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Elden Ring self-insert~ complete with study of what items I’m currently carrying, and my ever-chronic tendency of getting fucking lost… magic horse-goat must be so fed up with my navigation skills by now he’s gonna buck me off
#elden ring#self portrait#elden ring self insert#most useless protag-chan to ever protag#i like ran into one of those nighttime horsemen bosses#only reason i survived was because id panicked in the direction of the ogre spawn area#who trashed him while i was shaking in a bush#fucking terrifying lemme tell you#idk how im gonna finish this game xD
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I was inspired by a Tcf post I saw a while ago so if this post reminds you of something similar you've seen TELL ME PLEASE-
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Cale Henituse is 13 years old, begrudgingly attending a party hosted by a Noble his father wishes to strike a business deal with, when he spots a child near where he's sat in by the bushes.
He had only just been able to shake off Eric, who wanted to make sure he behaved at this party. At the time his reputation was more "bratty child" than trash.
Sure, sitting on the floor wasn't really noble-like but honestly, Cale really could care less.
Momentarily, he got the kid's attention. They made eye contact for a split second, red puffy eyes more apparent to the redhead, and then the kid began furiously rubbing their face.
Cale stood up and began walking towards the child. (He still didn't like seeing people cry. Behind the "Trash" persona he put up, Cale was still there. For how much longer?)
The boy, who he believed might be Viscount Dacre's child, looked up sharply and seemed startled to see him there.
Cale scoffed and sat down, the kid flinched.
"Well? Sit." The older of the two sat down on the grass and patted the spot next to him.
Hesitantly, the pink haired child sat next to him.
For some reason, the kid wanted to start crying again. His face scrunched up as he did his best to stop the tears.
Suddenly, a handkerchief was thrusted in front of his face. An offering.
Picking it up and blowing his nose, he placed the handkerchief on his lap and said in a small voice-
"My father said we're not to cry.."
Cale tsked, memories of his own father telling him to avoid the Viscount, how rumors of the man's rude personality constantly surrounded him.
"That is because your father is incapable of human emotions, you are 9. Cry if you feel like it."
And its like a dam was broken. The kid's shoulders began to shake and suddenly Cale had an armful of a sad child weeping in his arms.
Shocked, Cale slowly wrapped his arms around the kid and began to rub his back slowly.
After the kid finished crying, Cale grabbed the abandoned handkerchief and wiped the child's face.
"Put cold water on your eyes to lessen the puffiness, now scram. I can hear them calling you."
"R-right! Thank you Hyung!"
Leaving a stunned Cale behind, the much happier pink haired child hurried along to find the voices of his (most likely) parents.
"...Huh."
Still a bit dazed, Cale stood up and dusted himself off, lost in thought, and began to walk towards a random direction.
---
This happens a few more times. Cale soon finds out Noble families aren't as perfect as people think, well he knew that before.. but to see it firsthand? It only solidifies his opinion.
They all end up practically forming a club.
When rumors of Cale being trash really start to set off, they want to defend him. Because really? Their Hyung hitting someone for being too loud? That makes literally. No. Sense.
But some of the older kids eventually piece it together. It's an act.
They know how kind Cale is, and a few playdates in, organized by their parents, realize how protective he is over his siblings.
Cale may not be the most affectionate towards them but causing a scene and diverting all attention on him after people begin to talk about his stepmother?
That's not a coincidence.
-
You'd be surprised by how easy it is to spread rumors as a child about someone you spend frequent time with.
With approval from Cale and a little lie, about something Cale allegedly did, to their parents?
It's ridiculously easy.
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One time Alberu walked out into the garden to socialize because he noticed a bunch of the kids heading towards there, and witnessed a majority basically swarming around Cale.
Later he saw them walking through the hall trailing after Cale like little ducklings.
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Lol
Did it get a little scrambled at the end? Yeah. But I still like it
#tcf#trash of the count's family#lout of the counts family#cale henituse#original cale henituse#tcf fic#tcf fic idea#alberu crossman
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Darling Little Puppet
Wally Darling X Reader
Chapter 6- Uh Oh!
The bright sun hitting your eyes was a sharp contrast to the shade the bush protected and hidden you with, squinting to adjust to the bright light, the hiding spot obviously wasn’t enough as you were being held up like some stray cat a child decided to randomly pick up even more so when your feet dragged behind you as the little puppet couldn’t even raise you to your full height since he wasn’t the tallest in his bunch of friends.
Your arms stuck out at an awkward angle as you were being held up near your underarms, slowly feeling a heat creep up onto your face as you looked at a very confused Julie and what you guessed to be a very smug Wally. Wishing you were at least dressed a little bit more appropriate and by that you wished that your clothing wasn’t dirty and torn, same with your probably matted hair and dirtied face. In short, you were a complete mess, figuratively and literally.
“Can I- Can I come down now?” You’d ask solemnly, though you were already down but you didn’t want to hurt the little man’s ego, mostly
due to yours being shattered long ago, feeling him gently place you back normally, lingering for only a moment longer then needed. Awkwardly shuffling around so that you could see both individuals in your field of vision.
“Wowie! No offense but you look terrible! I’m Julie what’s your name?!” The enthusiastic girl barely gave you time to dust off your clothes before attacking you with questions, but you were glad that you were at least caught by these two since you were most familiar with them, even if you could feel Wally’s piercing gaze on you and my god it was just absolutely relentless.
‘Jeez, it’s worse in person…’ You’d quickly conclude, feeling a small shiver run down your spine before you’d straightened yourself up, clearing your throat you’d finally speak up but apparently Wally beat you to it.
“Julie, it isn’t polite to point out someone’s appearance. Even if it’s absolutely horrendous , it’s not very neighborly.” Wally arrogantly stated, eyeing you up and down as he did and it absolutely irked you, wishing you could wipe that smug smirk off of his cute little face. ‘Who knew that a literal children’s puppet could be such a dick!’ You’d resist an urge to roll your eyes, looking back at Julie who seemed to currently be sulking over Wally scolding her making you feel a twinge of guilt even if you had no control over it.
“It’s fine Julie, I know I don’t look the best but I’m Y/n, it’s erm- nice to meet you?” You’d awkwardly jut your hand out for her to shake, watching her develop the largest grin as she’d completely ignored your hand and energetically went to go hug you. It would’ve been all fine and dandy if it hadn’t felt like she was crushing your ribs and closing off your airway, flailing your arms around in attempt to alert the girl of your oncoming death but to no avail, she smelled like strawberries.
“Julie I’m pretty sure you’re suffocating her..” Wally’s smirk was now gone and replaced by a look of concern as he witnessed his friend almost commit a crime that included the near death of his new friend.
“Oh gosh I’m so sorry! I’m just so excited to have a new friend to play with!” She practically vibrated with energy while you on the other hand could only wheeze out a small “It’s fine.” And catch your breath as you did so. “Oh but you’re such a mess! It’ll be hard to play dress up without you getting my clothes dirty!” Your eye twitched, knowing Julie had the best intentions you were getting fed up with people telling you how you looked like trash.
Suddenly feeling your wrist being grasped by the bubbly girl she’d begin to take you to god knows where but you were abruptly stopped by your free arm being grabbed by the other, wincing as Wally had an iron grip on you and pulled you more towards him. “Now, now Julie I think it’s best if I take them, I don’t trust your abilities to properly care for them, and not to mention your house isn’t the cleanest at the moment.” Wally stated in a matter-of-fact tone, you’d turn your head to look at Julie and saw the cogs turning in her head as she slowly let go of your wrist, easily giving up. “Aw man, can I play with them later? I’ll go clean up right now!” Not even giving her friend a chance she’d run off to go tidy up, leaving you alone with him.
Ha, I’m in danger.
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HI GUYS, I’m starting to get used to posting on ao3 it’s actually pretty easy so I’ll prob start doing it more often but idk get, lmk how this chapter was I feel like I made it a little bit too short 😭
-ChillyKitty
#wally darling#welcome home#wally x reader#x reader#constructive critism welcome#pls let me know#welcome home wally#wally my beloved
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holding them accountable
canon divergence
rating: G
in my defense, this gave me brain worms.
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The smell of burning plastic made Yuuji scrunch his nose. A moment later it reached Hanami, who'd been plating bushes around the paths, and the curse instantly dropped the soil bag it was holding.
It looked around and pinpointed the source of the smell. Then took off towards it. Yuuji followed, afraid there would be trouble. Others though so too, Chousou followed him obviously, but Uraume also came.
"Which one of you fools set fire to the trash!?" Projected directly into Yuuji's brain, oh how he hates that feeling. Hanami, though eyeless, was staring down Jougo and Sukuna.
Yuuji realised that the two of them, plus Kenjaku and Mahito had gone to load the trash bags onto the van. They'd gone at least an hour ago, considering how much Yuuji's playlist'd moved since then.
They didn't even reach the van, the bags were lying right there, now soaking wet because Dagon put them out.
"Do you not comprehend how disastrous it is for the environment?" Hanami was fuming.
Sukuna was smiling wickedly, one of his eyes was glancing ad Jougo. The volcano head was sweating.
"Me, it was me," he said.
Hanami turned on their heel and left, the "how could you" remained unspoken but painfully clear. Dagon went after the nature curse to sooth them.
"See what you did Jougo?" Mahito poked fun at the other curse who looked surprisingly affected.
"My, my, Mahito, that set back his prospects considerably." Kenjaku's voice was amused, they were not feeling bad about this whole thing in the slightest.
Yuuji's own mother! He felt ashamed.
"How can you be like this!?" He yelled looking at Kenjaku but when he heard Sukuna snicker he moved his accusatory gaze from Sukuna to Mahito, back to Kenjaku.
"Because it's fun, brat."
"Isn't he your friend?!"
"So?" Mahito shrugged.
"I don't have friends," Sukuna said but corrected himself quickly. "Apart from Uraume because they understand how jokes work."
Indeed, Uraume looked amused by the whole thing.
"These are my associates." Kenjaku went for a casual tone but the stink eye they gave Sukuna and Uraume told Yuuji that his mother wished it was something more. "I have only one friend, your step dad, son."
"Unbelievable, you're all absolutely awful!" Yuuji was shaking, he knew they were all villains but to this extent? He felt Chousou's hand on his shoulder.
"Quit your pathetic whining, brat." Sukuna said. "Why are you even here? You were judged innocent."
"I..." Yuuji came with Chousou. It didn't feel right to him that his brother got community service and he didn't.
Mahito and Sukuna started laughing while Jougo snuck away to try to apologise to Hanami.
"I think it's impressive how much of the fence you've already painted, I'm curious to see you develop." Kenjaku said.
"What is this break?" Kusakabe yelled from behind Yuuji. "This will be added to your sentence! Now clean up this stinking mess!"
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#crack fic#itadori yuuji#hanami jjk#jougo#sukuna#mahito#kenjaku#dagon#chousou#kusakabe#sorry for all the typos#wrote this in 15 min XD
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🧺 — Laundry And Taxes
chapter 4. // (masterlist)
Toby’s eyes fluttered open, the chill of September being rivaled by the early morning sun hugging his skin. He squinted up at a large figure standing over him, before the figure spoke.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
A deep, irritated sigh escaped the boy's cold lips. He had fallen asleep sitting against a tree in that forest. There was little undergrowth surrounding him, only moss and wild bushes here and there. The smell of cool open air, and soft intoxicating sunlight, winded between him and the standing man. Bright rays shone from behind the figure's shadow.
“What do you want Tim,” Toby groaned. The drill of a woodpecker harmonized warmly. It was then that Toby’s tired eyes noticed Tim was holding two fishing rods, and a container of bait.
The man stood resilient over the angry boy.
“Come on kid, we’re going fishing.”
The pair sat on the edge of the old creaky fishing dock. Green-blue waters stood still, while the shadow of sea life under the surface danced. In the old world, they had been here on many occasions, to fish for something to eat.
Tim sat silently, diverting all of his attention towards placing the worm bait securely onto the hook. As Tim was preparing the line on their rods, Toby stared out at the vast lake beyond them. The morning clouds blanketed the sky, the blue heavens embracing the nurturing sun. It reflected off of the sparkling water, like a gleaming portal. Woods of the countryside rustled with the peaceful gaze of wind, it breezed past him and through his hair. His dark, desensitized eyes stared out at the magnificence, and Toby felt nothing but dread. Impatient and aggravated, he tapped his foot while waiting for the man to finish his task.
Tim brought himself to his feet and handed a baited rod to the boy, teaching him how to reel it back and toss the hook into the water. As Toby whipped the line back, and let it splash into the water, he hollered out in triumph.
“My old man never taught me how to fish, yknow,” Toby confessed as he stared out at the swimming fish underneath the surface of water, hoping to himself they’d catch.
“It’s good to know. For survival,” Tim noted, tapping his finger on the rod, eyeing the carps snapping at the bait. The two soldiers sat, and laughed to themselves, as they failed to catch anything significant. Horrible luck had passed over them that morning, and still they laughed, and still they reeled back their rods and tried again. Toby pulled in his line, feeling a heavy tug, excited for his big catch. As his reward flopped down onto the dock, Tim burst out in a laugh, as he noticed the boy had reeled in a boot.
“What a fucking cliche” Toby muttered to himself in irritation, glaring down at his treasure.
“If we do end up, by some god-given miracle, catching one of these fuckers,” Tim spoke out, “Let’s toss it back in.”
Toby paused for a moment and glanced over at the man with surprise. He grimaced at the suggestion that all their efforts would be tossed away like trash.
“It’s a new world, Toby. A second chance to do better. So instead of killing the little guys, why don’t we let them go this time. It’s what normal people would do.”
A harsh chuckle escaped Toby’s mouth as his colleagues' lecture went in one ear and out the other.
“Normal people, huh? I’m not built for that. We’re proxies, always will be.”
Tim stared down at the boy, shaking his head at the boy's impenetrable ways.
“If that's what you think, fine.”
“You think I’m wrong? Weapons are all we are.” The boy's voice began to grow louder, angrier. He hated nothing more than to be brushed off. To be treated like a naive child who knew no better.
“You threw away your humanity for a battle you didn’t understand, I get that, trust me I do. And now that the war is over, you don’t know what to do with yourself.”
“So what?”
“So, you never learned how to stop fighting Toby. And maybe you never will until it kills you.”
Toby huffed as he once again ignored the words of the man sitting on that dock next to him. He knew what he was, he knew what he had done.
“Yeah, what about it? I’ll let it kill me then, maybe that's just what it takes.”
“You know, I used to think I could take on the weight of the world by myself too. After everything, it took a lot out of me to even be around other people.” Tim gripped the fishing rod tightly in his hands. “But I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the people in my life. And I got a feeling you’ll know what I’m talking about in a couple of years.”
There were no more words exchanged between the two, and the initial excitement seemed to have fizzled out. Tim sniffled as he quietly looked down into the water. Toby took in the warm rays beaming down on them. The call of a Northern Cardinal rolled past them, and the trees softly swayed in the distance alongside the dancing meadows surrounding the two.
“I caught something-”
“What?”
“I caught something!”
The sun shone in their eyes as Tim pulled the rod in, grasping the hooked fish with his hand, gently holding it as it squirmed. He carefully pulled the hook out of its mouth and handed it over to Toby.
“Go on, throw it back in.”
The boy stood in place, holding tightly onto the fish. He knew he should’ve thrown it back into the water, but his hands couldn’t help but squeeze the life out of it, and his violent eyes couldn’t help but watch.
“Toby, throw the damn fish back into the water.”
Toby trembled as he dug his nails into the carp, and watched closely to how it squirmed, begging for mercy. He squeezed his fists as tight as he could, until it stopped moving, and then released. The two watched as the fish flopped a couple of times pathetically on the dock, before finally succumbing to its death.
“Jesus Christ. You fucking mutt of a kid.”
“Don’t call me a fucking mutt.”
“You’re too damn obedient to be anything but a fuckin’ mutt! You’re like a perfectly trained guard dog, biting whatever you’re told to. How's losing that leash treating you, huh?”
Toby fought back, raising his voice to match the others furious tone.
“Maybe losing the leash is all great for you, but I don't have anything fucking left but memories and blood on my hands. That's all I am, man, so what?”
“Toby, listen-”
“No! You fucking listen! I don’t need you telling me what to do. I don’t need you telling me who I am. And I don’t need you to try and fucking pull me from the edge! I’m never going to change, and I’m never going to be like you. If I’m going to die like a dog trying to get back home, so be it. I don't need this shit.”
Toby caught his breath before storming off down the dock and back into the forest, not once looking back at Tim as he left. His body was burning with rage, and a hint of desperation. It bubbled up inside of him as he paced around through the woods, the tall trees looming over him. The cracks and crevices in the bark looked like eyes to him, and he had a sinking feeling he was being watched by the earth around him. Toby’s chest tightening, and his gut felt like a fish mouth hooked on something sharp.
His body spun around to the sound of a snapping twig, his heart beating fast, only to see a deer in the distance, staring curiously at him through the trees and tall grass.
“The fuck are you looking at?” Toby shouted out, causing the animal to run off.
Every sound, every slightest movement, caused the boy to clench his fists, and grit his teeth. Every bird chirps, insects buzzing past, the sway of branches. It all alerted Toby’s wreckage of a mind of unseen dangers, and prepared him to fight. His chest pounded like a rapid drum as his head darted around quickly, stealing glances at the trees surrounding him. The woods strangled him, suffocated him. He felt sick and dizzy, as if he was losing his mind. He thought back to all the nosebleeds in the old world, the brutal coughing, waking up in places with no recollection of what had happened. There was no static drilling holes in his mind, and yet he felt horribly sick, it weakened him.
Then, it occurred to him. If he was experiencing the sickness, then something must be causing it. It meant he was still plagued with the presence of the entity, The Slenderman. The sickness got worse in that forest, as it did back where he was from. Toby quickened his pace, racing to get out of the heavy atmosphere. He nearly collapsed as he got to the edge, desperately attempting to catch up to his breath which had run from him. It was now early evening, and he needed to get back to his motel.
As twilight dawned on the darkened room the boy laid in, Toby slowly dazed off into a deep sleep, putting a firm end to his exhausting day. That night, he tossed and turned in his slumber, as he dreamt of all things awful. Toby stood over the decapitated corpse of a deer, its legs twitching and body convulsing, as if it were gasping for air. He held his hatchet in his hands, huffing heavily, spit drooling from the gash in his cheek. His hands were bloody, his sneakers were ripped and covered in mud, there was graveyard dirt under his chewed nails. Toby’s eyes fixed into a trained glare, staring down at the carcass, watching it as it began to spurt out blood. The blood burst out at such intense rates it began to flood the tiny undetermined room the boy stood in, he began to step back, but noticed his legs had turned into a fish tail. He collapsed to the ground, flopping around mercilessly in the blood which drowned him like he was lost in sea. Toby yelled out, but his chest burned, and nothing but smoke escaped his mouth. He was consumed with fear, trying desperately to claw at anything to save him, but nothing was there.
Jolting awake in a cold sweat, Toby gripped his chest, sitting up. He breathed heavily as he shook the nightmare off. His eyes locked in at a hooded figure sitting across the room, watching him.
“What do you want?” Toby muttered angrily.
The figure, who Toby knew as Brian Thomas, stared at him through the red frowny face stitched into a black pull-over mask. Without a word, he stood up and walked out of the room. Toby groaned out in annoyance and turned around, trying to go back to sleep.
The next few days, Toby spent his time obsessively making notes of any signs The Slenderman existed in the world he now lived in. He found himself one evening walking around the abandoned hospital which resided in Rosswood Park, a place he knew to be heavily infected by the entity. He shuffled down the rotting hallways, peering into the empty rooms. It was all so familiar to him, far too familiar. Back in the old world, he would sometimes chase his victims into the building, or hide bodies there until he had a place to properly dispose of them. Sometimes he would find himself on the floor of the hospital, blood on his hands, without knowing whose it was. As he thought back to his past, walking through the winding hallways, he remembered the smell of decaying bodies, the screams, the taste of blood. And in a moment, he felt a wave of nausea he hadn’t experienced in some time wash over him, as if he was being baptized with his own history.
