#Dom Lena
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Kara Zor El Danvers lived in a world of limitless sensation.
Thanks to her cousin, the world knew of her x-ray vision, but her eyesight went far beyond that. She could focus her attention and observe the mechanisms of the cell, or look skyward and see things so vast that they were invisible to the human eye. (She learned in her youth not to tell people that the entire solar system was, from time to time, engulfed in the digestive tract of a space whale so huge that its body was too big for humans to perceive) She could see colors lost to human vision and watch particles scatter off the atmosphere.
He sense of smell was beyond acute; had she the impulse, she could have tracked her family by scent. Her hearing was both gift and curse, as was her sense of taste, which she indulged with abandon thanks to her vastly more efficient digestive system and metabolism.
What most people never thought about was her touch. Kara could shake someoneâs hand and read their fingerprint like braille. She was sensitive to the most minute changes in temperature or texture, and at times it could be just as overwhelming and overstimulating as her other senses. Kara learned to embrace it- she was a tactile girl from a race that disdained physical contact, even among lovers.
They had no idea what they were missing.
The first time Kara laid her hands on Lena Luthor was just after sheâd arrested the fall of a multi-ton helicopter and dragged it from gravityâs grasp to bring it to rest on the roof of LuthorCorp. Sheâd checked the pilot first andâŠ
Kara had eidetic memory. Perfect recall. It was another cursed gift, one born of the interaction of perfect healing with her alien brain. She would never forget seeing Lena for the first time. It was hers and hers alone.
Other humans could see Lenaâs dark hair and soft pale skin, see the variation between her eyes, one a little more blue than green. They didnât see what Kara saw; a thousand colors sparkling in those eyes like impossible gems, the heat bloom on her skin following the flush in her cheeks. The thundering of her heart in her chest beat a tempo in Karaâs ears, and then Kara touched her.
It was a simple gesture. No skin to skin, just a hand on Lenaâs shoulder to steady her and ask her if she was okay, but beneath it Kara could sense her pulse and her body heat and was dimly aware of the electrical conduction of her nervous system.
It was heady, intoxicating. Even her scent- not the perfume covering it but the scent of *her*, her real scent, shot through with acidic fear, was intoxicating. Kara breathed it in and it exploded in her chest, making her feel a million miles tall.
The meeting was brief. Kara had to deal with annoying robots. There were always robots.
Later, Lena was there again and this time Kara was meeting her. Kara forgot that as she walked in with Kal⊠Clark. For those first few steps she wasnât Supergirl or Cat Grantâs Assistant, she was herself, the person she only was around her closest friends who knew her secret. The one who walked tall, shoulders back, with nothing to hide.
Again, Lena was overwhelming. Kara was all but stunned by her, stammering and blushing. She didnât know if there was love at first sight but first touch, just maybe. Lenaâs hand was soft and warm, her grip firm, and Kara didnât know why, then, that it sent such a jolt through her.
It was not the last time they touched.
Some thugs heaved Lena off her balcony, sending her screaming towards her death. Kara was there -she wouldnât have had to hear it all over the phone- and caught her. It was a flawless rescue, scooping her from the air. Lena, terrified, clung to her for dear life.
Something happened on the way up. There was a brief, searing moment when Lenaâs fear faded and she pressed in tight to her savior. Kara was acutely aware of the bare skin on the inside of Lenaâs knee, the feeling of her soft calf against the back of her hand and the pull of Lenaâs arms around her neck.
That night, Kara began to have feelings. Imaginings. Feeling silken smooth legs sliding under her palms, delicate hands clutched in hers, fingers laced. Wet skin slick on wet skin and clenching muscles, gossamer curls winding across her flesh in a symphony of pure feeling, hot breath on her skin. Teeth on her neck.
It felt weird, it felt wrong, it felt⊠predatory. Kara was scared of what she wanted, and how she wanted it- feral, with the wild abandon of an apex predator. Kryptonians were above such things. They were a race of stoic scientists who mastered and abandoned animal lusts and replaced them with cold technology Would she betray her heritage this way, too? Sheâd failed to keep Kal Kryptonian. What if she lost herself, too?
There were other touches. Soft hands on shoulders and lingering palms resting on arms. Lena hugged Kara and sheltered in her arms, drawing Kara around her like armor, and Kara let herself revel in it. She needed to protect Lena like she needed to breathe air.
Then came another. The Daxamite. The enemy, the lover, the jerk. He gave her touches too. Touches she was supposed to enjoy, supposed to want. Everyone told her so, even Alex who despised and suspected him at first.
She enjoyed it for what it was, and hated it for what it wasnât.
Then he was gone and she was left again to longing. She tried to abandon the Danvers and Become Kryptonian, but sheâd failed. Lena Luthor had gloriously corrupted her and she knew in the deepest hidden parts of her heart that whoever she was, she wasnât the model Kryptonian youth, promised to the science council. She was Alex Danversâs sister and Eliza Danversâs daughter and Clark Kentâs cousin, losing herself in friendship and potstickers and guilt.
In the dark, Kara wept because she knew if she could change it all, if she could go back, save her world and her people, something of great value would be lost.
There was something between them, something terrible, something festering between every touch and it gnawed at Kara more and more with every lingering moment. Joy was shot through with terror when Lena would crowd in close to her, the pair of them giggling wine-drunk like the children theyâd never been allowed to be. Children of tragedy, daughters of tarnished fathers, inheritors of legacies too heavy to carry alone.
More and more Lena and Kara let each other press close, each under the otherâs shoulder, bearing the weight the weight as one. As one in every way except the one that mattered, until Karaâs heart hurt so much that she remembered those first days on Earth when sheâd wished the green fireball had taken her pod too.
Then came the worst thing: the truth.
Kara wanted nothing more than to touch her, to feel skin on skin. She knew if she could hold Lena she could make it better, if she could come just shy of kissing the crown of her head and tell her how impossibly sorry she was that Lena would see, that she would feel and understand.
Instead there was only a wall of ice crusted with poison that shot red hot rancid agony through her veins, like a hot knife flensing her skin as her lungs crushed themselves. It felt like she was dying and she wanted it.
It felt like that the entire time. Every argument, every fight. Kara just wanted to scream. Scream at Lena at Mount Norquay with the ultimate weapon aimed at her heart, scream at her on balconies and rooftops and in fraught rescues where Lena shoved her away. Please just let me hold you one more time.
And then, one day, Lena came back. Kara was doing something meaningless -even with the world at stake she still had to write puff pieces for her asshole new boss- and was pacing around her apartment looking for the will to be human when it felt so pointless, and then she heard the staccato of Lenaâs racing heart and pulled open her door.
It was explosive. Kara froze, stunned as if struck. It was like seeing Lena for the first time again, as she stood there with tear-wet cheeks in a winter coat with her arms and shoulders folded in fear, and Kara hated that she was afraid. She watched the invisible spectrum dance across Lenaâs skin and was lost in her sea-sapphire eyes all over again and dared not even think the prayer on her tongue, a plea that came to her in Kryptonian first.
âIâm sorry,â Lena began, âI was wrong.â
Kara only heard the pain and knew she had to make it stop. Instinct drove her, the instinct she wasnât supposed to answer. She embraced Lena with the utmost care, needing only to make it better, to make her precious Lenaâs hurting stop.
Despite her photographic memory she would never recall who crossed the Rubicon. Maybe it was both of them at once. Lena touched Kara as she never had before, answering the intensity of Karaâs consuming attention in a way sheâd always shied from before. Every flash of boldness from Lena drove Kara more feral and she sucked in a sharp breath as she left a hand print pressed in her door, thinking oh oh Rao I donât want to hurt her, but if Lena was afraid she didnât show it.
It all just sort of happened on instinct, like they both just knew what to do. Kara heaved her Lena into the air with a shocking display of strength, quivering with joy. Catching her wasnât enough, she wanted to scoop Lena up and carry her off like a conquering hero, and she was, this was really happening.
They spoke only once, Kara asking the question. âIs this okay?â
âYes.â
Kara exerted every ounce of control she had, schooling every movement, commanding every brush of her fingers and movement of her hands. She let herself drink the sensations, etching a record of every facet of these moments that would endure until the end of her days. Sheâd never felt as alive as when she felt Lenaâs body arch under her hands and the buzz in her throat as she cried Karaâs name.
The humans called it becoming one flesh. Kara thought that was silly. Now, she understood.
Lena answered her tenfold, answering Karaâs burning questions with her hands and lips and teeth, almost shocking Kara with her intensity.
To her surprise it was the after she loved most, feeling Lenaâs soft, delicate, vulnerable body cradled in her arms, and when Lena sobbed into her shoulder, Kara wept with her and murmured all the promises again and again and again.
Later, after struggles and losses and a strange sense that it was all finally over, the great battles won, the great miracles all performed, Kara formed the metal and crushed the gems into being with her own hands, and would never forget the trembling in Lenaâs hands as she circled the bracelet around her wrist.
