eye him suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Lev glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's deciding how much to share. After a moment, he nods.

“Okay, I wasn't planning on telling you this yet, but I've been handed a special assignment—the Maximoff Contingency Plan,” he reveals.

You scoff at him. “You’re the contingency plan?” 

“No, not just me,” Lev chuckles darkly as he tosses his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. “I'm involved, but it's more than that. We're working on a weapon, one that borrows from the tech of the Infinity Stone.”

The seriousness of what he's saying sinks in. Leveraging the power of an Infinity Stone means they're not messing around.

“And what's this weapon supposed to do?” you ask, not sure if you want to hear the answer.

Lev’s expression darkens. “You know what weapons are supposed to do,” he says tersely, turning to head back. “Let’s go.”

Hydra does not tolerate treachery. Even the mildest punishment is a swift death—a quick end, but an end all the same.

-

It’s only a matter of time before the Avengers find the Sokovian Base. Tensions had been mounting and Hydra's movements had become increasingly aggressive, drawing unwanted attention. When it all goes down, you’re in your room, scrambling to suit up and arm yourself with pistols—not to confront the Avengers, who are essentially gods, but to fight for your way out.

As the base descends into turmoil, you hear that Wanda and Pietro are attempting to escape. Hydra has a ruthless protocol for such situations: eliminate the entire unit to prevent any leaks. It's cleaner to destroy and rebuild than to let loose ends compromise the organization. Knowing about the contingency plan to eliminate the twins, you grab your radio and contact Lev, asking where he is.

“You’re just in time. I need backup. I've got Wanda Maximoff in my sights, waiting for the right moment to take her down,” he radios back.

“On it, I’m with you,” you reply, feeling the sweat bead on your forehead as you move toward his location. When you get there, you find Lev, poised and ready, his eyes fixed on the target through the scope of his rifle. You scan the surroundings, looking for hazards until you spot Wanda among the debris. Iron Man's missiles have turned the area into a deadly maze of flying rocks. From her fingertips, streams of red magic swirl, skillfully steering the massive boulders away from crushing both Hydra agents and civilians.

Wanda isn’t trying to escape—she’s helping fend them off. Seeing her save these lives, something inside you breaks. Lev has his rifle aimed at her, ready to pull the trigger while she's busy playing the hero. The possible outcomes flash through your mind: Wanda dead or imprisoned by the Avengers. The thought is unbearable. You've spent months pretending you didn't care, but now, faced with the reality of losing her, you realize all you want is for her to live, to be free—something you've long given up for yourself.

You're about to dissuade Lev, to argue her worth, her potential, anything to stall, when an explosion nearby startles Wanda. She turns, momentarily distracted, and Lev's finger tightens on the trigger, ready to end it all.

But you're faster.

He collapses with a shocked gasp, the life leaving his eyes as he hits the ground. The noise of his body falling draws Wanda’s attention. She turns just in time to see what you've done—for her. Her eyes, wide and questioning, boring into yours.

Why did you save me? They seem to ask you, those green orbs that have hunted you ever since you looked into them. There's no time for lengthy explanations—not that you have a solid one anyway. But with each passing second, the chance of escaping undetected by these so-called superheroes dwindles.

“You need to leave, now!” you yell at her, but she doesn't budge. Instead, she looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time with something other than disdain. It’s the same look she gave you the night the scepter awakened her powers. It’s a look that tells you that maybe she’s been pretending too, these past few months.

You’re about to sprint toward her, to drag her to safety if you have to, when a blur of motion sweeps her away. Pietro appears out of nowhere, whisking them both out of the base before the Avengers close in. 

For a second, you're left standing there, surrounded by the wreckage and the friend you just betrayed and killed. There's no time to grieve, no time to second-guess leaving his body behind—it's pure instinct that forces you to move quickly. You head towards an exit known only to the most important figures of the organization, a piece of information you picked up from Laura. She wouldn’t have given it away if you weren’t frequently sleeping together, those personal liaisons caused by trying to forget Wanda.  

It’s strange, in a way, how you both just ended up saving each other.