Toby felt his chest tighten, and the sickness consumed him once again. A part of him was fearful, alert, another part was smug, because it was further proof that he was right all along. The smugness didn’t last long, as he continued to walk, his knees began to weaken. Toby’s throat dried up, it felt like sandpaper when he swallowed.
“Are you here?” He called out. His voice shook.
There was no reply. Toby inhaled, and exhaled, but couldn’t seem to catch his breath. The world around him seemed to spin faster and faster. He stopped in his tracks, holding a hand over his beating heart which seemed like it was fighting its way out of his chest. Toby gulped and looked around at his surroundings. He was standing in the room he had once fought with Hoodie in, a persona of Brian’s.
Toby could almost feel the cold weight of the metal pole beat against his body again, as he thought back to the memory of being hit down by Hoodie. He had crossed a line, as he typically did, and needed to pay for it, as he typically did. That was one of the many moments Toby thought he was going to die. Just another moment. It didn’t mean much to him.
The more he thought about those things, the more he felt like the world around him was collapsing. A sick desperation, clawing at him from within. Toby felt as if he was standing in a morgue, and with the history of that place, he might as well have been. Though blood no longer stained the cold floors, and the smell of rot no longer lingered, the hospital still strangled the boy. There was no blood on his hands as he stood in an unscathed world, yet his fingers trembled, and he felt dizzy, as if he had done something horrible.
Tim had insisted to the crazed boy that The Slenderman didn’t exist in the new world, but as Toby stood there, trembling, dizzy, clutching his chest, feeling as though all the blood had drained from his body, he knew that something was tormenting him. Something that watched from amongst the trees, wailed with the sway of the branches.
It was getting dark out, the evening dusk approached, blanketing the once bright skies with a tormenting layer of twilight. The air had gotten cooler, and the winds which had picked up howled loudly throughout the corridors of the old hospital, long abandoned. Toby took a deep breath in, collecting himself, and journeyed down the winding hallways. He stumbled with each step he took, the world around him was spinning.
“Fuck-” He muttered under his breath through gritted teeth. His innocent hands grasped onto his body for support, attempting to hold himself up as he continued down the path, trying desperately to escape the labyrinth of a hospital he found himself in. It was as if the walls were closing in, claustrophobic. The feeling was near identical to how he felt in the depths of the forest the other day, plagued by disease. Like he was a rat in the maze of his own mind. Like he was drowning in a sea of terror and dread.
His heart beat in his chest like a snare drum, he wanted to scream out but his throat was so dry, nothing escaped him. The hallway spun faster and faster, his knees had gotten far too weak to carry his tired, heavy body. Toby’s body hit the ground, he felt the dizziness take hold of him. There was a little voice in the back of his head screaming, ‘you need to get up, nobody is coming to save you”. This was something he had learned from a very young age. It was knowledge he was going to take to his grave.
The boy grunted as he gasped for air, he was breathing heavily, as if he had just completed a marathon. Toby had spent a lot of time running. Chasing after escaped victims, running from the police, or enemies. Running from his home, running from his mistakes. It seemed the boy was quick enough on his feet to outrun just about anything. And it seemed now, it had finally caught up to him. As he laid weakly on the dirty, decaying hospital floor, he wondered how many footsteps had echoed throughout those halls. He wondered how many bodies had been dragged past where he remained. He wondered what The Slenderman wanted from him, why he was being tormented like this.
Back in the old world, sickness that intense only occurred when The Slenderman was close, and the eldritch being only got that close if it wanted something. Toby knew the feeling of dread all too well. He always felt, since he was a young boy, that doom was right around the corner. It rang out in his ears, mimicking the sound of his fathers footsteps. It smelt like cheap beer, it felt like a punch to the face. Danger was always one step away from the boy. And Toby was a born fighter, his fists were always clenched.
Toby inhaled the reek of the wartorn hospital, and exhaled his concern for his own life. One thing he had learned as a proxy was that if he was going down, he needed to go down fighting. He wasn’t going to lie there, waiting for something to happen, he was going to grit his teeth, push through the nausea and fear, and go down bloody.
He pushed his body up, and stumbled to his feet. The boy leaned up against the wall for support as he staggered along the corridor, tripping down the stairs, and throwing himself out of the entrance and into the wilderness. It was well into the night by the time Toby got out of that godless building. The fresh air cradled his sore lungs, he felt light-headed from all the oxygen that had escaped him. But nonetheless, the fighter boy stood victorious amongst the woods, as he had done many times in his past. To him, it was just the way things went. And it was only proof that there were still remains of the old world lingering, something to return to. Something that was familiar, nostalgic. Something that had accepted Toby in all of his disgrace.
Toby peered into the window of the quiet, small house which stood in the quiet, small neighborhood. Through a crack in the closed curtains, he saw that football was playing on TV, and saw two familiar men sitting on the couch of the living room, drinking beer. It looked like a normal Tuesday night, shared by two normal men who haven’t fought a war a day in their life. There was something about the simplicity of the sight that enraged Toby. How he was stuck remembering everything that happened, chained in by the past, while these two men watched the game and chatted casually over beer, as if nothing had happened. He wondered if they, too, had been plagued by the sickness in this world. Or if The Slenderman only had interest in the boy.
Toby knocked eagerly on the front door, knowing he most likely wasn’t welcome on that front step anymore. Disregarding this, he remained still, and waited for Tim to answer. Soon enough, the door creaked open, and this time, there was no shotgun in his face.
“What’re you doing here, Toby?”
The boy pushed past Tim, and wandered into the living room, where he stood over the other man, Brian Thomas. Toby glared at the blonde for a moment, before shaking off his need for revenge, and replacing it with a need for answers.
“Slender is here, I know it.”
Tim stood by the TV, crossing his arms, looking at the boy unimpressed. Brian stared back at Toby, a subtle hint of pity caressing his face.
“Kid, come on. There’s not a single lick of proof that thing exists here. Even our proxy marks are gone,” Tim said, showing off the back of his hand, to present the lack of Slender Symbol branded into him. It was nothing but clean skin, a fresh start.
“No, I know, but listen,” Toby reached into his sweater pocket and pulled out a small collection of folded up papers, “I’ve been keeping note of all the weird shit that's been happening. Heart beating fast, weird dreams, dizziness, losing my breath.”
Brian and Tim glanced over to each other, sharing a look of understanding as they listened to the desperate boy ramble on.
“I was at the forest the other day, after we went fishing, and I swear to fuck, I know Slender was watching me, I felt it. And- And in the hospital, I nearly lost my fucking mind in that place. I felt sick, really sick and-”
“Toby,” Brian interrupted, putting his drink down and standing up, he was much bigger than the boy, “I get it, you’re still sick. But spending your time in this place isn’t any good for you man. I know someone who can help you figure this one out, over in Mississippi.”
“What the fuck is in Mississippi?”
Brian put his hand on Toby’s shoulder, slightly squeezing.
“Jack is.”
#tombwrites#tombfic#creepypasta#ticci toby#creepypasta fandom#creepypasta headcanon#ticci toby headcanons#creepypasta ticci toby#toby rogers#ticci toby fanfiction#ticci toby fanfic#ticci toby creepypasta#ticci toby headcanon#creepypasta fanfiction#creepypasta fanfic#creepypasta masky#tim wright#brian thomas
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Hey there it’s the Heathcliff guy again ! As always thank you for taking the time to make this gem of a blog a thing!
I’m here to ask for a fluff/wholesome Heathcliff x touch starved Male Reader in which they go on a date at the beach
I saw in a tag under a post that you needed some luck in gacha games, I send some to you (got 3 E.G.Os in like 50 pulls when I pulled for Dieci Meursault and of couse I got him too)
Whether it was fate or not, I got who I wanted from my gacha pulls a few days after this ask was sent! Thank you!
He was half expecting he would never again see the golden sands of U Corp's beach, yet there they are. This time they didn't need to cross over to the dirty waters of the backstreets, how nice. Almost too good to be true.
Most of the sinners are already off doing something else, so it is just the both of them, standing there and idly thinking about what to do. Heathcliff can't wait to dip his feet in that cristaline water.
Besides him, his lover seems a bit tense.
"Sup, mate? Ya lookin' like ya saw a trash crab or some shite."
"It's nothing." He replies, "We should put our towels down around here."
"Nearer to the shoreline," Heathcliff suggests, "Then we can watch our stuff while we take a dip."
His boyfriend nods and they walk closer to where the waves break. Not too close or they'll risk having to swim after their belongings.
When the towels are spread on the sand, side by side, their respective owners sit on them. Once again, Heathcliff's lover hesitantly presses his lips into a thin line while he watches the waves.
"C'mon, what's the deal? Anybody said anythin' to you?"
He shakes his head in response and Heathcliff raises an eyebrow at him.
"We should... apply sunscreen..." He finally says.
"Oh, why didn't ya say it before. Hand it over, I'll help you." Heathcliff holds out a hand waiting to see the bottle, but his lover hesitates a moment longer, "We haven't got the whole day, luv."
His partner finally sighs in defeat and hands over the bottle. Heathcliff makes him turn his back and he obeys without a word, but the moment Heathcliff's palms brush his back, he tenses with a hiss.
"Too cold?" Heathcliff asks.
"N-no... It's just... just get on with it."
Heathcliff wishes the guy would just be upfront with it. All this beating around the bush is starting to annoy him. He decides not to press it further and goes ahead, rubbing the sunscreen over his lover's shoulders and back.
The more he rubs his boyfriend's back, the more he seems to relax. He leans into Heathcliff's touch and it finally hits the sinner that they haven't had a moment like this in a while; of course he would be tense.
Heathcliff slows down, and instead of simply applying the sunscreen he turns it into a massage. He rubs the back muscles of his lover in soothing circles and leans closer, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck that makes him tremble.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just thinkin'... been a while since we had any time for the both of us." He thoughtfully whispers as he hugs his partner from behind, massaging his abs with his open palms.
"Are you trying to make me pop a boner in a public beach?" His partner laughs nervously and he chuckles.
"Nah, but if that happens, and we go into the sea..."
His boyfriend slaps his palms playfully, "We have all the time for that later, dumbass."
Heathcliff kisses him on the cheek and holds him tighter.
"Yeah, s'okay by me."
They stay like that for a minute longer, before Heathcliff pulls back and takes the sunscreen bottle again.
"Let me put some on your face." Heathcliff says and his partner turns around to face him.
He has his eyes closed, and Heathcliff spreads sunscreen on his cheeks, nose and forehead with the tips of his fingers. His boyfriend looks so peaceful when he finishes, that he can't help but kiss him on the lips.
"You're so in trouble when we get back to the bus..." His lover sighs and Heathcliff grins.
"Sure. Can ya help me with the sunscreen now?"
His lover shakes his head and grabs the bottle. Heathcliff will have to face the consequences of his actiona eventually, but for now he's happy to have this peaceful moment with his beloved.
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Chances - Chapter 11
Summary: The boys break and enter into Jordan's home to check on how she's doing.
New chapter today yippeee
Chapter 10 <<< >>> Chapter 12
TW// None
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It’s 8:00 pm now and Jordan finally gets up after a good sleep. She sits up on her bed rubbing her face, she’s still in her clothes from the previous night. She remembers the note she found on the wall and she glances at it again. She still couldn't quite read what it said so she folded it up and put it in her pocket getting up from her bed.
She goes upstairs to see what her parents were up to only to find that they were seemingly not home. They left a single lamp on in the living room. She was greeted by a note on the dining room table saying that they had gone out for the night. While she reads it, Bixby comes to her side only to jump on the table.
“They’ve been going out a lot lately, I can’t blame them honestly. I’ve been the same.” Jordan puts the note in her pocket and strokes Bixby’s head.
“Meow” Bixby comments.
“You’re right, I think I’ll stay in tonight. Watch some MTV and clean up my room. Yeah…that would be nice.” Jordan heads for the garage to grab some cleaning materials and trash bags while Bixby roams the house.
-------
“I thought you said you were gonna take things slow with her Marko?” Paul whispers.
“Well I just want to check on her, that's all. I don’t even know why you guys decided to show up.” Marko looks at his brothers who are crouching in the same bush for no particular reason.
“It would be kinda creepy if you showed up unannounced to her house to be honest.” Dwayne says.
“Okay sure maybe but it’s just as creepy that ALL of us are going to her house unannounced.” He hissed at him trying to make a point. “Whatever, I’m going in.”
“Goodluck!” Paul yells until Dwayne shoves him back into the bush to shut him up. David only sighs tiredly as they tussle.
Marko approaches the door and knocks but no one answers, he looks through the window and sees the lights are on in one of the rooms so someone must be home. He senses Jordan’s presence but she doesn’t seem to feel the same. He tries the doorbell a few times but is met with the same results. Marko walks off the porch dejectedly and David comes up to pat him on the shoulder.
“Nice try. Let’s go.” David seemingly was in a rush to leave. But Marko didn’t move. He came here for Jordan, and he was going to see her no matter what it took. He took off towards one of the windows and tried opening it, but it was locked.
“Try the other windows, I’m getting into this house one way or another.” Marko yells at his brothers. David doesn’t do shit but the others try. All of them are locked.
“Damn, she fortified this place good.” Paul places his hands on his hips. He then notices Dwayne staring at him intensely. “Can’t get enough of my body, big guy?” Paul thrusts himself towards Dwayne.
Without another word, Dwayne grabs Paul by the back of his coat and throws him right through the window shattering it to pieces and breaking god knows what inside. The light in the room goes out and there's also the audible sound of a cat yelping and Paul screaming.
“It's open.” Dwayne gestures at the broken window. Marko stares horrified, when he said he wanted to break in, he meant more to find an open door or window. Not break Jordan’s property.
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Jordan is caught off guard after hearing a loud crash coming from her living room. She had her music cranked up on the TV so she paused it to hear the tail end of the commotion upstairs. She heard Bixby yelling and the girlish screams of…someone. Bixby came rushing into the basement and under Jordan’s bed.
“What the hell? Bixby what happened?” Jordan looked under her bed to see Bixby shaking and meowing quietly.
Jordan gets up and grabs her broom ready to smack someone if necessary. She heads upstairs and is met with complete darkness. She quickly notices the broken window and she heads for it to examine it.
“Who the hell?” She whispers to herself.
She hears an audible creak coming from behind her and she whips around and smacks someone on the head with the broom. She hears a groan, the voice is familiar, she finds the light switch only to be greeted by Marko on the floor holding his head.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Did you do this?” She gestures from the broken window to him and he looks at her.
“No, it was my brothers.” Jordan looks around and the others show themselves. David is sitting in her dad’s armchair lighting up a cigarette and Paul is holding up the broken lamp hiding behind it hoping she wouldn’t see him. It looked straight out of a cartoon.
“Okay, I see three of you…where’s the big guy?” Jordan was confused, of all the boys she figured he would be the easiest to find. Then she heard it. Pebbles and soot started falling from the chimney and she started walking towards it to see what was inside. Next thing you know, Dwayne comes falling through the chimney like Saint Nick himself and dust flies everywhere.
“Here I am…” Dwayne says so casually with a happy smile. Jordan just looks at him frustratedly.
“You are all unbelievable.” Jordan says and Paul then peeks from his lamp.
“Are you mad? We just wanted to check on you to see how you were feeling. Marko brought you home after you fell asleep.” She turned to him and snatched the lamp out of his hands and threw it on the ground.
“Okay firstly, yes I’m mad. And secondly, I’m perfectly okay healthwise. And thirdly, you guys just couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You just HAD to come see me tonight and BREAK MY WINDOW?” She pointed towards the window.
“In our defense, we tried knocking and you didn’t answer.” Dwayne points out.
“And you think that you're justified?” She gets up into his face as best as she can and he calmly says “Yep”
Jordan tries to fight him but he’s completely unfazed.
“Looks like someone’s grumpy. Dwayne, give her some sugar.” Paul taunts her which of course pisses off Jordan but before she can beat the shit out of Paul, Dwayne wraps her up in a nice tight hug. The boys all watch as she screams, scratches and bites Dwayne’s chest trying to be released. But she soon gives up and goes limp and sighs.
“Feeling better?” Dwayne looks at her.
“...yeah” She admits it, she felt better somehow.
“Wow, Marko, she's just like you. Mama, we have to give Marko some sugar whenever he throws a tantrum.” Paul points at Marko who tackles him immediately.
“I may feel a little better, but I’m not gonna waste my time with you guys. I need to clean up now.” She sweeps up the dust that’s been neglected on the floor meanwhile Dwayne goes to break up the fight between the terror twins.
Paul licks himself after Dwayne roughly handles him and upon further inspection Jordan notices small scratches on his face and arms.
“Did Bixby get you? Is that why I heard screams in here?” She raises an eyebrow at him.
“Damn right he got me, that hellcat means business.” Paul then spots the cat sitting in the doorway leading to the basement watching them all.
“Well you scared him, so you get what you deserve. But he’s a good kitty.” David sneers at her.
“Really?” He looks at her.
“He’s the nicest cat, black cats are misunderstood. It’s the orange cats you should be worried about.” With a huff David gets up and looks around the house.
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Dwayne helps Jordan clean up the living room which luckily doesn’t take too long. Marko comes up to apologize to her.
“I’m sorry about this whole…thing. I wanted to come see you myself but my brothers insisted on tagging along.” He grabs a garbage bag and Jordan sighs.
“It’s okay, it wasn’t really your fault. It’s those guys I’m worried about.” She points towards Paul and David filing through cabinets in the kitchen. “And that guy scares me.” She points to behind her where Dwayne is putting fresh logs into the fireplace.
“They really aren’t so bad.” Marko smiles then gets serious “They could be a lot worse.”
“Do I even wanna know?” She looks at him scared and he answers “You don’t but you will eventually.” Jordan shivers and laughs a bit. “I don’t know how you do it.” She smiles and Marko smiles back.
“Hey Jordan, where did you get this sweet looking wine bottle? Looks awesome.” Paul comes into the living room with a very bejeweled bottle of wine and as soon as Jordan sees it, she freaks out.
“PUT THAT BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT! YOU DON'T EVER TOUCH THAT, YOU UNDERSTAND?” Jordan’s eyes flash red and yellow and Paul shrinks. Everyone goes quiet and Paul goes to put it back. “You guys are not allowed to go through anything without my permission okay?” Everyone nods and she goes into the basement without saying anything.
“Someone has issues.” David comments as he pops open a different wine bottle he found. Paul comes back to Marko’s side.
“Do you think she’s mad again?” He looks at Marko who just shoves the garbage bag he had into his hands.
“I’m pretty sure.”
Marko walks into the basement while Dwayne and Paul watch warily and David sits on the same armchair he was in earlier. He walks in and sees Jordan sitting on her bed with her head in her hands. Bixby is loafing right next to her and as Marko approaches her Bixby growls.
“Bixby leave it…” She says without lifting her head up. Bixby perks up at her in surprise.
Marko takes a seat next to her without saying anything. He doesn’t really know what to say. She ends up leaning into him which catches him by surprise. He just sort of stays there stiff like a stick.
“I’m sorry.” She finally says.
“It’s okay, we’ve been pretty invasive tonight.” Marko finally slings his arm around her which seems to help her relax. “I sometimes get that way too.”
“I know Paul was just curious, I just couldn’t help myself. It’s that damn bottle. I don’t even know why I have it after all this time.” She looked at Marko with a single tear falling down her face. In a bold move he raised a hand up to wipe it away, she didn’t seem to react. “I should apologize to him…”
Marko was puzzled, the curiosity of knowing her past was pawing at his brain. He wanted to know more.
“Did that bottle have something to do with your past?” Marko bites the thumb of his free hand and looks at her.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Jordan pulls away from his hold and he lets go without pushing any further.
“Well, whatever it is…if you ever want to talk about it. I’m all ears.” Marko slides his hand onto Jordan’s knee in reassurance. Jordan looks at him with an unreadable expression and then looks down at his hand. Before another word is exchanged, both Jordan and Marko hear a voice upstairs.
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?”