#supercorp#supergirl fanfiction#supergirl#supercorp fanfic#lena luthor#kara danvers#kara x lena#karlena#supergirl fanfic#ficlet#a companion of sorts to the last ticket#Kara is secretly a feral dom#Kara Danvers is a service top#Natalie writing more pretentious fanfic#Lena knows she canât hurt Kara and takes full advantage
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thinking thoughts about academic rivals! matty x girlie and their dynamic. their competitiveness bleeding into every other aspect of their lives x
you seem him at a party. your party, walking around and pouring himself drinks like he fucking owns the place, wrapping his arm around your housemate and whispering something into her ear that makes her blush. you dont know what possesses you to stalk over to them and grab matty by his arm, dragging him to the other end of the kitchen.
"what the fuck are you doing here?" you spit at him, earning yourself a cocky smirk and a hand around your waist, infuriating you even more. "Just tell me you missed me baby, s'not that hard." despite your hatred for him, and his for you, you cant ignore that feeling between your legs when he pulls you close to him, his breath hot against your skin.
Mattys condescending chuckle when you force him into the coat closet only makes you hotter, your face red and body on fire. "am i turning you on? christ, thats embarrassing for you." he comments, shaking his head and setting his drink on the shelf. He towers over you, making you feel small under his gaze. You hate to admit that you love it.
You lower your hand and grab him through his trousers, making him groan with pleasure. "Doesn't seem like you're doing much better, are you matthew?"
in the blink of an eye your pushed up against the jackets, lips pressed against matty's with his hand gripping your hair harshly, guiding the kiss with brute force. you moan against him, his dominant hand dancing down your body and up your skirt, teeth clashing against teeth as you gasp for air.
Matty pants into your mouth, the alcohol in your system clouds your judgement as your legs spread wider, accommodating his wide frame. His fingers inch higher with each pathetic whine of his name, your voice broken and begging when he finally grazes your clit.
"Fuck, please- o-oh my god-" you moan, this mouth on your neck and knees barely holding you up anymore. His fingers feel like magic, dipping into your core as you shake and whine against him, cursing yourself for letting this happen in the first place.
"Not so smart with your cunt stuffed full of my fingers, are you? Cant believe i let you run your mouth when all i have to do to keep you quiet is this." Matty crooks his fingers and you swear you could cum on the spot.
Matty doesnt let up, not even for one second, his fingers hitting every spot inside of you to the point you see stars. "Got you so stupid for me baby, can't believe youre so fucking easy, god." Matty groans, his eyes staring into yours as you come undone on his fingers, your legs going limp underneath you.
He holds you as you cum, shaking and pleading, whimpers of his name rolling off your tongue with jarring ease.
Embarrassment floods your body once you see him licking your slick off his fingers, winking at you with a growing smirk. You scoff, running your hand through your hair and shushing another one of Matty's comments.
"You tell anyone about this Healy, i'll fucking kill you myself." you threaten him, trying to stifle your giggle at his eye roll. This was a one time thing, nothing more.
You spare him a glance on your way out, your breath hitching at the way he licks his lips at you, hands resting in his pockets while he watches you leave.
-
#a conversation superseded#new au cos i cant do anything#also lena dom matty debut#matty healy#matty healy smut#matty healy blurb#this is literally nothing#the 1975
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dyhardelley đ€ daisirelias
#do you see the vision#im thinking gwen needs go be dommed#and alice and lena would be the best people to do that#tmagp#the magnus protocol#dyhard#gwen bouchard#lena kelley#alice dyer#daisirelias#daisira#tma#the magnus archives#daisy tonner#basira hussain#elias bouchard
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Nightshade
Chapter 6: Mouthfeel
Chapter 5 | Chapter 7
TW: awkwardness, some minor nudity, mentions of suicide (not graphic), Simone is a bitch in this chapter, slightly mentions of smoking and drugs, language, mentions of past criminal activity, slight cliffhanger.
Sorry about the late update y'all! I had a rough day yesterday and just didn't have the time to finish editing. Please enjoy! đ„°
Jakeâs warm jacket draped over my shoulders as we walked up the beach house steps in silence. Neither of us really knew what to say at this point. What do you say following a near-death experience and a mutual trauma dump? With each step, I left a puddle of water behind me and mentally cursed myself for being stupid enough to jump into the ocean wearing the only pair of jeans I had in that old bag.
I swung the door open and did my best to ignore the fact that Jake was now not only fully aware of my raging mommy issues but was also stepping into the threshold of where those issues were mostly forged. Glass crunched beneath my feet. Right⊠Thereâs also that. âUh, donât fall. Thereâs glass everywhere down here.â
âYeah, looks like you had quite the rager,â Jake mused quietly. âNeed help cleaning it up?â
âNo,â I replied, laying his jacket over the back of the couch. âI never clean up while Iâm here. She can hire someone to do it when she comes back.â
He nodded, slowly moving through the living room and taking in the sight. âLooks like no one has been here for months.â
âYeah, we moved around a lot for her business stuff. She doesnât come here much anymore. Guess it wasnât as fun without a kid to throw in the ocean.â
Jake chuckled at my poor attempt to ease the tension and kicked the empty bottles of booze. âThink you broke my bender record for the most amount of alcohol consumed.â
âShut up.â
He looked at me, eyeing my still trembling, soaked form. âYou should get changed.â
I nodded. âA great idea. Sadly I donât exactly have a ton of spare clothes on hand.â
He replied with a barely restrained grin, âWeâre both adults. A little nudity never hurt anyone.â
âYouâre funny,â I responded, grabbing my bag from the kitchen counter to search my options. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. âFuck.â
Jake clicked his tongue. âLooks like weâre in for an interesting night.â
With a sigh, I turned to face him. âNo oneâs forcing you to stay.â
âYeah,â he replied. âBut itâs a bit dark out now, and Iâd hate to get caught wandering these dangerous streets at night.â
âWell, we both know how easy itâd be for you to get your ass kicked.â
âAbsolutely. So, whatâs the plan?â His smile grew unbearably wider as he raised a brow, drawing his eyes down the length of my body. âYou wanna go first, or should I?â
I scoffed. âDo you really think Iâm that easy?â
âIf you were easy, I wouldâve fucked you months ago, princess.â Jake took a step forward, relying on the play he always seemed to. Close the distance and force them into a corner to let the lack of space do all the work. And just like every time heâd tried it before, Jake was met with my bodyâs solid, unflinching mass.
âReally?â I asked quietly, deliberately keeping eye contact with him. âHow many times have you tried this move?â
âA lot,â he admitted. âThough Iâm not exactly complaining about how you respond to it.â
I set a hand on his chest and shoved him back. âHereâs the deal, I donât have any dry clothes, and you donât have any dry clothes. Thereâs a dryer in the upstairs bathroom. So you are going to shower because you smell like an old woman scrubbed you down with shitty ocean febreeze.â
âNot going to join me?â He asked flirtatiously.
âNo. I will set up the bedroom for the two of us to sleep in. SLEEP in, no funny business.â
âIâd hardly call it funny-â
âJake.â
He raised his hands with a smirk. âAlright, alright.â
I shook my head. âWhen youâre done, wrap a towel around your ass, and you can get in bed while I put our clothes in the dryer and shower. If you so much as try and peek, Iâll toss you in the ocean.â
âI kinda like it when you boss me around,â Jake replied with a wink. âGonna give me a quick tour, or should I just start opening doors?â
Though his comment made my heart skip a beat, I rolled my eyes at him and led the way up the stairs and into my old room. I kept my head down as I showed him to the bathroom, trying as best I could not to let the belongings that had once been mine drag me back down. âLeave your clothes by the door, and Iâll grab them and put them in the dryer.â
He looked around the small bathroom, carefully snooping through the slightly dusty scene. âLast chance to join me. We could save some water.â
âLeave your shit by the door,â I replied, closing the bathroom door behind me as I set the bed.
The shower turned on after a minute or two of silence, allowing me a few minutes to breathe. I stood in the middle of the room, shivering slightly as I stared at the bare walls and the dusty surfaces that held one or two small trinkets. Nothing here was important⊠None of it was even real. The picture frames were empty, the ribbons and trophies held no memories of joy or any feelings of accomplishment, and none of the small trinkets Iâd collected in my time here meant anything.Â
This room was a tomb, a cage, a place haunted by the sons of a child and the endless stream of voices telling her she was not enough. I could practically see her bent over the desk by the window, desperately studying and afraid to look out the window. Afraid to watch the world and everyone in it pass by. You are enough, I wanted to tell her. You were always enough. But I knew she couldnât hear me. I knew the past was set in stone. All her suffering and all her doubts and fears theyâd already happened.
My hand settled against my shoulder, settled against the chilled skin marred by the hideous scar. I smoothed my fingers over it for a moment before snapping myself out of pity and regret of the past. Then, stripping the bed of its dust-covered blankets and sheets, I beat them out as best I could before putting it all back together. It smelt terrible, but itâd have to do. I shoved a few pillows in the middle, dividing the bed in half as the shower stopped.
Jake emerged from the bathroom with a towel hanging lowly on his hips, and his exposed chest glistened with leftover water. His arms were covered with dark tattoos, ones I didnât get to look at closely before he leaned against the doorframe with a smile. âLeft or right?â
âWhat?â I asked, quickly looking away from his chest to finish the bed.
I could practically feel Jakeâs joy as he chuckled. âDo you prefer to sleep on the left or right?â
âI donât really care either way,â I insisted.
