#to the point where he becomes the last person to try it with

[shiredded]

Happy father's day!

This poll is about estranged fathers. If you are not estranged, congrats! You all get to share one answer.

Good lord! This sure did go. I'll answer some confusion as best I can.

This is a poll about estranged fathers. I'm interested in the timelines of people who don't talk to their dads.

Because I am interested in estranged fathers, I basically categorized everyone who is NOT estranged into one answer. If you have spoken within the last few hours or weeks: congratulations! You are within normal relationship parameters.

If it's been more than a month, something odd may be going on, especially if your culture normally observes father's day. After a year, it's definitely not normal.

If you want to be more specific within that month, make a poll, it's fine! No need to get mad, go hug your dad!

The results (aside from the volume holy shit) are pretty much what i expected: the vast majority of people are not estranged. Within that, some love their dad, some do not. But I don't personally care how recent contact was if it was within the last month.

I'm not trying to make a commentary about how fathers are all awful and everyone should reject them. I'm not an authority on dads either.

I am not "everyone" and I am not "tumblr"

I'm literally just a guy.

There's no goal here to try to fill every slot evenly, nor a message that you should.

Not every poll is all inclusive, and not every poll is about you.

For those who it is about, I see you. Father's day is weird for us, especially when surrounded by people who like their dads. We are rare in the grand scheme of things, and that's a good thing. But estrangement is about loneliness, either ours or his.

It's raw for some of us, an old scar for others, and for me: a turning point in life where everything started to get better. A year becomes two, a decade another, and someone who consumed your life becomes a part of the past so distant you stop remembering it so well.

We may not have dads, but we have each other.

[myscenic]

Pairing: roommate!na jaemin x male!reader

Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, fake dating

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.6k

Synopsis: the popular boy na jaemin was tired of always going to parties solo, so he decided to ask his roommate out.

♡ Note: it was a bit rushed sorry!! i've just made an account for female readers since i want to make this acc for male readers only, so go follow if u want lol. the content there will be different too :>

jaemin scowled as he rushed around the dorm room, haphazardly tossing clothes into his overflowing laundry basket. it had been two weeks since his last load, and he was down to his last pair of clean socks. his roommate, y/n, was sprawled across his bed, scrolling through his phone, seemingly unaffected by the chaos.

"can you keep it down over there?" y/n complained, not looking up from his phone. "some of us are trying to have some rest."

jaemin shot him an irritated look. "you try living out of a laundry basket for two weeks. it's disgusting."

the two had been paired as roommates at the start of the semester, much to both of their annoyance. from day one, they hadn't seen eye to eye on anything. where jaemin was loud and social, y/n kept to himself. their fighting and bickering had become so constant that the other students in their dorm had taken to avoiding their room altogether.

"why don't you ask one of your many friends to help you with your laundry problem?" y/n retorted.

jaemin sighed in exasperation. it was true that he was popular around campus and always had people willing to do favors for him. but for some reason, he didn't feel right asking any of them for something so personal.

"actually, there was something i wanted to ask you..." jaemin said hesitantly as he shoved the overflowing basket into the corner.

y/n finally looked up from his phone, glancing at jaemin with mild interest. "what?"

jaemin fidgeted nervously, avoiding eye contact. "there's this party tonight...for my friend's dance team. and usually i would bring someone, but...i don't really have time to find one properly."

y/n raised an eyebrow, waiting for jaemin to get to the point.

"iwaswonderingifyouwouldbemyfakeboyfriendjustforthenight?" jaemin rushed out in one breath.

a look of disgust washed over y/n's face. "absolutely not."

"pleaseeeee y/nnnn!" jaemin begged.

yn stared at him in disbelief. "let me get this straight. for months you've been nothing but rude towards me. and now you want me to what, play pretend boyfriend for one night?"

"it's just this one party, i swear!" jaemin said quickly. "and i'll do your laundry for a week."

y/n rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache coming on from even considering it. but he was intrigued by jaemin's desperation. it wasn't often he had the upper hand in their constant battles of wills.

"two weeks..." y/n proposed, a sly smile playing at his lips.

jaemin weighed his options for a moment before conceding. "deal. two weeks of laundry it is." he stuck out his hand for y/n to shake on it, hoping he wouldn't come to regret this unlikely alliance.

y/n shook jaemin's hand begrudgingly. "alright, so what's the plan?"

"just show up with me and act like we're together," jaemin explained. "hold my hand, dance with me, maybe kiss me on the cheek-"

"whoa, let's not get too carried away," y/n cut him off. despite their agreement, the thought of kissing jaemin made his stomach turn.

jaemin frowned. "it has to look authentic! come on, it's just an act."

y/n scoffed. "you better buy me dinner first."

a smile played at jaemin's lips, seeing an opportunity. "deal. i'll take you to that italian place you like after the party."

y/n hesitated, surprised jaemin knew his favorite restaurant. maybe he was starting to pay more attention than y/n realized. still, he couldn't make it that easy.

"and you'll do the kiss thing?" jaemin pressed.

y/n deliberated for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "fine. one kiss on the cheek, that's it."

jaemin beamed, feeling suddenly hopeful about the night. "this is going to be great. they'll totally buy us as a couple!"

y/n rolled his eyes, already regretting his agreement to this fake dating scheme. but he had to admit, it did feel satisfying to have jaemin wrapped around his finger for once.

two hours later found them arriving at the party together, per jaemin's instructions. as soon as they stepped through the door, all eyes fell on them, surprised to see the campus rivals united.

jaemin didn't hesitate, grabbing y/n's hand and intertwining their fingers. y/n fought back a blush at the intimate contact. this was going to be a long night.

as they walked into the crowded party hand in hand, y/n leaned closer to jaemin so he could hear him over the loud music.

"how do you know my favorite Italian place anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

jaemin glanced at him in surprise, as if just realizing he'd let that detail slip. he debated playing it off but decided honesty was the safest approach, for now.

"i, uh, might have overheard you talking about it with jungwoo once," he admitted sheepishly.

y/n raised an eyebrow. "were you eavesdropping on us?"

"no!" jaemin said quickly. too quickly. "i just happened to walk by your room at the time... okay fine, maybe i was listening in a little."

y/n shook his head in disbelief. trust jaemin to snoop, even when they weren't getting along.

"what, you were that curious about me?" he teased, enjoying seeing jaemin so flustered.

"i wasn't curious!" jaemin protested, pouting adorably. damn it, why did y/n have to look so cute when he was smug? "i just like to be well informed about my enemy, that's all."

y/n chuckled. "sure, keep telling yourself that."

a comfortable silence fell between them as they scanned the crowded dance floor for jaemin's friends. for the first time that night, y/n was starting to enjoy himself. maybe this fake date thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

just then, jaemin spotted mark waving at them from across the room. he waved back enthusiastically and pulled y/n through the crowd to meet him.

"yoooo!" mark shouted over the music. "you and y/n? together? no wayyy!"

jaemin laughed nervously. "crazy right?" he squeezed y/n's hand, hoping he would play along.

y/n sighed inwardly but plastered on a smile. "yeah, i know. it's pretty new."

"how did this even happen?" mark asked excitedly. "i thought you two hated each other!"

jaemin cleared his throat, quickly coming up with a cover story. "well, we had that big project for history class last month. we ended up spending a lot of time together working on it."

he glanced at y/n, silently asking him to continue weaving the fake relationship narrative. y/n squeezed his hand back subtly to let him know it was okay.

"one thing led to another and we realized we had more in common than we thought," y/n added smoothly. he peered up at jaemin through his lashes, putting on his best doe eyed expression. "who knew such a cute guy was hiding behind all that yelling?"

jaemin felt his heart skip a beat at y/n's words. was he laying it on too thick or...did he maybe mean it? he smiled shyly. "aw babe, you're gonna make me blush."

mark cooed at their act. "you guys are too cute! i'm so glad you worked things out."

jaemin looked up to see one of his long time admirers jiwoo approaching with her group of friends. he braced himself for the inevitable confrontation.

"jiwoo, hey," he greeted warily.

she tossed her hair over her shoulder, eyes narrowing when she saw y/n tucked into jaemin's side. "jaemin~ who's this?"

her voice was saccharine sweet but there was an edge of venom underneath. jaemin knew she wasn't used to having to share his attention.

he squeezed y/n's hand protectively. "this is y/n, my boyfriend."

gasps rippled through jiwoo's friends at the revelation. y/n fought back a smirk - he could only imagine what a blow this was to jiwoo's ego.

jiwoo's smile didn't falter but her eyes flashed angrily. "boyfriend? since when?"

before jaemin could answer, y/n boldly stepped in. "a few weeks. it's new but we're really happy." he leaned up to plant a quick kiss on jaemin's cheek.

jaemin felt his face heat up as jiwoo sputtered indignantly. he shot y/n an impressed look, grateful for how naturally he was playing along.

the group of jealous admirers followed the two wherever they went, still hurling insults and not taking the hint. y/n's patience was at its limit, hand gripping jaemin's so tightly it must have been painful.

jaemin could see just how close y/n was to snapping. in a bold move, he suddenly pulled y/n towards him and pressed their lips together in a searing kiss.

y/n made a muffled noise of surprise, eyes flying wide open before fluttering shut against his will. jaemin's lips were impossibly soft yet insistent, coaxing a response without force. after a moment of stunned rigidness, y/n found himself sinking into the kiss.

gasps and outraged cries arose from the gaggle of girls, achieving the intended effect of distracting them from further heckling. when jaemin finally drew back, their admirers were fuming, scurrying away in a jealous rage.

heart pounding, y/n met jaemin's flushed face in a daze. but then the realization of what they'd done struck him, and color rushed to his own cheeks.

"you said just a kiss on the cheek, not the mouth!" y/n muttered, trying and failing to seem composed. his lips still tingled from the sensation.

jaemin laughed breathily. "it worked, didn't it? they've left us alone now."

his teasing grin slowly faded as he gazed searchingly at y/n, all hints of jest falling away. something unspoken passed between them in that loaded moment, a question hovering on the tip of jaemin's tongue.

y/n looked away first, swallowing thickly. this game they were playing was starting to feel all too real, in the best and most terrifying way.

in the charged moment after the kiss, jaemin glanced over y/n's shoulder and spotted his friend haechan waving excitedly across the room.

"i'll be right back," jaemin said, reluctantly detangling their hands. "haechan looks like he needs to talk."

y/n nodded, still a bit dazed. "go ahead, i'll be here."

jaemin smiled thankfully. "i won't be long, promise. just hang out, get a drink, i'll find you in a bit."

he squeezed y/n's hand before jogging off to greet his friends, leaving y/n alone at the edge of the dance floor.

y/n leaned against the wall, sipping his drink as he observed the partygoers. his mind kept wandering back to the kiss he'd shared with jaemin. he still wasn't sure what to make of the fluttery feeling in his stomach.

lost in thought, he barely noticed jiwoo approaching until she was right in front of him, glare in place. he straightened up warily.

"having fun without jaemin?" she asked sweetly. too sweetly.

y/n didn't trust her tone. "he just went to say hi to some friends, he'll be back."

jiwoo hummed noncommittally. they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as she continued to eye him critically.

finally she spoke. "look, i don't know what game you're playing with jaemin. but i've had my eye on him for a long time."

y/n frowned. "we're not playing any games, we're really dating."

she tossed her hair back with a smirk. "come on, we all know jaemin gets bored of people quickly. he'll dump you soon enough. so do yourself a favor and back off now before he breaks your little heart."

her condescending tone made y/n's blood boil. but he refused to let her intimidate him.

"thanks for the concern. but i think jaemin is capable of making his own decisions," he said coldly.

after jiwoo left in a huff, y/n leaned back against the wall feeling tense. where was jaemin? he scanned the crowded room but didn't see him.

growing impatient, y/n sighed and grabbed another beer from a passing tray. as he sipped it slowly, he let his mind wander back to jaemin. the way he looked in the soft party lights, the tender feel of his kiss...

before he knew it, he had zoned out and finished that beer as well. as he waited, a group of guys stopped by with an extra case they insisted on sharing. one beer led to another as y/n desperately tried to ignore jiwoo's ominous words echoing in his head.

by the time jaemin reappeared, an empty bottle sat at y/n's feet and three more littered the small table. he was nursing a fourth, cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

"sorry that took so long..." jaemin trailed off as he took in y/n's inebriated state with concern. "y/n? how many have you had?"

y/n waved his hand carelessly, words starting to slur together. "whaaat? it- all good jaem. just a few..."

when he reached for the opened fifth bottle with unsteady hands, kaemin grabbed his wrist gently. "i think you've had enough babe."

yhe term of endearment made y/n's already fuzzy brain go blank. "missed you," he mumbled, smiling dopily up at jaemin.

the doe eyed affection was unexpectedly cute. but jaemin was worried about how much y/n had consumed alone. gently taking the bottle away, he hauled y/n's arm over his shoulders.