-

Several weeks after the Avengers demolish the Sokovian base, Wanda finds you at a small cabin you own on the outskirts of Novi Grad. The modest structure sits on a 2-acre plot near the woods—a spot you picked up when your stint in Sokovia stretched past thirteen months. You never really planned on settling here; you thought you’d be moved to another location and sell this land at a profit eventually. But life, it seems, had other plans.

You’re chopping wood beside the cabin when you feel her presence. Dropping the axe, you straighten up and spot her at the edge of the clearing. Your eyes quickly sweep her surroundings for any sign of Pietro, but it appears she has come alone.

“Why did you do it?” she asks once she's close enough. You take a few moments to take her in, hardly believing she's actually here, and touched by the thought that she sought you out. You've missed her presence, even though the last few months have only found you both inhabiting the same compound, breathing the same air but never speaking. 

Sometimes, lying in bed at night, you wonder why you can’t shake Wanda from your thoughts. You’ve even entertained the idea that she might have hexed you, that her magic has somehow ensnared your mind and… maybe your heart. It seems like the only logical explanation, because since the day you met, Wanda has never really left your mind.

“I did what I thought was right,” you finally answer, tucking your hands inside your pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.

“He was your friend,” Wanda points out softly. 

Your lips curl into a strained smile; of course, she’d know. She knows things about you that you'd never voice out loud. Wanda’s ability to read minds makes hiding anything impossible. Does she understand how deeply you care for her? She must. Wanda has always seen right through you, so why does she need to ask?

“Did you ever think about me after that night?” she asks out of nowhere. The night the Infinity Stone changed everything, when you were closer to her than you’d ever been before.

You're taken aback by her directness. This, too, she probably knows the answer to because you've thought of little else. 

“Everyday,” you say.

That night, you invite her to your home, the first person ever to share the space you once believed would always be just yours. Your living room is snug, with a three-seater couch and a medium-sized TV mounted on the wall. There’s also a fireplace that lights up the space with an amber glow as you hand Wanda a cup of hot chocolate.

You and Wanda find yourselves chatting about lighter topics. She shares her favorite shows from childhood, and you're surprised to learn she’s a big fan of American sitcoms. You enjoyed them too when you were younger, but not to the extent that you'd watch entire seasons over and over like Wanda did. Your preference leaned more toward books, gobbling up Agatha Christie novels when you were younger.

While you're in the middle of sharing a particularly funny memory from one of those old sitcom episodes, Wanda suddenly leans in and kisses you. Though your first instinct is to dive back into the kiss, you pull back instead. The last time you were this close, things escalated quickly before they crashed and burned.

“Are you sure?” you ask, searching her eyes for an answer. Learning from past mistakes, you want to make sure it's what she really wants.

She nods, her eyes steady and invitingly dark. “I’m sure.”

You close the distance between you, kissing her to your heart’s content. Before long, clothes are discarded, and you move from the couch to the bed, leisurely exploring each other, discovering how to bring one another to new heights of pleasure. 

As you lie next to her afterward, breathless and tangled in the sheets, you realize there’s no way to pretend anymore—you care too much to go back.

-

The quiet doesn’t last long. 

Tony Stark’s experiment goes awry, giving rise to Ultron—a global threat with ambitions that soon become clear. It seeks to bring about what he perceives as peace, by any means necessary. And just when you thought you and Wanda might have found some peace, she tells you she’s joining Ultron.

“It’s too dangerous,” you tell her. The twins and a robot against the entire Avengers team? The numbers alone put the odds against them. “We can stay here, help the people around us, and actually make a real difference.”

She shakes her head, her jaw set. “You don’t get it,” she argues. “You never will. You’re not…”

Special. Go ahead, Wanda, say it. Say what you really think of me.

“...you don’t have powers. You don’t know what it’s like to be able to change things and then just stand by, powerless.”

You were bracing for it, but it hurts all the same.

“So what am I then, Wanda? Just a bystander? Someone not worth listening to because I don't have powers?”

“I’m saying I have to do this,” Wanda mutters solemnly. “I’m the only one who can do this.”

You can see in her eyes that she’s already made up her mind. You’re still racking up your brain for something that might make a difference but she speaks again.