He walked across the room and sat down on the left side, bouncing on the bed slightly before throwing his legs up and lounging back on the pillows. âIâll take the left then.â
His smirk was unbearable as I turned and headed toward the bathroom. âDonât fuck up the pillows.â
I tossed his wet clothes in the small dryer before stripping myself and adding my own to the machine. My whole body ached from swimming, and my head pounded. The hot water was a quick blessing, one that ran out quickly. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the cold water stung my back. âHoly fucking shit!â
There was a soft knock at the door. âYou alright in there?â
âYou used all the hot water, asshole!â I hollered.
Jake chuckled. âOops.â
âI swear to god Iâm going to kill you.â
âThatâd be pretty fucked up, considering I just spent my night saving your ass.â There was a pause before he spoke again, âWant me to join you? Iâm sure we can find a way to heat the place up.â
âOpen that door, and Iâll shove my foot all the way up your ass!â
His laugh, muffled by the door, still sent a shiver up my spine. No, I insisted. Itâs just from the water. âWell, enjoy your cold shower then.â
âDickhead.â
I was shivering when Iâd rinsed the salty stench of the water off myself. I wrapped myself in a towel and turned the light off, quickly moving to my side of the bed and getting beneath the covers while Jake smiled at me over the pillows between us. He held his head up in his hand, resting on his elbow to watch me. âYou know youâd be a lot warmer if we were closer. You know, body heat and all.â
I rolled my eyes and glared over at him. âDonât push your luck.â
âIâm just saying, itâs awfully cold.â
âYouâre always welcome to warm yourself up downstairs with all the glass.â
Jake laughed, the movement shaking the bed slightly as he moved to settle down first the night. âFine, Iâll keep my warm body on my side then.â
âGo to sleep.â
He was quiet for all of twenty seconds before he spoke again, âCan I ask you something?â
I groaned quietly, glaring at him even harder over the pillows barricading between us. âWhat part about âgo to sleepâ do you not get?â
âCome on, princess, indulge me a little.â
âI think Iâve indulged you more than enough.â
Jake smiled at me, the moonlight casting across the side of his face and making that dumb grin of his glow. âIâm insatiable, what can I say?â
âWhat do you want to ask?â
âYou told me about your mom. About what happened back then.â Anxiety consumed every inch of me as I kept breathing in and out.
âAnd?â
âYou never told me why you were out there tonight.â
My jaw clenched as I thought about what to say. Why had I gone out there tonight? Why had I chosen to leap off a boat into the fucking ocean? âIâŠâ I sighed. âI was pretty shitfaced.â
Jake saw straight through the deflection. âWere you⊠Was this some kind of⊠attempt?â
That fear Iâd seen in his eyes as he leaned over the side of the boat and begged me to take his hand was back, shining brighter now as it looked like he held back tears. âNo,â I whispered, reaching over the barricade to squeeze his hand. âI wasnât trying to kill myself.â
His eyes closed tightly as he squeezed my hand back. âGood. Thatâs good.â
Was that why he was still here? Did he think Iâd jump back in the water the second he was gone? Clearing my throat, I pulled my hand back and settled into the covers, trying to regain a sense of separation from him. âNo more questions til weâre both back in New York.â
âOh?â He chuckled. âWill I get more than four next time?â
âMaybe,â I answered. âIf you shut up and go to sleep.â
âKeep talkin like that, and Iâll be up all night, princess.â
I rolled my eyes before closing them tightly. âStop calling me that.â
âNot a chance.â
âGod, youâre annoying,â I teased with a smile.
Jake laughed. âItâs all part of my charm.â
*
Jake tossed and turned for a while before settling on his back, blinking the sleep from his eyes to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. The ceiling of Lena Harrowâs old bedroom. The nightâs events returned to him like a freight train as he quickly turned to look over the pillows where Lena had been sleeping. For a moment, he was worried sheâd be gone, worried sheâd wanted until he was asleep to sneak back out onto the water. That all melted away at the sight of her bare back glowing in the morning light.
Her red hair pooled over the pillow she buried her head into, and the bed shifted ever so slightly with each deep breath she took. Jake sighed before his eyes wandered down the smooth skin exposed to him. Her spine was decorated with a large tattoo, a snake shedding its dark, dull skin to reveal new pearlescent scales. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers along the gorgeous piece of art and trace the lines of her tattoo as well.
The same sensations he felt the day before rose to the surface. God, sheâs perfect. Everything about her spoke to him, drawing him in like no one heâd ever known. She shifted slightly, making a soft noise that sent a wave of heat through him like damn lightning. He slid out from beneath the covers, careful to not jostle the bed and wake her up, though it was tempting just to see how sheâd react to seeing his bare ass. If last night told him anything, sheâd enjoy what she saw, just like she had when he exited the bathroom.
The room was void of the life and attitude that he knew Lena to have. The walls were painted a dull white, probably some pretentious name like eggshell or cream of some bullshit. There were no posters or pictures, no artwork, only photos of generic art that looked like it belonged in a hotel rather than a room. Trophies and ribbons hung from a few shelves, all for competitions he couldnât imagine Lena enjoying. Mathematics, spelling, science, music⊠It wasnât her. That was the point, though, wasnât it? âI wasnât like this back then.â He hadnât known what she meant then, but he sure as hell did now. If this was the mold sheâd been forced into as a kid, it was likely a hard thing to break out of. Jake looked back towards her, still sleeping beneath the covers, and felt sad.Â
He didnât get the normal childhood that other kids did. When he was younger, he hated them because of it. Hated everyone he came in contact with that had parents show up at recitals or parent-teacher conferences. Seeing this⊠Seeing how she had lived, been treated, and been put through for the first time, Jake considered that maybe sheâd been right that night in the hall. Maybe he wasnât the only one that had it bad. A dead mom was better than one that hated who you were so much she threw you in the ocean.
Jake had done his best to help the redhead out after the boat, but this situation was uncomfortable. He didnât know how to act or what to say⊠and he really didnât want to fuck this up. Lenaâs trust and faith in him made him feel good. It made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could be the guy she thought he was, the guy Simone always wanted him to be. Dependable, honest, hardworking, selfless⊠Everything he felt heâd lacked.
Lena shifted again with another soft noise that made his mind go blank. If thatâs how she sounds while sheâs sleeping, just imagine how- He shut the thought down quickly and slipped into the bathroom to check on his clothes and to get some distance from her beautiful, naked, unholy sounds. His underwear and pants had dried nicely, but the shirt heâd worn along with Lenaâs things was still damp. Jake restarted the machine and dressed as much as possible before quietly heading downstairs.
*
Waking up in the stiff musty bed felt like waking up years ago. It was unsettling how I lay there for a moment, waiting for her to come pounding on my door or even just waltz inside, uninvited to scold me for not getting out of bed fast enough. What was more unsettling was the silence. I turned, rolling face first to a wall of pillows that barred me from the other side of the bed. What the fuck? I peeked over at the unmade half of the bed, the used pillow, and the towel on the floor. It was then that I realized I hadnât been dreaming about the insane events that occurred last night. Iâd gotten drunk, drove a boat, and jumped into the ocean. Crazier than that was that Jake had found me⊠found me and stayed the night.
I couldnât help but smile a bit as I recalled the way he snored loudly beside me, the way his feet and arms would ignore the pillows between us to seek out the person in bed beside him. Whether it was intentional or not, I didnât know, but I wagered itâd be amusing as hell to find out. The room was empty. Jake mustâve grabbed his things and left before I woke up. I sighed, stretching the sleep from my limbs before making my way to the dryer to pull on the newly dried, still-warm clothes inside. My eyes were still heavy from sleep, and my head was pounding from the fun hangover I knew would be haunting me today.
I put my shoes back on and went downstairs to find some kind of medication or food before heading back to New York. Glass crunched beneath my feet as I turned toward the kitchen and stopped in my tracks. Jake was there, looking through cabinets and examining the boxes of expired food that no doubt was still inside. Just like last night, my eyes went to his tattoos. I couldnât make out what most of them were from here, but I admired them nonetheless⊠them and the lean muscle of his exposed back and chest as he moved.
âGonna stand there and stare at me all morning?â He asked, blue eyes flashing with that self-assured smug attitude of his.
âI thought you went home,â I deflected, moving to join him in the kitchen. âWhy are you shirtless?â
Jakeâs eyes shifted to look down at my chest, not unusual for him, though the way his lips curled into even more of a shit-eating grin shouldâve been a warning. âWere you wanting me to peel it off your back or what?â I looked down at the t-shirt Iâd grabbed from the dryer, his t-shirt. âIâm not opposed, of course, but there are far easier ways to ask me to strip you.â
I ignored how my face heated up at his words and shook my head. âI was still half asleep when I got dressed.â I turned back toward the stairs, pulling the shirt over my head and tossing it behind me. My shirt was stuck in the very back of the machine when I pulled it out and hissed, âTraitor.â
Jake was waiting in the living room, his shirt back on as his eyes scanned over the words of a book heâd found. He glanced up at me. âYou couldâve kept mine, you know. We couldâve switched.Â
âI think it wouldâve been a bit of a tight fit on your end.â
âI could just walk around shirtless more. You seem to enjoy that.â
I scoffed and moved around the room, quickly packing what little Iâd brought back into the bag I had brought. The tension in the air seemed to grow as the silence was weighed down by all that had been said between us. I cleared my throat. âSorry, thereâs not anything to eat here. I wouldâve offered to make you shitty eggs or something.â
Jake chuckled, closing the book and setting it down where heâd found it. âAs great as shitty eggs sound, I was thinking we could stop by a diner. Itâs not far, and itâs usually not too busy.â
âGrumpyâs?â
âYeah,â he smiled a bit, âI keep forgetting you lived here too.â
âItâs easy to forget,â I replied, nodding toward the door. âWe can take the bike. Iâve gotta get going in a bit if I want to get back to the city before dark.â
âYouâre leaving today?â
âYeah,â I pulled my phone out of my bag and played the beginning of the thirty messages everyone had left me.