"let's get you home okay? i've got you." jaemin said softly into y/n's hair, hiding a smile.

y/n pouted up at him with glossy eyes. "but...the party isn’t over yet. wanna dance with you." he stepped in unsteadily, trying to sway to the loud music.

it was undeniably cute how cuddly he was in this state, but jaemin had to stay firm. "maybe next time when you haven't had so much to drink, yeah?"

"don' wanna leave yet," y/n slurred. he peered up at jaemin with bleary eyes. "party's still going on. wanna have fun with you."

jaemin smiled gently. "i know, but you're too drunk right now. let's get you sobered up first, yeah?"

y/n shook his head stubbornly. then his expression turned sad. "d'you not wanna have fun with me?"

jaemin's heart clenched at the vulnerability in y/n's tone. he cupped y/n's cheek tenderly. "of course i do. but not like this, when you aren't yourself."

when they arrived to their dorm, jaemin gently scooped y/n into his arms again, stifling a laugh at the cute sleeping face nuzzled into his neck. he carefully made his way up the stairs.

at y/n's door, jaemin paused. should he take y/n to his room instead? not wanting to overstep, he reluctantly laid him down on the bed.

as jaemin tucked him under blankets, y/n's eyes fluttered open slowly. "jaem...stay?" he slurred sleepily.

jaemin's heart melted. how could he refuse that face? "of course." he kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside y/n.

y/n’s arm immediately wrapping around jaemin's middle, y/n sighed contentedly. "g'night..."

just then, jaemin's eyes flew open at y/n's sleepy mutterings. did he hear that right?

heart pounding, he shifted carefully to look at y/n's face, barely illuminated by moonlight. his breath had evened out in deep sleep once more.

'i love you...jaem...'

the slurred words echoed in jaemin's mind. there was no mistaking it - y/n had confessed to dreaming. but was it just drunken ramblings or...something more?

he knew he should dismiss it, that y/n was too out of it to mean whatever he said. yet a tiny flicker of hope ignited in jaemin's chest all the same.

all this time bickering, he'd tried to ignore his growing feelings for the fiery boy. but pretending had become impossible after their kiss.

and now this... it gave jaemin courage to consider that maybe, just maybe, y/n felt the same way buried deep down. that behind the yelling and glares lay something more tender between them, waiting to blossom.

biting his lip to contain his smile, jaemin gently brushed y/n's fringe back and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"i love you too," he whispered into the dark. then settled back to sleep, letting the future , and any awkward morning after talks, come what they may. for now, hope and y/n's words were enough.

the morning sun filtering through the curtains awakened y/n from a deep sleep. he buried his face further into the warm pillow with a groan, not ready to face the day yet.

as he snuggled closer, a pair of arms unconsciously tightened around his middle. y/n's eyes flew open at the unfamiliar sensation.

bleary eyes focused on a mess of blonde hair mere inches from his face. memories of the previous night came flooding back in snippets - jaemin's lips on his, jiwoo's annoying smirk, downing shots at the party...

with a start, y/n realized the 'pillow' he was clinging to was in fact jaemin, who had somehow ended up sharing his bed.

"wait...WHAT THE-?" he exclaimed, flailing in a panic.

his sudden movement jolted jaemin awake, eyes blinking open in confusion. then recognition dawned as he took in their tangled limbs, mouths curving into a sleepy smile.

"morning," jaemin said cheerfully, as if finding himself in y/n's bed every day was no big deal.

y/n felt like screaming. or throwing up. maybe both. what the hell happened last night after all that drinking?!

as he awkwardly disentangled himself from jaemin's grasp, mortified questions crowded his hungover brain. what did they do? what did he say? and why did jaemin seem so at ease, damn it?!

all y/n knew was his pounding head and racing heart were in no way prepared for whatever this morning was shaping up to be.

"y/n, calm down," jaemin soothed, sitting up slowly. the last thing he wanted was for y/n to panic.

"you were drunk last night, remember? i brought you back, and you asked me to stay," he explained gently.

y/n raked a hand through messy hair, heart racing as disjointed flashes came back to him.

"did we...did i...say anything?" he asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

jaemin paused, debating how much to reveal. "you said you didn't want to be alone."

it wasn't a lie, but not the full truth either. y/n's whisper of love still echoed in jaemin's mind, too precious to share without y/n's permission while he was vulnerable.

seemingly satisfied, y/n dropped back onto the pillow with a groan. "ugh, my head is killing me."

"and...you said you loved me."

y/n froze, eyes blowing wide. no...he couldn't have uttered those words out loud, not when smashed. he refused to accept it.

but the tender look on jaemin's face said it was true. y/n shrieked internally, mind reeling as it tried to recall anything from last night.

blood rushed to his cheeks, staining them scarlet. mortification weighed heavier than any hangover. he needed to hide, to erase the past 12 hours completely.

with a groan, y/n yanked the pillow over his head and buried his burning face in it. he wanted to scream, to tear out of there, and never look jaemin in the eye again.

instead he lay paralyzed, listening to his own heart pounding deafeningly loud. why, why did drunk y/n have to go and confess like that?

after several tense moments, jaemin's hand gently pried the pillow away. y/n squeezed his eyes shut, unable to face him.

"hey," jaemin's voice was soft, no trace of mockery. "look at me please."

y/n reluctantly peeked out. jaemin was smiling so tenderly, it made his insides twist in the best way.

seeing y/m's anguish, jaemin reached out to rub soothing circles on his back. "don't beat yourself up, it was just an accident. i'm the one who should have stopped you drinking sooner."

y/n grunted in protest, voice muffled by pillow. "still dumb of me. don't even remember...what i said."

he peeked up hesitantly at jaemin, clearly ashamed. In that moment, he looked so vulnerable and afraid, and jaemin's heart broke a little.

"hey, it's okay. no need to be embarrassed," jaemin said gently, pulling y/n into his arms.

y/n initially resisted halfheartedly before melting into the embrace with a sigh, head finding its place tucked under jaemin's chin. "i'm still sorry."

jaemin squeezed him tighter. "apology accepted. and just so you know..." he pulled back to meet y/n's worried gaze head on. "i feel the same."

y/n stared, searching jaemin's eyes for any hint of deception but finding only sincerity. "you...do?"

in answer, jaemin leaned in to press their lips together sweetly. y/n's breath hitched before he eagerly responded, all tension draining from his body.

when they parted, y/n wore a dazed yet hopeful smile. naemin grinned back just as wide.

jaemin started. "i've had feelings for you for a while, even if we didn't always get along."

when he didn't respond, jaemin started to draw back, concern etched on his face. "unless...you didn't mean what you said?"

snapping out of it, y/n caught jaemin's hand in both of his. "no, i-i meant it. i love you too, jaem."

the brilliance of jaemin's responding smile was all the sunlight y/n needed to chase away any lingering doubts or hangover. in that moment, all felt right in his world.

[akutasoda]

Hiii can I request angst hcs with the obey me brothers with a adopted fem demon teen mc who fell in love with an angel

all too familiar damnation

synopsis - a cruel sense of déjà vu torments them as they watch you fall in love with an angel

includes - lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor - all platonic!

warnings - fem!teen!reader, angst, slight spoilers for the brothers in general?, wc - 1.2k

lucifer ★↷

↪it ultimately fell down to his word, no matter what brother insisted that they should take you into their family, as to whether you could join the brother's family. but he knew that he wouldn't be able to say no regardless.

↪he also knew that teenagers could be an absolute handful, he had to witness all his brothers go through the same phase, and he didn't exactly trust their attitudes now to set a good impression on you.

↪but he never expected that he'd be faced with such a dilemma. lucifer understood that you would make friends and such but he never anticipated, nor knew how, an angel became one of them. and a potential lover at that.

↪contrary to expected belief, but he didn't actually care that it was an angel that you fell in love with. no, he cared about what that meant for you and the angel - he watch what happened with lillith and her human lover and he doubted that your punishment would be any nicer.

↪lucifer had allowed you to integrate with his brother's and become family, and the last thing he wanted was for you to face the same fate as lillith. he could not lose another sister.

mammon ★↷

↪at first, he was surprised by how excited he was to have a new member of the family - mainly because you probably wouldn't pick on him like the rest of his brothers - but his brother's concerns quickly rubbed of on him.

↪lucifer would say that mammons behaviour wasn't exactly the kind you, as a teen, needed to be influenced by but mammon would always brush it off as lucifer being negative.

↪learning about your angelic crush left him practically distraught. by no means did he want to discourage you from pursuing the angel but he also didn't want you to see the same fate as lillith saw. it was a cruel form of déjà vu.

↪mammon knew he couldn't do anything. he didn't want to discourage you but even if you did, your love for that angel probably would be stronger and so now he could only watch helplessly as you face due punishment.

leviathan ★↷

↪he didn't care initially. well maybe he cared a little bit considering the fact that you would be a new member to the family but he knew himself that it would take ages for him to actually come around to that as a fact.

↪but not getting to know you quicker was a blessing and a curse to him. as learning of your crush meant one thing and one thing only, him and his brothers saw this scene play out before the only difference being that it was now a demon and an angel.

↪because levi wasn't as well acquainted with you than everyone else he felt less distress but at the same time he felt guilty for not feeling the same as his brothers. if anything he only felt helpless to help you in any sense.

satan ★↷

↪he only knew of lillith's existence through stories that were rarely told and so he could barely understand his brother's qualms when they first adopted you. you weren't lillith and they ought to see you as your own person in this family.

↪however he did recognise the cruel irony that came around when he learnt of your angelic lover. if lillith got punished for falling in love with a human, he couldn't even begin to imagine the punishment you and the angel would endure.

↪satan wouldn't endure the same pain as the rest of them following this discovery, but he would feel an immense amount of anger and pity. he didn't exactly know where the anger was pointed towards - maybe just a natural reaction as the avatar of wrath - but the pity was most certainly directed toward you and the angel.

↪he knew that you and the angel probably would try and escape whatever punishment was tried against you two. but ultimately he would lose you, his younger sister, no matter what the outcome was and now his anger was null.

asmodeus ★↷

↪he was quite excited when they first took you in. sure he did share his brother's hesitance but he thought that having a fresh face around the house would be nice.

↪due to his status as the avatar of lust he probably was either the first to find out or be told. admittedly, he was in shock to find out that it was infact an angel that caught your affection but he did find it adorable.

↪he didn't care in the slightest that it probably would never be allowed but he knew that not everyone would share that view. and to that extent he felt rather cruel for encouraging you.

↪he knew that an unfair fate awaited both you and the angel but he knew that regardless of what he did, he couldn't change it. and so he would only encourage you and hope that somehow you two would be spared.

beelzebub ★↷

↪a mixture of emotions consumed beel when you first became part of their family. at first he cpuld only really be happy that you would becime apart of their family but his brother's hesitance affected him more than he wished for it to.

↪beel saw the problem immediately when he learnt of your angel crush but he didn't want to address it with you, he figured you probably knew aswell. if he could, he probably would wish to change this.

↪he didn't do anything when lillith fell in love with that human and now he can't stand to do anything when you fell in love with that angel. you both know that there isn't a single thing that will be changed but he can't bear to watch you go through the same fate as lillith did.

belphegor ★↷

↪he resented you when you first appeared. you weren't lillith and you never would be, therefore he refused to acknowledge that he could have another sister other than her. so he held little respect or regard for you - much to his brother's dismay.

↪he took little interest in your likes, dislikes and practically everything about you, making him the last to find out that you had fallen in love with an angel.

↪when he did find out, his first reaction was to scoff. but he didn't. all of a sudden he realised the big sense of déjà vu that washed over him, and belphegor could only be mad - at himself and at you.

↪at you for the fact that he saw it as a selfish act, you fell in love with that angel and no doubt that your actions would affect him and his brothers who decided to take you in.