“I’m doing this for Sokovia,” she says quietly. “For everyone who's suffered because of Stark.”

You say nothing. Her fierce loyalty is one of the things you adore about her.

Wanda steps closer, her hand reaching out to touch your face, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll come back,” she promises. “When this is over, I’ll come back to you.”

You nod, resigned to the reality that you must let her go. “I’ll be here,” you say, your voice thick with regret that you can’t do more to protect her, to make sure she’s safe. “Waiting for you, right here.”

-

Pietro Maximoff dies riddled with bullet wounds—over a dozen of them. You learn the details of his death through a tabloid, days after witnessing Novi Grad being torn from the ground. 

A week later, Wanda comes back to you, just as she promised, but she’s not the same. The light in her eyes is gone, replaced by a ghostly void. It’s a look you know all too well, the same one you’ve seen staring back at you in the mirror for years.

A loss of purpose.

In the days that follow, you try to restore some normalcy, but nothing feels right. You cook meals she barely touches, sit beside her during long stretches of silence, and listen when she occasionally finds the strength to talk. It's tough, seeing her struggle, but you stay by her side, hoping things will begin to heal.

But they don’t.

Every day, you see it—the guilt, the pain, the loss. She tries to find reasons to keep going, but nothing seems to hold. And as much as you want to be the one to help her, to pull her out of this darkness, you know you're not enough. Not this time.

Wanda is adrift, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t anchor her to this life you’re trying to build. She’s lost her brother, her home, and whatever sense of justice she thought she could achieve by joining Ultron. And you—you’ve been running from your past for so long, and you’re simply tired of it.

You start thinking about what’s best for her, about what she needs to move on and find a new purpose. Deep down, you recognize that maybe the best way for her to truly heal is if you step aside.

-

Like Wanda, you don’t trust Stark. So, with the skills you’ve honed during your time with Hydra, you manage to find a way to contact Steve Rogers instead.

The conversation happens one afternoon, over a phone call. You tell him everything—your past with Hydra, the things you’ve done, and why you’re ready to turn yourself in. He listens without interrupting, letting you confess everything. You mention that Wanda's with you, and make it clear this isn't about trying to reclaim some lost sense of patriotism. You're doing it for her.

“You did the right thing by coming to me,” Steve says when you finish. “Wanda has so much potential. She deserves a chance to become who she’s meant to be.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper. You’ve known it all along, perhaps better than anyone. It’s why you’re doing this, even though it feels like tearing yourself apart.

Over the course of the conversation, you and Steve work out an agreement. You’ll serve a reduced sentence in exchange for all the intel you have on the remaining Hydra heads still out there. You’ll act as an informant, helping to bring them to an end, once and for all. And maybe, after you’ve paid your dues, there’ll be a chance for you to live something close to a normal life. When the call ends, you're washed over with a feeling of real freedom, despite knowing it might cost you Wanda all over again.

Later that night, you find Wanda in the kitchen, stirring a pot and humming a tune you don't recognize, looking more alive than she has in weeks. Seeing her like this is bittersweet; she’s here, but soon, you might not be.

She notices you and gives a small, relieved smile. “You’re back,” she says.

“Yeah, I had a craving for this specific brand of red wine…” You say, tossing out a casual lie since you did swing by the grocery store, and errands are a regular part of your routine.

“Red wine?” Wanda perks up. “Perfect, I’m just about done with dinner. It should pair nicely.”

The kitchen smells foreign but amazing, and you can't help but compliment her. “It smells incredible in here,” you say as you start setting the table. 

Wanda smiles softly as she turns down the stove and grabs a bowl to serve. You set out two wine glasses and place them on the table.

You pour a generous amount of red wine into each glass and watch as Wanda carries the meal over. 

“Thanks for dinner,” you say with genuine appreciation.

“Try it and tell me what you think,” she urges, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches you with anticipation.

You take a bite, the flavors unique and perfectly blended. Looking up, you see her watching you, eager for your reaction.

“Well?” she asks impatiently.

You laugh, then wipe the corners of your mouth with your thumb. “Don't you already know?” you tease, hinting at her telepathic abilities.