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Taglist (If you wanna be tagged, just ask ^ ^)
@blog4horror @ria-coolgirl @oceansrose2002 @hypocriticaltypwriter @deliciousfestsalad
#the lost boys#the lost boys 1987#tlb#david the lost boys#dwayne the lost boys#paul the lost boys#marko the lost boys#tlb jordan
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I saw the light….I can’t believe I was a Larrie for so long. I was a Larrie 2013-2022. To think they were dating these past few years is insane. Harry would cringe if he went to a Louis show. Louis’ music is trash; Walls wasn’t too shabby but FITF is a complete rip off of 2000s indie rock bands. No originality or artistry. And his voice sounds like shit, always has. I remember when i was younger I did like him but I could never get into his voice…it always made me cringe but I forced myself to like it. And nothing has changed. His voice is still bad. I will never understand how he has rabid fans that worship him. (Oh wait, most of them are delulu larries)
You’d think after all these years Louis could change but unfortunately he is surrounded by yes-men. No one is condemning him for drinking and smoking every single day of his life. So he’s gonna keep fucking himself up. Doesn’t know his own lyrics, always drunk, sticks middle finger to fans and curses like a pirate. He’s been a mess for a while now and no one is stopping him.
Hate to say this but with his family history and how unhealthy he is…he’ll be lucky to make it to 40. His fans encourage him too. They’re like “Oh he’s an adult, he drinks normally…” Babe it’s not normal to down 10 shots of vodka and multiple pints of beer everyday. It’s alcoholism, it leads to liver failure, and it kills 3 million people worldwide every year. He desperately needs rehab and therapy as well.
His sisters are more mature than him about their mother/sister’s passings - they grieved, post about their birthdays, and make sure to keep them in their memory. Louis on the other hand? Completely numbed himself out and has been doing so for the past 7 fucking years.
He’s such an asshole about being a chav. Always talking about eating junk food and thinking he’s too cool to eat sushi, drink wine, eat vegetables, etc. Shut the fuck up. You’re not a teenager, it’s not cool to act like immature about eating healthy. No one else can get away with what he does…getting off to young female fans ripping off his shirt, groping him, even sucking their fingers 🤢 He’s sick.
Glad that Harry is where he is right now, successful, intelligent, ambitious, creative, and the current biggest male pop star. Good for him. Niall, Liam, Louis are complete flops. At least Zayn has #1 hits. The rest will forever be known as the forgotten 1D members.
I will never understand why people call Harry overrated. He is an extremely hardworking man, and more of an interesting unique person than any of the other members. He is charismatic on stage and always makes the crowd laughs, he’s an energetic performer. And I will never understand how Louis has stans. Even when I was a Larrie, I didn’t like his behavior or appearance. Everyone knows he’s ugly but beats around the bush. He is a disgusting typical macho man who goes to EDM clubs every night and has no hobbies besides acting like a child. He’s so rude. He’s just talentless and ugly. Hate him 🖕
I cant believe I thought him and Harry were dating…Louis isn’t even able to have a conversation that isn’t about alcohol, nor is he able to go more than a few hours without cigarettes which Harry hates.
👏👏👏👏 Congratulations on shaking off Larrie after such a long time. Agree with every word of this.
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I.
he wakes in an overgrown clearing, cracked masonry in a circle around a crumbling well.
three paths shoot off from the laid work, equally as overgrown. he gets up, wonders around, looking down each road, sunny and warm, dark and foggy, flowering with life, before choosing one.
he hesitates as he follows the laid stone, through the dry path. he pushes his thin sweater sleeves up to his elbows, swatting away the stretching brittle branches and dense spider webs overcrowding his path. he marches straight on towards a glade past the starving trees, a stunning meadow full of flowers mating with many buzzing insects, teams of hares and swarms of birds take their rightful spots in nature, a butterfly passing by his peripherals.
he hears a familiar cracking sound, the breath taking smell of a campfire flooding his nose, he turns to find who else might be here in this heaven.
small flames, never contained to a designated ring of rocks, pass through brittle bushes like a virus. it doesnt take long to overwhelm, the fire beginning to tear through the wilderness. the scared cawing of the birds above, the rustling of rodents scurrying through the grass and flowers, shortly followed by the hazing air of a hot fire.
the inferno marches on, nature bowing at its feet.
he feels the fire encroach, swallowing all around him. tears and sweat boil off his crisping skin. the dry air is suffocating, the smoke inducing a fogging high he never wishes to feel again. hell takes over this beautiful place, and he, too, bows at its feet.
he gasps for clean air, waking again by the well.
he contorts his body to stare down the path he somehow returned from, before collapsing again on his back. he insists to stay here, trapped forever by his indecision. he should try to leave, the sun sets, no, he should try another path, the moon is nowhere to be found. he should lay here on the warm ground for an eternity, stars sparkling, he paces the stones, the stars surrender to the suns holy light, he stares down a dark path, the sun hesitates to lighten the way, desperate prayers fall from his lips.
‘one, two,’ he gets ready, as if to run a marathon, ‘three.’ not even a whisper.
he surges forward, sprinting into the foggy forest ahead of him. he treads, through a path that grows wetter and slushier, muddier and murkier.
decaying, unrecognizable trash begins to litter the path and surroundings, the water rises around his shoes, tin cans and plastic water bottles, new and old, float along the stagnant water.
he stops once the water drowns his shoes, looking out toward a bog, simmering and sweaty, garbage and rotting food wasting away as it bobs, floating in the swamp. like an island, smelly and horrible, grey, brown, and putrid.
the water rises, more trash riding in from tides all around, lurching out of the surrounding forest to suffocate the air. he tries to turn back, he clearly chose the wrong path again, but the mud below him traps his ankles with an impossible weight. the water rises, mixing with plastic and chemicals, mud and grime. he sucks in his last chance of air, squeezing his eyes shut. he reaches down, attempting to wrench his foot out of the ground. an old net swims along, holding his hands down certainly, more unrecognizable litter piling onto him, holding him under the bog. something hits the back of his head and he gasps, lurching forward as the sting of the water filling his lungs fills his nervous system. he screams, water bubbling out of his chest as the world fades to black.
he coughs, sitting up as he painfully chokes on his body’s sticky memory of liquid in his lungs. he sucks in the cool breeze and feels his shaking limbs still. he calms, back to square one. it’s best for last, he hopes, while his unsteady feet guide him towards the pleasant smell of honeyed flowers.
bright petalled bushes speckle the shrubbery and grasses creeping into the laid stones.
he gets a sense of something horrible, he hopes he’s ready for what’s to come, the smell of disgust wafting through the air. he turns another curve in the path, now mostly dirt, with smaller, sparser stones to guide his limp, the forest around him growing denser yet.
he sees a moose, or maybe, rather, what was once a moose. the electricity in it drained a long time ago, along with most of its blood.
he throws up from the sight of it. he’s never been good with gore. he slinks by the corpse, leaving it behind to continue his dauner, further into the woods. the smell never leaves his senses, however, drifting along with him endlessly through the untrodden trail. he teeters around the corners, upset at the stench growing stronger, the terrible taste on his tongue. he peers past an old tree, finding a spot the sun rays loom over. they illuminate a deer, torn open from the torso. several deers litter the ground, a pack of coyotes keeled over all around as well, foam fizzling out of their mouths and into the wet ground. squirrels begin to fall from their homes in the trees above, making horrid smushed sounds as they hit the grass, the rocks, the deer, the coyotes, the squirrels, he throws up again.
he reaches a hand for the tree bark, to hold him steady. it doesn’t look right in his vision, he falters, and turns to look closer. his skin bubbles, blisters bursting under the pressure of boiling blood and puss. his skin greys, shrivelling away off the bones as his muscle fibres fall apart. it travels, a rotting poison flowing up his arteries. through his arm, into his shoulder, back, chest, he can’t breathe, his neck, his face, he can’t see. he crumbles without any muscles to support him, twitching as his eyes melt, his gums losing hold of his teeth. his lungs deflate, his heart goes numb, the leaves eventually cover any evidence he was there at all.
he wakes again in a jolt, like his heart had, just now, began to pump.
he stares at the gloomy clouds above him, feeling the spit of a spared rain drop hit his cheek. he cries, a sob that rakes through his skin. he rolls over, tucking his knees into his chest, the rain becoming a constant, gaining a weight that feels piercing.
he hears the rain clang against the tin roof of the well beside him. he looks up at the cracked stones that make up the well. he stands, rushed, dizzying as his heart beats harder. he pears over the ledge and down into the cold air of the well. a hole in the roof allows a leak, he listens to the arhythmic pattern of rain drip far, far down into the tunnel, barely hearing each one hit the ground below.
he hops onto the chilled ledge, looking for a shield from the rain, swinging his legs over one at a time. the clanging of the tin makes the rain sound like a hail storm, echoing into the air all around him. its almost deafening. the wind picks up, a skelp of frozen mist meeting his face. he tries to burrow into his scratchy jumper, sleeves sheltering cowering hands.
the wind changes direction, clawing into the back of his neck, frozen rain matting into his hair.
the tin begins to bend away, off its holdings, he shrinks into his chest as the winds tear it away. he shivers, feeling his skin prickling, growing numb as the freeze sinks into him.
a whisper, ‘give up, Auriel,’ traces the back of his ear. he jolts alert, slipping from the icy ledge. he hits the opposing wall, then again, bouncing around down the narrow cavity until hitting cold, hard ground. he hears cracks and crinkles coming from every part of his frozen body, frozen bones. he can’t hear his screams before he blacks out entirely.
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chapter one of a book i hope i write
#gore#horror#??is it horror? what is horror#i forgot that i could just post shit on here#and i need some motivation to keep going w this story so!#please enjoy !!#long post#lynk talks??#original story#i write sometimes
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The Parts Only We Know Pt.2
(Bully!Dark!Eddie x Reader) *Abusive/toxic relationship, NonCon (eventually), some physical abuse, intimidation*
Y/n stared at the rain through the cafeteria window. Comfortable, was she with the soft patter of the droplets against the glass; the grey clouds that blanketed the sky calling y/n by name.
The chatter at the long table got louder as a certain, fluffy haired male sat at by Y/n. The joy Eddie delivered everyone on even the most dull days felt unreal. He could make almost anybody happy, everyone except one.
A snapping finger brought the girl back to Earth, "Hello miss y/n, what's on your mind pretty?" Eddie asked, biting a mouthful of a dry, powdery lunch sandwich.
Y/n glanced around the table trying to avoid eye contact with Eddie without making it seem on purpose. Everybody was busy in their own conversations, save for Robin who both listening to Nancy and peering at Y/n here and there.
"Oh, uh... a big test in a few days. Several of them actually...." Y/n trailed off, focusing on her hand shaking on the table.
Eddie reached for her hand and put his over hers while doing a nearly inaudible hush. "Hey it's alright. I know doing well is important to you. Maybe I should come over after school and help?" He asked, batting his long eyelashes at her.
It appeared like a sweet question, but it was anything but innocent. Y/n didnt want to be around Eddie right now; her heart beat rapidly at the thought of having Eddie alone, in her house, in her room where he could do anything he wanted to her.
She thought of the excuse, something that wouldn't push him too far. "Sorry but not today. I'm going out with my parents after they get home from work but that's a very kind offer of you Eddie." Y/n did her best poker face but Eddie could see the shakiness of her leg under the table.
Eddie smirked and raised an eyebrow, "Is that so? Too bad, maybe next time then?" As pre-revenge for lying, he grabbed her thigh with the large purple-ish green bruise on it.
A small squeal from Y/n alerted Robin who tilted her head and mouthed the question, "Are you alright?"
Holding back tears as a hand clenched harder on the bruise of her thigh, she nodded.
Eddie played with the frills of the skirt he asked Y/n to wear on their phone call last night. A flash of heat made him reach for his cheeks; he was actually blushing at the thought of his conversation with the mousey girl he loved taunting. He hated it. He hated her. For a much-deserved punishment, he tightly squeezed the thigh he abused days before. He chuckled at the memory of teasing her at the empty park he walked her to during the late night. She was so naive to think that the stroll in the park with him was an innocent, puppy love moment. He pushed her into a nearby bush and abused her. He didn't go all the way with her like he wanted to but he thought he'd save it for a rainy day and speak of the devil, lightening flashed and a large clap of thunder made the girl under his hand jump.
Y/n felt a tinge of anger as she tried to shove Eddie's hand away and it didn't budge. She didn't want to be a victim but she clearly wasn't going to out match his physical strength.
Eddie leaned in, a breath of hot air hit Y/n's earlobe as Eddie said, "You lied to me and you know how I feel about that. Meet me at my van when school lets out." Eddie gathered his trash and Y/n's too and tossed it in the garbage bin.
"That's not a request, it's my command." He said quietly, a flash of lightening illuminating his face.
Hours later, Y/n walked slowly out of the school in a crowd of students. She was doing the numbers in her head about going with Eddie after school. She didn't want to admit it but deep down she knew what Eddie wanted to do to her today. She Y/n didn't want that with him; not like this, while he was this entitled monster hidden beneath a pleasant skin.
She had to take a stand and Y/n thought today is the day. She wouldn't let Eddie take away something that's supposed to be her choice. She ducked within the group of students determined not to be seen. With Eddie nowhere in sight, she glanced around for an ally.
Robin had probably been picked up by Steve already. Maybe Nancy could drive her home. Making haste, Y/n trudged through student after student determined to find her friend. At the corner of the school where Nancy Wheeler was nowhere to be found Y/n huffed an air of annoyance.
"Fine I'll just fucking run home then!" Y/n growled.
A large hand covered her mouth and pulled her into a group of trees near the back. Y/n flailed her arms around but the perp had a strong grip.
"Stop fucking fighting before I fuck it out of you right here!" Eddie yelled, shoving y/n against a tree.
Y/n froze under the mean gaze of her long-haired tormentor. His dark eyes fixed on the young woman beneath him. "Please Eddie, just let me go home! I'm sorry..." Y/n managed while breaking eye contact.
"Wow, where'd the fight go? You seemed pretty confident a minute ago while you were hiding from me." Eddie chuckled, thumbing the highpoint of the girls' cheek.
Y/n made no comment and stared at the ground with a hung head. Eddie tsked, "I thought I was clear about you 'not hiding from me anymore'? I'm disappointed y/n. It seems you really like being punished; and when we get back to my place, you'll really get it."
Y/n shook her head and sniffled, "No Eddie, I don't want to have sex with you, maybe if you were nice again. You used to be really nice, I use to have a big crush on you, and I thought when you started talking to me last year that you wanted something good but now, -now I wish you'd just go fuck yourself and leave me alone!" Y/n said bringing her eyes to meet her abuser.
Eddie's big brown eyes focused on the brave girl he had pinned to a tree. His heartbeat picked up; a small ping of guilt pinched his nerves and he found himself not being able to look her in the eyes anymore.
The small amount of remorse left him when he felt rage takeover and without thinking, swung his hand at Y/n's face. Angry, he was, that she would reject him. And now Eddie's mission was clear; he would break his little plaything and make her love him. She didn't have a choice. It was him; it was only him for now on. As she was all he had. He couldn't do too much while on school grounds, so he'd have to plan something accordingly. A part of him just wanted to drag her by her hair to the back of his van and fuck her right then and there but another part of him decided to wait just a little longer. Halloween was around the corner and what a perfect time to scare the courage right out of her; he was going to put his plaything in her place once and for all; in due time.
#bully!eddie#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson#stranger things#dark!eddie munson#dark!eddie munson x you
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Striker x Reader - Picking Up Trash and Calling It Treasure 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
All of your coworkers could sense the change in your mood at work the following day. They’d all expected you to be late, or to not show at all after your date. But you arrived bright and early, looking more than a little exhausted, clutching a cup of cheap coffee like it owed you money. You sat in your usual seat at the meeting table, feet propped up in an empty chair, cleaning your guns and reloading your ammo as Blitzø rambled on about the company’s newest client.
“And how was your date, (y/n)?” he inquired suddenly, nearly causing you to drop your weapon in surprise. You turned to look at him with wide eyes, your lips set into a hard frown.
“It was fantastic,” you replied, placing your gun on the table. “I sat in my apartment until midnight and then I went to bed.”
Millie gasped loudly beside you. “He stood you up?!”
“I knew something like this would happen,” Moxxie sighed, shaking his head.
“Just shut up, okay?” you grumbled, downing the rest of your coffee. “I don’t need your fucking pity. You told me not to fuck with him, and this is what I get for not listening. Can we just move onto work already? I need to fucking shoot someone.”
“I have just the client for you!” Blitzø grinned, stepping aside to reveal a white board covered in poorly drawn stick figures. You groaned in unison with Moxxie at the display, picking your teeth with your nail as your boss began to explain.
“She died in a coma, and shortly after she was admitted to the hospital, her boyfriend cheated on her with her sister,” Blitzø animatedly elucidated, throwing white boards to the floor as he progressed through the toddler-esque scribbles. “She’s hired us to track down the cheating son of a bitch and his new hoe and take them out.”
“She died in a coma?” you questioned, raising a brow. “How’d she end up here?”
“Before the coma, she was known for getting into bar fights and putting other people in comas,” your boss continued with a shit-eating grin. “The last loser she fought with ended up dead, and someone smashed our client’s head into the bar.”
“And she understands that she’ll spend eternity with her cheatin’ ex and his side bitch once we kill ‘em?” Millie questioned.
“Not my problem,” Blitzø shrugged. “Now, who wants to kill a sinner?”
All three of you raised your hands, and your boss cheered before the four of you set out for the mission.
A groan sounded from your lips as you slumped down onto a bar stool, resting your weight against the bar while half-heartedly raising one hand to get the bartender’s attention. His brow raised upon drawing closer to you, but he kept his commentary to himself as you ordered your drink of choice. He nodded before turning around to prepare it, leaving you to your business.
Dried blood matted your hair and stained your clothes. Scrapes and bruises littered your entire body, and you could feel a lump forming on the back of your head. You hadn’t even bothered to shower after the job, opting instead to come straight to the bar to drink away the bad night.
All had started off perfectly fine. The I.M.P. crew teleported to the living world, easily located the targets, and had the perfect shots lined up for a clean kill. It should have been simple. It should have been easy.
Until Stolas called Blitz, and your airhead of a boss hadn’t bothered to silence his phone, and the humans heard the screeching ringtone from the bushes where the four of you had been hiding. They were braver (or dumber) than most of your hits, and they came running towards the foliage with weapons of their own. Their spunk caught you off guard, allowing the cheating ex you were after to strike you across the face with his fist. You howled as you were thrown to the side, the impact sending you flying to the ground.
Blitz growled and aimed a gun at the man’s head, but he was knocked unconscious by a metal baseball bat before he could pull the trigger. You pulled your own gun and fired without properly aiming, shooting the cheating ex’s new bitch in the leg. She squealed and lunged towards you, manicured nails poised for a scratch-off. The blow to your head had left you dizzy, slowing your movements just enough for her to catch you. Millie leapt onto her back with a cry, looping a rope around her neck and pulling it tight, but your face had already been raked with barely sharpened nails by the time she fell to the ground.
You pulled a knife from your boot and began slicing, not particularly focused on your aim so long as it wasn’t one of your coworkers. Blood spattered everything around you by the time you were done, and Moxxie carried a still-unconscious Blitz through the portal after Millie called for Loona to open it.
The bartender returned with your drink, which you immediately drew to your lips. You swallowed half of it by the time a presence approached your left side, taking the empty stool beside you.
“You look like shit, little lady,” came a familiar southern drawl. You groaned inwardly, in no mood to deal with Striker’s bullshit tonight.
“Gee, thanks,” you replied, not sparing him a glance. “Is that why you never showed up?”
“Had a job,” he offered lamely with a half-hearted shrug, nodding to the bartender as he was served a bottle of beer.
“What an original excuse,” you countered, swallowing the rest of your beverage.
“It’s the truth, darlin’,” he countered. “What’s it to you? Not like we’re datin’.”
“Suppose not,” you murmured. Millie had been right. Hell, you had been right. He was not boyfriend material, and you should have been glad he hadn’t shown up for your date.
“I could make it up to you,” he offered, and fuck why did your heart have to flutter at those words?
“How?” you questioned before you could come to your senses and tell him to fuck off.
“Let me take you out,” Striker shrugged simply. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“Hm, where have I heard that before?”
He snickered, and the sound went straight to your core. Get a grip of yourself, dammit. You are not sleeping with Striker.