↪at himself for not getting to know you - it wasn't your fault and he was merely being stubborn. he refused to ever see you as your own person and now he felt powerless to help like he did with lillith.

[razzle-zazzle]

Man imagine while Gisu and Morris are out on a future Mission Dion gets a head injury and gets Amnesia. Then when they get back their like 😓 (prob future Au)

Mmm. It's a neat idea but I have. No thoughts for it.

[oatbugs]

i feel rly sad and conflicted abt one of my best friends on earth but idk who to ask for advice bc i usually would have consulted her in this situation lmao

[fingertipsmp3]

Last night’s dream was the first one I’ve had in a long time where I wanted to fall back asleep and stay in it/experience it again

[yoojinluv]

[soullessjack]

every day I remember that this fandom simply does not care about autistic people and, much like every other fucking thing I experience as an autistic person, the concept of it being a collective found family becomes increasingly alien to me. love this place.

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

.

[mejomonster]

One of My favorite writing skills I have is that I am Excellent at paralleling scenes to later and earlier scenes and weaving in my main idea to So much dialogue and Subtle action scene shit (in part Because My mind likes to parallel 1 scene I work on to another I've already written or will write)

So like. I love parallels so when I reread my stuff it's such a joy to find all the foreshadowing treasures and Main Idea getting hammered home just throughout everything

[wristful]

.

[amberautumnfaebrooke]

i think i could design a better death arena for children than those hunger games amateurs.

the whole premise of the games is all pageantry. every year you get a crop of 24 candidates around whom the entire state media apparatus dedicates an entire year to building celebrity narratives. this candidate is the younger sibling of last year's winner - these candidates are young lovers forced to compete - he's smart - she's fast - root for them, care about them, watch them, form opinions on them, bet on them. and then they stick them all in an arena to kill each other, which is a great entertainment premise, except that they make the arenas themselves really boring and generic. ooo, they're in...a forest.

it's not even an interestingly designed forest. imagine if the game designers treated their arena like an actual video game designer treats level design. discrete zones with multiple paths between each room, creative use of lighting to guide players to points of interest, points of interest scattered across the map, discoverable resources hidden to encourage exploration. instead they just have a generic outdoors location and if you get too close to the edge they throw a random fireball at you.

the 75th games are especially bad about this. the arena is laid out radially into 12 wedges, and each hour one wedge becomes especially dangerous in a 12-hour loop. as a mechanic, this is genius. it forces everyone to keep moving, making "survival by hiding" an engaging and tense viewing experience instead of someone sitting in a tree for three days. plus, it encourages players to return to the center of the arena, where travel time between wedges is short, which creates a high-value zone for players to regularly return to and conflict over. in other words, it's a mechanic which incentives players to adopt dramatic, dynamic, exciting behaviors which are entertaining to watch (not to mention it communicates geography to the audience well). but it only incentives those behaviors if the players understand what's happening, and they go out of their way not to tell the players anything! when they figure out what's going on, the showrunners spin the arena to disorient the players, like they're intentionally trying to get them to just. randomly wander the jungle instead.

this isn't even to mention how often they create undramatic, boring deaths. they plant poison berries around the arena. they supply no fresh water and no way to get it. they roll poison clouds over sleeping victims. these happen to work out in the books themselves but you have to imagine that extremely often these just result in players dying unexciting deaths.

the cardinal sin though, of course, is that nothing is done to personalize the arena for the crop of contestants that year. if i'm designing the 75th hunger games and two of my most beloved contestants famously had to cancel their wedding because of a return to the games, i would OBVIOUSLY give them a trail of, i don't know, wild game which conveniently leads directly past a well defended wedding chapel. will they hole up there for a while? hold a mock ceremony for themselves? do or receive ironic violence here? stare wistfully and move on? any of it is better television than getting attacked by generic attack monkeys. you should have a dozen of these things on the map for every single candidate. but the game makers are more interested in doing the same thing every other game has done than in telling a compelling story.

it makes me second guess enjoying the children's murder arenas at all.

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

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Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

[spaghettiposts]

5 times you slept in places you shouldn’t have + the 1 time Wanda dragged you with her

Wanda Maximoff x Spider!reader

Summary: You’ve always had trouble sleeping, and Wanda’s always been there to see it.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, poor readers not doing so well in the sleep department.

Word count: 10.7k (I am so sorry)

A/n: I’ve always wanted to try this troupe I’m very excited with how this turned out. Took me literal months (started in march) anyways!! Reblogs or no more Wanda 🫵 /j happy reading!!

The couch

Sleeping had never been your thing, but you could sleep through it all when it was. You were never a heavy sleeper, in fact, a light sleeper. Just the slightest of noises were enough to have your body ringing and if you refused to comply your very friendly spider-sense would have no problem in senselessly jolting you awake till you’d arrive half stumbling into a nearby crime scene.

Your spider senses only worsened to the point where sleeping was becoming harder to do and at some point you stopped trying altogether. Night after night you’d stare aimlessly at the ceiling above you, just, waiting for the prickling sensation to eat at your flesh until you couldn’t handle the needles seeping through your skin. The lack of sleep and the cruel anticipation were eating at you, and you were starting to grow desperate.

Over dinner you complained about it to Steve one Friday night when all the Avengers took time off for some one-on-one time (despite not being an official member you graciously accepted the invitation), he noticed your sluggish behavior and recommended you avoid living near the danger until you could learn to control your powers better. His reasoning being; “If you’re not near a crime scene, your senses won’t have anything to wake you for, that way you’ll receive the proper rest you require”.

The strangest part out of all of it was; his advice worked. At the compound, you slept like a baby, in your apartment in New York? Not so much. You were very appreciative of the man, and he was even kind enough to offer you a room which you accepted immediately. 

One person who had been initially excited about your move-in was Wanda. You were lucky enough to consider Wanda one of your closest friends aside from Peter. She was absolutely brilliant and you both got along well. Similar to an unfinished puzzle piece she was the last puzzle you didn’t even know you were missing. She needed company, and you were glad to provide it. 

You didn’t visit often, but with this newfound arrangement, you would be. Wanda didn’t know if the idea of spending more time with you or potentially sleeping one room away from you excited her more. Either way, the thought of you being a door down had her cheeks flushing and Natasha’s lips curling into a knowing smirk.

So yes, Wanda was excited about your temporary stay. 

That was until she realized how annoying of a sleeper you could be. No, you didn’t snore, nor drool in your sleep. 

Your problem wasn’t any of those. And honestly, Wanda wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for a late-night last-minute grocery run. Earlier that morning she had promised the team she’d cook her famous paprikash for tomorrow and had miscalculated exactly how many ingredients were in stock. 

As Wanda stepped out of the elevator, she shifted her weight to better handle the bags, struggling only slightly before releasing them onto the counter with a sigh of relief. With a flick of her wrist, the lights turned on, and to her surprise; you were there too. Not in the kitchen but sprawled out on the couch where soft snores were leaving your lips. 

‘Huh’

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, chuckling to herself. You looked like a starfish and your attire was… well, certainly something. You were completely knocked out beneath your Spider-Man suit and–– were those sweatpants? She guessed you must have been swinging through the city on patrol again. As for how sweatpants ended up on you, a mystery. 

You still had your mask on, and before Wanda could give it much thought she was already walking in your direction, step by step, until she was kneeling beside the couch. Carefully, her fingers reached out, slowly lifting the edges of your mask. Just as she was about to peel it out, you stirred beneath her touch, causing her to still.

“Wanda?” You whispered hoarsely, elbows lifting to get a better look at your surroundings but Wanda was quick to push you back down.

“Relax, you fell asleep in your suit again.” Wanda shushed you, and you hummed, not really fighting it, settling back into the couch to give her more control. She gently pried off the rest of the mask before placing it on the coffee table. 

Leaning down she ran her hand towards your hair, pushing away strands from your eye and you grumbled sleepily. 

The witch chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before straightening herself up again. “There, you can sleep now.” 

“You’re the best.” You mumbled as she walked away, taking a deep breath, and burying your face back into the cushions. 

From the kitchen Wanda smiled fondly, a blush tinting her cheeks as she unpacked the groceries; moving quietly to not wake you. You’re all she thinks about as she organizes things, glancing in your direction every so often. 

And you find yourself doing the same, seeing her in your dreams, and sleeping with an even bigger smile than before. 

—

2. Tony’s desk 

The compound is surprisingly quiet the next day, considering Tony was paying a visit Wanda would’ve assumed exactly the opposite in his company. But there were no out-of-the-ordinary noises, just the occasional banging of his hammer and welding machine. 

Overall it was pretty peaceful and the weather was just beautiful, a perfect blend of sunny but not insufferably so, a sight that would go well with some lunch. Naturally, you’re the first person that comes to mind that Wanda thinks to ask. 

Yet, a problem arises when Wanda can’t seem to find you anywhere. You’re not in your usual spots, including the bean bag chair in the movie room, or the outside bench next to the pond. 

Noticing Wanda’s dejected demeanor, Natasha has enough of it after all the aimless pacing. The assassin suggests that you might be downstairs in Tony’s lab, and Wanda’s eyes light up the next second. A brilliant suggestion indeed, after all, he was your mentor. 

Unsurprisingly, Wanda finds you exactly where Nat said you’d be. Hunched over, asleep on one of Tony’s desks, snoring ever so softly. Next to you were your web shooters—or pieces of them. 

The sight would’ve normally made Wanda smile if it weren’t for your uncomfortable position. Any more time spent like that and you’d surely be retired before 40 with chronic back pain. Previously, you had told Wanda not to worry about it, mumbling on about how you spiders could sleep anywhere.

Wanda didn’t believe it for one second, knowing you immediately had to pop a few pills to relieve the pain in your spine. As much as you were a superhero, you weren’t immortal, humanity never left you—something Wanda had to remind you of whenever you pushed yourself to a certain extent. 

Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, Wanda removed the gears from underneath your arms, carefully placing them aside, mindful not to ruin the process you had sorted out. 

Placing the items aside, you sigh on the table, stirring softly, but you remain blissfully unaware. A gentle smile curls on Wanda’s lips as she watches you, her soft palm coming to stroke your back. 

That was enough to jolt you awake, snapping up with wide eyes, and grabbing the nearest screwdriver to threaten whoever was there. Your posture was contrary to intimidating, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh, lifting her hands in mock surrender. 

“Please have mercy.” She teased with a playful grin, using her finger to push back the ‘weapon’. 

You blinked confusingly, glancing down at the item in your hand before chuckling. “Consider yourself lucky it wasn’t Thor’s hammer I picked up.” You quipped, placing the tool down and stretching your arms above your head. 

And Wanda sighed, watching you struggle to get that knot out. Standing up from her chair she came to your aid, massaging at your shoulders and back. You sighed in relief, leaning back into her touch as she worked her magic.

She really did have magical fingers. 

“You really have to stop resting in places that’ll give you backaches.” Wanda chides, hands sliding underneath your shirt for better access, sending a shiver down both of you.

“If I stop then how will I get more of those delightful massages from you?” You murmured with closed eyes, completely drunk off the feeling of Wanda’s warm hands on you. “It’s what I love most about you.” 

Wanda tensed, flattening her palms on your back, before continuing with trembling fingers to not raise suspicion. “Is that all?” She retorted, voice low. 

You posed a thoughtful expression, letting out a hum as you leaned back. “Also for the delectable cooking, so, two reasons.” You teased, holding up two fingers. Wanda scoffed, slapping the back of your head and removing herself the same second. You giggled mischievously, trying to get her to come back. 

Swiveling your chair around, you reached out for her and effectively trapped her between your legs, and Wanda rolled her eyes, ignoring how the position made her feel things. 

“So I’m just a housewife to you then?” She prodded, tilting her head in a way she knew would have you stumbling. 

You shook your head, gently uncrossing her arms and taking her hands between yours.

“You’re more than that to me Wanda…” Standing up you brushed the strands of hair away from her eyes, leaning in close enough to feel Wanda’s breath hitch and you smirked; whispering. 

“You're my housekeeper.” 

Approximately 0.5 seconds was what it took for Wanda to gasp and shove you back towards your desk, and you let out a hearty laugh. 

“See if I ever cook for you again.”

Her voice means to come out stern but you completely ignore it, thinking how adorable she looks with arms crossed and an almost annoyed pout on her face. It’s your arms that wrap around her that make her break, bringing her into a hug and making her cheeks flush again.