Wanda pretends to be offended, crossing her arms. “I haven’t read your mind in a long time.”

You can’t help but be a little skeptical of her claim. “Since when?”

Wanda blinks, her gaze veering away as she hesitates, clearly not eager to revisit the memory. 

You give her a gentle nudge, mimicking her earlier prodding “Well?”

Wanda turns to face you, her bottom lip pushed out slightly in a pout. “Since I saw you were sleeping with the director’s daughter.”

Saw? Did she see everything I did with Laura? The thought that Wanda witnessed it all like a scene playing out in front of her makes your stomach twist. You blush, mortified. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you mumble, looking away.

Wanda shakes her head, trying to dispel her lingering jealousy. “I shouldn't have been peering into your head that much to begin with,” she says softly.

Your ears catch on a particular phrase. “‘That much’?” 

It’s Wanda’s turn to blush, her cheeks flushing deeper as she quickly downs the rest of her wine and then holds out her glass for a refill. Deciding to show some mercy, you pour her another glass without prying further. The conversation stalls into an awkward silence until you finally decide to break it by giving your verdict on the dinner.

“By the way, this is delicious,” you say, adding another serving to your plate.

Wanda's face lights up, her smile stretching so wide that she looks almost like a giddy child. But then, she is young. You can’t help but imagine how she'll fit in with them. Steve, in particular, seems like he’d be good for her. Even though you don't know him well, that one phone call was enough to get a sense of his character and leadership. He seems like the kind of guy who'd really look out for Wanda, in ways you can't.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Wanda suddenly asks.

Your smile falls a little, but you manage to keep it there. You wish she could read your mind now, that she could understand the choices you’ve made today better than you could ever explain them. You’re not abandoning her—you’re setting her free from this life. You've done too many unspeakable things to ever truly deserve a quiet life with her. Eventually, your past will catch up to you, and the opportunity for Wanda to do something good might slip away if she’s still tied to you. You wish she could see how much you care for her, how much she’s changed you. Because of her, you’ve felt the desire to be good again, to be human again. To open yourself not just to grief, but also to love.

You wish—

“Maybe we can visit that lake you mentioned? I've spent my whole life in Sokovia but never really left Novi Grad,” Wanda suggests.

“Rain check?” you say, trying your best to sound like tomorrow isn’t goodbye. Steve wanted to move quickly, and you’ll be expecting him and a small squad tomorrow, no later than noon. “I’m thinking I might just stay in, catch up on some reading.”

Wanda cocks her head, a puzzled look on her face. You’ve been the one pushing her to get out of the cabin more, so your answer isn’t what she’s expecting. But she likes the idea. She just wants to spend time with you. The hole Pietro left in her heart is only bearable when she’s with you.

“Okay,” she mumbles, starting to clear the dishes. You place a hand over hers, silently telling her you’ll take care of it later. Leaning in, you plant a soft kiss on her lips.

“You want to go to bed early?” you whisper quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She looks up at you, a playful gasp escaping her lips. 

“Just to sleep,” you add quickly. I just want to hold you all night, one last time.

“I might not be sleepy right off the bat, maybe if you tire me out—”

“Naughty,” you chuckle softly, giving her nose a gentle tap.

“You love it.”

“I—” Love you. You want to say it, but you don’t want to make it harder for you both when the time comes.

Without another word, you grab her hand, holding on to this moment, to her, for as long as you can.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alfred's Boy Part 5

@donesodone said: I just wanted to know. Is there a continuation of Alfred's Boy in the Works? If not, that's fine. I just love it and want to see it continue.

Bruce didn't realize how quiet Danny indeed was until Wes appeared. He suspected, of course, that no child was removed from their home by a super secret ex-spy if it wasn't a terrible, horrible reason, but still, he was shocked to see the difference.

Alfred's foster son had a weight around him, wearing his sadness like a depressing cloak. It was apparent that Danny was just tired. As if though he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in a long time, even when he was moving about and doing his chores like nothing was amiss.

Bruce will admit that he hadn't realized that Danny was so sad. He had no previous reference to compare him to, so he assumed that the boy was naturally reserved.