“Come on, I mean it this time,” he insisted, finally turning to look at you. You refused to meet his gaze, though you could see his reptilian eyes in your peripheral vision, and goddamn they were hypnotizing.
“Fine,” you agreed, because you apparently had shit for self-preservation instincts when it came to hot cowboys. “But this is your last shot. Stand me up again and I’ll fucking kill you.”
He grinned, taking your words as a challenge. “I’d love to see you try, darlin’.”
He paid for his drink- and yours, much to your surprise- and tipped his hat to you, offering you a wink before he strutted out of the bar.
Oh, Millie was going to kill you.
#helluva boss#helluva boss x reader#reader insert#striker#striker helluva boss#striker x reader#slow burn#imps
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Hi! I was wondering if I can request a Corpse imagine where he and his girlfriend announce their pregnancy to both their friends and fans?
Definitely! ~ Enjoy! 🥰
Y/N only remembers shaking this much before your first college exam, while waiting for the results of said exam and while waiting for the results of her pregnancy test. She was pacing the hall outside the bathroom where the stick waited for her to come check on it, arms and legs trembling.
That back then was just expecting anxiety however, this is a whole different type of trebling. Trembling out of nervousness and fear. Fear of how her boyfriend's (aka the father of her baby) friends and fans will react to the news that he'll become a father in a few months. Hell, apart from his close circle of friends, no one even knows she's his girlfriend so this will be a double shock to his entire fandom. And Y/N shudders at the thought of how some of its members will take the news.
“Hey.“ Corpse rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of the fit of panicking thoughts. He knows what’s going on in her head, mostly because he was going through the same in the beginning. However, he’s now completely unbothered - the joy of knowing he’ll be a father overpowering any fear or insecurity he was struggling with in the start. “They can all take it however they’d like. It won’t change a thing for us, ok? We go in, no beating around the bush, tell them what we have to say, and let them process it. How they react or what they think is none of our business. This is the greatest thing to happen in our lives, no one gets to have a say or have an impact on how we take it. No one can hinder our joy. We won’t let them.”
And that’s all she needed to give him the green light he had been waiting for - a nod before the two sat down in front of the screen displaying the Among Us lobby where all their friends had already gathered.
“Hey everyone, mind if we steal a few moments before getting in the game?“ Corpse asks once he unmutes his mic.
“I’m sorry - we? You never told us Y/N would be here too. Hi Y/N! Missed ya!“ Rae squeals with excitement, happy to hear her friend has also joined them today.
“Yeah thought we’d make it surprise. Missed ya too, Rae.“ Y/N replies, her voice ever so slightly unsteady.
“Big thank you to everyone who’s joined the stream today. For those of you that don’t know, this other voice on my end belongs to my girlfriend Y/N.“ Corpse announces, probably a little too casually for his fans’ liking. “However, she won’t stay my girlfriend for much longer.“
His words shock even Y/N but she restrains herself from asking any questions and allows him to continue.
“She’s already the love of my life so she’s soon to be my fiancée. And also, in a matter of months, she’ll be the mother of my child.“
The excitement, joy, disbelief and enthusiasm that takes over the call is so overwhelming it brings tears to Y/N’s eyes. Although she’s still afraid to take a look at the stream’s chat where she’ll be met with Corpse’s fans’ responses, she chooses to focus on the congratulations and praise her and Corpse are receiving from their friends.
When he wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, she feels all her worries drift away along with any shred of doubt that this experience will be anything short of incredible.
@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari @renupf @booklover76 @sra-verissimo @beatrhizn @blueberrystigma
#corpse husband#corpse fanfic#corpse fluff#corpse fic#corpse fanfiction#corpse fandom#corpse x you#corpse x reader#corpse x y/n#corpse imagine#corpse imagines#corpse headcanon#corpse headcanons#corpse husband x y/n#corpse husband x reader#corpse husband fanficiton#corpse husband fanfic#corpse husband imagine#corpse husband headcanon#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#imagine#fandom#headcanon#headcanons#reader#x reader#request
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Sugary Sweet Apologies
Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)
A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 1.8k
“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.
“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.
“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.
“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.
“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.
You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”
Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.
“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”
“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.
“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.
-
David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.
He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.
“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”
Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.
“Excuse me?” David asked.
“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”
Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.
“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.
“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.
“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”
David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.
Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.
“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.
“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.
“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.
Spencer never checked on you.
-
You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.
However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.
During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.
“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.
No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.
“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.
“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.
“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.
“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.
Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.
Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.
“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.
“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.
The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.
Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.
Dear Reid,
Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.
Thanks again,
Y/L/N
Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.
You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.
He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.
Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.
“Is she okay?” he asked softly.
“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.
“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.
“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.
-
You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.
You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.
You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.
“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.
“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.
“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.
“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.
“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.
You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.
“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”
“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.
“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.
You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.
“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.
“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”
“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.
Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.
“It’s okay,” you understated.
You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.
“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.
“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.
Spencer muttered something incoherent.
“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.
“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”
“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”
“In what way?” he curiously asked.
“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.
“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.
“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.
When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.
In typical elementary school fashion…
Will you go get coffee with me?
Check:
Yes
or
No
Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.
“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.
“It’s a date,” he smiled.
#willsannievent#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer x reader#reid x reader#spencer reid#cm fanfic#criminal minds
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keep going | jjk
⤑ series: cherry pickers
⤑ pairing: gamer(fuckboi)!jungkook x video vixen(virgin)!reader
⤑ genre: smut!! (and the start of angst at the end...)
⤑ rating: explicit
⤑ word count: 4.8K // unedited.
⤑ warnings: cursing, slight dirty talk, oral sex (m/f. receiving), handjob, cum shot, face sitting, spitting, grinding, (half-assed) 69-ing, nipple play, groping, dry humping, they’re both half drunk nd messy.
⤑ A/N: hiiii! how are you? sooo ., i decided to make the party two parts bc i had terrible time management today nd it’s getting late - buut i really wanted to post today. sooo part two up tomorrow!!
MAY 8TH, 2020 | 23:30
Jungkook hears your squeal over the booming bass of the music, long before you're appearing through the crowd of drunk partygoers. Jimin is steps behind you, large black glasses resting on the tip of his nose. Eyes likely bloodshot underneath them obvious from the stumble in his walk. Your hair fans out behind you as you run, jumping with a shout onto your boyfriend. Who is more than ready to catch you. Hands splayed over the small of your back, while your legs wrap around his waist.
Giggling, even though nothing's really funny. Cold hands finding his cheeks as your hair creates a curtain on one side of his face. “My baby!” Speaking a bit too loud for how close you are, but he doesn't mind it. Especially since you're quick with covering his mouth with yours. The strong taste of alcohol hitting his tongue as if how drunk you were wasn't already obvious.
The kiss doesn't last long because you're being distracted by your thoughts, lips parting from his, you begin to bounce in his arms. Thighs brushing against his waist and the skirt of your dress riding up the swell of your ass. “Jimin said you got dressed up for me,” You're wearing this pretty smile on your face, cheeks tinted pink and he's not too convinced it's just from the alcohol.
He nods without a bit of hesitation because he had nothing to hide. Wouldn't even be stood here in this outfit if he didn't think you'd find him attractive in it. Another squeal is leaving your lips, legs leaving his body as you jump down out of his grasp. Taking a step back to fully take in his appearance.
“You look good enough to eat,” Moving in close to him, your arms lift to wrap around his neck. Tugging gently so his face is level with yours, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheek as you lean up to reach his ear. “We'll get to that later, though.” A gentle kiss pressed to the outside of it and you're sure you hear a moan leave his lips.
Not dwelling too much on the sound, you pull back, taking his hand in his, leading him into the kitchen where you swear you saw Jimin disappear. Probably in search of smoother drinks to accompany the numerous shots swimming in his stomach. Jimin was quite the drinker and a bit hard to keep up with, either way, you managed without falling over. That was definitely a plus.
Jungkook had been here an hour or two before you showed up. Found Taehyung in the crowd and Yoongi after that, the three of them spending time drinking and talking while he waited for you. Your friends were cool and he was enjoying the music and everything, but at the end of it, he was most looking forward to seeing you... even if he had been with you just the day before.
Shots were passed around and Yoongi had his mind set on getting absolutely trashed, him and everyone within a ten-foot radius. Which had him refilling every single empty glass in sight. Including Jungkook, despite the fact, he was on the far end of the couch. So yeah, not as drunk as you, but definitely heading in that direction.
Who cares, though? It was a party after all.
MAY 9TH, 2020 | 00:19
Sat up on the kitchen counter with Jungkook beside you, quietly sipping from his cup while you talk a mile a minute with the guys in the room. Taehyung has taken an interest in Jimin who has made it his entire business to play hard to get. The whole nine yards, honestly, not looking directly at him while he spoke, acting aloof when it was clear to any of your close friends that Tae was enjoying the undivided attention.
Yoongi had gone somewhere a good half hour ago, nothing but a brief mumble of his departure which was drowned out by the music. Hoseok was leaving a few moments after him, loudly declaring he wanted to go dance. Yet, you have yet to see the inevitable circle form around him.
That left Joon and Jin with you and Jungkook, the four of you laughing and talking loudly about something that you'd no doubt forget in the morning. Well, three of you... Jungkook only half listened, the rest of his attention on you. Hadn't taken his eyes off you since he was setting you down on the counter and it was getting a little hard to ignore his stare.
Jungkook was always obvious, hardly ever beat around the bush... especially when it had anything to do with you. So just one look in his direction and you could tell that he was undressing you with his eyes, playing a dirty movie in his mind where the two of you were the stars.
Normally, you'd tease him. Get him all riled up until he was whining, basically begging for some type of release. It was always fun to see how far you could push him, how much you could get away with before he was becoming a mess of himself.
Strangely tonight, though, you didn't feel like teasing. Wanted him just as much as he wanted you, if not more. And with this liquid courage cruising through your veins, you didn't care if he knew it. You didn't care who knew it. Jin has sparked Joon's argumentative spirit, claiming he was right about something that Joon literally based his entire life on.
It's not often you get to see Joon get riled up, especially in the face of a stranger. But the oddly sexy vein popping out at the side of his neck is very low on your list of concerns. No, your focus is on Jungkook and how you can get him from this room to upstairs a little more private.
“Koo,” His head snaps in your direction in an instant at the sound of your voice, cloudy eyes taking in your outstretched arms. Instantly putting together that you were beckoning him toward you, he doesn't waste a moment to stand in front of you. Palms settling down against the tops of your thighs, the coldness of them forcing goosebumps to rise on your warm skin.
Long legs stretching out to wrap around his hips, pulling him closer. You always wanted him closer. Fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down closer to you. He kisses you immediately, hands wrapping around your thighs, using his grip to pull your body toward him. He's hard. Can feel it pressed right against your thigh, a curious hand dropping down his torso until you're able to reach him.
Jungkook flinches at the touch, hips jerking forward and teeth scraping against your lower lip. The subtle pain pulls a moan from your lips that's quickly muffled by the determined twist of his tongue. Hesitant fingers inch underneath the hem of your dress and then back down your thighs, up a little higher, and then back down. His fingers repeat their movement three times before you're pulling away from his lips.
“What are you doing?” Your words come out through a laugh, hands on either side of his face as you look down to watch his fingers on your skin. “I'm just checking...” All slurred and barely coherent, he's not looking at you instead he's tracking the movements of his fingers as if he was in the midst of creating a masterpiece on your legs.
You can't help the laugh that slips past your lips at his focus, fingers racking through his short hair. Pushing the fluffy strands out of the way so you can get a better peak at the look of concentration on his face. “Checking what?”
Dark eyes lift to find yours, teeth catching his lower lip as he searches your features. Looking for any hint that you were uncomfortable. That you wanted him to slow down. Something that you constantly caught him doing if the two of you were moving past a peck. It was sweet, nice of him to always be thinking of you. But it did make you feel fragile like you needed him to look out for you. Never did you like this feeling, but coming from him... it didn't feel so bad.
“How high up you'll let me go this time. Do you want me to stop?” There's a second question hidden in there. He wasn't just talking about his hands on his legs, but rather how far you were willing to go tonight. It's obvious because Jungkook was horrible at hiding what he was thinking, every thought written on his face at all times.
Which is why you're so quick to shake your head, using the hold you have around his waist to pull him further between his legs. His hardening length brushing against the crease of your thighs and you're humming at the feeling of warmth that spreads throughout your body. “Not yet. Keep going,”
That's all he needs to hear and it's like a switch has been flipped inside of him. Whatever restraint he had been using since you first jumped on him going out the window as his hands move higher up your legs, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. His teeth catch your skin, blunt nails dragging their way to your ass and all you're left to do is whine and moan underneath him.
A hand running down the front of his pastel-colored pants to cover his crotch. Fingers flexing around his bulge, shamelessly palming him through his pants in the middle of Yoongi's kitchen. He's letting out a breathy groan, head falling back as his hips move in motion with your hand.
He looks so hot, it's almost unbelievable. Eyes squeeze shut, with his lower lip tucked between his teeth. Thick neck on full display, you can't help but lean up and kiss it. Sucking open-mouthed kisses into his skin, while your hand moves over him.
“Fuck,” he groans, loud enough for just you to hear. The sound sending a pang of arousal pooling between your legs. “I want to fuck you so bad,” It's a drunken confession that he's barely aware of, his focus on his hands squeezing your ass over the fabric of your dress.
Leaning back enough so your eyes catch his, he's looking at you with such desire and want. A look that you're no stranger to, but it definitely has you feeling a little less out of control tonight. Tilting your head up, you press a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back just before his tongue is able to slither past your lips.
“Wanna go upstairs?”
MAY 9TH, 2020 | 00:57
Jungkook takes two steps toward you the moment Yoongi's bedroom door is secured shut. Hands on either side of your face, holding your head steady as he goes in for a kiss. A sloppy rushed kiss that pulls deep groans from his lips. Fingers curling in your hair while his hand drops low on your waist, pulling your body into his.
He's spent long enough holding on to restraint, not wanting to tip the scale in either direction in hopes to keep you from pulling back. Only going as far as you'd let him, but now you were giving him the green light for more. And although, he wasn't sure how much more you were willing to give... he was going to enjoy all he was able to take.
His mouth falls from yours, fingers moving toward the neckline of your dress. The same tiny dress you deemed too tight to wear anything underneath, besides the lace thong that does nothing but look pretty against your skin. With a fluid motion of his hands, your tits are spilling out the top of your dress, nipples peaking from the cool air circulating around the room.
His cock stiffens in his pants at the sight. Trying not to be obvious with the way the sight of your bare chest makes him drool. This was so far from being the first time he's seen boobs, but this was the first time he was seeing yours and that felt like the first time ever. He didn't know what to do with himself. Brain working overtime trying to figure out where to start. He wanted all of you, that much wasn't a secret. But he knew that he had to be careful, this was a privilege of course. A rarity. One wrong move and he fuck it all up for himself.
The blank stare on his face does nothing for the pounding in your chest. Wishing that he'd just say something instead of staring the way he was. Not even looking directly at you. Did he think they were weird? Were you doing too much? Should you cover up?
Two strong hands wrap around your thighs, lifting your body off of the ground. Finally, finally looking up at you with those dark brown eyes of his. So easy to read, so filled with lust. For you. Long strides taken across the room and before you know it, your body is being surrounded by fluffy sheets and the smell of Yoongi.
“You're so perfect,” He sounds like he's in disbelief, shaking his head at his own words as he climbs onto the bed with you. Your head trapped on either side of his arms, hips pressed flush together. He fit so well between your legs.
Warm lips meet yours, tasting heavily of alcohol and his fruity lip balm. He's swallowing the moan that falls from your lips, tongue pushing against yours as his hips move in a slow rut. Kissing you breathless with his hand wrapped around one of your breasts, thumb flicking against your nipple. So easily pulling moans and whines from your lips with a simple flex of his muscles. “I can't believe I'm with you,” His words murmured against your lips, but your heart is standing at full attention, ready to swell in his favor.
Pulling back only to leave a trail of wet kisses down the length of his neck, mapping his way to your breasts. A breathy cry of his name falls from your lips when his teeth scrape against the hardened nub. Chuckling soft, his eyes lift to meet yours as he wraps his lips around it. Tongue moving just as it had been inside your mouth and you can't help but wonder how it'd feel in other places too.
Always ten steps ahead of you, Jungkook's hand outlines the curve of your breasts all the way down to the dip of your waist, passing your hips until the tips of his fingers catch the hem of your skirt.
He pulls off your chest with a pop, a thin line of spit connecting his lower lip to your skin. His tongue juts out to break it while his gaze lowers to watch himself reveal more and more of your skin with each movement of his hand. It's not long until your entire dress is bunched up at your waist, the maroon thong you had shimmied into on full display for his greedy eyes.
The growing wet patch between your legs is all he can seem to focus on. Jungkook startles you with his quickness, head dropping between your legs in an instant. Arms looping around your thighs to hold them apart, nose nudging against your covered clit as his tongue flattens against your slit.
“Holy fuck!” It's like someone has lit your entire body on fire. Back arched off the bed and toes pressed against the sheets. He's letting out a laugh, the prettiest sound you've ever heard paired with that toothy grin of his. Three gentle kisses are placed right on top where his tongue just had been.
Reaching down to find his soft head of hair, you gently drag his face up away from your sensitive pussy. His nose bumping against yours and his stiff cock resting just above your clit. Much harder than before and you can only guess why. Yet, despite his obvious arousal and his desperate want to continue, he's still able to compose himself enough to ask.
Pressing the softest of kisses to your lips, fingers pushing strands of your hair out of the way. “Keep going?” Silently hoping that you answer in his favor. Pretty much over the moon when you're nodding, hips lifting to meet his. It's his turn to curse, teeth cutting into his lip to keep from being too loud.
Kind of hard with the way you were grinding against him. Even through your useless panties, his boxers, and pants, he could feel you. How warm you were, wet too. So sure that his fingers would slip right in. How many would you actually be able to take? Just one? Two? Maybe three?
Had to be at least three if you expected to take his dick after. Never one to brag, but Jungkook was a decent size. Thick in the places that it mattered most, long enough to boost his confidence. Definitely took pride in the way your eyes would go wide when seeing it. Were you thinking about it too? Him fucking you.
“Yn, fuck.” He's hissing through clenched teeth, only now noticing the work you've done at the front of his pants. Buttons undone and fly wide open, your warm hand down the front of his briefs to fish out his throbbing length. It only grows harder in your soft grip, twitching at the brush of cool air.
It takes two of your small hands to cover him, the pink mushroom tip peaking out from your closed fists. Hands twisting in opposite directions and he doesn't even hesitate to fuck into the hole you've created. Eyes fluttering as breathy moans fall from his lips, heavy balls slapping against your covered pussy.
Jungkook's got a firm grip on your breast, the other hand clutching the bunched up fabric of your dress. Head bowed as he watches his cock disappear and reappear between your hands. He has no shame in the fact he's imagining it's you he's fucking. That he's being squeezed by the tightness of your walls. Imagining that you're reaching your limit too, instead of him selfishly getting his release. Every single time.
He loses it when you're sitting up, spitting into the palm of your hand to create a much wetter slip for his cock. Hands tightening around him and moving at a much faster pace. He's gasping and groaning, fucking forward as if he's buried inside of you. And you're close too, it makes him feel a lot better about the loud way he spills his load onto your stomach.
Warm and sticky against your clammy skin, you're lifting a hand off of him to dip your fingers into the mess. He watches the way you drag through it, bringing your index finger up to your mouth. “Oh, God.” He groans, earning a pretty giggle from you. His mouth is on yours again within an instant, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue rolls around the inside of your mouth.
Tasting himself on your tongue and that just makes him want you more. “Please let me taste you.” His eyes still feel heavy and his body too, but that's the least bit of his concern. He wants to make you feel good. It's only fair, with the way you're constantly catering to him. You deserved it. “Please,”
Not even worried about sounding desperate or even whiny, he just wants you. He wants you to want him. And you do. Have wanted him since the first time you met him if you're honest. Tonight all of that was only amplified, a mixture of the alcohol and the realization of how quickly you had fallen for him.