“I’m simply teasing witchy, you know I love you, all of you.” The words slide out easily from your lips as you lean down to press a tender kiss to her head and Wanda looks surprised, but then you quickly redirect your attention to the basket with a cheesy grin and Wanda stumbled. “Now how about we go enjoy that picnic then?” 

Your steps are quick as you grab the basket, ignoring her piercing gaze.

And with how unaffectedly you move, Wanda wonders if you could possibly love her differently in the first place.

—

3. In a tangle of webs + Peter

Some nights were harder than others for a mind reader. It wasn’t an uncommon fate for any Avenger either, everyone had their own issues and Wanda had just been so lucky to view all of them. If she had the choice she’d never choose to see them but if Wanda had learned something from all her years; nightmares were loud.

Loud enough to startle people from their subconscious, and loud enough to provoke detailed images of their clouded lives into replaying scenes in her mind. A horror Wanda didn’t yet have the strength to ignore. 

It didn’t help that most nights, they had them. 

Empty walls stared back at Wanda’s dimmed green eyes. Her hands firmly wrapped around her head—in a fashion of both comfort and control, trying to ease the pulsing, luring her into a state of ease just to slip into someone’s mind again. She wanted to stop the feeling and visions but couldn’t. 

After twenty more minutes of hopeless starring, the memories grew weaker. 

Still, her mind remained trapped in what she had managed to see. Deciding that sleep wasn’t going to help Wanda groggily stood forward, trudging down the stairs to grab a glass of water in the common room, maybe some chamomile tea. 

Part of her heart sought company, and if given the courage she’d knock on your door and ask for it. But this time, for once the universe seemed to be on her side when her eyes landed on you.

—with Peter. Laying in a tangle of limbs, and webs. Not exactly the conscious company she was hoping for…

Despite your clustered position on the floor you both seemed at peace. You were both fast asleep and for just a second her heart clenched with envy before simmering into a soft sense of affection. How was it that you could be so cute without even trying? 

Slow droplets poured from the facet and into her cup as she took in the sight, forgetting why she was even there in the first place. But then her eyes wandered over to the calendar, right, Friday. 

She felt silly not noticing sooner. Had she really been so caught up in her head that she didn’t notice what day it was? 

The unfinished Lego Razor Crest propped on the table should have given it away. 

Fridays were ‘Fundays’. 

Wanda thought it was stupid, which was probably why she wasn’t invited to the events. Not that she minded, considering all you ever did was build legos with Peter and occasionally talk about girls—and why would Wanda want to hear that purposely? 

She knew she had no right to feel jealous, it wasn’t wrong for you to think about other girls. But did you have to be so damn obvious about it? Your mind was a fortress when it came to penetrating your thoughts, it so rarely happened, but when it did she caught glimpses of the girl who was (annoyingly) always on your mind.

The girl with green eyes. 

Too focused on figuring out who that girl was again, Wanda lost track of how much water she really needed when the cup began to overfill. 

“Shit.” Wanda hissed, turning off the tap before the water could spill further. “Gross…” she grumbled, scrunching her nose as she dabbled at the wet spot on her sweater.

That was enough water for the night.  

Briefly, before she leaves, Wanda considers waking you up again. Maybe coax you into a proper bed this time around, but before she can make up her mind Peter’s bursting awake, looking panicked. His widened eyes meet Wanda’s equally alarmed ones and he sucks in a breath. 

“Oh, sorry… I thought…burglar.” He stammers, scratching the back of his head, albeit confused. “What time is it?” 

Glancing towards the oven, Wanda squints. “Late, it’s 3 AM.” She replies and Peter grunts, mumbling about how it’s way past his bedtime. 

Amid his movements to stand up, your head slips from his grasp, colliding with the foot of the table with a heavy thud and he stumbles back. Wanda gasps, shooting Peter a glare, (who doesn’t really register it in his state of distortion) before she rushes to aid you. 

“What the fuck…” You mumble groggily, hissing at the stinging coming from the back of your head, slowly lifting yourself up to find a concerned Wanda helping you sit. “Wanda?” Now you were really confused but nevertheless allowed her to move you. 

The room was cold, chills rushing through your body in the absence of warmth, but the soft touch of warm hands felt incredible against your skin. Not being able to help yourself you leaned into her touch, noticing the way Wanda’s breath hitched.

God, she was so cute. 

Wanda swallows dryly and you think you might’ve said that out loud, judging by the way her fingers tremble and she’s turning away a blushing mess. But you don’t dwell on it as she continues to rub the back of your head to ease the pain.

“Are you okay dorogoy?” She coos and you nod wryly, her face contorting into one of mellows but neither of you says anything. Instead, you will your eyes to focus on her own, gazing into the depths of the forests that haunt your heart, and you have no clue why.

Sighing, she redirects her attention, eyes flickering between the both of you who are lost in thought. Part of her feels it’s from exhaustion but there’s something else written on your face that has her curiosity peaking. 

“Why aren’t you in bed? Both of you, it’s late.” She chides gently, and you flinch. 

“We got caught up with…” Peter starts to explain, motioning towards the Lego set and his demeanor avoidant. “that.” 

Wanda notices his shaken tone and frowns. It’s clear she doesn’t fully believe him and she opens her mouth to indulge him further but you squeeze her hand, pursing your lips to ask her to drop it. Her brows furrow in silent question, eyes glinting with whirlwinds of misunderstanding and hurt, but you’re too tired to answer any. 

Instead, you give her a reassuring smile. 

Peter had a rough time yesterday, that’s all, little witch, You whisper into her mind, seeing Wanda’s eyes turn a shade of red before returning back to you, accepting the response with a hesitant nod. 

“You really should get to bed Y/n…” Wanda tells you, rising to her feet and offering you her hand in the process. “You too Peter.” 

Peter nodded in agreement almost instantly, not wanting to stay any longer in his state of lethargy. Wanda makes a mental note to speak to Tony about decreasing his work hours. 

However, in contrast to Peter’s compliance, you deny her suggestion with a shake of your head. 

“S’too far.” You mutter under your breath, tugging webs to the corners of each room to create a hammock so naturally as if you had done it a thousand times. Which you probably have. 

For a moment Wanda looked amazed, marveling at your abilities to manipulate and create whatever you needed with just webbed fluids. But then you were snoring soundly on the makeshift bed—hammock—oblivious to the concerns you had stirred up and Wanda realized that wasn’t the point. 

When she turned to Peter for help, the younger boy scratched the back of his head nervously, shrugging his shoulders and giving an apologetic look. 

Seeing as there was nothing else she could do, nor did she wish to wake you again for the second time tonight, a sigh escaped Wanda’s lips. Red tendrils wrapped around a blanket, pulling it closer until it encompassed your body completely. She felt the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, but with Peter in the room, she held back to avoid any awkwardness 

Your lips curled into a soft smile, and Wanda returned it before turning on her heels to guide the other spider into bed. 

At least this one listens. The thought came bitterly, causing Wanda to grimace. 

“I honestly don’t understand why she keeps doing this when she has a perfectly good mattress.” Wanda sighs deeply, her voice laced with exhaustion as she walks up the steps. 

Peter blinks, giving another helpless shrug, gripping onto the rail for dear life. “I think it’s just a spider thing, sleep is anywhere you make it.” 

“But you sleep in your bed every night.” She points out, shivering at the sudden temperature. 

The air is turning colder and Wanda wonders if the singular blanket she gave you would be enough. She’s tugging at her sleeves when Peter interrupts her thoughts. 

“That is true…” A yawn cut through the younger boy's speech as he approached his door, looking dangerously close to passing out. “But I don't have problems with sleeping alone.” 

Wanda furrows her brows as the words register. Alone? You can’t sleep because you feel alone? But before she could pry further Peter was leaning against the wooden frame, fast asleep. And Wanda didn’t have it in her to ask anymore. 

Once she had successfully tucked in Peter, she closed the door gently, never once did you leave her mind. Leaning against the door, Wanda tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, her mind caught in thought but one remained a constant. 

Spiders really can sleep anywhere. 

—

4. Staircases 

Tired was an understatement, Wanda was spent. Completely and utterly exasperated by your behavior. There was an outstanding record for the amounts of migraines you’ve given her this month, knocking Pietro off the scoreboard by two. 

She was starting to feel annoyed and rightfully so as she stared at the crowd with a sour expression on her face. For the fourth time in a month, you were nowhere to be found and it was your party. 

Before Christmas, it was a tradition in the compound to throw a Gala in honor of the friendly neighborhood spiders who had worked overtime to keep New Yorkers safe for the holidays and throughout the year. 

More so an excuse for Tony to itch that insatiable party nerve of his before the big Christmas one. 

Of course, this gala was no exception to a roaring crowd. The dance floor was packed with sweaty people grinding on one another and Wanda swears she could see even Bruce getting into the groove of it. At the bar, only Natasha remained with a couple of straying men. So where were you?

A completely plastered Tony walked past the witch, stumbling as he did so and fiddling with his pants. Immediately Wanda grasped on his suit before he could get too far, enticing a yelp when she tugged the man to a secluded corner. 

“Tony, where's Y/n?” Wanda asked through gritted teeth. She didn’t know why—call it intuition—but for some reason, she felt your disappearance had something to do with him.

Tony scrunched his face, glancing over her shoulder with urgency and shouting back louder. “Where’s the restroom? That’s what I’m trying to figure out Maximoff, I’m pissing myself here!”

“Y/n, Tony, Y/n.” Wanda says exasperatedly.  

Tony's mouth forms an ‘oh’ as the realization dawns on him before he’s giggling like a schoolgirl which only heightens Wanda’s worries. 

“Ah, Y/n, funny story actually—”

It was not a funny story, and hearing the end of it had Wanda feeling even more upset and aggravated at the man. 

She didn’t know whether to be more angry at the fact you “consented” to that stupid dare in the first place or Tony coming up with the bright idea to launch you midair while intoxicated in his death trap tin suit. 

Which is how Wanda found you, through Tony’s utter stupidity and your sleepiness. Much to her relief, you weren’t dangling from a ledge or on top of the Empire State Building; instead, cozied up on the staircase with a beer bottle in hand threatening to fall off at any given moment. Tony’s red helmet sat snuggly on your head, leaning against the wall. 

Wanda huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes and approaching swiftly to wake you. Her hand collided with the back of your neck, sparing you absolutely no mercy as you sputtered awake. 

“Ouch,” You groaned, blinking dazedly beneath the helmet as all your senses came back to you, along with a searing headache. 

You grimaced at the sight of the bottle in your hand, setting it aside as if it could burn you with one single touch. 

That explains the headache.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” Came that voice you knew all too well. You swore you could feel the hairs on your body standing as you slowly turned to see, shivering at the goosebumps, and being met with the sight of a very displeased Wanda. 

Her arms folded against her chest, head tilted at just the right angle to make you scared shitless. Still, the slight furrow to her brows and teary glimmer in her eyes had you thinking she wasn’t entirely angry, just, upset—sad. 

And maybe if your mind wasn’t so foggy, you would’ve taken it into account, and taken her into your arms. 

“Wanda…?” You murmured, attempting to feign innocence as if she wasn’t glaring daggers into your skull. “Oh! Wanda!” You exclaimed, mustering a very nervous chuckle. 

As if the helmet could sense your distress it decided that opening would be the best option and smiled sheepishly. Wanda raised an unimpressed brow, green darkened eyes digging into your soul and you sighed in defeat. Not exactly the happy welcome you expected.

Worth a shot.

“Don’t ‘Oh Wanda’ me! Seriously? Sleeping at a Gala!?” She hissed, and you stiffened, feeling the need to back up. “And on the stairs of all places, do you know how much of a hazard that is?”

You scoffed disbelievingly, feeling the need to defend yourself.  “Come on Wanda, we both know Tony’s parties—“ You cut off your speech, putting your fingers up in quotation marks to quote her.  “Sorry, ‘Galas’ are anything but formal.”

Then you’re pointing at the rousing crowd above you who you can hear yelling through muffled walls ‘Chug! Chug! Chug!’ and give Wanda a pointed look, who then rolls her eyes again.

“That’s not the point Y/n. It’s your party.” 

It’s Wanda’s diminished expression that has you sobering up instantly. Her tightened eyes stared back at your own, and you hated the guilt tugging at your chest. In the worst of states, you wouldn’t want her looking at you like that, not when you’ve seen her look at you better. It was selfish, but was it? To wish to see her smile again? You didn’t know, but it was worth more than whatever goddamn party—gala they threw at you. 