âLena, youâd better fill that gas tank up before bringing my bike back!â Dom.
âHey, fucking bitch, call me - us, I said US! Put that shoe down, Prue, I swear to God!â Quinn and Prue.
âCall me darling. You donât have to talk. I just wanna know youâre safe,â Ozzy said.
âLee,â Peterâs voice made a new wave of guilt hit me. âHavenât seen you in a few days. Is everything okay?â
âHey, shithead! Break another of those racks, and I will break your face! Sorry bout that, Lena,â Patrick said clearer into the speaker. âI know that was a lot⊠just call someone. Please. Weâre starting to get worried.â
Jake looked at his feet as I closed the phone and shoved it back into my pocket. âSounds like youâll have a hell of a welcome home party.â
âMore like a welcome home mob,â I replied.
âA mob is better than nothing,â he said quietly.
âYeah.â I held his jacket out to him. âHere.â
He looked at it for a minute before shaking his head. âYou wear it. Itâs cold out today.â
âIf itâs that cold, youâll freeze without it.â
âIâm not the one that almost got hypothermia last night,â he responded with a winning grin. âWear it.âÂ
I rolled my eyes and put it on. âFine then.â
Locking the door behind me, the chilled gust of wind made me grateful that Jake had insisted I wear his jacket. Iâd never openly tell him that; glancing back at the already too-smug look on his face, I shook my head. Nope. Never telling him that. He nodded toward the bike. âSo this wasnât the first time you stole a bike?â
âNope,â I answered, pulling the keys out. âDom freak out after I left?â
Jake shrugged. âEh, he was more frustrated than anything.â
I nodded. âYeah, well, considering how many times Iâve stolen this bike, I canât blame him.â
âHow many times have you stolen this bike?â
âFifteen, maybe more.â
He whistled. âDamn, youâre kind of a criminal.â
I laughed and shrugged. âAt least Iâm a cute criminal, though.â
Jake laughed. âSo, how are we doing this?â
âYou ever been on a bike before?â
âOnce,â he replied. âWasnât on it for long before Simone pulled me off, though.â
Swinging my leg over the side, I held the helmet out to him with a smile. âNewbies get the helmet.â He scoffed but put it on anyway. âNow, you just get on and hold on.â
His taller frame settled in behind me, keeping a vast distance between us. I laughed and took hold of them, placing them around my waist. âYouâre gonna want to hold onto me.â
âIâll take your word for it, princess.â
The bike came alive beneath us, and as we started to drive, I could feel a part of Jake come alive too. He laughed behind me, bright and full and childlike. It was a side to him I didnât even know existed, but I enjoyed it, no matter how short-lived. Grumpyâs wasnât far from my momâs house, and Jake seemed to be almost disappointed by that as I found a place to park on the sidewalk, and we got off the bike. He pulled the helmet off and ran his fingers through his messy hair. âNext time I steal the bike, Iâll be sure to invite you.â
âSounds like fun,â He replied, holding the helmet.
I set it down on the seat and clipped my bag to the front. âYouâre buying.â
âAm I?â
âThink of it as payment for all the cigarettes you bummed off me.â
He shrugged. âI guess thatâs only fair.â
We sat across from one another in a booth close to the windows so I could keep an eye on my things. Jake ordered waffles while I ordered pancakes, which led us to a quick debate on which was better, but once weâd grown quiet, that same awkwardness and tension settled over the table. Fuck it. âSo, last night was kind of crazy.â
âYeah,â he replied. âIt was.â
âIâŠâ I looked up and met his gaze. âIâm sorry for putting that all on you. I wasnât exactly thinking straight.â
Jakeâs brows furrowed slightly. âI donât mind. I was the one that asked.â
âWould you have asked if you hadnât had to pull me out of the ocean?â
âEventually,â he assured me. âDonât apologize for that. Not to me.â
I smiled, âThank you. I donât know what would have happened if you-â
âYou would have been okay,â Jake interrupted. âI donât⊠Letâs not talk about that.â
Right, his mom⊠I mentally cursed myself. âOkay, sorry.â
âStop apologizing.â
I rolled my eyes and smirked. âSorry.â
Another minute of silence passed between us before Jake spoke again, âIâm not gonna tell anyone if you were worried about that.â
âNot even Simone?â
âNo, not even her. Though if you were looking for someone to help with that kind of thing, sheâd be willing.â
I shook my head, playing with my fingers beneath the table. âIâm sure she would.â
Jake frowned. âSheâs good at helping with stuff like that. I know Iâve said it before, but itâs true. When I moved in with her family, she was all I had. She basically raised me.â
âAlright, letâs make a rule. No more talking about Simone. I understand sheâs a big part of your life and that youâre, you know, whatever, but my opinion isnât going to change, and I have a feeling our friendship isnât going to last long if weâre constantly fighting over our opinions of Simone.â
âThatâs fair,â he answered as the server placed our plates in front of us. âIâm still gonna argue with you about waffles, though.â
âFair,â I replied. âBut if youâre planning on getting into a debate over breakfast foods with me, prepare to lose.â
He cut into his waffle. âYouâre that confident?â
âAbsolutely,â I said, stuffing my mouth full of pancakes and making an exaggerated sound.
The longer I spent around Jake, the more I enjoyed his company. He didnât make any faces or comments about how messily I ate; no matter how curious he was about my past here, he kept it to himself. Though he was undoubtedly an asshole, Jake wasnât too bad. I finished my pancakes, and he finished his waffles, so the two of us just sat there talking about stupid stuff before the door opened, and Jakeâs eyes darted toward it with a sigh. âThere you are!â
âSimone,â he replied, shifting in his seat to make room for her.Â
She slid in beside him, not even looking over at me while she frowned at him as she set his phone down. âYou left this at the house. Iâve been worried!â
âSorry, I got a bit sidetracked,â he said, glancing over at me. Simone finally turned her head, and her mouth fell open slightly. Then, with wide eyes, she composed herself.
âLena,â Simone said with a taut smile. Her eyes were wider than usual as they fixated on the black jacket, Jakeâs jacket, that hugged my shoulders and encased me in the smokey and woodsy scent. âI didnât know you were in Cape Cod.â
I smiled, somewhat gladdened that Jake hadnât told her. âYeah, it was a last-minute trip.â
She hummed, her eyes shifting to Jake, whose face had drained of his usual charismatic glow and was now replaced with a nervous look that made his whole face seem tight and tense. âSo this is what you got up to last night.â
âSimone,â Jake started with a sigh as she sat beside him.
âItâs fine,â she answered with a broader smile that didnât even try to reach her eyes. âIâm sure it was something significant that kept you from coming home last night.â
Tilting my head to the side, I shrugged. âThatâs on me, actually. My bike broke down by the beach, and Jake happened to see me. He offered to help, which took much longer than it should have.â
Her eyes practically drank up the lie as she pursed her lips. âSounds like you were fortunate Jake was around.â
âI was,â I answered, looking back over at Jake. He knew the truth, and that was what mattered, so I shoved down the part of me that worried that truth would be exposed to Simoneâs all too eager ears the second I left them alone.
Jake watched Simone closely as she ordered, his forehead creasing when sheâd gotten a beer over coffee or water. He could tell something was off with her, and though it was pretty obvious even to me, Jake seemed to pick up on it more than I could just from the small things she said and did. My stomach churned uncomfortably at the sight of them. Was this what it had looked like to everyone else? I wondered, darker memories simmering just below the surface. Was it this obvious that something was wrong between us?Â
âSo, what brings you to the Cape?â Simone asked as she settled into her seat beside Jake.
âItâs a personal matter,â I answered without hesitation and without apology. âNot really something Iâd feel comfortable burdening a coworker with.â The message was clear. Move on.
She looked far too smug about the response as she nodded. âI understand personal matters can be quite difficult to navigate. But weâre always available should you need someone to help you find your way around. Jake and I grew up here, after all.â
I smiled, trying my best not to laugh at her apparent scramble to find a foothold that would tether me to her and force me to rely on her as Jake and so many others at 22West did. âIïżœïżœïżœm not staying, but thanks for the offer.â
Jake watched her as she took a long drink of her beer, worry solidifying on his features. âYouâre leaving so soon?â
âOh, Iâve been here for days,â I answered.
âReally? Where have you been staying?â Jake nudged her slightly, an apparent attempt to dissuade her from pressing questions, one that failed as she giggled softly. âSorry, itâs just I know how difficult finding a decent hotel can be around here. I wouldnât want you to have trouble sleeping because the bed is too lumpy or the place reeks of dead fish.