Didn't even realize it was happening until it was done. Jungkook was quickly becoming it for you. Not a day went by where he wasn't on your mind, yearning to see him, to talk to him, to kiss him. Needy in ways that were nearly foreign to you. Always so good at keeping it together, but when it came to him you just couldn't.
And you didn't really want to either.
“Okay,” His face breaks into this huge smile and you can't help the laugh that falls from your lips. “Okay?” He has to check, make sure that he's hearing you right. And when the sound of your laugh fills his ears, followed by another confirmation he's almost ready to jump for joy.
Springing up, he's shrugging his shirt off. Wiping the drying cum from your stomach as a true gentleman would. Tossing the dirty fabric to the side, he's shifting to lay on his back before you're stopping him. “Take this one off too,” Reaching for the sleeve of his undershirt and he doesn't waste a moment before tugging it over his head and tossing it to the side.
He's moving to lay on his back before you're allowed the proper time to admire his well worked on chest. The ripples in his stomach that can only be accomplished with hours upon hours in the gym. His head lifts to find you sat up in the same spot, this quizzical look on his face which you return with a laugh.
“Come sit on my face,” He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, reaching out for your wrist, to gently drag you toward him. Your eyes are saucers, cheeks flushed at the thought of being sat up on him like that. “Why?” It's obvious to the both of you why, but you wait for his answer anyway.
His shoulders lift in a slight shrug, lips stretching into a slow sexy smile. “I've always wanted you to sit on my face,” He's so calm about it too as if he didn't just admit to the dirty secret thoughts that bounce around his head when the two of you are alone. You're so inclined to give this man whatever he wants that you don't bother to fight it anymore, simply lifting yourself up to stand over his head.
Taking in the way he's smiling up at you like a kid on Christmas, arms looped around your legs to help you lower yourself onto him. The tips of his fingers latch onto the waistband of your panties, tugging them far enough down your legs so he's getting a good look at your bare pussy.
Lips glistening with your arousal, slightly puffy from the bit of stimulation. There's a small patch a hair above it, trimmed into a neat triangle. Almost like an arrow saying: Jungkook's mouth goes here. And he's forever one to follow a sign. With his arms looped around your thighs, he's lowering you comfortably over him. He lands an open-mouthed kiss on your clit, using the grip he holds on your thighs to hold your body still.
Gasping, your hips jerk, body lunging forward to brace yourself on his stomach. “Fucking cute,” He murmurs into your pussy, head tilting to the side so his tongue can reach deeper inside of you. Paying close attention to the sounds of your whines to make sure that you're enjoying yourself just as much as he was.
Much sweeter than he had thought, arousal dripping down the sides of his lips. You've got a tight grip in his hair, hips moving in stuttered thrusts against his mouth. A hand pressed onto his stomach, nails scraping against the skin. He's cautious with introducing his fingers to the mix, teasing your hole slowly before he's pushing one in. Cock stiffening at the loud wail that leaves your lips, legs spreading wider for him.
It's never felt this good. Not when you're alone with your own hand down there. His is much longer, thicker. Reaching deeper inside than you ever could. With lips latched around your clit and a single finger fucking inside of you, Jungkook's pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your moans being the welcome bell.
His tongue moving around your clit in quick circles and he swears he feels your walls clench around his fingers. So wound up, it's not long before you're nearing your end. And he takes the chance by pushing another finger alongside the first one, much tighter and harder to move but the sound that leaves your lips eggs him on.
“Shit, baby...” He pants against you, the warmth of your hand around his shaft making him lose focus. You stroke him lazily, barely able to keep your head up with the way he's making you feel. But you manage, tongue poking out to roll against the tip. His whines vibrate against your pussy and throughout your entire body, forcing an involuntary roll of your hips.
Fingers plunging deeper inside of you as his hips lift, cock brushing against your lips at the same time he's curling his fingers. Pressing against the rough patch that has you spiraling out of control, hips bucking against his face and grip tightening in his hair. “Jungkook, fuck! I'm...” Pretty much delirious at this point because he has no interest in letting up, determined to knock you over the edge if it's the last thing he does.
A string of curses leaves your lips. Sloppy kisses landing on his length, a failed attempt to muffle them. All at once you're feeling pressure build and snap in the pit of your stomach, a wave of heat washing over you. Your legs shake on either side of his head, loud cries of his name and incoherent sentences falling from your lips.
Jungkook holds you steady through all of it, the movement of his tongue slowly as you come down. Lips puckering to plant a gentle kiss to your lips, just as your body is falling limp against his. Slowly pulling his fingers from inside of you, he doesn't waste a moment with sucking your juices from them, humming contently at the taste.
“So sweet,”
Shifting in his hold, you move to sit on his lap. His nose, mouth, and chin are shiny with your arousal, cheeks flushed and eyes hooded, hair a knotted mess. He looks absolutely fucked out and it's so hot. Lowering yourself, your mouth is finding his, tongue plunging into his mouth as you lower your body. The tip of his cock nudging against your clit, forcing a moan from your lips.
All it would take is a certain angle of your hips and he'd be sinking inside of you. Stealing away your virginity with a single thrust of his hips. You wanted that so bad. With him. Only him. “Jungkook.” Sighing his name out, his cock twitches between your legs. And from the way his eyes go wide, you can tell he's just noticed how close you actually were.
“I want you to fuck me. Please, Kookie,” There's slight whine in your voice, but you don't care how desperate you sound. You've never wanted something this bad. Felt it in your chest, your stomach, your core. You wanted him.
He doesn't say anything for a while, eyes scanning over your features for a little longer than you'd like. Before he's letting out a soft sigh, his hand reaching up to push his hair back on his head. Sitting up with you in his lap, his hand lifting to wipe at the wetness around his lips. “Fuck, princess. Not tonight. Not yet,” Two large hands set on your shoulders, he's offering up an apologetic smile.
A pout is already forming on your lips. You can't help it, your brows just seem to automatically furrow and your lip pushes out. “Why not?” His hand is lifting to pat your hair, head tilting up to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.
“Because, when I fuck you... I'm gonna fuck you.” You'd think he was explaining the cuteness of puppies with the way he was looking at you. The tone he was using. “And you've been drinking. I need to make sure you remember every second,” His fingers rub against your scalp lightly before he's going in for another kiss.
Not even a moment is granted for the sting of rejection to settle in. The moment he's pulling away and gently nudging you off of his lap to redress, there's a loud knock on the door and you're becoming all too aware of the party that was still going on downstairs. A loud crash follows the knock and you can hear shouts from two very familiar voices.
And then another, much harder knock. Joon's voice sounding from the other side. Hurriedly explaining all the commotion going on downstairs.
“Hoseok and Yoongi are fighting!”
— known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.
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OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.4
(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)
Stolas sat in the family limo, enjoying the smooth rumble of limos engine as he travelled home. Along the way, he felt... at peace.
As though, all the problems that plagued his mind before, had... evaporated.
Stolas ran a hand down his chest, his thighs grinding together as he thought about his time with you.
You were so gentle. So tender and elegant with him. As though he were some delicate piece of art.
But he knew the truth...
You handled him so delicately, because you wanted him to feel loved.
...Because you loved him.
The thought sending a whole new wave of warmth threw him.
So focused on the events that just transpired was he, he didn't even notice his arrival home.
He walked through the building blissfully unawares of all around him, almost in a drunken state.
Entering his chambers he found the bed made and empty.
Of course it was, Stella hadn't shared there bed since Blitzø fell into Stella's brunch.
He'd once found it all so charming. Blitzø's brash, rough and tumble attitude had once made him swoon.
But now when he thought about being with Blitzø, he just felt like an idiot for having thought there relationship was anything beyond a business transaction.
But now he had you. And you were all he needed now.
He fell onto his bed, not bothering with the covers. Content to just lay there and bask in the light you brought to his life.
But those tears he shed had took a toll on him, and as much as he wished to bask in this warmth he could feel sleep taking him and with one more happy thought of you, he allowed sleep take him.
He awoke early the morning, and despite being bathed in the light of Hell's crimson sun.
He felt cold.
As though all the warmth youd given him yesterday had simply vanished.
He sat up, sluggishily removing the covers went about preparing for his day of... nothing.
Stella hadn't allowed him anywhere near his usual meeting or appointments, not since- well you know what happened.
Perhaps he'd try and talk to his beloved Octavia. If she was feeling hospitable.
Hmmm. Perhaps not. He should probably just give her some space.
Besides he realised an even more important thing he could do with his morning.
Learning everything he could about You.
Turning over, he found his phone. Looking through his contacts.
He found your name, going into your contact he considered messaging you, but decided against it. He didn't want to bother you so early in the morning.
Instead he pulled up Voxtigram, his main form of communication, before typing in your name.
But he couldn't find you.
So he checked Blitzø's friend list, he eventually found you, it turns out you just had your name backwards, something that made him chuckle.
Seeing pictures of Blitzø sent pangs of sadness through his chest, but he soldiered on.
Scrolling through your pictures, he didn't find much.
Alot of them were just pictures of the places you'd been, or one of the weapons you used on the job.
He eventually did find some of you.
The first he found was you and the two other Imps that worked there, Millie and Moxxie he was pretty sure were there names.
The next was you on your first day at work.
It was a selfie of you in a group hug with Blitzø and the others.
You were all clearly being forced by Blitzø.
The awkward little smile you wore sent a wave of warmth through him.
Scrolling further down, he found more pictures of you. Most of them were just you relaxing at a variety of places, or after after getting a new outfit. Just general stuff about your life in hell.
Then he found one that made his heart skip a beat.
It was a picture of you. Wearing just a pair of shorts at the gym.
You were pulling a little pose, flexing your muscles in front of a mirror, a shy little blush across your cheeks.
Stolas' swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.
He rubbed his thighs together as he fantasised about licking the sweat off your abs.
With a shake to his head, he decided now was a good time to get out of bed.
Leaving his phone as he went and took a nice long shower.
A nice long, cold shower.
Getting out, he chose a more casual outfit.
An old T-shirt and some jeans he reserved for comfy home clothes. He didn't have anywhere to be.
He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Octavia sitting at the table.
The more calculating part of his brain told him to just leave her alone, but he decided against it. He shouldn't hide from his daughter, she needed to know he was still there for her 'Hello darling, how did you sleep.' He asked pleasantly.
Octavia looked up at him, her eyes looking cold and annoyed. So, not all to different from her usual teenage gaze.
'I slept fine dad.' She sai, her voice dull and lifless, before looking back down at her phone.
Stolas swelled with joy.
His daughter was speaking to him again. Everything seemed seemed to be getting better for him.
Pouring himself a bowl of serial, he took a rather lecherous lstroll down memory lane, Thinking about his time with you.
He didn't know how long he'd been thinking about you, but he was quickly pulled out of it when he felt something hit him on the back.
The clanging of cutlery that followed soon after gave him a good idea of what it was.
Turning around he found a rather angry teenage owl glaring at him.
Before he could ask what was wrong. The owlet released a frustrated growl. 'Can you just not?' She asked rhetorically.
Running down her face she told him 'I have do deal with you and Mums B.S. all the time, can you just not fantasise about your fuckin Blitzy~ in front of me.'
She fell back into her seat with a huff.
Stolas was a little shocked. He hadn't thought his beloved daughter could be so course.
'I-I... I didn't realise I was being so bothersome.' He said, sounding perhaps a bit to wounded.
Octavia sighed, 'Can you just not in the kitchen. Where we eat, please?' She asked, going back to her breakfast.
Stolas sighed, picking up his now soggy bowl of serial. 'How long had I been in that state?' He asked himself.
'Five minutes' answered Octavia not looking up from her phone.
'Oh' he said to himself, taking the bowl he poured it into the trash. 'Well that's disgusting.'
He chuckled to himself. Looking over his shoulder he said 'Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear you won't be hearing much about Blitzø... ever again.' He told her being perhaps a little vitriolic.
Getting a cup from the cupboard, he poured himself a cup of coffee.
Walking over to Octavia he went to take a seat, but stopped upon seeing her distrustful gaze.
Taking a seat he sighed. 'Octavia, darling... I know these past few weeks haven't been easy on you. And I know much of that-" He had to stop as Octavia glared daggers at him. "...All of it, was my fault. But I promise, things will get better... for both of us.' He took her hand into his own. 'I promise.'
Octavia looked up at him, she looked so startled by his words.
It seemed like she was gonna say something, dew drops forming in the corners of her eyes.
He was about to say something when Octavia shot up and ran away.
Stolas sat there. For a long while. His conversation running over in his mind.
Taking a drink from his coffee he stood up, put his cup in the sink and left.
He found himself in his garden, perhaps the last place he still felt at home on the palace grounds.
Trying to calm himself down went about his usual grooming routine.
Trimming bushes, feeding his plants, pulling weeds and just general plant care.
And as much as his plants soothed his nerves,, he could feel his mood shifting.
The depression beganing to invade his thoughts.
He felt himself become that miserable husk that got shoved out of Blitzøs office.
He clutched his head, hunching over on the brink of tears. His thoughts became like daggers, stabbing into his thoughts.
But before he could shed a tear, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.
Pulling it out, he found it was a call from you.
In something of a surprised stupor, he answered the call. He tried to clear the emotion from his voice before saying 'Hello?'
'Stolas? Are you okay? You sound upset.' You asked him, concern in your voice.
'(Y/N)?! I... I'm...' he was going to tell you some fluff story, pretending he was fine and probably throwing a few lewd innuendos I'm there.
But, he choked... He just couldn't.
'No... No I'm not okay.' He told you, on the brink of tears. 'I feel like everything is broken and it's all my fault.'
You took a moment to respond, clearing your throat you said. 'Stolas... why did you sleep with Blitzø?'
Stolas was taken aback, 'P-Pardon?'
You sighed, 'Did you want to hurt your family when you chose to sleep with Blitzø?'
Bringing up it was he who made of decision to sleep with Blitzø, made his self loathing grow like a fire.
'N-No!' He told you 'I would never want to hurt my family...'
'Its alright Stolas, I know you wouldn't want to hurt them... But you slept with him for a reason Stolas, you need to know what it is.'
Stolas wasn't sure how to answer, he didn't really know the answer. He could lie, tell you it was just a spur of the moment decision, but that just wasn't true.
'I-I don't know.' He stated, more then said. 'I don't know why I did it... I just... don't know.'
He sat there for several moments, his mind going into overdrive as he thought over the question.
'Its alright Stolas, I believe you. But you need to figure it out, this is something that will haunt you until you figure it out." You told him, trying your best to be serious.
Stolas wiped his eyes, before asking you, 'why did you call (Y/n)? I... don't remember giving you my number!' He mumbled out, rubbing his eye.
You coughed, clearing your throat, 'Don't worry about that. I actually called you because, well I mean, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to do something tomorrow?' You asked him, voice thick with bashfulness.
Stolas was really taken aback, 'You... You want to do something... With me?' He asked incredulously.
You chuckled on the other end of the phone. 'If I were there right now, Stolas, I'd probably boop you right on a nose.' You tell him through a smile.
'I'd love to do something!' Stolas practically cheered. You chuckled, before telling him 'Great, Ive already got an idea, but if youd like to do-'
Before you could finish your note, Stolas shouted, 'I'd love Too!'
Stolas quickly calmed down, before clearing his throat, 'Sorry... I mean, I'd love to do whatever you had in mind.' He said, cringing at how desperate he'd sounded.
'Good to hear' You chuckled, 'Well, there's this great wine place I know that makes the best little pizzas, and I, uh, wanted to share it with you.'
Your words sent a wave of ecstasy through his body. You not only wanted to spend time with him but actively sought him out to spend time with him.
You were everything he wished Blitzø was.
And he loved it.
He didn't need Blitzø.
He had you now.
'Of course (Y/N), It would be my pleasure to spend some time with you.' He told you, biting his lip.
He felt like a school girl with her first crush, a youthful giddiness clouded his mind.
'Oh? Well I've got tomorrow off, does that work for you? We can do it another day if your busy.' You told him, concern clear in your voice.
It was Stolas' turn to laugh at the tone in your voice.
'I don't have anything on tomorrow, so I'd love to accompany you to yor wine and pizza place. Nothing would make me happier.' He told you earnestly.
He could hear the smile in your voice, as you told him. 'Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'll send you the address later today, call me if you need any directions... I'll see you then, Stolas.'
'I...' Stolas wanted to tell you how much he loved you, just how much joy you brought him with one simple phone call.
He wanted to tell you, but didn't have the words.
As he tried to manifest the words he needed, he heard say through the phone.
'Its alright Stolas. I look forward to seeing you too.'
You told him simply, Stolas just sighed. How you always knew what he was trying to say.
'I'll see you tomorrow, My Beloved.' he told you before you hung up.
Hearing the tell tale dial tone, looking down at the phone, your image in the caller I.D. bringing a smile to his face.
#helluva boss#helluva boss x reader#x reader#headcanon#helluva stolas#stolas x reader#stolas#helluva boss headcanon
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Subtitles: Episode 2, Don’t Touch That Dial
Subtitles Masterlist
Summary: A nondescript amount of time has passed since [Y/N] has met the Maximoff couple and the trio has since then gotten better settled in Westview, although none of them have yet to make the best impressions with their neighbors. [Y/N], Vision, and Wanda have found friends and confidants in each other when they haven’t much elsewhere but [Y/N]’s crush remains, begging the question, ‘Is there anything more to come?’ Meanwhile, the people of the cul-de-sac are planning a talent show and the atmosphere in Westview appears to be shifting. Follow along as the happy little world of Westview begins fraying at the seams while strange happenings occur and an unseen power desperately seeks to stitch it back together…
Word count: 13,766
Warnings: This one’s even longer. Fluff, sappy rom-com vibes, more possible second-hand embarrassment. It’s just as weird as the episode.
Tag List: @madamevirgo
~~~
“[Y/N], hon. I really think you should cool it on the coffee for the rest of the day.”
It’s possible that Agnes was right. The tiredness that was caused by a windy, sleepless night has recently been replaced by chaotic, synthetic energy that had your eyes wide and hands shaking slightly. You were on your fourth cup now, which you’d brought with you from the diner you and Agnes had had breakfast at. The two of you were going to pick up Wanda and go over to Dottie’s for actual breakfast—well, brunch—but you both had rocky relationships with the queen of the neighborhood and needed to mentally prepare. You had been up for a better part of the last night due to bushes and tree branches rattling against your windows, not to mention all your previous encounters with Dottie have been disastrous; you needed the caffeinated courage. Agnes just wanted to have something on her stomach beforehand so the alcohol hidden away in her handbag would sit better.
You hummed around your mouthful of coffee in response to Agnes’s mild worrying. You swallowed, then threw back the last of the no longer hot beverage and scurried over to a random trash can to toss the cup away. “There, see? All done. All nifty.” Just as an extra bit of proof, you gave her some jazz hands and shimmied as you walked back over to link your arm with hers.
Agnes tried to hold down a smirk but broke into a laugh when the shimmying started. “You look as jittery as a squirrel.”
“Not as fluffy as a bunny?” you asked with a wide-eyed pout, then reached over to poke a finger in the cage that your companion held; the rabbit inside, Agnes’s pet, immediately offered his head to be scratched. “Señor Scratchy, more like Mr. Cutie Patootie.”
“Fluffy too, of course,” Agnes offered, giving your curled updo a ruffle. “In a good mood too, which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. With Dottie around, we’ll need it.”
You almost cracked a grin but then thought about how you’d feel hearing someone say that about you and felt somewhat sad. Luckily, you found a quick reason to grin anyway as Wanda’s house came into view up ahead—
Only for the grin to turn into a look of confusion as a buzzing suddenly started in your ear.
You stopped cold, cocking your head as you strained to listen. The buzzing sounded almost like a lawnmower but coming from the sky—a helicopter, perhaps, but there was something off about it like it was happening inside your head—and the sound grew louder until it stopped with a sudden bang, making you jump.
“[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice called. “[Y/N], are you alright?”
Drawn back to your surroundings, you felt a cold sweat on your back and noticed your hands had become clammy; the hair on your neck and arms stood straight up and your body felt suddenly achy, almost have you had come down with a cold out of the blue. You looked at Agnes with wide eyes and saw her staring at you, concerned with both arms gripping your sleeve.