With a new mindset in mind, believing you’d have more fun with Wanda than without, you dusted yourself off, properly taking the helmet off this time. You carried it under one arm and offered the other. Wanda looked at you quizzically at the sudden change but you didn’t let that faze you, taking the initiative to wrap your arm around her own. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you just wanted to, so you did, leaning over to plant a short kiss on her cheek and Wanda lost all train of thought then and there. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry–I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair and Wanda gives you a look of sympathy.

She squeezes your arm with her other hand, shaking her head. Her tone is soft as she rubs a comforting hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you Y/n…we all have our rough patches. Just, let me be there for you. You don’t have to hide away.”

 You suck your teeth, the urge to disagree coming in strongly but you resign, feeling embarrassed under her gaze and your confidence ends short-lived. 

Pursing your lips, your eyes drift downwards to your arms, not really sure what to do next. Noticing your struggle, Wanda takes pity on you and decides to drop the subject for another day, softly tugging on your forearm as she speaks. 

“Let’s dance?”

“Yes please.” You groan, barely finishing your sentence before Wanda leads you up the stairs and you almost stumble. Grumbling to yourself as you straighten up, you level Wanda a look in caution. “Just be warned, I can’t really tell the difference between my left and right foot right now.”

“It’s okay, you were never much of a good dancer anyway.” She hums teasingly, failing miserably at hiding her smirk.

You let out a gasp, feigning mock offense as you raise a hand to your heart, wounded. “Geez Maximoff, you know, typically you’re supposed to woo your dancing partner, not crush their hopes and spirits.”

The witch scoffs, rolling her eyes. Once you’re off the stairs and stable enough, she makes no point in waiting for you or giving you any answer as she walks through the bustling crowd and you quickly rush to catch up with her.

“Wow! And now you’re ignoring me!” You yell over the noise, a pout adorned on your lips. “And leaving me?! Wanda I must say, I’m not quite enjoying these new colors on you. What happened to manners–?”

You’re cut off abruptly by a sudden tug to your arm by Wanda, who’s pulling you to the side and you grin. She has two cups of what you assume is tropical punch in her hand and hands one to you. Lowering your nose, you smell the drink to check if it’s spiked. Wanda gives you an unimpressed look, and you think she looks hot when she’s annoyed with you.

Suddenly she’s slapping your shoulder with a burning pink tint on her cheeks, completely exasperated as she replies “My god, do you have an off switch?”

You shine a toothy smile, leaning against the wall for support as you bring the cup to your lips, a familiar mischievous glint in your eyes that has Wanda regretting saying anything. 

You cautiously lean into the space, whispering for only her to hear, “No, but I do have a couple of ideas on how to keep me quiet.”

To say it comes out more suggestive than you intended was an understatement. But Wanda doesn’t let that deter her, doubling down.

“Oh really?” Her head tilts, quirking an amused brow and you clear your throat to regain yourself.

The air becomes a little thicker than before and no amount of alcohol can save you from the blood pounding in your ears. The space between you has become thinner to the point where you can feel her breath on your lips and you pretend the close proximity holds no effect on you but your trembling fingers say otherwise. 

“Mhm, two words,” You murmur affectedly, and Wanda swallows. Your mind is clouded by all that is her so you speak slowly, feeling your throat dry. “Duck Tape.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna throw you out of the building.” Wanda huffs as you snicker, crossing her arms as she tries to fix her hair. 

Unable to help it, you tentatively reach your hand out, waiting for Wanda to pull away. When she makes no move, you carefully brush the strands away from her face, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver down her spine. 

Pulling away, you meet her hazy gaze and you swallow wryly, trembling. Giving her a lopsided grin as you stumble back, equally as affected. You really have to stop doing that. 

“Jokes on you, I’ve already done that tonight.” Comes your attempt to clear the air, resulting in another cross expression from the witch and you smile sheepishly.

“Y/n.”

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you nod. You raise a finger as you take one last sip from your cup, placing it on the table as you grab her hand again. “Right, sorry, dancing.”

Dragging her towards the dance floor, you spared one last look. This time finding pure adoration shining through her features as she stared at you almost…lovingly before she rolled her eyes. A look you preferred to see instead. Even if it had your brain short-circuiting.

A look that thankfully carried on when she found you half crashed into the Christmas tree after Tony had asked you to put up decorations, almost fast asleep.

“You’re an idiot.” Wanda sighed with a slight curl to her lips and you took that as a silent victory. She shook her head as she carried you down the hallway with her magic. 

“Yeah, I know…” You mumbled, still grinning which was quickly wiped as she let go of the magic carrying you. “Hey!”

Wanda squeaks as you reach out to grab her, running away the next second and you quickly follow with the promise that you’ll catch her, laughter echoing through the corridors as you chase each other.

—

5. Pillow Forts

Construction wasn’t exactly your forte unless it involved miniature bricks with instruction manuals. Aside from that, it was very obvious that Peter was the more resourceful spider as Steve liked to put it. You knew the man meant well when he said it and your ego completely shattered but despite the mental bruise, you never made a move to practice. 

It wasn’t like stopping trains or stringing a boat back together required much engineering when you had webs stickier than epoxy. 

And now, veins popping, sunk to your knees, you deeply regretted that decision. You wanted to strangle Peter, you envied his master builder abilities. The jumble of pillows on the floor mocking you with a stare that you could only describe as insulting if pillows could…stare. 

It was pathetic really, no, extremely pathetic and sad. Who has trouble building a pillow fort?! What was supposed to be a simple project, was the newfound bane of your existence. No matter how you positioned them, they tumbled. Limiting yourself to building by web fluid was becoming a choice to regret too. It made sense, every superhero grows dependent on their powers, it’s only natural, but this time you were determined to build something without your abilities. 

Glancing over at the clock, it read a little past nine—bordering on lines of ten- you bit the inside of your cheek, figuring you probably had a couple of minutes before Wanda’s arrival. 

Huffing, you returned your attention to the pillows and took them in your arms once more. This time with determination in your eyes and the thought of who you were building this for, remnant in your head and heart. 

As you stood back to admire your finished work, you surprised yourself. It wasn’t perfect and some pillows were more crooked than others but it was comfortable. Just as you had envisioned—from Pinterest boards.

It almost looked just as good as the ones Wanda had built for you after long missions and you wished you had spent less time staring at her and more time focusing on how she was arranging the blankets.

But the fortress only became better when you clicked on the tiny remote, turning on the fairy lights that hugged the curves of the pillows, bringing it all together in a bright vibrant glow and you smiled to yourself as the lights glimmered, imagining how happy Wanda would be. 

Your eyes returned to the clock and immediately widened next. “Shit!” You gasped, rushing upstairs to pick out the main attraction, silently scolding yourself for forgetting in the first place; Sitcoms. 

You grumbled to yourself as you dug through the drawer at the multitudes of never-ending options. Wanda had always preferred to watch sitcoms on a VHS tape, although the compound had access to all streaming services she claimed it didn’t feel the same. Truth be told, you didn’t understand why they were in your room in the first place but you assumed it had to do with the fact that Wanda always left them, tucked neatly in her nightstand before she curled underneath the covers with you.

You paused. 

Her nightstand? 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked across the room, realizing that there were a lot of things she left behind. Ranging from articles of clothing to a spare toothbrush in your bedroom and since when did you get decorative pillows? And why were there so many?  

You shrugged the thought off, assuming she was just really forgetful, besides it wasn’t like you were usually sleeping here anyway. You continued to dig through the classics until your eyes landed on the familiar I Love Lucy cover. 

Bingo

Smiling to yourself, you walked downstairs with the tape pocketed. Now you just had to be patient and wait a few until Wanda arrived from the hanger—

“Y/n?” Your heart startles and you're clutching your chest, turning to scold whoever scared you before the words die in your throat as you take in her appearance.

You suck in a deep breath because you feel as if all the air in your lungs has been taken.

She was breathtaking without even trying. Wet strands of hair clung to her face as she stared at you incredulously, eyes flickering between you and the fortress. Clad in nothing but a loose graphic t-shirt (that you briefly recognized as your own), and shorts that were making you dizzy. 

You cursed yourself mentally, shaking yourself out of any inappropriate thoughts. She’s your best friend for God's sake!

“Surprise?” That is what you say with a weak smile and a much higher pitch than intended. Keep it subtle. Things weren’t going entirely as planned, however, you could improvise. 

Wanda stares back amused, an unfamiliar glint in her eyes pooling, taking a step closer until her hand is dragging against your forearm. “Dorogoy, what’s all this?”

“I built it for us, I figured maybe you’d like to unwind…I know you had it pretty hard today and you’ve looked stressed all week.” You mumbled meekly, shifting against her touch. Pull it together man.

“Really?” She picked up her head, looking at you adoringly–that you missed from the bundle of nerves wracking at your mind, mistaking the look for one of contempt. 

But you pushed forward, believing it was a nice gesture. And even though all the logical parts of your brain tell you not to, you slowly untangle yourself from the witch anyway, missing the hurt that crosses her expression. 

You didn’t know why you were so nervous today. 

“Yeah, I picked out your favorite too.” You say half breathlessly, reaching for the tape in your pocket to show her. “Snacks and sitcoms, and more if you need anything. I’ve just gotta set up the TV before this and all since you came back a little earlier than I expected.” 

During your rant, you walked towards the television to find the player. Fiddling with it to distract yourself from the rising goosebumps picking at your body, but Wanda didn’t need to know that. With your back turned you failed to notice the scene unfolding behind you. Her eyes were slightly watered and she lingered by your side. Part of her, hesitant to reach out so instead she let them fall to her side, fiddling with her sleeves in a manner of comfort. 

Rummaging through the cabinets you exclaimed as you found it, turning forward with the device held to your chest, completely oblivious of the inner turmoil you’ve caused inside the other girl.

“Maybe even grab some popcorn unless you’d prefer chips? Seriously Wanda, whatever you want, I just want you to feel better—”

“Y/n?” She cuts in.

“Yeah?”

“Hug me, please?” She whispers, her voice cracking with desperation, her eyes unable to meet yours, ashamed of the vulnerability, and waves of regret crawl over you for letting go of her in the first place. “I’m sorry, I just really missed you and things went pretty badly- I just–” 

It’s you who cuts her off next, pulling her into your embrace, feeling her tremble against you. Wanda chokes back a sob, and tears blur your vision as you hold her tightly. 

You whisper words of comfort, murmuring, ‘I know, it’s okay, I know.’, while cradling her head against your chest. Despite being only slightly taller than her, you fit together perfectly, and you rest your head atop her chin. She exhales softly, her breath hitching with each shudder as she inhales your scent. Her arms move from your chest to return the embrace, burrowing herself into your chest and clinging to you as if you’d vanish again.

After a few moments, Wanda’s breathing begins to even, but she shows no signs of releasing you anytime soon. You gently squeeze her waist, hoping to draw her attention. Pressing a kiss to her hair, murmuring softly as you ask:

“Is…Is there anything else you need?”

Sighing, Wanda shakes her head, nuzzling further into you. “Just you, I don’t need anything else.”

“Okay.” You mumble into her hair, your fingers tracing gentle patterns across her back. For a moment, you stand there, bodies swaying softly as you hold each other. Selfishly allowing yourself to soak in the feeling of having her so close to you. “But if you even dare to grab my Cool Ranch Doritos just know I told you—”

Wanda groans, and you stifle your laughter when her hand playfully smacks your shoulder. You can almost feel her eyes rolling.

“Shut up, I don’t even like those.”

“Yeah right! I can still see the crumbs on your chin from last time!” You laugh in disbelief and Wanda pulls back gaping, completely affronted.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many! It was a party-sized bag—that I was planning on saving by the way, and you finished it!”

“Oh my god, just get in the fort before I change my mind and leave.”

It doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you in the fort when soft hands lace into your own, dragging you inside. You’re more than willing to follow her anywhere.

She’s quick to push you into the pile of pillows, laughing when you squeal from the sudden impact. Shuffling underneath your arm and making herself comfortable against you, she turns to look up at you with a smile and you quickly turn into a flustered mess. With how she’s looking at you, you can’t help but feel that she’s doing it on purpose. 