âItâs alright. You donât have to worry, though,â I adjusted the jacket on my shoulders, âI slept just fine.â
How her face dropped for a moment told me everything I needed to know about her and Jakeâs relationship. If I wasnât sure before, I was now. Not only was Simone like my mother, she was like him too. A cold spike of rage coursed through my veins as I looked over at Jakeâs timid and almost childlike behavior before meeting her eyes again. This time I let my polite mask drop. This time I let Simone have exactly what she wanted, a look into my thoughts. I know what you are.Â
Her smile faltered as we stared one another down for a short moment. Then, she fixed her mask. âThatâs good. Thereâs nothing better than a good nightâs sleep.â
âI can think of a few things,â I replied, carefully pulling out my dwindling pack of cigarettes. âLike one last smoke.â I nodded toward the door. âWant to join me?â
He looked uncertain, looking at Simone for that ever-so-subtle nod before joining me. âSure.â
The fresh air made the heavy weight of Simoneâs gaze burning holes into my skull feel somewhat lessened as I leaned against the wall beside Jake and lit the cigarette, taking a quick drag before holding it out to him. âSorry, youâre in the doghouse because of me.â
Jake shrugged, slowly regaining his usual attitude and demeanor. âDonât worry about it. Iâm used to being on Simoneâs nerves.â
âI can imagine.â
âSheâs not usually like this,â he assured me quietly. âEver since her ex came to visit a while back, sheâs been⊠off.â
Sheâd get no sympathy from me, but for Jakeâs sake, I shrugged him off. âDonât worry about it. Iâve dealt with far worse people.â
Jake handed the cigarette back to me with a sad look. âShe reminds you of your mom, doesnât she?â
âA little,â I replied. âMore so someone else that makes my mother look like a saint.â
He tilted his head carefully. âWho?â
I smirked. âYou used up your questions last night.â
âDo you always have to make getting to know you so difficult?â He questioned with a smile.
âOf course. If I didnât, youâd get bored.â
âI donât think Iâd ever get bored of you,â he replied, softer than before, with a gleam of something in his eyes⊠something nervous and unnamed.Â
I could see Simone watching us closely from the corner of my eye like a predator watching over the prey sheâd long staked her claim to. Jake wasnât a game and certainly wasnât anyone to claim. I pulled the cigarette from between Jakeâs lips and took one last drag of it, closing my eyes to savor the smokey taste that filled my mouth as I exhaled. âWell, time for me to head out.â I placed what remained between Jakeâs lips and slid past the window, making deliberate eye contact with Simone, waving at her as I walked towards Domâs bike.
âTry not to wreck it,â Jake said, standing up from his comfortable position against the wall. âItâd suck to get back to the city and hear youâd been beaten to death by angry bikers.â
With a smirk, I swung my leg over and straddled the bike. âOr itâd be super badass coming back and hearing about how I beat the shit out of 20 angry bikers.â
He laughed, and his eyes softened. âSee you at work, Lana.â
âSee you then, Jerk.â I pulled the helmet over my head and started the bike, revving the engine before flipping Jake off and speeding down the street. He stood on the curb for a minute before turning and walking into the diner to face Simone.
I let the light rush of adrenaline wash over me as I drove. The engine roaring replaced the sound of the ocean. The smell of Jake on his jacket replaced the bitter tang of salt. The wind forced anything left of Cape Cod off me and left it where it belonged. Fuck the cape. I repeated to myself.
*
He sat back down across from Simone with a sigh, folding his hands on the table and watching her quietly eat the simple breakfast platter sheâd ordered. Watching Simone drink anything other than wine made him feel weird, but seeing her do so this early in the morning was just concerning. âYou hate beer.â
Simone smiled, chuckling as she examined the bottle in her hand. âI do.â
âHow was the rest of the night with your mom?â
âYouâd know the answer if youâd bothered to come back last night.â
âSimone,â Jake sighed. He felt guilty about not calling to let her know what had happened, but he hadnât been able to think straight until this morning. It was something he found happened often when Lena was involved. âIâm sorry.â
âSorry?â She shook her head. âSorry is something you say when you forget to bring wine or dessert. You just disappeared, Jake. Sorry, it doesnât cut it this time.â
âItâs personal okay,â Jake replied flippantly.
âPersonal?â Simone hissed. âMore personal than all Iâve done and sacrificed for you?â
Jake ran a hand through his hair. âItâs not my shit, Simone. Itâs not my place to share it with you.â
Her pale eyes stared back at him with a downturned face of disappointment that he was familiar with. âWas she any good?â
âJesus,â he scoffed. âI didnât sleep with her.â Of course, technically, he did, but he sure as hell wasnât going to tell Simone that.
âLetâs not play games, Jake,â she said while taking a drink. âWe both know how you are, especially with new coworkers.â
Whether she meant it as a dig towards his short relationship with Tess or not didnât matter, it hurt all the same. He leaned over the table a bit more. âI didnât sleep with her.â
She watched him for a minute before she finally sighed. âGood.â
âIâm sorry I didnât call last night. I didnât really have time to think about it.â
âWhat happened?â
This was the moment heâd dreaded. Jake didnât want to lie to Simone. It was one of their oldest rules, one that Simone mainly took seriously. But if he told her what happened last night, sheâd no doubt try to help. It was just who she was, and thatâd put a swift and bitter end to the friendship heâd just reestablished with a girl who was more like him than he thought. âItâs just like she said. I helped her out, lost track of time, and ended up crashing on her couch.â Her bed. The bed that made it impossible to smell anything but her.
âAnd where was she staying?â
âSimone-â
âThe least you could do is tell me where you were. I-â
âSimone!â He interrupted. âLenaâs shit isnât our problem. I helped her out. Thatâs it. Do you not trust me?â
She reached across the take and took hold of his hand. âOf course I do. You know I do. The one I donât trust is her.â
Jakeâs eyes narrowed. âI mean, I know you two donât get along, but she hasnât been anything but nice to everyone.â
âNice is not a word Iâd use to describe that girl.â Simone shook her head. âI read her file. Howardâs old system was actually useful for once.â She leaned in closer. âLena Harrow is dangerous, Jake. Did you know she had a criminal record? Fighting, drugs, stealing, arson.â
With all heâd learned about her in just one night, Jake felt the list of crimes was relatively small compared to what heâd been picturing. Lena had a dark past; there was no denying that. âIâm not saying I know everything about her, but-â
âNo buts. Just⊠Donât sleep with her, and donât get too attached,â Simoneâs face softened, and large tears began to well in her eyes as she spoke. âI care about you, Jake. And I donât want to see you get hurt again.â
He held her hand. âI know. I promise Iâll be careful, Simone.â
*
I pulled up to the warehouse, parked the bike next to all the others, and knocked on the side door. A large man, lovingly known among Domâs gang as Fluffy, opened the door and smiled down at me. âDom in?â
âHeâs at Nanaâs,â Fluffy replied.
âThanks!â
Weaving through the heavy foot traffic of the city, I squeezed through Nanaâs door and offered the elderly woman a smile, one she met with a scowl. She quickly rolled up one of the newspapers and stalked from behind the counter toward me. The swats were too quick to dodge as she cursed in Arabic. âYou worried us!â She shouted. âStealing that bike and riding off, no phone calls, no notes!â
âIâm sorry, Nana!â I shrieked, rubbing my arm where sheâd hit me.Â
She pulled me into a tight hug and squeezed hard. âYou never do that again! You understand me!â
I hugged her back. âI promise, Nana.â
When she finally pulled back, she shooed me toward the corner. âHeâs in his seat.â
Dom always commandeered the booth in the very back of the restaurant. Said it was good for business even though everyone knew dealing beneath Nanaâs roof was against the rules. He ate the food in front of him, wordlessly offering me the seat across from him. I slid his keys across the table. âItâs got a full tank.â
âGood,â he said, putting them back in his pocket. âDid it give you any problems?â
âNo.â
Dom looked at me for a moment before he sighed and asked, âYou feel better?â
With a shrug, I answered, âI guess.â
âIâm sorry about the jacket.â
âDom, that was-â He held up a hand to stop me.
âI know itâs not the only reason you did it, but the last straw to set you off. My guy did it, and I owe you an apology. Iâm sorry. Iâd offer to replace it, but we both know it was one of a kind.â
I sighed. âI donât blame you for what happened, but thanks.â
He took a few more bites before asking, âHow was Cape Cod?â
âShit, as always.â I smiled. âBut I guess it was better than the last few times.â
âThat got anything to do with the tough guy?â
âWhat?â I looked at him with wide eyes and a, hopefully, slight blush. âHow did you-â
âHe mentioned having to pack for a trip to The Cape. It wasnât too hard to put two and two together.â Dom smiled a bit. âI was just glad youâd have a familiar face around.â After a minute, he reached over and held my hand. âIâve gotta tell you something, but promise youâre not gonna freak out and steal my shit again, okay?â
Dom was rarely this cautious about what he said, and it put me on edge instantly. âOkay.â
He squeezed my hand as he spoke. âOne of my guys saw a familiar car driving through.â
âFamiliar car?â I asked before the realization hit me, along with the memories of that engine roaring and the tires squealing beneath every movement. âDomâŠâ
âRelax,â he ordered quickly. âIâm looking into it. Youâll be the first to know if thereâs anything to worry about. I promise.â
âOkay,â I breathed.