It took you several moments to recover and when you did, you asked, “Did you hear that?”
Agnes looked at you incredulously, shaking her head just slightly. “Hear what?”
She hadn’t heard it? You felt like the strange sounds had happened right next to you.
The woman at your side continued, “I didn’t hear anything at all, except for Wanda coming outside. Then you just stopped walking and stood there, I couldn’t even budge you.”
Agnes nodded in the direction in Wanda’s direction and you looked that way. Wanda was indeed outside now, though she hadn’t seemed to notice you two coming up the sidewalk yet. Instead, she was looking down in the bushes near her fence, seemingly distressed. You followed her gaze and saw something glittering in the sunlight there.
“Well,” Agnes said loudly, officially snapping you out of your daze, “you seem fine now, at least. I told you all that caffeine was going to make you go looney!” She picked up the rabbit cage she apparently put down while you were… doing whatever it had been that you were doing, then kept walking as if nothing had happened.
You watched her for a moment before following. Then you noticed Wanda lean over and pick up whatever it was she was looking at but you couldn’t see what it was as Agnes obscured most of the view. You could, however, see Wanda’s distraught expression and it made you want to run and make sure she was okay; you noted that Agnes still had no reaction, though, and decided perhaps all that caffeine was the actual cause of all these weird feelings.
You felt the familiar pang of a headache as you and Agnes got closer.
“Look, it’s the star of the show!” Agnes chirped, leaning against the fence bordering the Maximoff lawn. You saw Wanda gasp and drop the thing back into the bushes but Agnes just grinned.
“Agnes!” Wanda replied in a way that seemed a little strained. She leaned over and covered the bush with an arm. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Then she noticed you, still a little ways behind Agnes, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “And [Y/N]!”
You gave her a sheepish wave, still trying to recollect yourself. The faint headache was still there, getting a bit stronger whenever your eyes or thoughts drifted to the object Wanda was obviously trying to hide. At least you weren’t sweaty and clammy anymore, though. Not that that would matter. It’s not like you would be holding anybody’s hand on the way to Dottie’s.
You wouldn’t mind doing so if it happened to happen though.
Stop, you chided yourself, Bad. No holding hands with Wanda.
Unless you hold hands with both her and her husband, your brain decided to think on its own, which is totally cool too.
No, you chided your brain this time, no holding hands with married couples.
Fine, your brain conceded. Then after a moment, Just kiss them instead.
No!
Good god, that had been too much coffee.
You shook your head slightly and watched and Agnes handed Señor Scratchy over to Wanda who headed back to the house with him, though you hadn’t been paying attention to what they were saying prior.
“...he played baby Jesus in last year’s Christmas pageant!” Agnes was saying, to which Wanda looked over her shoulder and answered, “Ah!”
Then Agnes looked over her shoulder, and yours, and said, “Oh, morning, Dennis!”
You side-stepped to let the man pass and took the advantage to move to Agnes’s other side as she chatted the mailman up. You couldn’t help laughing a bit as she made finger guns at him and told him to stick ‘em up.
“Ho,” Dennis responded, putting his hands up momentarily and smiling, “Don’t shoot, I’m just the messenger.”
“Pew pew!” Agnes sounded, waggling her “guns” at him.
You offered your own, less theatrical greeting to Dennis as he walked by, then leaned over and bumped hips with Agnes when you caught her watching him walk away.
“Please tell me you’re not having an affair with the mailman,” you said.
Agnes choked, then threw back her head and did what you could only describe as a cackle. “What? Heavens no!”
“Good,” you replied, then slid a bit closer. Shimmying your shoulders at her, you teased, “Because I’m the only one you need.”
Agnes snorted and swatted you over the head but she was smiling. “You bird dog, get out of here. I’m married!”
“And I will duel your husband at dawn,” you cried, “I am the only one who gets to fight bar stools for the lady’s affections!”
The two of you chortled and separated as Wanda came walking out of the house and back towards you. She looked rather lovely in the pants and cardigan combo that she wore; you also quite liked the pattern of her shirt.
She looked between the two of you—you felt like her eyes settled on you for just a second longer but that was probably the caffeine too—and as she got closer said, “Shall we?”
“Oh, we shall,” Agnes replied, stepping back from leaning on the fence and offering Wanda her arm.
You saw Wanda glance back at the bushes and she linked her arm with Agnes’s and before you could think about your headache and stop yourself, you followed her gaze. You were now standing on the other side of the fence of the bushes that Wanda had tried to hide the object she’d found in and with a quick peer, you could make out a toy helicopter within the branches.
There was something very off about the helicopter, as there had been about the sound earlier. Looking at it was like the effects of one of your worse migraines but without the intense pain. Time appeared to slow way down and your head somehow felt like it was both floating and behind crushed at the same time. When you tried to look around it was like you were moving outside of your body, as if you had turned around to look at your own house across the street and yet hadn’t moved at all. Images of Wanda and Agnes’s faces, the Maximoff house and your own, faces and places that you didn’t quite recognize, the helicopter all floated through your line of vision, mushing together or overlaying on top of each other, and you couldn’t be sure whether you were actually looking around or if you had closed your eyes and this was all happening behind your eyelids.
After what seemed like a century but you were sure was only a very slow second, the helicopter came into focus again, and you felt like you were gasping or squinting or both, but without actually doing either. The toy had a very bizarre color scheme as if the colors didn’t exist in this realm of existence; you couldn’t quite place the names of them no matter how hard you tried. The helicopter’s bright colors—almost too bright to you; it felt like looking at the sun but you couldn’t look away—appeared to turn the entire world around you to shades of gray, including yourself. Yet again, you felt like you moved without actually doing so as you raised your hand, a shade of gray instead of your skin tone. Looking further, your entire outfit wasn’t the combination of your two favorite colors that you thought it was but a variety of grays, as well as the sidewalk you stood on and the fence and bushes you stood next to.
Your gaze settled on the toy helicopter again even though you were pretty sure you’d never actually looked away.
Blood? The helicopter was the color of blood and sand, with a touch of the color you suddenly hated with every fiber of your being, shimmery gray.
Then there was a sound like a thunderclap happening directly inside your head and everything was back to normal.
Wanda has just finished linking arms with Agnes and the girls were stepping to one side so you could join their line. Looking at Wanda’s smile directed at Agnes, and Agnes’s scheming look directed at you, the world didn’t seem so out of sorts anymore. You felt both very solid and like you needed to steady yourself but you didn’t have time for the latter and instead, you stepped forward, seeming much more confident than you felt, to link arms with Agnes.
Agnes, with her scheming look, clearly had other ideas. She suddenly stepped off the curb, jerking herself and Wanda to the side, not only blocking the way you were walking but pulling Wanda directly in front of you. Agnes herself settled easily but Wanda, who had no idea what just happened, stumbled and tripped; she tried to catch herself on Agnes’s arm she held, only to find it was no longer there and ended up falling backward.
Your arms shot out reflexively and caught her around the waist. Wanda, in response, reached behind her and braced herself by throwing one arm around your shoulders while the other caught one of your wrists and twisting in such a way that caused her to turn towards you and kick one leg up so she could steady herself on the other. The result was an almost picture-perfect dip, with you cradling Wanda’s upper body in your arms, her embracing you, and the two of you staring at each other in pure shock.
Then there was Agnes, standing next to the curb and brushing out a crease in her dress, looking oh so pleased with herself.
A deep blush bloomed across your face as you looked down at the woman—the very married and greatly loved by her husband woman—and your outsides and insides had the same idea of wanting to curl in on themselves and… either scream in joy or die, you couldn’t be sure. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of Wanda right away; along with the longing you often felt when seeing either her or her husband, though it was multiplied by infinity in the current moment, you felt a sudden fierce protectiveness over her come almost out of nowhere. You wanted Wanda Maximoff to be as happy and as safe as could be and it felt like if you let her go any moment before she was properly standing and solid on her feet that something very bad would happen like she would tip and fall and shatter into a million pieces.
Holding her was just very nice in general too.
You felt your fingers twitch at her waist and it drew you back out of your head. You noticed Wanda hadn’t yet pulled away either or moved in general, and you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust when you focused back on the face looking up at you.
Although she couldn’t possibly as red as you were, Wanda was flushed from her neck to the tips of her ears—she had the prettiest blushing face you’d ever seen, you were sure of it—and she was looking up at you from under her lashes, the expression on her face a mix of surprise and embarrassment and something softer than you couldn’t quite place. You felt her arm, warm and strong against the back of your shoulders, and her hands still tightly gripping your shoulder and wrist. For a moment, you felt the hand on your shoulder lightly knead the fabric of your jacket, as if testing something, before her entire grip on you loosened.
“Um,” she started, her voice sounding as dry as your throat felt, “thank you. For catching me.”
“Happy to help,” you croaked, then mentally kicked yourself and cleared your throat; the slight smile that appeared on Wanda’s lips wasn’t lost on you, though.
“Oh, lovebirds,” Agnes hollered over her shoulder as she walked ahead of you and Wanda, “the Queen of the Cul de Sac will order off with our heads if we don’t hurry!”
I had no idea that the devil wears plaid, you thought. Then you weren’t how long you and Wanda had been standing like that, or who had seen, and you were panicking.
You thought that maybe the two of you might scramble away from each other but it was quite the opposite. Wanda lowered the leg she still had raised and in one fluid motion, Wanda was back standing upright; in another, you twirled her around to your side and linked arms with her, and then the two of you were hustling after Agnes, who stopped and waited with her arm out so that you could link up with her too.
It was like something out of an old rom-com movie. Except it was a rom-com movie where the main character fancied both the love interest and her husband, something far too farfetched to end happily.
“Dottie can’t possibly be as bad as you say,” Wanda said. She looked from Agnes to you and you gave her a sympathetic look.
“Well, you’ll notice her roses bloom under penalty of death,” Agnes affirmed as the three of you made it to the outskirts of Queen Dottie’s castle and paused there. “If you don’t believe me, ask [Y/N].”
Wanda’s eyebrows raised.
You sighed. “The first day of meeting her I spilled wine on her dress and now I’m ninety percent sure that she thinks I want her dead. She also very much dislikes the idea of a lone stray cat living in her neighborhood.” You unlinked your arms with the ladies to gesture at yourself. “I was getting home late from work one night and she saw me, stepped outside to make sure I wasn’t going to dig through her trash bins.”
“Oh,” Wanda said with a grimace, “goodness.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine, though,” you added quickly, “You’re lovely; I can’t imagine anyone not loving you.”
Agnes rolled her eyes while you blushed and scratched your neck. You could already see her gearing up for a pre-Dottie tutoring session.
And then she started with a look-over of Wanda’s outfit. “Wanda—”
“Hm?”
“—can I give you a bit of friendly advice?” Wanda must have caught the look too because she glanced over her outfit, the outfit you quite liked. Raising a hand to her chest, she asked, “Is it about the way I’m dressed?”
“Yes, but it’s too late for that.”
You scowled as worry bloomed on Wanda’s face. Unfortunately, you yourself had to learn how important dress was at these social events. You’d expected it to be just a gathering of friendly neighbors but it’s much more like a secret society and you had to look just right to fit it. Now you regretted not telling her sooner; you’d failed your first and only attempt at making a good impression so were content wearing whatever you wanted for the most part but Wanda definitely deserve the poor treatment she was going to get.
“Dottie is the key to everything in this town,” Agnes continued, unphased. “Country club memberships.”
Something you didn’t have.
“Parties.”
Something you didn’t go to.
“School admissions.”
Something you didn’t have to worry about any time soon but the way Agnes’s gaze drifted towards Wanda’s stomach made you wonder if the Maximoffs did. The thought made your stomach churn but you couldn’t figure out why.
“Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Wanda interjected with a smile and roll of her eyes. She happened to look your way and you thought the smile softened with her gaze just a tad.
You relaxed your shoulders.
Agnes trudged on. “You get in with Dottie and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Just mind your P’s and Q’s and you’re gonna do just fine.”
“Or maybe I could just be myself, more or less.”
“I quite like that idea,” you offered. A wide-eyed glance from Agnes went unnoticed as you were too focused on the smile Wanda definitely gave you that time.
“Oh, Wanda, [Y/N]” Agnes said with a laugh, “that’s good.”
Wanda’s excitement for the event today seemed to lessen and you, apparently still high off the moment you thought you two had, gave her arm a gentle squeeze and an encouraging look.
She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gave you an appreciative glance and pat on the hand. Your and her hands lingered for perhaps a second or two too long before they dropped back to your sides.
And then the queen and her merry homemakers sauntered their way out the front door.
“Everybody, hurry up please!” Dottie sang over her shoulder as she quickly walked down the front steps, followed by a line of housewives carrying various covered dishes.
Agnes twisted to look her way and waved. “Hiya, Dottie, your roses are divine!”
Both you and Wanda offered a polite wave as Dottie thanked Agnes, although she didn’t stop to chat. Her eyes did do a scan of your trio, though, and you felt your ears burn when a distasteful look was sent your way.
Agnes gave you a sympathetic smile and Wanda a look that said “Good luck; you’ll need it!” before sliding her arms under one of each of Wanda’s and yours and tugging the two of you along.
Your eyes wandered as one of the wives, Bev, talked animatedly about the setup for the talent show happening this weekend. Bored and feeling out of place, you looked over the group of women sitting a circle underneath the canopy tent by Dottie’s pool, purposely excluding Dottie and the woman talking, then the man jumping into said pool, then the man cleaning said pool.
You shouldn’t be here. This gathering really was a secret society of women of the neighborhood—not only women but wives in particular—to discuss homely and neighborhood business matters; you weren’t a wife and after screwing up with Dottie, you certainly weren’t involved in any of the other important business, nor did you have any interesting household gossip since you lived alone. The main you were here was because while out of place, you got along more decently with the wives than the husbands and when you’d first moved to town, Agnes thought you would be entertaining company to keep. She’d immediately hung you out to dry by telling her fellow women about you calling out their husbands’ poor attempts at comedy, which amused some of them enough to welcome you; in fact, Dottie had been one of those people, impressed by your initiative if nothing else, until you ruined your chances by ruining her dress. At the current meeting, you’d been specifically invited only because you were taking part in the talent show performance, which had also happened because Agnes heard you singing while doing garden work one day and somewhat strong-armed you in.
Your bored eyes eventually settled on watching Wanda, who sat a couple of chairs away on the other side of your mutual companion, and you were no longer bored. While you watched Wanda, she was watching Dottie like a hawk, awkwardly but cutely trying to mimic everything the other woman was doing. She stopped when Dottie started speaking, gripping the cup she was holding a lifeline and you chuckled moments before catty laughter erupted around you. You hadn’t heard what caused it, so you decided to tune back in.
“The devil’s in the details, Bev,” Dottie criticized, masking disdain with the lightness of her voice.
You heard Agnes mutter to Wanda, “That’s not the only place he is.” You couldn’t help but snicker.
Dottie was standing now and continued on, “As you all know, the talent show is the sole fundraiser for Westview Elementary…”
Agnes passed a flask to Bev with a cheeky grin as she sat down next to you and after taking a sip, Bev offered it to you. You didn’t have to think twice before snagging a drink of your own and handing it back over to its home.
“I hear you’re singing,” Bev chirped quietly to you, “For the talent show? I bet you’re a lovely singer, can’t wait to hear it.”
You blushed slightly and thanked her but didn’t say much more to avoid Dottie’s wrath.
The wrath that Wanda and her current companion, a woman with dark skin who looked oddly familiar but whose name you couldn’t place, weren’t able to avoid themselves, apparently.
“We only have a few hours until showtime,” Dottie said, “so a little less cross-chatter and a little more focus.”
As Dottie prattled on, you observed the two women curiously.
“...is for the children,” Dottie finished.
“For the children,” the other women echoed.
“For the children,” Wanda added after everyone else had already spoken, earning several displeased looks.
You didn’t bother to say anything, opting to take Agnes’s flask and have another sip.
“So, I want you all to give yourselves a big hand—”
Wanda, looking petrified, stopped in the middle of taking a bite of a cookie and started clapping. You hid your laugh behind a hand; she still had an entire cookie hanging from her mouth.
“—at the appropriate time, of course,” Dottie chastised, then continued on yet again.
Oh, darling Wanda, you thought with a grin, you poor, sweet thing, you. You rested your chin in your hand and watched as she made herself proper until Bev nudged you to take your elbow off the table. You huffed slightly but did so anyway, then tried to catch Wanda’s eye for a moment of solidarity, only to see her talking to the dark-skinned woman again.
Your gaze shifted from Wanda to the other woman and your brows furrowed. You swore you knew her from somewhere though try as you might, you just couldn’t place that face, those eyes, that awkward but friendly smile. Perhaps another newcomer to the area that you’ve seen t on the streets or at a shop? You couldn’t imagine where she moved into, though, as you were sure the last two open houses had been the ones occupied by you and Wanda and Vision.
You felt a sharp pang in your temple and grunted softly. You weren’t about to have an episode here of all places, so you quickly looked away and put the thoughts aside.
Just as Wanda and the stranger shook hands over their table. Uh-oh.
“I’m Wanda.”
“I’m, uh, Geraldine!”
“And I’m irritated!”
After getting scolded by Dottie a second time, Wanda locked her jaw and resigned to sitting in her seat with her hands tucked in her lap. She finally looked over at you with helplessness in her eyes.
You responded with a mouthed “I told you so” and a wink, then silently told her that you’d talk to her after the meeting.
A comforting face seemed to be what she needed because she relaxed again, though not completely. She settled in for the rest of the meeting and, finishing off Agnes’s flask, so did you.
After the meeting was over, Dottie asked Wanda to sit back and help her clean up, which you knew meant Dottie doing nothing but being condescending while Wanda did all the work. While Agnes tried to get you to walk her home and then warned you against your plan, you were adamant about staying back and making sure Wanda got through the rest of her first Dottie encounter in one piece. At this point, you knew fitting in and having people’s positive opinions was important to Wanda; you oftentimes felt like that yourself. Unfortunately, Dottie wasn’t the type of person to give out positive opinions easily—you had to earn it, which was hard enough without accidentally interrupting the main meeting multiple times—and that protective feeling for Wanda that had come out of nowhere earlier today still hadn’t faded. You knew Wanda Maximoff of all people didn’t necessarily need you but you wanted to stick around, just in case she did.
Maybe you were hoping that she would.
That and you couldn’t help but take one last shot at getting on Dottie’s good side.
“...and that is why you never do a seating chart on an empty stomach,” Dottie was finishing from her perch on the edge of a pool chair.
Wanda walked over to where you stood organizing a cart of dirty dishes so they didn’t all come tumbling down when whichever pretty busboy that Dottie paid finally came to take it away. She was huffing, carrying over yet another pile of dirty plates on a large tray; you skirted around the dish cart and quickly came to her aid, taking as much as your hands could carry from off the top. She offered a grateful smile that you returned before you both unloaded onto the cart.
Who owned or even used this ungodly amount of dishes?
A person who paid various pretty people to just be around, you concluded a moment later.
As you continued to organize, Wanda turned back around to grab a pair of three-tiered dessert stands, both of which had a decent amount of desserts left on them. “Golly, you’re a wiz at all this committee stuff, Dottie. Thank you for choosing me to help you clean up today, I feel so lucky.”
“You are,” Dottie agreed.
Wanda turned back to you again and made a face, then stuck out her tongue. You choked down a laugh after catching Dottie’s steely gaze over Wanda’s shoulder, settling for a smile as you took the trays.
Dottie was just as displeased as you’d expected she’d be that you insisted to stay behind and help.
“I really should try to make amends before this is over, shouldn’t I?” Wanda muttered. She caught a few plates slipping from the top of a pile and rearranged them.
“If you manage to do so, you really would be a Westview miracle,” you replied, taking a cup Wanda managed to catch before it tipped off the cart. “But first, how about I make you look ten times better, hm?”
Wanda gave you a confused look but you just patted her hand before switching places with Wanda and going to grab another tray of dishes.