Using her magic Wanda’s able to connect the TV from your position, not once disconnecting your bodies. She smiles in success when it works, sinking further into the comforting atmosphere as the show plays softly in the background. 

As the lights glimmer between your bodies, Wanda finds herself more captivated by you than the show itself. How could she not? After you’ve devoted so much of your time just to make her smile. A pang of gratitude hits Wanda’s heart, mingling with a feeling she knows all too well—a feeling she had tried to pass off as something smaller than love. But the more she spent with you, the more she realized it was pointless to deny.

Part of her hoped you’d choose to stay, to stay with her, because she isn’t sure how she’d be without you. 

Wanda knew she was letting it get into her head—but then you look at her, tenderly, as if she was the only girl in the world and fantasies resurfaced along with uncontrollable feelings that felt stronger than herself. Fantasies of one day being together, like this forever. Not just one singular moment but for the rest of your lives. 

The feeling of your body vibrating with laughter quickly snaps her out of her senses and she turns to look at the screen where a joke plays out. And god is that feeling one of her favorites. What drives her crazy is how you don’t seem to even notice how affected you make her. The way your hands would gradually grow bolder, slowly slipping past the hem of her shirt and grazing the skin underneath, leaving a trail of goosebumps in your wake. And how, whether consciously or not, you’d tighten your grip around her, pulling her in closer in a possessively deliberate way that had her biting her lip. 

Was it really selfish to want more? 

The thought swirled in Wanda’s mind heavily, but unbeknownst to her, it was in yours too. 

Wanda yearned for more than fleeting touches that led to nowhere. She craved more than unspoken vows you carried in silence, being too afraid to say anything, mortified by the thought of ruining what you had—unknowingly missing how you could have better.

Wanda Maximoff wanted to be yours.

The thought awoke her with a slight jolt and it had taken her a second to comprehend that she was asleep, the TV long since turned off then. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she recalled her vivid imaginations, realizing what had been originally just a second of resting her eyes had resulted in a 3-hour nap. 

But with the thoughts still fresh in her mind, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care. She was on a mission.

“Y/n?” Her voice calls out slightly hoarse, breaking the silence. But the silence remains unbroken and Wanda frowns, removing her head from your shoulder to look at you. 

You’re sound asleep next to her, a faint trail of drool lining your lips. Bags are evident below your eyelids, and Wanda lets out a small ‘oh’. You had fallen asleep too.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Wanda shook her head softly, an amused smile playing on her lips as she admired you. Deciding that confessions could wait for another time, she leaned back and tugged a blanket forward, encasing you both again into that warm atmosphere. 

Recalling words you had said before: “A little back pain is worth the sleep”. She couldn’t help but agree more when it was next to you.

—

Together

There were two things you loved more than being Spider-Man in the world. 

Lightsabers, and maybe potentially Wanda. 

The latter being much more intimate than the first but you get the jist. The point was, that you liked Wanda. You were sure of it, with everything in your mind, body, and soul. 

So, why were you avoiding her? 

Cowardice.

Weeks had passed since that night. You still vividly remember the feeling of waking up to Wanda’s sleeping form, resting comfortably on top of you. After all, it was the best sleep you’ve had in a while.

The sight had initially startled you, but what scared you most was the normalcy of it all. The domesticity, how bright Wanda’s eyes shone in the daylight, looking at you as if you were a treasure from the depths of Atlantis. How eager she was to make you breakfast and how her touch never left yours throughout the process. 

Miles away in New York, you could still feel her. 

“Chocolate or blueberry?” Wanda asked, tilting her head to the side to look at you. 

The familiar scent of pancakes wafted through the air and you knew it was only a matter of seconds before the team came to steal them all.

Your hold remained firm on her waist as you hugged her from behind, swaying softly to the tunes of nothing. Not wanting the moment to end just yet, you remained silent, allowing yourself to bask in the peace. But Wanda had other plans, quickly squeezing at your arm to grab your attention and you rolled your eyes, amused by her impatience. 

Posing a thoughtful expression, you eyed the batter before turning to the basket of blueberries. They looked fresh, not too ripe to be sour, and not too soft to be soggy. 

“Hmmm, how good are the blueberries?” 

Wanda shrugged absentmindedly, whisking at the batter as she leaned back into you, stealing whatever warmth she could. “Pretty good, I grew them myself.” 

The mental image of Wanda in her gardening gear made you smile a little more than expected, and you hid into her shoulder, inhaling her scent. Absolutely hooked. 

“Did you?” You reply, watching as Wanda nods her head shyly and you chuckle. Unintentionally dragging your lips across her cheek as you press delicate kisses to her skin, murmuring softly in her ear, “What a talented little witch.” 

Wanda laughs, blushing as she attempts to shrug you away, not really understanding why you’re being so touchy but not opposed to it either. “Stop it.” 

Your lips tug into a lazy grin as you laugh with her, avoiding her attacks and keeping your grip firm. “It’s true Wands…you’re great at everything really. Never once have you failed to amaze me—“

“Here, try this.” That is all she says before shoving multiple berries into your mouth, distracting you before you can pay too much attention to her flustered state. 

You gasp at the sudden impact but graciously accept the blueberries into your mouth, playfully glaring at her as you chew. Her nose scrunches adorably, turning in your arms to watch you eat them, her face lighting up and offering you some more. 

Though, when you lift your hand to take them, she swats it away. Cupping your cheeks in her hands, softly stroking at your face with her thumbs, you rolled your eyes. Complying with rosy cheeks as she fed them to you.

As you held her, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, wrapped in a safe haven you’ve created. This moment was everything—a fragile glimpse into a future you desperately wanted but were too afraid to reach for.

Although neither of you seemed too keen on parting, Wanda’s hands were preoccupied with the feel of your skin underneath her own, repeating senseless patterns. That is until the oven goes off with a loud bang and you both break away bashfully. 

Before you can make a move, Wanda lets out a deep breath. Hands gently smoothing over your shirt, her touch lingering with tender care. She pats your chest softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.

“Blueberries it is.” 

You run a hand over your face as the memory washes over you, letting out a shaky breath. It shouldn’t affect you this much, and you didn’t want to read into it because that would require acceptance. 

The risk of ruining something you held so dearly hurts you more than the silence you keep. Heroes aren’t supposed to be afraid, and yet it’s all you felt in your heart at the thought of losing her. But your heart ached for more, just even the slightest glimpse into what could be. And when you closed your eyes, you could almost see it. An alluring figure stringing you along, captivating you with their lush green eyes, promising you that they’d be yours forever.

But those were dreams, not real life.

A real-life you wanted with Wanda.

You slowly sink into your thoughts, your mind both your stronghold and a labyrinth of sorrow. As you wipe the tears that blur your vision, you gaze down at the streets of New York. Despite the hour, the city remained wide awake. Citizens walked with pure radiance of confidence, towering buildings seeming so distant and away from where you sat. Did they know? Did anyone know that one of their beloved Spider-mans was capable of turning a mess so easily?

The weight of it all feels suffocating and no amount of air can prevent the tightness that clogs at your throat, heavy breaths leaving your body as you recount your errors. You were raised to believe that love was this grand, amazing thing. But now you want to scoff at everyone who fed into your hopelessness, fed into those lies. If love was so wonderful, then how come it hurt so much? 

But then, without warning your senses are ringing, and your eyes widen as a figure lands in your space with a slight stumble. The clouds of smoke that surround them make it hard for you to tell who it is and you raise your hand, ready to attack. 

And then, recognition dawns on you as the smoke settles. Your body easily relaxes and loosens the grip on your strayed mask next to you. With a trembling exhale, you lower your hand to take a moment to breathe, drawing in a deep calming breath and your lungs silently thank you.

“Hey, kid.” Tony greets, exiting his suit with a lopsided smile. One that doesn’t quite meet his eyes but you know better than to pry.

“Tony?” You furrow your brows, wanting to ask why he’s here but the bag in his hands tells you all you need to know. “Another late-night donut run?”

“Pepper thinks I should lay off the suits for a while.” He explains with a sigh, grunting as he sits down next to you, rattling the bag in his hands for emphasis. “And donuts are the only thing that both keep me busy and fulfilled. Win-win don’t you think?”

“Depends on what type of donuts you picked.” You mused with a hum. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Long John.” He retorts with a smirk, reaching into his bag to place a donut in your hands. Patting your shoulder as he did so. “Here, for your troubles.” 

You cocked your head curiously, examining the sweet with a soft smile. “A maple bar, sweet.” 

Thanking him, you took slow soft bites, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth as you looked towards the city in thought. You felt Tony’s stare and tried your best to ignore it, not wanting pity. 

“In my entire years of living, not once have I ever seen someone looking so sad while holding a donut.” He commented, taking a bite of his own donut and you release a sigh. “It’s really depressing to look at.” 

He spoke between bites, causing you to grimace. Backing away, you studied your mentor incredulously, analyzing his facial features in the hope it’d give you a clue as to why exactly he was here. Finding nothing, but an unusual softness to his features, you raised a wary brow.

“Did you come all this way just to patronize me, Stark?” You sneered with a glare. Feeling like the donut was really just bait to lure you into a conversation. 

Which you had admittedly been postponing from both Steve and him, using the city as an excuse to step away from your problems. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with you again. 

And here he was, the tightness behind his eyes diminishing as he stared at you, carefully, with laces of soft affection instead. You weren’t sure if you liked this look.

“A little birdie—or should I say spider, told me about your troubles with our resident Maximoff and I figured it’s time you got advice from the love doctor.” His hand came to his chest, motioning to himself and you scoffed in disbelief before turning into one of disgust. “And listen, I love Pietro, but I really don’t think—“

“Pietro?! Ew, god, no.” You say hurriedly, eager to dispel those rumors. Your distaste quickly turns into irritation as you realize with an offended gasp. “Is Peter seriously going around and spreading this?! Tony what the fuck.”

“Right, witchy then.” He sucks his teeth, waving a finger your way and you shove at his shoulders with embarrassment. Not letting that deter him, he scratches his chin, posing a thoughtful expression as he begins, “Love is scary, isn’t it? You’re scared. Scared of messing things up, scared of hurting her, losing her—“

“This is really inspiring Tony.”

“Pipe down Pipsqueak I’m not finished,” He huffed, clearing his throat before returning to his speech. “The point in all this is that you’re afraid. And that’s okay, so long as you don’t let those fears hold you back. Hell I’m still scared Pepper will leave me for someone more sensible, someone who won’t constantly be putting her in danger.”

His admission doesn’t come easy, and you notice the frown and crease in his eyebrows as he says so. Releasing another breath, you think about his words, and how fear could hold someone back. Reflecting on the past days, all you notice is clear examples of how it’s done this, stopping you from chasing what you really want. Still, you shake your head, voice cracking as you admit:

“I just don't want her to get hurt, or get hurt.“

Tony blinks, looking at you with an emotion you don’t know. But in his eyes, he sees himself, speaking gently, “You’ll never know if you don’t try, Y/n.”

“Think about it.” Comes the last thing he’s to say as he stands up with a grunt. Hands dusting himself off and bending over to grab his bag, pointing to you with a reassuring grin.

The words swirl around your head like a roundabout, leading to only one conclusion and you know what you have to do. Face those fears, even if the words get stuck in your throat. Before Tony can get too far, you stand up, stammering on your words as you thank him. 

Tony nods inside his suit, propelling himself as he speaks. “Anytime, stay in school, and help Peter with his history homework will you?”

You shake your head, chuckling softly and Tony ruffles your hair, flying off with a booming “Ciao!” Leaving you alone to collect yourself, bidding him goodbye. 

Placing the last bit of the donut in your mouth, you slip on your mask. Launching yourself through the city to reach your destination, flying past buildings and deep into the wooded suburbs where you’d find the compound. 

There wasn’t a world in which you could successfully avoid Wanda, not forever at least. It was torture for yourself too these past few days, and you’d be dammed if you did it again. 

As you reached the vicinity, fear washed over you again, your heart beating rapidly the closer you approached. Tony’s words rang in your mind and you huffed, ignoring whatever your senses were telling you and letting your emotions speak louder. 

Rest could wait until later, for now, you had a witch to confront—confess to. 

You decided to take the easier route, being her window as you had down many nights prior. As you swung towards the wall, you found yourself stuck. Hanging from the rooftop, hand frozen midair as you stared at your reflection, was this really a good idea? In the middle of the night? 