Dom waited to pull back until my breaths had evened out. âYou should head to Ozzyâs. Those two have been worried.â
I nodded. âYeah. Thanks, Dom.â
âNo problem, kid, just donât steal my bike again.â
âNo promises.â
âGet the fuck outta here.â
Nana filled my arms with to-go boxes, and I made my way to the bar. The security team grabbed a box from my arms and greeted me quickly. I set one down and tapped the bar, making sure the two bartenders knew it was for them before heading into Ozzyâs office. He sat with his back turned to me, looking down at a stack of papers. Finally, I knocked on the wall. âHey.â
He turned and jumped up, pulling me into a big hug. âThank Jesus! Youâre not allowed to do that ever again!â
âI breathed in the comforting smell of Ozzyâs smoke and sighed. âSorry, Oz.â
âDonât be,â he insisted. âJust pick up the phone next time.â
My dadâs ruined jacket sat on the desk on top of a pile of things. It made me sad looking down at the remains of such a big part of my life. âI didnât mean to ignore your calls. I just⊠Itâs been a long week.â
He smiled. âI know, darling. But itâs okay now. Youâre home, where we can all take care of each other.â
âDoes Pete know?â
âNo.â Ozzy shook his head. âI figured itâd be best, all things considered, to not tell him youâd run off.â
âGood. He needs to focus on getting better.â
Ozzy nodded in agreeance. âPatrick and I discussed what we wanted to do next week when he gets out of the hospital. Heâs been asking to meet your coworkers for a while now.â
I groaned. âYouâre not going to suggest what I think you are, right?â
âBetween the three of us, we have enough to take him to 22West. So heâd get to meet your coworkers and have a high-end meal. Itâs a win for everyone.â
âFine,â I huffed. âI guess I owe you two this since I was gone.â
Patrick appeared in the doorway, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. âThis mean I need to get a suit?â
âYes,â I answered. âItâs a pretty high-end place.â
âSay no more, sis. Iâm on it.â
Ozzy smiled. âI think I have something that would work.â
âNo hats.â
âDamn.â
*
I took the next few days off to readjust to the city and calm my nerves about returning to the restaurant. It was little more than a paranoid feeling that Iâd return to Maddie back in the kitchen or, worse, my mother waiting in the front room for me. When I did go back, these feelings were quickly depleted as Scott looked up from prep and scoffed. âBout fuckin time. Go get something to eat and then get to prepping.â
âYes, Chef,â I answered, nodding to Isaac. âItâs good to be back.â
âYeah yeah, hurry it up, Red!â
Changing into my shirt, I stared at my empty locker for a moment, quietly mourning the space dads jacket used to fill up. My fingers ran over the open air as I turned to smack right into someoneâs chest. Jakeâs familiar laugh made me look up with a smile. âMiss me that much?â
I rolled my eyes and took a step back. âThere goes my good day.â He squeezed past me and opened his locker, looking at the leather jacket Iâd stuffed inside. âI took the liberty of returning your jacket.â
âHowâd you know my combination?â
âSasha.â
âRight,â Jake chuckled, holding the jacket in his hands for a second before holding it out to me. âWhy donât you keep it for a while?â
âWhat?â
He shrugged. âIâve got another one.â
I smiled, turning toward the door. âSo do I. Keep your jacket, Jake.â
The second I walked into the front room and toward the long table filled with people eating the family dinner, Sasha jumped up and wrapped me up in a big hug. He demanded to hear about my criminal history as Will set a plate in front of me. From across the table, Simone smiled as Jake slid into the seat next to her. The two of us held one anotherâs gaze for a moment before Howard broke the stiff silence. âLena, welcome back. How was your vacation?â
âOh, it was a hoot,â I answered.
He hummed, âSo you found a place with the worst bed and drank all week?â
I laughed and nodded. âYou know me, Howard, always the party animal.â
Howard nodded, sliding a small piece of paper across the table to me with a more careful smile. âToday, weâve been gifted with a spectacular vintage.â
The paper unfolded, and a cold wave washed over me as I traced my motherâs handwriting. Leave a tip for the cleaners next time. I practically scoffed at the simple message before I tore the paper up and stuffed it into my pocket. Jake looked at me from across the table but said nothing as we ate the family dinner and drank the fancy wine.
Being tossed into the throws of a busy night of service felt exhilarating after the long break Iâd taken. The kitchen was finally back to its normal flow as all traces of Maddieâs visit were washed away by Scottâs powerful voice and creative mind. As soon as things slowed down, I nodded at Santos. âNeed some help with those dishes?â
He laughed. âDoes it matter what I say?â
âNope!â I smiled back. âGive me one second, and Iâll hop in and help.â
I wiped my hands down and shrugged my cookâs coat off, hanging it off the railing as I slid out the kitchen door and behind the bar. Nicky smirked at me as he cleaned some glasses. The restaurant was basically empty. Servers stood by the bar waiting for the last few tables to begin vacating, and Jake made one last drink for the only person sitting at the bar. I stepped behind him and smiled, gently tapping his shoulder. âYouâre it.â
He looked at me with a scoff. âPretty sure thatâs cheating.â
âPretty sure I donât care,â I replied.Â
âYou know Iâm just going to tag you once Iâm finished with this drink, right?â
âYou can try,â I egged on, sneaking back into the kitchen and sliding beside Santos to help wash the last dishes.Â
Isaac was back to telling the whole kitchen his crazy stories bringing the entire kitchen to a loud clamor of laughter and comments. Because of the noise, I didnât hear the steps as they settled in behind me until it was too late. Jake leaned over my shoulder and smirked, tapping my nose with his finger. âYouâre it.â
He ducked away before I could splash him with dishwater. âIâm gonna tag you with this nasty wet hand!â
âLookin forward to it, princess!â He yelled as he climbed the stairs toward the locker room.
Isaac leaned on the counter beside me, wiggling his eyebrows. âPrincess?â
I splashed him. âFuck off!â
Once the dishes had been put on the rack, the kitchen grew empty, and Santos and I walked upstairs to change. I smiled when I opened my locker and saw Jakeâs jacket stuffed inside. Sneaky asshole. I shrugged it on, having forgotten to grab my own before returning his. One more night of wearing it wouldnât kill me, and Iâd gotten rather fond of how it smelled and felt around my shoulders.
Everyone was crowding around the bar when I got downstairs, everyone but Simone and Howard, of course. Howard smiled at me while Simone took one look at me, the jacket, and turned her face away. Jealousy didnât look good on her. From behind the bar, Jakeâs eyes ran down my outfit, and he smiled. I ignored how it made my stomach flip and how I wanted to make him smile again.Â
âWhat are we talking about?â I asked, sliding into the seat beside Ari.
She smiled. âTattoos. â
Sasha pointed at Jakeâs arm. âWe were just mocking Jakeyâs shitty mermaid.â
I looked at the bartenderâs modest mermaid tattoo on his inner arm. âHey, that looks kind of like mine.â
âYouâve got a mermaid tattoo?â Jake asked with a smirk. âShow it to me.â
âNo!â
Heather leaned in closer. âOoohhh, I know what that means!â
Sasha and Ari cooed in my ears. âWhereâs it at?â
âI bet itâs right over her pu-â
âIâm not telling any of you vultures!â
âWell, I know itâs not on your back,â Jake said smoothly, his smile never faltering.
I scoffed. âWhat happened to no peeking?â
He rolled his eyes. âI was always gonna peek, princess.â
Sasha nearly spat his drink out, wide eyes moving back and forth between the two of us. âDid Jakey finally take your flower, lovely Tiger Bitch?â
âNo,â I replied, shoving him.
âDid get a pretty sweet view of you naked, though.â
âBullshit!â I shoved a finger in his face. âIf youâd have seen me naked, then youâd know exactly where the mermaid is.â
He lifted his chin up, smug and eating up all the attention. âMaybe I do.â
âIf you did, you wouldnât waste time demanding to see it.â I leaned back in my seat and smiled. âShame, itâs in a good spot too.â
The cogs in his brain were practically visible as he thought about every possible location before leaning on the bar. âAss?â
âNope.â
âOne of your boobs, then?â
âNo,â I laughed. âAnd even if it was, youâd never get to see it.â
âNever say never.â
Sasha gagged. âIf the two of you could just do the nasty already and quit the dirty talk, we would all appreciate it!â
Scott shook his head as he downed the last of his drink and stood. âDinner, whose in?â
âIâm picking tonight!â Ari cheered over his shoulder, making the man wince.
âGreat, everyone, prep your stomachs for some shitty Italian or something.â Ari punched him in the shoulder, and everyone laughed as we headed out the door.
*
As he walked beside Lena, Jake couldnât shake the warning Simone had given him a few days ago in the diner or the looks she gave him each time he interacted with Lena. The redhead wearing his jacket laughed beside him at something Sasha had said from the front of the group. âHey,â Jake said, pulling her lively green eyes to his. âCan I ask you something?â
âReady for our question game already?â She teased with a smirk.