If he's honest, he also thought it was impressive how Danny could take anything in stride without so much as a blink.

Finding out his boss was Batman? Another Tuesday.

Tim's photo album of him? Danny appreciates the art behind photography.

Damian burst into his room, covered in bleeding wounds, he just had to have Danny bind? He took lessons from Alfred and appreciated the change to practice.

What he failed to realize was through all those events, Danny had had a lukewarm reaction, as if he had forgotten how to enjoy things.

Now, however, watching him with Wes, he realizes that Danny is naturally bubbly. He smiled wide, talked a lot with his hands, and while the same sass he had seen before was still there, there was more ease in him wielding it.

"Fun Fact: Tango was initially invented to be done between two men, " He hears Wes say, as Bruce walks by the viewing room the two boys were in.

Unable to help himself, Bruce peeks into the room, fighting the urge to lecture Danny. The reason for the lecture is that Danny is currently sitting in Wes's lap, his back to Wes' chest, and both are staring at the book "Useless Information" in Wes' hands.

Not dating his ass.

"So what you're saying is: Tango is gay," Danny affirms, cuddling into the blankets tucked around him, and leaning further into Wes. "The dance of our people."

Wes hums, "If only we could dance."

"Boys." He calls because he really wants to step between them, but Bruce is already doing that against his kids, and he is done being the civilian in Jason's novels. "Would either of you like to go to an opera tonight? I have some box seat tickets a close friend gave me, but I had other plans and didn't want them to go to waste."

Bruce didn't, but a little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone. He could easily buy them before the kids got to the opera house.

Wes's eyes practically sparkled. Bruce knew they would; he heard Wes play some songs from three famous operas the other day while Danny was showering. "Opera with box seats!? I love to go!"

Danny grimaces, clearly not that big of a fan. "Now look what you did, Master Bruce."

"Please, can we go, Danny?" Wes whines, "I'll let you haunt me if we go."

Danny cracks a smile, and Bruce is stunned by its softness. Had he not noticed how empty Danny's smiles have been until now? "Okay, Okay, we can go. But if I fall asleep you can't complain."

"How could anyone fall asleep at the Opra?"

"Easy. It's boring." Steph snips, leaning on the door frame. Bruce hadn't realized she was there. He frowned in her direction, not missing how Wes rolled his eyes.

"Hello, green-eyed monster. How are you this evening?" He said, making Steph eyes narrow. Danny was swinging his head between them, looking confused, but before he could ask, Wes continued, "Want to go with us? Danny needs more people to cuddle, and my visit has an expiration date."

Steph looks taken back, but her whole face breaks into the largest smile Bruce has ever seen on her face in a while when Danny nods, seemingly embarrassed. "It would be nice to have more cuddles. I, ugh, realized I was going too long without them."

Hmm, that's the fifth time the two have mentioned cuddling since yesterday. Bruce knows he ignored Wes's entrance when he got here yesterday, but maybe he should look into it.

If Alfred allowed, of course.

"I'll go get ready!" Steph shouts, racing down the hall. There is a brief pause before a loud "Hey, watch it!" and quick, distant "Sorry, Jason!"

His second oldest stridden into the room, grumbling at the giant front stain on his shirt. A half-empty cup in his hand lets Bruce know Steph bumped into him, making him spill his precious soda.

"Can't get any peace around here," Jason mumbles.

"I can clean that for you, Master Jason." Danny is quick to say, standing up from his seat. Wes lifts his arm to let Danny wiggle out of his grasp, but Jason only shakes his head.

"Nah, it's fine, kid." With one hand, Jason yanks the shirt over his head. Wes drops his book, and Danny's face goes very red. Bruce has a moment of utter horror, but Jason doesn't seem to notice, throwing the ruined shirt over his shoulder. "I was going to shower after some reading anyway. What are you crazy kids up to?"

"O-Oprea," Danny shutters, staring up at Jason with strange emotion in his eyes. Wes looks like a deer caught in headlights beside him.

Jason's face brightens. "No way! I love the opera."

"You do?" We gasped.