It was a tranquil, beautiful night, with fresh air flowing through the trees, and the only source of light being the soft glow of the moon. Your eyes softly traced through the beauty of nature, losing yourself in the picturesque landscape. Perfect conditions for an Avenger to catch some sleep in and you quickly found yourself double thinking by her window. Anxiety crawls through you—what if she was asleep already and didn’t wanna see you? Surely you shouldn’t interfere with Wanda’s beauty sleep. Or should you—?

“Did you really come all this way to see me just to hang outside of my window like a creep?” Your heart startled at the sudden voice and you didn’t even notice when Wanda had opened the window but there she was, a crooked smile on her lips with a curious tilt to her head.

The moonlight only enhanced Wanda's beauty further, and you knew you were staring. But you couldn’t tear your gaze away, mesmerized, counting every freckle you could spot; dreaming of one day kissing each speck you could find. 

You wondered if women like Wanda inspired philosophers to write the most beautiful sayings because you’re certain if you had the intelligence you’d do the same. It’s only when Wanda cleared her throat, a small blush tinting her cheeks, that you turned away. 

You sighed to try and collect yourself, letting your previous anxieties disappear. “Well, you know how much I love hanging out with you.” You joked, grinning at the groan Wanda let out as she shook her head disapprovingly.

“Dork.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“Most definitely.” She says before moving closer, touching the ridges of your mask, and your heart races when she pulls it down just the slightest. You lean eagerly against her palm without a second thought, savoring her touch. It feels as if time freezes, and you realize how intensely you’ve missed Wanda these past days.

You think Wanda feels the same with how she looks at you, hand tracing the small scar etched into your chin with a frown. Her hand shutters a bright red and you lean into it like second nature, knowing what she seeks; to feel you. Something that came often after missions back home, a reminder that you were still here, but as you opened your eyes to stare back into her own, it felt different. Dangerously close to intimate and emotions build against your throat, constricting you because you can’t handle how close you are. How close you could be to changing things. Your defenses fly up again and you’re inching away despite not being able to get far with Wanda keeping you still–so you rack your brain, trying to find something to say to ease the tension—deflect, maybe a joke? 

But any witty retort you had is quickly forgotten as Wanda hesitantly leans closer, testing the waters, and freezing you on the spot. You’re sure Wanda can hear your heart racing, but she doesn’t seem to care. It’s only when you make no motion of moving that she brings your mouths together. And you think you’ve just taken a glimpse into heaven.

It's just as sweet as you imagined and more. Her lips are soft and sweet and welcoming, easily enveloping you in all that is her, something you fall into hopelessly yet again. You want to ask why she chose now to do this, but you don’t want to part. The position is less than ideal, and sure your neck is straining but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Wanda’s the first to pull away, equally taken by surprise by her actions, a deep flush taking her the next second with a small shy smile and you feel yourself swoon. 

You hesitate as you try to speak again, find the proper words to say but Wanda stops you, taking off your mask properly and lifting herself off the frame, walking back into her room. She throws your mask aimlessly away behind her desk but you’re not paying too much attention to it.

“Why don’t you come inside for once? Catch some real sleep, on a real bed.” She suggests invitingly, throwing you a playful look over her shoulder. You let out a breathless chuckle, flipping yourself over to enter her window, and closing it behind you in one smooth motion.

Wanda doesn’t say much else as you help her un-tuck the sheets, shooting you an appreciative glance and you pause, realizing it is her from your dreams. She’s the girl. The girl you can’t escape at night. It baffles you how you didn’t see her sooner. And suddenly you understand. 

You understand why you’re always thinking of her, why even in your sleep you don’t wish to leave. It’s not just some crush you’ve been harboring, no, it’s something more intimate. And you want to say it’s love, but you want to say it better. Not when you’re both so absorbed in the moment, so you wait, because for Wanda Maximoff you’d wait for any length.

“I do sleep.” You spoke softly, ignoring how nervous her stare was making you and the stare made you believe that she already knew. You sucked in a breath, knowing if you didn’t say it now you wouldn’t say it ever, “I’d just sleep better with you.”

Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise before softening in a way that made your resolve crumble and you looked away with a clumsy smile. It feels like a silly confession to make, but unbeknownst to you, it’s enough confirmation for Wanda.

Shuffling into the sheets, you turn to meet Wanda only for her to advance on you the next second into a much more tender kiss than before. It’s soft and a reassurance that she feels the same way, her lips tasting of strawberries and love. You melt into the kiss once again, placing your hand on her wrist that holds your face in place, deepening it to convey. 

“I’ll keep you to that,” Wanda murmurs between kisses, placing one last peck on your lips before curling in closer to your body, hiding in the crook of your neck. You chuckle and wrap your arms around her. 

Her presence enveloped you instantaneously, reducing every muscle in your body into mush; a wave of relief washed over you, almost in disbelief that this was real. It was almost overwhelming, how easily you found peace in her arms. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you realized that this simple moment was all you had ever wanted–a night of rest with the girl you cared for most, free from all the world's problems and whatever else dared to ruin you. 

As if she could sense something was wrong, the witch shuffled closer, her lips tenderly grazing against the skin of your neck and you tensed as she pressed. Her lips lingered against your skin, repeating the process over and over until you relaxed as if to say I know, it’s okay. When her legs intertwined with yours, you didn’t resist, understanding that she needed you just as much as you needed her. Instead, you held her tighter as if she could slip away if you didn’t. 

Truly believing that this was where you were supposed to be.  

[darknight3904]

All Yours, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx. ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ'ꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴅ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ. ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ.

ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʜɪᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ, ɴᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ.

ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

Coriolanus has never been the easiest person to understand. His mind was always racing and it kept you on your toes. Even now as he fretted over his appearance in the mirror you could tell his mind was thinking of a million things beyond whether or not his tie fit him correctly.

"For what it's worth, I think you look perfect." You say, sipping at your drink, you had been ready for nearly twenty minutes while Coriolanus was still figuring out what tie matched his pants best.

"I'm sure you do but this isn't just any party, I'm campaigning tonight and everything must be perfect." He says adjusting his hair even though it already sat perfectly styled atop his head.

It was Coriolanus' 23rd birthday and instead of celebrating like you usually did, you were both spending it at a party full of people who might help him reach the presidency by the beginning of next year. You approach him and wrap your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"It will be." You assure, pressing a kiss to his exposed neck where his makeup artist did a wonderful job at covering the marks you had left behind last night.

"If all goes well tonight, you might just become the first lady of Panem one day." He smiles at you through the mirror

"Does that mean we're getting married?" You laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the idea of being with him forever

"Maybe..." Coriolanus says suddenly avoiding your eyes as his face reddens under your gaze.

You giggle at your boyfriend's flustered face, despite how grown up he had become in the past few years he was still the same boy you met at the academy all those years ago who just wanted his own bowl of fruit to gobble down.

"You definitely wanna marry me, Coryo!" You say almost as if you had discovered a secret of his.

"Well if you're not interested I can always find another." He jests, finally tying his tie.

"Oh please, I'm the only one who could ever tolerate you." You smile as he spins around to face you and rests his hands on your hips

"That you are, darling, that you are." He smiles and presses a chaste kiss to your lips

Coriolanus is sure you are his favorite person in the entire world. From the way you'd laugh at his jokes to the way your nose whistled when you slept, he loved it all. Even now as the two of you had long abandoned your teenage years and stepped into adulthood, he knew he didn't want to lose you. His interactions with Lucy Gray and his time in District 12 had only solidified how he wanted you to stay close to him. He watches as you cross the room to slip into a pair of pretty high heels, he loved the way your dress sat on your body, it was perfectly fitted and he wondered what designer had been able to craft it so perfectly.

He looked back at the mirror and pretended to fiddle with his outfit again even though he knew he looked perfect. Instead, his eyes cast to the small table next to the mirror where a collection of photos sat you and him over the past five years. His favorite though was the one that was taken at your 17th birthday party. He remembered how warm it had been, and at one point someone had filled a bucket of water and tossed at you. He had expected you to cry out and push everyone out of your home but instead, he was met with your laughter and thus a water fight had begun. The picture of the two of you had been taken not even twenty minutes later, both of you were drenched but happy and you had linked your arms together right before the picture was taken. Sometimes he wished to go back to those moments, to relieve the last bits of his boyhood even though it meant going back to that decrepit building he once lived in and the taste of cabbage a constant on his tongue.

"Thinking about the past?" You ask from across the room.

"Thinking about how ugly we look here." He says picking up the photo

"Nonsense, we're adorable in that. If I remember correctly that was taken a few weeks before you tripped me in my room trying to slow dance and then you gave me the kiss of a lifetime." You smile

"I didn't trip you, you tripped me with your bad dancing." He laughed, returning the photo to its proper place among the others.

"Whatever you say, Coryo." You smiled, he could tell you didn't believe one word that came from his mouth about the tripping incident.

These parties were always a bit tedious for you. You enjoyed seeing Coriolanus happy among Capitol elites and you loved the lavish dresses you got to wear but sometimes it became overwhelming. The sheer amount of reporters that were always at these things is what drove you crazy. Coriolanus ate the attention up and answered all their questions about how he'd change Panem for the better but you were usually left answering questions about what your dress was made of or what your relationship was with Coriolanus. He often assured you that once he won the presidency he'd have more control over what was asked and that you'd never have to answer another dress question again. You hoped he won as soon as possible, it was tiring pretending this line of questioning was interesting.

"Is that real gold on your sleeves?"

"Is that ring on your finger an engagement ring?"

"Who did your hair for the evening?"

"Are you going to have the future president's children?"

"Did you seduce Coriolanus Snow for power in the Capitol?"

"How many toes do you have?"

God you wished they'd all shut up, or at least get better questions. Even just something as small as your involvement with your father's company would've been better than this. You ignored whatever trash was coming from their mouths and held on to Coriolanus' arm like he was going to disappear and end up back in District 12 again.

You remembered that day very well, after Coriolanus' tribute had won he had just disappeared despite promising to walk you home after the games had ended. When he didn't show up for graduation either, you found yourself outside Tigris and Grandma'am's new residence looking for answers. Tigris had told you what happened with him and that girl, Lucy Gray, how he cheated with rat poison and a handkerchief of his father's. At first, you had been distraught that he was sent off to District 12, stuck there for twenty years as some peacekeeping grunt, you'd be an ugly middle-aged woman by the time he got back! You had been in the pits of despair about your relationship with him but all it took was one terrifying meeting with Dr. Gaul to change your attitude. Once she revealed that Coriolanus would be back in the Capitol soon, and she was simply testing his dedication to the games, you relaxed. While Dr. Gaul might not have all her marbles you knew she wasn't lying, and sure enough, your Coriolanus returned to you in a matter of weeks.

However, he returned to you differently though. Sure, his head was shaved like all Peacekeepers and the curls you loved to play with were gone, but his attitude had also changed. Perhaps it was that Songbird he never wanted to speak of even now. You could never quite place what happened between Coriolanus and her, all that mattered to you was that he had assured you it wasn't romantic. Just shared ambitions to both win something. In her case her life and in his the Plinth Prize, not that that went well for her since she had disappeared shortly after she went home. You weren't quite sure what to make of Lucy Gray, the mysterious Songbird who had enchanted all of Panem just five years ago. You had only spoken to her once and it was just to compliment her singing during her interview. She hadn't exactly impressed you with her in that moment but she must have impressed Coriolanus at some point if he was willing to break rules for her.

Or perhaps his change was due to whatever training Peacekeepers went through and the death of Sejanus that had rocked the entire Capitol when he was revealed as a traitor, you knew Coriolanus had been close to him. Of course, despite all his changes and attitude adjustments, he never applied them to you. So, here you stayed by his side, happy that he still loved you the same. Soft touches and sweet words remained constant as the two of you aged and explored the advantages of adulthood. One of your favorite things about being 23 was moving out of your family's home and into the penthouse Coriolanus had chosen for the two of you. Waking up next to Coriolanus each day and seeing how he looked before his eyes fluttered open had to be your favorite part of the days you spent together. Brushing his hair from his eyes and counting the freckles that just barely brushed his pale skin was something you did daily until his pretty blue eyes met yours again. Once he did wake though, it was hard to get him to stay in bed with you. His peaceful state was always replaced with a man who was always working towards something, ambition was always fueling him.