You put on your friendliest smile as you began stacking as many cups as you could balance in one arm. “Say, Dottie—”
“Be careful,” Dottie chimed back, “or at least let me get out of your way first. Wouldn’t want a repeat of our first meeting, hm?” She ended her sentence with a venom-laced laugh, then gave you a tight smile.
You were pretty sure your eye twitched but you carried on, chuckling with her, “No, I suppose not. I really do apologize about that but you really shouldn’t hold such grudges. Worrying so much causes early-set wrinkles, you know.”
Dottie’s smile tightened further. You heard Wanda gasp and choke from behind you.
“Anyway, though, I really would like to make it up to you some time. My boss’s wife gave me two tickets to a food tasting event in town next weekend. I thought it might be something nice to do, plus it might give you some ideas for catering during the next event—”
“My husband and I would love to go out next weekend, thank you so much. Feel free to drop the tickets in the mailbox the next time you come around.” Dottie paused, then added. “Mailbox, on the opposite side of the porch than the trash bins.”
Your eye definitely twitched, maybe even both of them. You feigned an appreciative look as you finished stacking your dishes, then scowled as soon as you turned around and walked back to Wanda.
“Now,” you grumbled, “I beg the sweet release of death to come in a more timely manner. Oh, and whatever you do can’t possibly be worse than me, although I’m sure that was the case either way.”
“You poor thing.” Was all Wanda could manage, giving your arm a squeeze. “Guess it’s my turn.”
“Good luck, darling,” you said, then almost immediately regretted it. You don’t know why you decided to fake a British accent, nor why you felt the need to call her darling, but you couldn’t take back either of them now.
Wanda blinked, then laughed— before it was cut off by Dottie telling you both to get back to work.
“It’s more dahrling, less dahling,” Wanda teased. “British people do still use R’s.”
“Fascinating.”
Wanda grinned, gave you a final pat on the arm, then turned around to take her shot with Dottie. “I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie, and I would like to correct that if I can.”
A much better approach than you, you noted with an impressed nod. You walked a little ways off to grab another cart to even out the load of dishes; the current one seemed to sag under the weight.
“And how would you do that?” Dottie asked and you heard the rustle of fabrics rubbing together as she stood. “I’ve heard things about you. You and your husband.”
You stopped from your place behind the canopy’s pulled-back curtain. What on earth could she be talking about?
Wanda has the same thought. “Well, I don’t know what… you’ve been told… but I assure you, I don’t mean anyone… any harm.”
Your brows knitted together and you shuffled around the canopy’s aluminum frame to hear a little better. You couldn’t imagine Wanda hurting anybody, not on purpose anyway.
A pang in your temple. A surge of that fierce protectiveness.
You poked your head out just slightly from behind the canopy. All you could see was Wanda’s back and Dottie’s determined expression from beyond Wanda’s shoulder, and the fact that they were standing very close together.
“I don’t believe you,” Dottie stated simply.
As if on cue, the radio on the table started acting up, the music cutting to static combined with a jumble of noises. Like many things today, though, it sounded strange, as if it was coming from all around you, or directly from inside your skull. It stopped almost immediately as it started and music, regular-sounding music, returned. Normal, you thought, until you focused harder, and noticed a voice creeping from the background. It continued to creep closer, get louder like a person walking towards you would, until it was as loud as the static had been and the music was no longer audible. Your head throbbed as the voice sounded like it was coming out of your brain instead of into your ears but you couldn’t anything other than tighten your grip on the canopy.
The voice said, “Wanda. Wanda. Who’s doing this to you, Wanda? Wanda. Wanda. Wan—”
The radio shorted out, there was the sound of the glass Dottie was shattered, and there was another thunderclap in your head as the world around briefly flared into color. Color, not shades of gray, but then the gray was back as quickly as it had left. You didn’t know whether Dottie or the bizarre radio’s frequencies had crushed the glass or whether it had just been dropped, but you were walking over with a cloth in hand before you’d even gotten your senses back in order.
“Dottie,” Wanda gasped, her eyes flitting about.
Dottie caught a glimpse of the overly saturated blood spreading out from the gash in her palm—and seemed only mildly annoyed.
Wanda kept making sounds like she was trying to speak but didn’t quite know how to. She spun around to grab something to press to the wound and almost ran into you. She stared at you, cloth in hand, with wide eyes filled with equal amounts of fear and surprise, like your existence had been completely forgotten until that moment. Then Wanda grabbed the cloth, and your hand in the process; she gave you a silent thank you, your hand a squeeze so tight you felt her fingernails dig into the skin, then turned back to Dottie and pressed the cloth to her bloody palm.
Dottie grabbed her hand and said, somehow completely aware of the situation and also seeming totally spaced out, “Pop quiz, Wanda: How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen? By doing it herself.”
Then she smiled and walked into her house.
You and Wanda stood in silence and it was then that you realized you felt the same way you figured Dottie did, similar to how you felt earlier today when you saw the toy helicopter in Wanda’s yard. You felt light and spacey and almost dizzy but without the world spinning, almost like you were a mind outside of your body, or a consciousness inside of a body that wasn’t yours. Time didn’t slow but rather sped up; you didn’t know when you’d started walking to Wanda’s aid and you didn’t remember the feeling of ever grabbing the cloth that you’d given her, and the whole event seemed to have fixed itself as soon as it started with the end result being your mind painfully aware of something being wrong but your body refusing to act like anything was.
All you’d really felt was your head throbbing, not with pain but with pressure, and the desperate urge to help Wanda. Then you did and everything was over.
Wanda.
You repeated her name in the form of a question; it felt different this time. She didn’t respond or really even move aside from reaching back towards you. You rushed over and grasped her arm and she let out a choked gasp.
“[Y/N].” She said it as if trying it out for the first time. It took her a bit longer to pry her eyes away from the spot where Dottie had been, then she held a hand to her mouth and looked at you. “What just happened?”
“I’m… I’m not sure myself.”
It took a bit longer again for her to speak, her eyes darting from you to the door Dottie had disappeared to and back. “Would you walk me home? Please?”
“Of course, Wanda.”
The walk home was quiet. The two of you had your arms linked as you did on the walk over but now Wanda gripped your arm with her other hand too. Like at Dottie’s pool, it was almost eerily silent except for your and Wanda’s footsteps. Tou could have chalked it up to being because everyone was already in town setting up for the talent show, something about it had you glancing around ever so often, as though you could catch someone peering at you through the bushes or through the crack of a partially opened manhole at any moment.
When you got to Wanda’s door, you had a quick chat about the talent show—as if none of the day’s earlier events had happened; she was very excited to hear you sing—and then she headed up the steps to her door. You gave her a wave and turned to walk home.
“[Y/N]?”
You stopped and turned back around, eyebrows raised slightly.
Wanda walked the three steps back down from her door and gave you a hug. “Thank you for being around today.”
“‘Scuse me, coming through!”
Of course, you’d be late. Of course, you’d get home, start practicing for your performance, pass out on your couch, and wake up five minutes before the show started with a suit and dress combo to still pull on and a few instruments to properly secure in their trunk.
You weaved your way between folks who were either going to the talent show or trying to ignore it and stumbled your way upstairs to the backstage.
Wanda was standing there in a magician’s assistant costume that almost had you on your knees and begging for mercy before you remembered you had a show to do that you were also very late for. She and the Black woman she’d been talking to at Dottie’s meeting—Geraldine, Wanda had informed you later—spun on you with an expectant gasp, only to slump in disappointment when they saw it was you.
“Golly, thanks for the warm welcome,” you muttered, setting your trunk down and popping it open. “Suppose I deserve it for missing most of the show, though.”
“I’m so sorry, [Y/N],” Wanda said as she paced over, “You look fab and I’m sure your performance will be a blast—”
“If I’m still performing?” you asked, directing the question at Geraldine with a hopeful smile.
“If you’re ready before the husband gets here, you can take their place,” Geraldine offered, “If not, you can finish the show off.”
Finishing the talent show, not nerve-wracking at all.
“Vision’s not here?” You gave Wanda a questioning look as you walked past her to look
at yourself in a full-body mirror on the other side of the stage to make sure your look was still in order. The top half of your outfit was a full, simple, black and white tuxedo with a matching black fedora that slightly offset on top of your hair; one of Dottie’s white roses, which you acquired after stuffing her and her husband’s food taster tickets in her mailbox on your way into town, poked out from the hat’s band. The bottom half was a simple skirt—actually, the skirt and undershirt of your outfit was a dress that your mother had pieced together and sent you for your “big night”—that was fashionable for the time but in a sleek shade of black that matched the rest of your tuxedo and with a white band around the hem, paired with a sheer stocking of a plaid pattern and low-heeled shoes that you would return to the shop tomorrow. Finally, for a little touch of color and a little for pop, a golden bejeweled broach was pinned to a crimson pocket square poked out of the chest pocket of your tuxedo jacket, golden geometric earrings hung from your lobes, and a couple of bejeweled bracelets and rings in the same colors adorned your hands. You wore bright, unglossed lipstick and nail polish to match, despite that not being in fashion. Luckily everything still seemed in order.
Wanda gave an exaggerated shrug as you walked back over to your instrument trunk. “Nowhere to be found, like he vanished!”
As if summoned, Vision came wobbling around the corner and up the steps. Well, he almost did; it took him two tries to get up the steps without falling back down.
“Oh, is that him?” Geraldine asked, her face twisting into a look of concern. “Looks like he’s gots a little hitch in his giddyup. Whoa!”
You twisted around, ukulele in hand to check if it was tuned, just as Vision was making it upstairs the second time. You smiled, quirking an eyebrow, only to stumble as the British man threw his arm around you to steady himself.
“Wanda, my little cabbage, you look smashing!” Vision exclaimed, his words slurring together just slightly. He began swaying and decided to lean almost his full weight on you; when you grunted and moved the instrument you were holding out of the danger zone of getting smacked is when Vision appeared to notice that he was balancing against a person instead of the railing by the stairs. He leaned his face closer and squinted at you—now that you weren’t concerned about going onstage immediately, it was significantly easier to get flustered by Vision and his, yes, absolutely smashing wife—then grinned and said, “Why it’s [Y/N] too, and looking equally as ravishing!”
You tried to keep yourself in check. “Heya cool head, not your wife. That being said, I’d say you look smashing yourself but you just seem positively smashed.”
“Oh, I know,” Vision replied, “I already told her that she looked nice. You heard me right, honey?” He went from so close to your face that his bangs were getting in your eye to only a hand gripping your shoulder as he flung his limbs wide, which was apparently a necessary move to look at his wife’s face.
You gave Wanda a look that was equal parts worried and amused. The look she returned was just worried.
Wanda walked over to you and helped maneuver you out of Vision’s grip so you could continue tuning your ukulele—actually, it was Vision’s that you were borrowing—then tugged her husband so you were at least a couple feet out of reach. “Vis, where have you been?”
“Oh, uh… me and the boys were playing a rather thrilling game of horses and shoes,” Vision responded, talking in a way that sounded like he was trying to talk under his breath while still speaking at full volume. “No, wait, that’s not it. Shoe horses! Oh, hrn… Ah! Horse’s shoes!” He put two thumbs up and smiled lopsidedly, clearly pleased with himself.
“Horseshoes,” you offered from your corner by the railing. You were done playing with the ukulele and checked to make sure your tambourine was safe and sound.
“Oh, yes!” Vision was his thumbs up towards you, both arms stretched out as far as they could reach. “Brilliant, you’re absolutely brilliant, [Y/N]! Aren’t they brilliant, Wanda, very brilliant and very nice-looking?”
“Well, uh, yes, I suppose,” Wanda agreed awkwardly, glancing over at you before pulling Vision back to face her; you swore you even saw her cheeks turn a shade darker. “Listen, something strange happened with Dottie.”
You were too busy biting back a smile to hear the rest of the conversation. You rearranged your hat and jacket back into place from Vision knocking them askew, then brushed any wrinkles out of your skirt. You glanced over at Geraldine, who was peeking through the curtains at the main part of the stage.
“I was just playing with his shoes!” Vision suddenly hollered, as the members of the previous act, including someone dressed in a horse costume, made their way around the stage.
“What is going on?” Wanda cried.
Geraldine responded in kind, “You are!”
You considered taking their places so Wanda had time to knock some sense into her husband but you knew if you went out now, you would sound like fingers on a chalkboard, and going out on stage at all was bad enough. Instead, you walked over and gave the couple an encouraging pat on the shoulder and a “Good luck!” before making your way down the steps and around to the viewing area to find a place to sit.
Dottie was onstage. Her hand seemed fine now. “I want to thank you all for coming out to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”
“For the children,” the crowd echoed, mostly deadpan.
“I have yet to see a child,” you stated at the same time, sitting back in an extra chair off to the side of the stage as to not annoy audience members with the vocal warmups you were about to start doing.
Dottie continued, “And for our final act—”
Geraldine scurried out from behind the curtains at muttered something in Dottie’s ear before rushing away again.
Dottie quickly picked you on the sidelines and gave a strained smile, although the daggers she was glaring made you sink down in your chair. “Sorry, everyone. For our next to final act, I give you Wanda and Vision.”
Wanda sauntered out from behind the curtains and down to the front of the stage, then planted herself slightly off to the side and threw one hand up as an entrance cue to Vision. At first, he didn’t appear and Wanda’s bravado faltered slightly as she looked out into the crowd.
You caught her eye and gave her an assuring nod.
Then Vision flying out of curtains and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Hello Westview! Good afternoon!” Still introducing, he stumbled down to the main part of the stage, bumping into a railing at some point and apologizing to it. He sort of settled and continued, “I am Glamour and this is my delightful assistant Illusion.”
“I am Glamour,” Wanda chimed in, talking and moving with even more animation than she normally would, “and he’s Illusion.”
“Yeah, what she said,” Vision said simply, then rambled on, “Tonight, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe.” He ended this definitely off-script statement with a matter-of-fact shrug and nod.
You regretted not going on first.
“Flourish!” Vision suddenly hollered, waving his hands in such a way.
This was going to be chaos, you decided, and it was.
Wanda and Vision’s act was a mess but at least it was an entertaining one. While the act did go on, Vision spent most of his time prattling on and yelling “Flourish!” while Wanda tried to keep things in check. Some of the tricks were good and even impressive at times before the “inner workings of the universe” became clear moments later. Vision’s first trick was to float up into the air, only for a pulley system to be revealed as Wanda moved a sign offstage. For the second, he picked up a piano with one hand only for the jarringly realistic instrument only for Wanda to slip up while carrying the one-dimensional prop away and show its bare wooden back with a large handle to grasp.
At one point, though, Vision trotted offstage and tried to perform a card trick for a friend while Wanda was helpless to stop him, but the end result was him going through an entire deck of cards trying to find the correct one. Then he went to pull Señor Scratchy out of his hat, only to find his hat laying on stage and Agnes’s rabbit hopping across it until Wanda managed to catch him and take him backstage.
Regardless of which tricks hit and which went wonky, the crowd, you included, seemed to love the Maximoff duo and hung onto the entire act. There were gasps and awes and you were personally still dumbfounded by the one where Vision pulled a hat through his body; the backstage curtains happened to fall at the perfect time to reveal a multitude of mirrors, only one of which that you knew had been back there previously, but a dull throb in the back of your head warned you to just let the mystery slide. After all, it wasn’t as fun if you spent the entire show pondering.
For Vision and Wanda’s final trick, Wanda brought out a large box called the Cabinet of Mysteries. At first, Vision stated that he was going to make his wife disappear but then he started locking up the Cabinet without her inside.
You caught Wanda’s act begin to slip again as her smile faltered and she began scanning the crowd. No else did, though, because Agnes suddenly hollered an offer of audience participation in the form of her husband, which caused everyone including Vision to laugh.
Then Vision was back to his trick, slapping the Cabinet’s side with a plastic wand and yelling, “Abrakadabra!”
“Uh, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured without breaking her pose.
Vision responded loudly, “Yeah?”
“Hi.”
“Oh.”
There was an awkward pause and you chewed your lip as you glanced around. People were waiting for the finale and Vision had just messed it up big time.
A chant of “What’s in the box?” started up.
Then you happened to look back to the stage just in time to make eye contact with Wanda as she looked around.
She grinned.
And then you were somewhere else, surrounded by darkness and wood panels.
You were only there for a moment but your eyes still needed a moment to adjust as Wanda and Vision open the Cabinet of Mysteries’ doors and you were greeted with a gasping and then applauding crowd. You blinked and, disoriented but not wanting to ruin Wanda and Vision’s successful grand finale, you put on your best smile and hopped out of the wooden box to strike a flourished pose.
“Ah-ha,” Vision voiced, seeming just as surprised as the crowd before grinning walking stepping up to your side.
Wanda stepped up to your other side and when you raised an eyebrow at her, she gave you a cheeky grin and mouthed, “Magic.” The wink she gave you afterward could have sent you to the moon but you still had your own performance to do. She made sure you were reminded of that by holding up a microphone.
Wanda and Vision each slipped an arm around your waist and you did the same to them despite their touch feeling very warm underneath the jacket of your uniform, and with one last “Flourish!” from Vision, the three of you bowed. The three of you bowed two more times before standing fully again. Wanda and Vision began to move away from you but you slid your arms to grab their own, keeping them there.
Wanda leaned in slightly, talking through her smile. “What are you doing?”
“Grab the tambourine in my trunk and go sit by Agnes. Ask her to inform you and wait for the cue.” When Wanda looked at you with a raised brow, you mimicked her cheeky grin and wink, mouthing, “Music.”
Vision leaned in now, although way too close. “What are we doing?”
“Tambourine, apparently,” Wanda responded, stepping away from you. You figured they were going to go and do as you asked but instead, Wanda continued, “Vis, take the cabinet and grab the tambourine; I have an introduction to do.”
Vision stood around for a moment before doing what Wanda told him to and Wanda slipped her arm around your waist once more and brought you a few steps farther to the front of the stage.
Now sitting at the edge of it was Vision’s ukulele and the mic stand, probably courtesy of Geraldine.
With you close at her side and you unsure where to put your hands, Wanda attached the microphone she held to the stand and turned it on. “As Dottie has said several times tonight, thank you once more for coming to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”
“For the children,” the audience echoed, still mostly deadpan.
“I still haven’t seen a single one,” you muttered. This earned you a pinch to the hip from the hand around your waist and you suddenly felt like your body was the same temperature as the surface of the sun.
“Now,” Wanda continued without missing a beat, “allow me to introduce helper of Illusion and Glamour’s grand finale and the final final act of tonight’s talent show, [Y/N]!”
The audience clapped and Wanda did with it as she detached from your side and slipped backstage after giving you an electric smile. Suddenly, you were much more aware of being on a stage in front of your entire town, save for the two people you actually wanted to see in it.
“Um, yes, hello,” you said into the mic, standing a little too close. You didn’t know it was possible to feel the amount of heat burning behind your cheeks and ears, and you wished to could shed your jacket but figured that would ruin the ensemble. You shook your head to clear it as you bent down to pick up your ukulele—
—and when you stood back up, you spotted Wanda and Vision—who seemed to have sobered up somehow—sitting at Agnes’s table with a tambourine on the table between them.
You bit back a smile as your gaze flitted between them; they each gave you a smile in turn before you continued, “Um, so, as you heard, I am the final act. My name is [Y/N] and I will be performing a song, “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli, acoustic on ukulele.”
You strummed the ukulele once, just to make sure it was still in tune, then you began to play. You leaned back from the mic to clear your throat and after a couple of bars, you came in:
“You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you
You'd be like Heaven to touch
I wanna hold you so much
At long last, love has arrived
And I thank God I'm alive
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you
Pardon the way that I stare
There's nothin' else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak
There are no words left to speak
But if you feel like I feel
Please let me know that it's real
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you”
You were a bit pitchy in the beginning but it didn’t take you too long to find where you needed to be, then it was smooth sailing from there; you even put a bit of a beat into it with a tap of your foot, which with a hard heel on a wooden floor in front of a silent crowd wasn’t too difficult to hear. At first, you kept your gaze pointed directly ahead and slightly above the crowd but as you began to relax and get into it, you couldn’t help but catch glances of a tapping foot here or a finger tapping on a glass cup there. Finally, your eyes drifted to where they wanted to be and you couldn’t look away from the pair seated next to Agnes even if you’d wanted to.