"Yeah, though, I'm more of a play guy myself. I love the theater. Once a drama kid always a drama kid." Jason winks and, oh no, Wes looks to be swooning. What's worse, Danny seems to be swooning too.

"Want to come with?" Wes blurts, and Jason considers the invitation carefully before shrugging.

"You know what? Yeah, I love to. Let me go take my shower then get ready. It's at what time?"

"Seven," Bruce answers, stepping in when both boys seem unable to get their tongues to work. Jason nods, and then a wicked smirk grows on his face.

Bruce is instantly weary.

"Let's make this a family event. You guys don't mind, right?" Jason turns back to the boys, shaking their heads like bobble figures.

"The more, the merrier, Master Jason."

"Perfect" Quick as a whip, Jason pulls out his phone and sends a quick message. He leaves the room, but not before calling over his shoulder "I'll meet you in the main doorway at six-thirty."

Bruce's phone buzzes. He pulls it out, reading the message: Hey losers, Danny wants to see the Oprea. The really romantic one. Do any of you want to join us?

He feels a headache coming on. Especially with Wes and Danny looking at each other with shocked open mouths, looking like they were wordlessly expressing how attractive they thought Jason was.

Tim comes sprinting down the hall. Bruce is unsure what he is doing, seeing as his hair is wrapped in a towel, but he is wearing half of a chicken costume as he runs by. "I want to go, I want to go, I want to go! Don't leave without me!"

Wes squints at the open door hallway before laughing that strange, impish laugh of his. "This place is a riot."

Danny pauses before that same soft smile blooms on his face, and Bruce's heart melts. "Yeah, I like Wayne Manor too."

Maybe Danny isn't as happy as before, but maybe one day he will be. Bruce would be content with that.

[void-wolfie]

I Can't Live Without You

summary: you and Jenna get into a fight, you get into a car crash before you can make amends [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

tw: swearing, arguments, drinking, a car crash (i'm probably missing something so let me know if i need to add anything)

words: 2.33k

a/n: one of my longest posts yet, sorry it took me so long to get to this request and even longer to post it. anyway, enjoy the angst :)

You stood there, frozen in place, watching the pair through the windows of the coffee shop. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them.

His hand was up her thigh, shoulders brushing with every passing word, her smile brighter than all the stars in the midnight sky. But that’s not what held your attention. No. The thing that held your attention the most, was the kiss. 

You had no right to be jealous, it’s not like you were dating her. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You liked Jenna, you really did… maybe even loved her… And you thought, or at least hoped, maybe she liked you back. But the scene in front of you told a very different story.

The couple sat towards the back of the café in a small corner booth, just against the windows. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed them if you weren’t about to head into the shop yourself. And yet, there they were. Hidden away like two lovers on a secret rendezvous.

You backed away, back in the direction you came from. You had plans for today, but those could wait. Right now, you needed to get away… anywhere far away from that.

Jenna saw you. She saw you turn and walk off in the other direction. There was something about the way you stormed off that caught her attention, it put a knot in her stomach.

Something was wrong, very wrong.

You wiped your eyes, hoping no one would notice if they saw you. You hated crying; it made you feel weak.

You patted down your pockets, looking for your car keys. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find them, and it took even less to unlock the car door.

“What’s wrong?”

Of course… You closed your eyes, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole right then and there.

 You didn’t want to talk to her, not after what you just saw.

“Not now, Jenna. Please.” 

You didn’t turn around, keeping yourself facing towards the car. You didn’t want to see her, and you sure as hell didn’t want her to see you like this. 

Jenna was taken aback. You told her everything. When something was wrong, you’d always go to her first. And now you were pushing her away? She couldn’t understand it.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the empty parking lot. Gravel crunched under Jenna’s feet as she got closer. You didn’t move though, you refused to let her see you like this. 

“Seriously, Jenna, I’m not in the mood.” You tried again to get her to go away. But her footsteps didn’t falter or change course… Nope, Jenna was going to give you a piece of her mind, whether you liked it or not.

You wiped your eyes again and took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together. You didn’t want her to notice what a mess you were… Not like it would matter though, Jenna noticed everything.