You didn't mind his rough exterior that emerged each morning though, Coriolanus was cold and hard on everyone but you. Perhaps it was your shared childhood memories and teenage romance that prevented him from treating you coldly like he did poor Tigris but you weren't sure. One thing you did know was that the boy you grew up with was gone and a man stood in his place, brooding and cold to everyone but you.

"I'm going to get us a drink and then if you want we can dance." He whispered in your ear

"Can you get me that fizzy lemon drink they usually serve?" You ask

"Of course, I'll bring you some of those hors d'oeuvres you like with the cheese as well."

And then, he was gone from your side moving expertly through the crowd. That dazzling blonde hair accompanied by the broadest shoulders you've ever seen on a man disappeared among the throngs of people craning their necks to get a better look at the future president and his pretty face.

"A true marvel isn't he?" a voice to your right said

You turned to be met by none other than Lucky Flickerman, a drink in one hand and a young child's hand grasped in the other.

"I'm not interested in doing an interview, Lucky. If you want information on Coryo you can ask him yourself." You say, ready to walk away from the Capitol's favorite news anchor turned Hunger Games host.

"Coryo...what an interesting nickname, a bit childish for a man who might watch over us all soon. No matter, I would however absolutely love to report on you one day and maybe even that big business you're the heiress of, but I'm actually talking to you for this little one tonight." Lucky smiles motioning to the boy who you guessed was his son. "He was admiring that stunning dress of yours and I thought he might want to see it up close and personal."

For once you didn't mind being asked about your clothes as you crouched down to the little boy's height, he couldn't be more than 5 or 6.

"You have a good eye, would you like to feel the fabric? The designer I met with made it wonderfully soft." You smile, thinking of how Tigris had gushed over the blood-red fabric that would perfectly match Coriolanus' suit with you just weeks ago.

The boy reaches his hand out and brushes it along expensive fabric and a smile grows on his face.

"What's your name?" You ask

"Caesar." He says "I just turned 6 last week."

"Well, Caesar, six is a marvelous age to be, you can do all sorts of things at six. In fact, when I turned six I learned to ride a bicycle for the first time, I did however scrape my knees half a million times. I even still have a few scars on my knees would you like to see them?." You smile at him and he nods.

"Lucky Flickerman, I thought I told your producers that you weren't allowed to bother her with your idiotic questions the way the other reporters do. You clearly don't value your job, if you did you would have listened to my words." Coriolanus' voice suddenly fills your ears as you quickly right yourself, remembering how he once told you you'd have to start holding yourself with more decorum at these events. 'No more acting like a stupid teenager' had been his exact words one night when you were eating dinner together in your shared room.

"It's fine, his son wanted to say hello." You smile down at Caesar, take your lemon drink, and pop some of the food Coriolanus brought with him into your mouth. You sincerely hoped that you weren't about to witness Lucky being fired by the newest mastermind behind The Hunger Games and future the president.

From the corner of your eye, you see Coriolanus cast an intimidating look down at the boy and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs and force him to apologize to the poor child who was now cowering behind his father's stylish pant leg.

"I'll see you later, Lucky. We are going to go dancing now." Coriolanus says setting your barely sipped drink and food on a tray of a passing server before whisking you away.

"You're bad with children, Coryo." You say as he leads you towards the dance floor.

"And you're bad at reading people, darling." He says, ignoring the way you pouted at your loss of lemon drink and cheese-sprinkled food.

"What do you mean?" You ask, confused

"Lucky just wanted to get you to answer questions about me," Coriolanus says as he leads you in a dance, the both of you had gotten exceptionally better since your failure at 17 in your childhood bedroom.

"Oh." You say, a bit sad that he wasn't genuinely interested in you, just another dumb reporter who wanted news on Coriolanus' next move. It was amazing how Coriolanus always knew what others were thinking and how to approach a situation best.

"It's alright, just ignore him next time," Coriolanus says, gently squeezing your waist as a form of reassurance.

You nod and rest your head on his shoulder as you spin around the dance floor, suddenly wishing you were tangled up in bed with him rather than dancing in heels that were pinching your toes.

"Can I confess something to you?" Coriolanus whispers, his lips tickling your ear.

"Of course, always " You reply honestly

"I hate seeing you interacting with them." He says in a low voice.

"Them?" You ask

"These people. Seeing them ask you questions about your dress or hair, makes me want to toss them into the arena and watch one of Gaul's mutts rip them apart. I hate the way they look at you like you're a piece of meat attached to my side." He says, possessiveness lacing his tone.

"Oh...well I'm sure they don't all think that way." You try to reason, hoping that he wasn't right about this read on others.

"I doubt it. Look at that one by the fountain in the blue jacket." He says nodding to his right.

You glance over to the fountain and see an old man with a fluffy white beard and white hair to match. He seemed to be carefully watching you and Coriolanus spinning on the dancefloor but you weren't quite sure.

"I'm positive he's standing there imagining what it'd look like if this pretty dress was on the floor and you were on top of him," Coriolanus whispers, knowing it'll have you blushing in his arms.

"Coryo..." You say, trying to keep your composure as he presses his body to yours while you wonder if he's truly right and the old man across the pretty courtyard is truly ogling you.

"Too bad I'm the only one who will ever know what that looks like." He says a certain arrogance in his voice you can't quite place.

"Stop it." You scold, trying to hide the fact that your face is as red as your dress.

"Why? I can't wait to get back to our bedroom tonight and bring what's in my head to life." Coriolanus laughs, his voice was husky in your ears and making you weak in the knees.

"You're so embarrassing, Coryo." You say into his chest, avoiding that sharp gaze he had. How could someone act so well-composed but also have the dirty mind of a perverted teenage boy?

Coriolanus stops leading your dance and hooks a finger under your chin so you're looking up at him again. Sharp blue eyes that felt like they were staring into your soul looked at you, full of passion and want.

"My heart burns for you, darling, as it always has. You're mine, my perfect girl, all mine." He promises before swooping in to deliver what might qualify as the most monumental kiss in all of history.

A certain warmness spreads across your body as he kisses you in public for the first time. It's moments like this with your Coriolanus make your heart swell, these moments remind you that the little boy with the golden curls you met when you were just twelve lives on, just in a different way. You know the teenager you once ate cabbage soup and bread with sweet jam watches over you as you kiss his 23-year-old self, you know he's smiling at where the two of you are now. You're sure that the same boy who once spun you around your childhood bedroom to your favorite slow song is still here with you now, even if he rarely shows his face. Coriolanus Snow is always watching over you, every version of him envelopes you tonight as he shows the world who you are to him.

Your head spins and your lungs burn as you hear a few whoops and cheers from onlookers while others whisper about how Coriolanus' hands are wandering all over your body. You're sure the way he's kissing you is going to end up on some Capitol news reel tomorrow morning but you can't find the heart to care. Somewhere in his chest, you feel Coriolanus let out a deep groan when you run your hands through his hair ruining the way it was perfectly styled for the evening. You gasp when his teeth nip at your bottom lip and pull away, a gasp for air leaving your now surely swollen lips.

"All yours, Coryo." You assure him and lean in for another kiss.

You smile as he kisses back and couldn't care less about what the world around you thinks, you had your Coryo, the boy who you grew up with and ate cabbage together in his decrepit home, the same boy who danced with you despite his own lack of skill. You were with your Coriolanus, the man who was going to carry Panem into a new age of glory.

Part Three

Series Masterlist

Read the Teaser here

So I uh sorta ended up abandoning fluffy Coryo thoughts from part one and went with the reader's pov of him at 23, I hope that's okay with all of you. He still loves you though don't worry, it's just in his own Coryo way. His own magically manipulative Coryo way. I was initially going to make this part during the 10th Hunger Games but then I thought, wouldn't it be interesting to see how he interacts with reader post Lucy Gray considering how much she changes his ideals. To make things clear, every moment with Lucy Gray and Coryo has occurred and the reader is unaware of pretty much all of it here, obviously since she's so goo goo gah gah over him.

If you'd like more of my writings about Coryo and you, my fic Blank Space might be the read for you, it also has a part two that is available now You can read them both here. (Yes it's based on the Taylor Swift song)

Taglist:

@bl0ndelilac

@lucygreene

@lwqfhp

@belle643

@fantasylovestoryme

@alana4610

@threeinchminimum

@dangelnleif

@hannaeditzs

@1950schick

@ennycutie

@janelongxox

@ajs-222

@or-was-it-just-a-dream

@notlilyyyy

@nicksolemnlyswears

@diannana

@ashrsworld

@lokidala

@clintsupremacy

@brilliantreid

@badassbitch-21

@steppingonshatteredglass

@405rry @folklorde24

@eir964

@charlesswife

@fangirling-galore

[queenie-the-court-jester]

an unhealthy obsession

Online boyfriend x afab!reader

A/n: this was rushed, sorry y'all 😞🌺

tw: noncon, drugging, somnophilia, identity fraud, mentioned cheating, online relationship, kidnapping, mention of masturbation

💉you met Xavier exactly a year and a half ago. A friend Introduced you, with you both quickly hitting it off. He was so charismatic and friendly! He made you feel good inside. Becoming mutuals, you were chatting everyday. (After confirming he was a real person and who he said he was)

💊 but little did you know he was lying about everything. All the pictures he sent? Edited. His calls and voice recordings? Distorted to where you can't recognize it. He was highly insecure, thinking that if you knew who he really was you'd turn your nose in disgust

💉he wasn't actually Xavier. He was an ex boyfriend you used to have in highschool, freshman year. You knew most relationships at that age never lasted long, but you couldn't help and feel hurt when you walked in on him messing around with some girl. You forgot his name...

💊 he regretted what he did. He really did! But he knew you wouldn't give him another chance so easily. So he was left to pretend to be someone else, just to hear your laugh. See your face through pictures. He couldn't get you out of his head! His parents were never there for him, but you were. You were always there. Loving and coddling him. He'd be damned to let that go so easily

💉it took a while to get your friend to introduce him, and every bone in his body to not jump and squeal in joy when you both finally "met". But now that you've been dating for a while, you want to meet up.. that's not good. He can keep making excuses for so long until you get tired

💊 so he does anything to pacify you. Sending you money, gifts, flowers. All while stroking himself to hearing your excited rambles on call. How many times has he shamelessly masturbated to your voice? He couldn't count. You were just too sexy!

💉 his resolve lasted only 5 more months until he finally agreed to meet you. His heart beating with anxiety as he waited in the cafe. Wearing sunglasses, a facemask and a hoodie. Brushing it off as him being shy you sat next to him and quickly started talking. As if you weren't uneasy by his (lack of) appearance. God how he adored you.

💊 you went on multiple dates after that, trying to convince him to take off the mask and glasses but he was stubborn. 'Till he got a grand idea. Inviting you to his house was the biggest blessing for him, and the biggest nightmare for you. Setting up a fancy dinner in his living room, whipping up your favorite dish and drink. Crushing fertility and sleeping pills in the food

💉clueless you trusted him blindly, giving him a kiss on the cheek and smiling fondly at the romantic setting. He pulled out a chair for you to sit down, and pushed it back in once you did. Still wearing his glasses and face mask, but at this point you didn't mind it as much

💊 he watched you eat quietly, chit chatting as he could feel all the blood rush to his cock in anticipation of his dubious plan. You started to feel drowsy and apologized halfway to finishing your food, your cup empty as you went to the sofa and fell ontop of it. Barely conscious

💉he grinned, taking off his glasses and mask, picking you up easily and shakily Snaking a hand down to tug off your clothes. worming his tongue in-between your lips, Hungrily lapping at your saliva while plopping you onto the bed.

💊 he ripped off his shirt, grabbing a bottle of lube and shoving the tip into your hole. Squirting it inside as he teased your genitals. Pulling the bottle away, he quickly replaced it with his dick's tip. Shoving it in and letting out a satisfied groan, bottoming out inside your slippery insides.

💉 he wasted no time In pounding into you, holding your hips flushed against his as he was determined to breed your tight pussy. Bending down a bit to suckle on your breasts, biting and nibbling anywhere he could reach. He went all night, until he physically couldn't give you anymore of his sperm.

💊 flopping ontop of you, he kissed your unconscious form tenderly, caressing your tummy with a loving smile. When you'd wake up, you'd definitely remember your ex boyfriend, Damien.

"so pretty.. now you can't leave me, because soon We'll have a baby on the way~ you wouldn't mind living in the forest where no one can find you right? Hah, ofcourse you don't.."