Vision was bopping along as he would when he was teaching you the chords and notes you were looking for, both feet and all ten fingers tapping, though his smile was particularly bright. Wanda was looking at you some type of sweet way, with that soft expression she’d had when you’d caught her in a dip earlier just today.
“I love you, baby
And if it's quite alright
I need you, baby
To warm the lonely night
I love you, baby
Trust in me when I say
Oh, pretty baby
Don't bring me down, I pray
Oh, pretty baby
Now that I've found you, stay
And let me love you, baby
Let me love you”
You wanted the first part of the song to be softer but as you hit the second part of the chorus you smoothly added in a little action. You put a little flourish in your strumming—and almost missed a word because the idea of calling it a flourish made you almost laugh—added a little more power to your voice, and cued Agnes in, who began clapping along to the proper beat. It didn’t take too long for your audience, especially those who’d you caught tapping along earlier, to join in until the entire crowd was doing it, and happened you catch Vision’s eye while he clapping along a little more animated than everyone else. He grinned, a little bashful by the look of it.
Once she’d gotten everyone in, Agnes stopped clapping herself and instead pulled a tambourine of her own out of her handbag. You watched her nudge Wanda, who stopped her clapping and picked up the other tambourine, then followed Agnes’s lead until she got a hang of it. You’d think two tambourines would be a little hard to hear over a sea of clapping but it was Agnes and Wanda and as usual, they figured out a way.
You knew you’d chosen a popular song and you knew that some people would know it in full but despite Agnes trying to convince you that she’d have everyone joining in, you definitely didn’t expect the entire crowd to be able to stay in sync and follow the ebbs and flows of the entire song. It really was a bit of a magical moment and you found with that thought, you found your eyes settling on Wanda, who was jamming away on her tambourine and dancing in her seat, without missing a beat.
She must have noticed because she raised her head and looked back at you.
The song ended not long after and you couldn’t help clapping for the crowd as they did for you. You took your second set of bows on stage that day, hollered a “Thank you” to the crowd, and took off to the section of backstage that was still hidden by curtains with a wave as Dottie took your place to do the talent show’s conclusion. With layers of dark fabric now between you and the rest of the talent show, you could only hear muffled voices, which was perfectly fine with you as you were too busy tossing your tux jacket and hat aside and shaking out the tautness in your limbs caused by the nerves of performing on your own in front of a decently sized crowd. Although, technically, you and the crowd were performing by the end of it.
You tried to tune in to Dottie’s voice as you bounced over to look yourself over in one of the mirrors left over from Vision and Wanda’s performance. Your outfit was intact, albeit a little bit ruffled from the dancing around you just finished doing, with your hair looking a bit flat from being stuck under a hat. Your face was flushed with a warmth that you felt from your toes to your hairline but what little makeup you wore looked just as it did earlier minus your lipstick having faded somewhat. The best and worst part of your current state, you thought, came from that part; the smile you were wearing was radiant but it was lasting so long that your cheeks were starting to hurt, and even if you purposely tried to frown it away, it popped back up a few seconds later.
Especially when you thought about how much Wanda and Vision were enjoying themselves, because of you.
“Um, excuse me.”
Your gaze turned its attention to look at the reflection of Geraldine, who was standing behind you, in the mirror. “Oh, hey.”
She smiled, pleased that you didn’t seem disrupted. “Your singing was really twitchin’, you had the whole crowd into it!”
“I think that was more Agnes’s glaring than anything, but thanks.” You sent a less starstruck smile at her in the mirror, then picked up your hat to fan yourself as you turned around to face her.
“Agnes is way out herself,” Geraldine agreed, though you saw her smile falter and caught her fingers tapping nervously on the clipboard she held. “She could probably out-power Dottie if she really wanted to.”
“She doesn’t,” you affirmed, “she likes to use Dottie as a reason to sneak drinks into social gatherings too much.”
Geraldine smiled again but she wouldn’t fully look at you and when she did, her eyes looked like they were searching for something.
“You okay?” When Geraldine looked at you, surprised, you nodded to her hands that couldn’t seem to keep still. “Seem a little unglued and you keep looking at me funny.”
“Oh, uh, well,” Geraldine stammered a bit, then stopped. She took a deep breath, then tried again, “I know we saw each other at Dottie’s earlier and before you went onstage but… Do you know me?”
Your eyebrows rose high up on your forehead.
“It’s just,” she continued, sounding like she was forcing herself to talk slower, “you look familiar to me and I’m wondering if you think the same thing.”
“I… I suppose I did when I first saw you,” you said, setting your hat aside. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you couldn’t help glancing around; specifically, you looked towards the curtains separating you and Geraldine from the outside world and wished that wasn’t the case. “I figured we’d met in passing, tooling or something.”
When you looked back at Geraldine, it was as if your personalities had changed. You were the meek one, shifting around unsettled, while she stood watching you with a thoughtfulness that was far from the nervousness you saw in her earlier. “I don’t know where I’m from or why I’m here. Do you?”
You couldn’t be sure whether she was asking you about yourself or her but your head was suddenly too foggy to care. Foggy and throbbing with a pain that made darkness tinge the corners of your vision. You went to step to the side and steady yourself on a nearby chair but found yourself reeling backwards. You smashed into the mirror behind you, which smashed into the wall behind it and shattered; you managed to stumble away from it before you got too badly hurt but you still felt shocks of pain up your right arm and a particularly bad one in your hand as you caught glass.
Before you could run into something else or completely lose balance and fall to the ground, you slowly maneuvered to the floor and braced yourself on one knee and your unharmed hand and you were vaguely aware that Geraldine had disappeared. You squinted through blurriness at your other arm and watched as spots of blood bloomed across the white fabric of your sleeve, weeped from the gash across your palm.
No, wait.
Not only blood but color spread out your bleeding wounds. Flesh tone bled from your palm and color wetted the jewels on your bracelets and rings, color seeped from a tattered tear in your shirt and faded into the wooden floor in your line of vision, as if everything was on one piece of paper and watercolor paint was bleeding across the lines of a sketch.
“[Y/N?]” Vision’s voice called, “Are you back here?”
You tried to hide your hurt arm behind your back and jerked your head in the direction of voices getting closer. You immediately regretted the sudden movement and tried to blink away pain—
When you opened your eyes, you were standing, completely fine, in front of the mirror, completely unbroken, and fanning yourself with your hat with your other arm, completely unharmed, at your side. When your eyes flitted around, looking for Geraldine in the mirror’s reflection, she was nowhere backstage.
Instead, your eyes settled on Vision and Wanda walking through the curtains, smiling and animatedly chatting and holding a small trophy between them.
Once they were through the fabric they looked around, Vision’s bright eyes settling on you just a moment before Wanda’s did.
You could have melted. Whatever concern or worries you had just a moment earlier certainly did.
“[Y/N],” Wanda beamed, “look at what we won!” She pointed and Vision raised the trophy for you to properly see; you managed to read “Inaugural Comedy Performance of the Year” etched into its base before the pair walked over.
You turned to meet them, placing your hat back on your head and snagging your tuxedo jacket to slip back into. “A trophy, congrats!”
“We tried to get you to come up on stage with us,” Vision said, “but we couldn’t find you!”
He certainly seemed to have sobered up since you last stood face to face with him.
You apologized, “Sorry, I had to come backstage. I was overheated and far too overwhelmed by the crowd, I don’t think I could have it up there again either way!”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Her expression shifted from proud to worried in a moment and she went to press a hand to your forehead before she seemed to decide against it. “Are you feeling any better?”
You felt the need to take a quick glance around backstage, though you couldn’t explain why. Then you nodded. “I am, much. Actually, since I wasn’t able to join you on stage and congratulate you there, how about we all get changed into clothes a little less eye-catching and we have dinner at my place, hm? I’ll cook and everything.”
“They can cook?” Vision teased to Wanda without lowering his voice at all.
“They can,” you responded, giving his side a quick jab, then smiled and slid around them. Stopping at the edge of the stage, you offered out your arms to them both. “At least a little bit. Shall we?”
Wanda faked a thinking pose and when Vision caught on he did the same.
“We-ell,” Wanda sang, tilting her head from side to side, “Oh, alright, we shall.” She walked over, tugging Vision along with her, and they each linked arms with you.
The three of you headed offstage.
“I disagree about changing, though,” Vision claimed suddenly; both you and Wanda gave him a look. “I think we all look—”
“Smashing?” offered Wanda.
“Ravishing?” you suggested.
“—absolutely neato,” Vision finished, nodding. “And I think we should show off to the town!”
You shook your head but you were smiling. “I already showed off to the town enough today.”
“And I’m still showing off too much,” Wanda agreed. She kicked one stocking-covered leg out for good measure.
“Oh, fine.” Vision scoffed.
He certainly did not admit defeat, though, and spent the rest of the walk home trying to convince the two of you.
Wanda and Vision, without his human disguise, danced into their home after a lovely dinner at [Y/N]’s—they could cook a bit!—and as they walked through the door, Wanda spun herself into Vision’s arm.
Vision slightly dipped her and said in a voice that was an octave or two lower, “You were tremendous Glamour.”
“As were you, Illusion,” Wanda responded with a pearly smile. She stood up straight and walked over to put their new trophy on the coffee table as Vision shut the front door. “Oh, I don’t know what I was so worried about. It wasn’t so hard to fit in after all!”
Wanda sat and got comfortable on the couch and Vision soon followed. “And all we had to do was be ourselves.”
“Well, with a few modifications,” Wanda said as she curled in closer under her husband’s arm.
“And it was all for the children,” Vision said. Halfway through the phrase, Wanda joined in, then they chuckled and gently bumped their foreheads together.
Then Wanda leaned back into the couch and Vision’s side, quiet. She glanced around the room, absentmindedly playing with Vision’s fingers.
“Wanda, darling, is something wrong?”
Vision’s voice brought her attention back to him. She smiled, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the lips, then looked at their joined hands. Her smile faltered; she felt like something was missing.
“[Y/N] made this funny point at the talent show, about the ‘for the children’ thing; ‘I haven’t seen one yet’ or something like it,” she said out of the blue. “They were an angel with me today.”
“Oh?” Vision responded softly. He seemed to cue into her befuddled emotions and leaned back, looking at her intently.
“At Dottie’s,” she clarified, then added, “They also walked me home because I was a little shaken up. Very sweet.”
“That’s right,” Vision said, “You said something strange happened at Dottie’s today?”
“More like a few weird things,” Wanda confirmed, then recounted the details. Most of them anyway; she kept out the part about the radio talking to her for the sake of her and Vision’s sanity. It sounded legitimately insane and was probably the result of her fear at the time making her imagine things.
Then again, Dottie had heard it as well… She couldn’t confirm that [Y/N] had.
“My, that is indeed bizarre,” Vision said. His hairless brow furrowed. “Is Dottie alright?”
“Well, she must be,” Wanda replied, “She was perfectly fine at the show today and didn’t say a word about it, so…”
Vision gave a thoughtful nod, then shrugged. “Must be.”
They both faded into cozy, albeit wondering, silence. Wanda began playing with Vision’s fingers again and she happened to look towards the front door.
“Hey Vis?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think [Y/N]’s attractive?”
Vision took in an unneeded breath so fast that he almost choked on his tongue. He spluttered, “Pardon?”
“You know,” Wanda continued, turning back in his direction but not looking at him, “A fox. A hunk. Ravishing.”
If Vision could blush he probably would have. He removed his arm from around Wanda’s shoulders and scratched the side of his face. “I was feeling weird when I said that. You know, the gum. I didn’t mean—well that’s not to say they’re not attractive either! Because they are. I mean, they look fine, I certainly wouldn’t say unattractive by any means, and I quite like their company. But love, I didn’t mean anything serious by it, I didn’t mean to offend—”
“I think they’re attractive,” Wanda stated simply, bringing Vision’s rambling to a quick halt. Her gaze drifted back towards the front door and she briefly used her magic to view the home across the street. Some of the lights were still on; she imagined their dinner companion was in the kitchen, washing up the dishes from their meal.
She wouldn’t mind cooking with [Y/N] or washing dishes with them after meals. Or having both Vision and them coming home in the evenings.
“Oh. Um, well… Oh?”
“Quite like their company too,” Wanda went on, agreeing with one of Vision’s earlier statements. Her eyes moved to the plant [Y/N] had brought them not long after they’d first moved in; the plant had outgrown its old pot at this point but had its original ribbon still intact on the current one. “And they’ve always got manners and compliments and they’re always getting so nervous that they're going to come off the wrong way.”
“Yes,” Vision said slowly, “They treat me the same way. Sometimes, if I’m not working, I’ll come to work the next day and have files on my desk with little notes clipped to them. And they’ll sometimes even bring me a snack or a water cup after coming back from their break or lunch, even though I’ve never even pretended to drink or eat in front of them.”
“Well, to be fair,” Wanda said, “regular humans do just randomly eat and drink things, and they do think you’re a regular human.”
“I often wish they didn’t, though,” Vision mumbled, rubbing his jaw, “because I’m not a big fan of lying to them and pretending as I do. I keep their snacks in my drawer until I’m heading home and then throw it out on the way because I don’t want them to see and feel bad.”
Wanda nodded, understanding. “I’m not exactly jazzed about lying to them either.”
They simultaneously sighed and slumped together.
What odd feelings, Wanda thought, for a married couple to have about their neighbor across the street.
“Wanda?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you feel the same way about them as you do me?”
Wanda tilted her head from side to side and tapped her chin as she thought. “Not how I feel about you now, no. But how I felt about when I first met you? Maybe. Or, at least, something like it.”
Vision hummed. “They feel a bit familiar, don’t they?”
“And we have such a good time together, the three of us,” Wanda added.
A small spell of silence again.
Then Wanda said, “I think we should ask them on a date.”
Vision almost choked on his tongue again. “You think we should— I mean— You and me? As you and me together or you and me separately?”
“Why not both?”
Wanda’s husband’s eyes bugged out of his head. If they weren’t in the middle of a serious conversation, she may have laughed.
“Can we… Can we even do that?” Vision asked.
“I mean, I don’t see why not,” Wanda answered, shrugging. “It’s not illegal to date another person. Just marry them, I think. Actually, I’m not even sure if it’s illegal to do that.”
“But isn’t that… An affair? Of sorts?” Vision squinted, quickly glancing between his wife and the window, whose curtains shielded his view from the person in question’s home. It almost felt disrespectful talking about [Y/N] without them present, which was odd in itself.
“No, not if we’re both dating the person in question, I don’t think,” Wanda said. Her brows knitted together a bit but then she perked up and placed her hands on Vision’s thigh. “I know when we can do it!”
“When?”
“We forgot to get your ukulele back,” She responded with a big smile. “We can go get it and ask them on a date.”
“What would we even do on a… three-way date?” Vision cringed at himself. He would never call them a three-way again.
“Picnic,” Wanda offered, then listed off, “Dinner out. A walk. Trip to a passion pit for a movie. Dancing but that would require one of us to know how to dance. Maybe [Y/N] knows how to dance!”
“I know how to dance,” Vision said with a scowl.
“No, hon, you don’t, but you’re wonderful all the same,” Wanda said and kissed him on the nose. “Besides, the three of us have almost been attached at the hip since we’ve gotten to know each other; it wouldn’t exactly be odd for us to go out and do things together. Hell, we did the talent show together today and it went very well!”
“The gum?”
“It went decently well!”
Wanda could see Vision warming up to the idea just as much as she was. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to come up with dates fit for three people.
After a moment, Vision gave her a solid nod. “Alright then! When we see them to get my ukulele, we’ll ask them on a date.”
“Yay!” Wanda clapped. “A date!” She hopped up from her seat and, drifting back to their previous conversation, she said, “Well, I think the children need some popcorn!” Vision said her name and she spun back to look at him. “Hm, what?”
Vision slowly stood and looked pointedly down at her stomach. She did too, then gasped and touched her ballooned out stomach. She looked as if she were a few months pregnant and after holding her stomach for a bit longer, she knew she was. Wanda looked up at her husband with a mixture of fear and wonder in her eyes; the look on his face mimicked her own.
“Vision,” she said softly, “is this really happening?”
Vision searched her face as he gently grasped her hands. His mouth quirked up just slightly as he answered, “Yes, my love, it’s really happening.”
They leaned for a kiss.
They were interrupted by a crash outside.
Both Wanda and Vision jumped as they looked towards the door. Then Vision scowled and released Wanda’s hands to walk over to the door.
“If it’s that damn tree again,” he loudly grumbled, “I am going to… rip it out by the roots!”
He walked outside and Wanda quickly followed.
You jumped back from your sink, almost dropping a dish in shock from the crash that had just come out front. You couple a couple breaths to calm yourself, then put your dish and drying rag down and headed to the living room.
“I swear,” you warned, loud enough so the trees outside could hear you, “I’ll come out there with a chainsaw! I don’t have one but I’ll find one and I’ll do it!”
You walked to the front door. You peeled back the curtain hanging from its window to see Wanda and Vision—who looked strange, though it was too dark outside to tell why—walking outside their own home and out to the sidewalk. You watched them, debating on whether to walk outside as well and help investigate or not.
“I don’t see anything!” you heard Wanda holler. Almost immediately, her and her husband’s gaze were drawn to a manhole cover in the middle of the street.
You followed their gaze and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as the three of you watched the manhole slowly move out of place. From the corner of your eye, you saw Vision closer to Wanda, and you wished you could too, but you were stuck watching as someone climbed out of the now gaping hole in the road.
A… beekeeper?
A beekeeper and swarm of bees climbed out of the manhole.
You felt that now-familiar feeling again, foggy-headed but not in pain and fiercely protective of, this time, both her and her husband and her children.
Children?
You scrambled to get your front door open as the strange beekeeper of the sewer turned to look at the Maximoffs. You looked down to mess with the doorknob—
When you looked up again, you were standing on the front porch of the Maximoff house.
How weird.
You spun and looked around wildly, your eyes settling on the manhole cover closed tightly shut it in the street for just a few seconds longer than the rest of the environment, but everything seemed in order. Slowly relaxing, you turned back to your task of returning Vision’s ukulele.
You raised your right hand to knock, then stopped.
Color began blooming across your arm, beginning from the same spots you vaguely remembered cutting yourself on a broken mirror recently. This time, though, there were no cuts or blood, just gray tones coming to life in bright, vivid color. Gray turned to the color of skin and the green of your blouse—you’d thought it’d been green before but now you could properly see it—and when you spun around to observe the rest of the neighborhood, it was suddenly in color too. When you slowly, awestruck, turned back to Wanda and Vision’s house, it was wonderfully colored too, as was the ukulele in your lovely, now-in-color hand.
You grinned and excitedly knocked on the door, only for it to be opened moments later by Vision, wearing a very nice yellow and blue sweater or a white-colored shirt.
“Oh, [Y/N]!” He said it in a way that was a little too loud and he nervously glanced over his shoulder at Wanda, who stood a few feet back in a beautiful outfit of bright red with her hands on her expecting stomach.
You really did like her shirt.
You just liked her.
You just liked her and her husband quite a lot.
“Sorry, bad time?” You held out Vision’s ukulele to him. “I finished cleaning up and was about to go to bed when I noticed this still sitting on my coffee table.”
“Oh, that’s perfect!” Vision chirped, still just a little too loud than necessary.
“Oh, goodness, Vis, come inside.” Wanda walked over and nudged Vision out of the way, then smiled at you and took the ukulele out of your hand.
“Remember when we first met and you said he wasn’t always like that?” you quipped with a crooked smile, which broke into a cheek-hurting grin when Wanda giggled in response.
“Suppose I hadn’t realized it yet,” Wanda teased back. She offered the ukulele to Vision, who was still standing nearby and who was now pouting, then she moved to do the side. “Would you like to come in for a drink? We were just talking about you.”
Now you were the awkward one. “Um, yeah, sure.” You stepped inside and, glancing again at Wanda’s belly, added, “I can’t believe I forgot a baby gift. Congratulations, if I haven’t said it already.”
Wanda blinked, then shut the door behind you. “Oh nonsense. There’s plenty of time left for that.”
“I feel like it came out of nowhere; they might be here sooner than you think!”
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