Her footsteps stopped next to you. You could feel her eyes boring into you, her concern practically radiating off her. You didn’t budge though. You couldn’t. It almost seemed like the closer she got the faster your tears fell.

“Hey, talk to me. Whatever’s wrong, maybe I can help…”

Fuck… You hated the world. You hated yourself, you hated that boy, you hated everything. Everything but her… How do you even tell your best friend, the girl you’re in love with, that the reason your entire world is falling apart is because of her? She was your everything, and she destroyed you.

But worst of all, she didn’t even know it.

You still had your eyes closed, praying that by some miracle she would go away.

She reached out to hold your hand, anything to try and comfort you. But you pulled away.

Jenna tried to ignore the pain in her chest as you pulled away, the feeling of your fingertips slipping past hers was almost foreign. She knew you were hurting, but it didn’t make the ache in her own heart go away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to tell her it was all just a big misunderstanding, that you were fine. But you couldn’t. Instead, more tears fell.

Jenna would never be yours. Never anything more than a friend… The longer the two of you stood there the more the realization crushed you.

“No, Jenna. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The words came out soft, muffled by the air caught in your throat and the weight of the world slowly suffocating you.

“Then what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” She was getting frustrated now, evident by the tension in her voice and her rising volume.

“Because I can’t!” You snapped, “Because for fucking once, you’re the only person I can’t tell!”

“Why not?!”

“Because it’s not your fucking problem!”

The second the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You didn’t mean it.

You never thought you could see someone’s heart break. You always thought that was the stuff of movies and shows. And yet, that’s exactly what you saw looking at Jenna. You saw her heart shatter. You could see the tears welling in her eyes, her hands looked like they were shaking, and her face twisted in anger and hurt. She seemed…

broken.

“Sorry I even bothered then.”

You didn’t even have time to interject before she turned on her heel and stormed off. And even if you did, you weren’t sure you would’ve said anything anyway. What do you say to fix a broken heart? What do you say when your own heart is crumbling to pieces?

You finally got into your car, practically throwing yourself into the driver’s seat.

You took a second to breathe and digest whatever the hell just happened.

You ruined it. You just ruined the only relationship that ever mattered to you…

fuck.

You slammed your hand against the steering wheel. You did it again and again and again, beating the crap out of the poor thing. You kept going till your hand was purple and blue and all the anger had finally faded away. All that remained was your shattered soul and bruised hand.

You’d give anything to take back what just happened…

You stumbled out of the bar door, your eyes struggling to adjust to the pitch-black sky after sitting under the tavern lights for so long.

After your fight with Jenna you decided to turn to the best distraction you could think of; crawling into the bottom of a bottle. All things considered; you’ve been worse off. You weren’t seeing double yet and you hadn’t fallen on your face. Both of which were good things considering how much you had to drink.

You fumbled for your keys, dropping them as you pulled them from your pocket. You bent over to pick them up, your stomach churning as you did so. You heaved, silently begging your body not to barf. It churned again. You nearly lost it, but the feeling seemed to pass as quickly as it appeared.

You looked down at the keys in your hand, quickly shoving them back into your pocket. If the way you nearly puked two seconds ago told you anything it was that you were too drunk to drive home.

You pulled out your phone, trying to think of someone who’d be willing to drive you home this late at night. You clicked the first contact you could think of.

You listened to the dial tone. Once, twice, three rings. Then to voicemail. You didn’t bother leaving a message, instead hanging up. It was crazy to think she’d pick up anyway.

You clicked a different contact, your brother. Once again, it rang only to go to voicemail. You tried your sister, but once again, no answer.

You looked over at your car, contemplating just how drunk you were. Your house wasn't that far away, maybe you could drive?

No. It wasn't worth the risk. You only lived a few blocks away, you could walk. You weren’t gonna be one of those idiots on the news who got a hundred years in prison for killing someone because they drove home drunk.

You headed towards the street, making sure to keep on the sidewalk. You didn’t want to stumble into the road like some drunk idiot, even if there weren’t any cars around. You decided to put on some soft music while you walked, the quiet beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Somewhere behind you could hear the rumble of a car. It was getting close and fast… definitely too fast to be safe. You turned behind you to try and get a look at the car, only to be met with bright headlights right in your eyes. It almost seemed like they were swerving but it was too hard to tell.