He couldnât help but smile as well. âI was actually wondering something a bit more serious.â
âOh?â She asked, tilting her head. âWell, I guess I could give you a freebie just this once.â
âHow generous.â
She nudged him. âWhatâs on your mind?â
How was he supposed to start this? âI⊠I may have heard a few things about you that I wanted to ask about.â
âWell, thereâs a good chance Iâll have answers. What did you hear?â She asked.Â
âI heard you have a pretty extensive criminal record.â
Lena didnât even bat an eye as she nodded. âYeah, I do. Was there a particular crime you were curious about?â
Jake shrugged. âI guess I was just wondering how much of it was true.â
âOh,â she said with a laugh. âWell, thatâs easy then! Iâve got a lot of charges under my belt for fighting. It was all illegal rings, though, so no assault or anything crazy. Stealing was another big one. I donât even know how many times I got busted for that.â She shook her head. âI was kind of shit at it.â She hummed quietly, trying to remember. âOh, thereâs drugs, obviously. Just buying, no distribution or smuggling or anything.â
âAny arson?â He asked.
She scoffed. âOkay, that one wasnât on me! Some assholes were harassing Quinn at the club she works at, so she called me and Prue and Patrick to help walk her home. She didnât tell us sheâd dumped gasoline all over the sidewalk until after she lit the damn thing on fire to try and scare them. Bitch almost took off my eyebrows. Anyway, the cops showed up and arrested all of us. My dad and Ozzy were fucking pissed.â
Jake looked at her with furrowed brows. How the hell did she do this? Lena looked up at him and poked his forehead. âYou do that more, and youâll hurt yourself. Whatâs up?â
âWhy are you so honest?â He asked.
âYou asked,â she answered. âDid you want me to lie?â
âNo,â Jake shook his head and chuckled. âI just⊠Youâre just something else.â
She leaned closer to him and smiled. âSomething good, I hope.â
Jake looked down at her and quietly agreed. She was something good. That night he watched her closely, trying to see what Simone did. Trying to figure out why she was so against him getting closer to the redhead, but the more he looked, the more he liked what he saw. As she tapped his shoulder and whispered another playful, âYouâre it.â Jake threw all his notions of not knowing who Lena was out the window. He knew exactly who she was, and he trusted her.
*
I walked in the front door, quickly readjusting the straps of my dress before giving the hostess my name and telling her I was waiting for the rest of my party. Nicky spotted me from the bar and smiled. âHey, Red, I thought today was your day off.â
âIt is,â I answered, taking a seat at the bar. âIâm here as a guest tonight.â
âA guest,â he swooned. âMoving up in the world, are we?â
Jake returned from the back, pausing when he saw me. âThe hell are you doinâ here?â
âOur little Red is a guest tonight,â Nicky said with a smile.
âA guest?â Jake pressed as he refilled the ice.
I scoffed. âI could be a guest.â
âSo, whoâs the lucky guy?â Nicky asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
âNo one,â I answered. âIâm here for a family dinner.â
Jake laughed at that. âFamily dinner? Iâm dyinâ to see what your family comes in lookin like.â
I nodded. âMe too. I told them it was upscale, but Ozzyâs version of that makes him look like an old victorian count and Patrick.â I winced. âPatrick is going to show up in something fucking hideous. So, I guess I should apologize in advance for you guys having to look at them all night.â
âWell, I donât know about Nicky, but their outfits wonât bother me.â
âOh?â
âIâll be too busy looking at yours.â He winked.
I turned my head away from Jakeâs smile, an attempt to hide the blush that no doubt dusted my face with red. However, the sight waiting for me at the front was one that made me do a double take. âWhat the fuck are you wearing?â
#fic: nightshade#nightshade#jake sweetbitter#sweetbitter jake#sweet bitter#sweetbitter#sweetbitter smut#sweetbitter jake x oc#jake x lena#sweetbitter fandom#sweetbitter fic#sweetbitter fanfiction#tom sturridge jake#tom sturridge fanfiction#tom sturridge#jake smut#sweetbitter simone#sweetbitter dom#sweetbitter ari#sweetbitter heather#sweetbitter patrick#sweetbitter peter#sweetbitter prue#sweetbitter quinn#sweetbitter sasha#sweetbitter ozzy#sweetbitter nana
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everyone involved in making "x has a mommy kink," "y has a foot kink," etc. regularly used ao3 tags instead of just "mommy kink," "foot kink," etc., a pox on you and your ilk
#there are other tags like that those are just examples#it Really annoys me that there is a daddy kink tag but not a mommy kink tag#and yet there's 'eren jaeger has a mommy kink' 'roman roy has a mommy kink' 'mommy dom lena luthor' SHUT UP#'kim taehyung has a foot kink' how about my foot in your ASS#anyway#rum.txt#this is probably going to get traffic i don't want lol oh well#'rum what fics are you writing where you'd be looking for those autofills' mind your own business
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Underneath the Surface
As an attendant for the first Harbinger, Il Capitano, you work to maintain his household in Snezhnaya, though you can still only admire him from afar. But that distant reverence changes completely when you are offered another role that goes beyond your day-to-day and allows you to share a bond with him that no one else knows the true nature of. This is a dream come true, of course, but what happens when the dream ends? When will it end? And what will you do after it ends?
ooc!capitano x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+
word count: ~4,600
cw: power imbalance + unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, sadism/masochism, pain kink, knife kink, praise kink, predator/prey, ownership + master, use of other sharp objects (claws), temperature play, graphic descriptions of blood/injuries/bruises/pain/etc., sensory deprivation (blindfold), mentions of death + murder
notes: ok i know everyone is head over heels for capitano because big looming man + the mask and cape stay on during sex ikik i get it, but what if our captain had... a dark, serious, + slightly twisted personality? bc i imagine, in canon, for someone so committed to his work and the tsaritsa, his sense of justice and overpowering physical strength could prevent him from making rash decisions like being in a relationship with another... anyway, my take on capitano! tysssssm to @staraxiaa for beta-reading and letting me yap away in our discord <33 lena, could not have churned this out any earlier if it were not for your enthusiasm and hypnosis. ily queen. anyway, hope y'all enjoy!
THE HALLS are still, silent aside from the occasional clanking of metal weaponry. All of the soldiers and attendants are holding their breaths, anticipating for what is to come. You, too, wait, immobile, on the edge of your chair in front of the vanity. You avoid your reflection in the mirror, but appearances are of utmost importance, so you busy yourself by repeatedly smoothing the pleats of your silk nightgown.Â
It has been two long months since you have fallen back into this routine: waking before sunrise, dressing with your finest gowns and lingerie, and awaiting his instruction throughout the day. Of course, you still behave in an appropriate manner befitting of his grace when he is not around, but there is no need to impress. Not many are aware of the nature of your agreement with him, anyway. Â
A soldierâs call can be heard from outside your window, a signal of his graceâs arrival from the accompanying blare of a horn. You suck in a sharp breath, pursing your lips as you hold, before exhaling completely. You have half an hour.
Making your way around his chamber, you go about your final checks. He has always been particular with the way things should be, his sense of justice and discipline underlying and interweaving with every aspect of his own life. You blow away specks of dust from his bookshelves, tie the chiffon of the bed canopy curtains to their posts, and return your makeup on the vanity back to a pouch, not before dabbing on a bit more powder and curling your eyelashes once more.
The half hour passes quickly, and you rush to stand by the door as you hear the heavy thuds of his boots approach. You bow your head and curtsy as he steps in. It is important that you do not look at him until he permits. He does not greet you, simply strides over to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, heading to his closet farther beyond.
You sigh with relief. He did not take you immediately.
The next step of the routine is to wait for him to change. Beyond the door, you hear the faint rustle of heavy fabric hitting the floor, silver and bronze embossings clicking against sharp nails, and the occasional low grunt. You would assist him if you could, but no one has seen him without his fur coat and mask. You consider yourself lucky to have seen him without his cloak, but you, too, have never witnessed his visage. It is strange, though. As per your contract, you are supposed to help him with such tasks. Shrugging, you figure there is no need to hypothesize. You would never dare to act like you understand his grace and how he thinks and acts.
If he still does not speak to you when he returns, the burden falls on you to initiate.
You watch as the door handle twists before the door swings open. Instinctively, you lower your gaze and nod your head once in greeting. Pausing a beat, you give him a chance to speak if he wants. But he does not.
âYour grace,â you say.
He walks over to you, standing in front of where you sit on the edge of his bed. A gloved hand rests on the crown of your head â firm, cold. It traces the shape of your skull, sliding down to your ear, sharp metal claws scraping against the cartilage and the tender skin of your neck. He continues along the path of your jawline before holding your chin between his index finger and thumb. You are still looking downwards, only able to see up to his clothed forearm. Holding you steady, he appraises you and the effort you put into yourself. You try to relax under his gaze, not as an act of defiance or resistance but rather as a demonstration of your trust and loyalty in him. His grace knows best, after all. His criticism is guidance, only out of best interest for you, his praise gospel, miraculous stories to pass down for generations.
He hums. It is a deep, satisfied rumble.
âWell done,â he praises, releasing his hold. âI am relieved to be back.â
It is not often that his grace is content. He is rarely appeased with his own efforts. Naturally, you feel a sense of giddiness, a shiver of delight threatening to shake up your still frame. You even notice an urge of want for him, hoping that he would pay just a little more attention to the way you did your hair or the new perfume you are wearing or how the color of the night gown compliments the curves and rolls of your body. A stroke of luck, you think, to keep your dangerous emotions at bay. You must reflect on tonight and emulate what went well going forward.