“Hello?” Jenna answered the phone with a sigh.

She’d been halfway through pouring herself yet another glass of white wine when her phone started to ring. She was just going to ignore it, but it kept ringing. Eventually, she decided to pick it up and tell whoever it was to call back tomorrow.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the fight from earlier. In fact, it was all she could think about all day. And the more she thought about it the more her chest ached. And the more her chest ached, the more wine she found herself pouring.

“Jenna! Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay?”  It was her mom; she seemed worried, frantic even. She wasn’t sure why she was so worked up, but it couldn’t have been good.

“Yeah, mom, I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

There was a pause. A moment of silence. The tension that seeped into the air sent chills down Jenna’s spine.

“Mom?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Now she was even more confused. Did something happen? “You’re scaring me, Mom. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, hun. I was worried, I thought you might’ve been with her when it happened and- ”

“With who? What happened?”

“Oh,” she could hear her mom’s voice cracking from the other side of the phone, it only made her more worried, “Sweetheart… There was an accident, a bad one.” Her mom didn’t need to say your name, Jenna already knew exactly who she was talking about.

Her mom kept rambling, but she was hardly listening. Jenna made out some words; drunk driver, life support, critical condition… but all she could think about was you.

“What hospital?” Jenna interrupted. She loved her mom, but the conversation at hand was far from her mind. She needed to see you, she needed to know you were going to be okay. You had to be okay… she wasn’t sure what she would even do if you weren’t.

“The hospital just off of thirteenth street-”

“What floor?”

“The ICU-”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” She didn’t care how many stoplights she had to run or what laws she had to break. She’d be there in fifteen minutes, damn the consequences.

Before her mom could get another word in, Jenna hung up the phone.

True to her word it only took her fifteen minutes to get to the hospital, a feat which should’ve been nearly impossible given how far away she lived. 

Jenna ran up to the nurse’s station, frantic and out of breath, “Where’s-”

Before she could finish her question alarms started blaring. Rapid beeping shot out from the computers, lights began flashing outside one of the rooms, everyone jumped out of their seats. All Jenna could comprehend from the chaos was ‘Code Blue’ and ‘Room 143’.

She watched the nurses rush down the hall towards the flashing lights, she noted doctors and other nurses rushing towards the same room as well. One of the nurses closed the blinds while another closed the door to keep the family from watching from the hall.

It took a few seconds before she realized she recognized the family. She noted your brother, looking pale and emotionless. Your mother, tears streaming down her eyes and holding onto your sister, who was crying herself, for dear life.

The alarms, your family, the term ‘Code Blue’… the realization of what was happening hit Jenna like a freight train.

“No…” Jenna didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t. “No… No, no, no, no -”

Her legs were carrying her before she even realized what she was doing, her body acting off instinct.

She nearly tripped as a pair of arms latched onto her, holding her back from storming into the room. She tried pushing the arms off, her sights still set on the door in front of her, but it was pointless. Whoever had her wasn’t letting go.

Tears clouded her vision, but she could hear the doctors inside your room clearly; demanding voices talking about drugs and techniques, the sound of the defibrillator going, different nurses and doctors all talking over one another.

She needed you to be okay. You had to be okay.

Then, just as quickly as it all started, everything went quiet.

Jenna’s pleading had stopped, lost to her hoarse voice and sobbing cries. The doctors had all gone quiet, there was no more talk of treatments or drugs. The familiar tones of the defibrillator had stopped, no more sounds from charging or discharging. All that remained were the normal sounds of a busy hospital.

The loudest sound of all though, was the one sound that was missing. Your hospital monitor had gone silent, most likely turned off by one of the doctors or nurses. No alarms, no ticks or beeps, just cold steady silence.

“Time of death, twenty-three fifty-seven.”

Jenna heard one of the doctors say it, almost as clear as day. She never thought one little sentence could hurt her so bad, and yet, having her heart ripped from her chest would’ve been less painful.

You were gone.

Not just gone…

Dead.