Before you can relay your gratitude to your captain, he continues to speak. âI would like to try something different tonight.â
He pulls a wide silk scarf out from his pocket and wraps the navy fabric around your head, thereby obscuring your vision. The lack of light in the room, along with the dark shade of the blindfold, make it impossible for you to see anything beyond the faint silhouette of your hands as you stretch them out in front of you to test the opacity of the silk. But this is nothing out of the ordinary.
You startle as he splays his palm on your back and slides an arm underneath your legs. He picks you up, as if you are but a mere feather, and repositions you so that you are lying down on the bed.
âIt will hurt. Will you be able to take it?â he asks. Void of his usual assertiveness, he is shedding his role of a Harbinger, melting into a simple person who wants his desires fulfilled. He is speaking to you with caution and respect, fulfilling his end of his contract, as your master, your owner, to ensure that tonightâs experience will be pleasurable for you as well. However, you know the power and strength he holds beyond the walls of his bedroom will never fully escape your conscience. It is your obligation to protect yourself from dire harm, but you cannot deny him the opportunity to experiment, in fear of retaliation and punishment.
You reply, âHow painful?â
The bed dips beside your hip, and you feel the leather of his glove rub into your thigh.
âI will use my gloves and a knife.â
Scared or excited, you cannot tell. At his words, you become acutely sensitive towards the feel of his gloved hand as he continues to glide it up and down your leg. You can almost taste the steely, icy sting of his claws digging into the fat of your thigh, breaking the skin just enough for beaded crimson to trickle, not enough to scar permanently.
âYour grace, is this a punishment?â
âNot at all.â His hand travels farther up and pushes the lace trim of your nightgown aside to reveal your underwear underneath. He pulls at the ribbons at the side, slowly untying the thong, as he chuckles, âIt is a reward, for your effort and time.â
The praise is doing wonders to you. You feel dizzy, light, and hot in the head, and the pulsing in your core intensifies, your hole fluttering and throbbing in tandem with the escalating rate of your heartbeat. Even though you cannot see, you can almost sense him smiling, perhaps at the wetness that is spotting your underwear or possibly even the state of your whole being, showing his understanding of and command over your body.
The latter seems likely as he presses his claws into your skin, as if to counter and neutralize your raging internal inferno. The cold shocks the nerves at the juncture where your hip connects to your leg, where the ribbon of your panties used to be tied at.
âI will start easy,â he explains. To demonstrate, he curls his fingers and pushes, channeling all of the pressure into the tips of his claws and persists until they shallowly latch into your skin. You squirm, jump, and whimper at the pain. It hurts more than you had expected, though you really had no point of comparison in the first place. You continue to shudder as he holds his fingers in place, probably gauging your reaction.
âTh-that is alright,â you manage to stammer. The pinch may be harsh, but it does not draw blood or bring tears to your eyes, simply a scraping of the surface of your skin. You can withstand a little more, you reassure yourself. This is your reward. Without a word, he moves his hands back down to your thighs and scratches your right.
The motion is fast, clean. In fact, your body and mind do not react to the two long, slanted cuts he leaves, the blood only spilling milliseconds after the damage has been done. The pain comes even later. At first, you feel nothing, and even the thin streams of blood flowing out of the wounds only leave a wet sensation on your otherwise untainted legs. But then, the stinging comes, akin to that of an unexpected paper cut. Except, with each passing second, it gets worse, as if the paper cut is being pulled along and extended, and your leg strains against his hold to move, to distract itself from the harm inflicted. Crimson is sure to be leaking from the full length of the cuts, and at the back of your throat, you can almost taste the coppery scent of oxidizing iron.
When he moves to repeat the same onto your other leg, you bite the inside of your cheek to prepare for the incoming pain. Part of your role is to adapt quickly, and in this case, you have to sense and react to his graceâs next steps immediately. The chiseled points of his nails cut through your skin like a large kitchen knife slicing through even the toughest of ingredients â precise, swift, ignorant of any and all resistance.
You have never gone this long with just pain, let alone be deprived of one of your senses. Nights with his grace are inevitably bound to be painful, but in his own way, he softens the blows and plows of his roughness and aggression by pleasuring your body.
Your first morning after, you woke up unable to feel anything past your waist. Throughout the night, to show you just exactly what you were getting yourself into, he forced you to reach peak after peak after peak as a test of your endurance, stamina, loyalty. Though, you were more shocked to see the purpling bruises encircling your ankles and wrists, as if his grace had used cuffs on you. But he had not. Those bruises were entirely inflicted by his tight hold on you, shackling you down as you thrashed and kicked and instinctively attempted to escape, serving the same purpose in chaining your life and mercy to his will.
Oneâs ideals â justice â will always come at the cost of anotherâs freedom â autonomy.
But you are not opposed to such limitations. Out of all of the Harbingers, you are endlessly grateful that it is his grace who is your leader. Even though he may not be your direct master beyond the clauses of your contract, he is dutiful and considerate towards those who swear an oath to his name. You come from a family of Fatui soldiers, some of the best and the brightest, many trained under the watchful supervision of his grace, so from birth, you have been taught to idolize him. But to have your idol recognize you? Speak to you? Bed you? Unheard of, and to this day, you are not sure why he chooses you, time and time again. You cannot even fathom how he knows of you â a simple, one-of-several attendants who maintain his mansion of a home under the instruction of the head butler.
The nature of your contract with him is simple. (His grace often comments how he much prefers the dealings of the Liyuen people, how quick they are to draw up agreements and negotiations, compared to the conniving nature of some of his colleagues.) Whenever he returns, you shall take care of his personal desires and wants, as he will with yours. You are to fully commit yourself to him, trust in his intuition to know how to treat you accordingly, and he expects you to reciprocate, to satisfy him to the best of your abilities.
Your role is not as physically taxing as it is mentally laborious. His grace is rarely home â you recently heard he has a surge of dealings in Natlan that require his attention â, so your body is not under constant stress. However, when you are with him, you behave as if every night together is a performance review, a test of your memory, if you remember how to overcome your instincts to hold your body still enough in place, if you remember the way he gravitates towards elegant silk dresses and kimonos, if you remember that he will never apologize but will wrap gauze around your wounds when you are asleep.
You know you are expendable. As soon as you fail to satisfy him, he could â will â discard and replace you. While he has never outright pressured you, you know his grace is assessing you as well. But you cannot help but wonder â hope â that there is something about you â something so intrinsic and bespoke about you â that explains why, even in your failings, he will not let you go. You are sure there are faults that lie in you that you cannot see, that he will see. Yet, because you have not been let go, you wonder if he is alright with slight imperfections because it is no one other than you.
Regardless, you must not be too full of yourself. That is a cardinal sin with respect to his graceâs values. The strong become the weak as soon as they overestimate themselves, he would often preach.
You are brought back by a building pressure at your ankles. You raise your head to look down, to no avail. But you can feel his gloves, now slightly warm from being in contact with your body, wrapping themselves around your protruding bones, tighter and tighter, the chains locking with finality. There is a buzz in your toes from the constriction of circulation, and you bite on your lower lip to prevent yourself from whining at the bruising grip he has on you. You count beats in your head, seconds not true to time, muddled by the exhilarated racing of your heart, foolishly trying to distract yourself by examining his graceâs behavior instead. How long will he hold for? How long does it take to leave stubborn bruises that will remain for at least three days? Is it supposed to hurt this much?
But all of those questions and concerns do not matter anymore as soon as he speaks. âI was right in choosing you.â
As if his affirmation was not enough, he releases your legs and moves up the bed to embrace you. Winding his arms around you, he lifts you a margin off the bed so that your chests touch, your silk against his thick black wool. One of his hands then comes up to cradle the back of your head, gently brushing and patting you, almost like he is lulling you to sleep. You melt, and you have never felt such a strong urge to wrap him in your own arms.
Perhaps you can be a bit greedy tonight? Throwing caution to the wind, you mumble, âY-your grace, may IâŠ?â
His approving hum makes your heart trill with joy. To avoid any mishaps, you place your hands on his arms, following their sturdy build until you reach his shoulders. From here, your fingertips can brush against his flowing black hair. It is coarse and thick, and you muster all of your willpower to resist the urge to run your hands through the locks.
As if reading your mind, he says, âYou can touch my hair, if you so wish.â
âThat was not my intention,â you reply, fighting the smile threatening to bloom on your face.Â
He insists by leaning closer to you, so that you are forced to feel the front, shorter strands of his hair poke at your exposed clavicles. You can even argue that you can feel his breath from here, but then again, does his grace breathe? Is he man or monster? (Benefactor or foe?)
âI shall resume.â And he proceeds to grab you at the waist, gripping you as tightly as he did to your ankles, and you feel the same pressure building within you. But you can hold on longer, after all. This is a reward.
He pushes the silk dress all the way up to your neck and exposes your upper body. As your body tenses in response to the cold, he pokes at the goosebumps appearing on your skin, as well as uses the tip of a nail to trace your areolae, centimeters away from your perked nipples. He circles them for two eight-counts, slow and drawling, before suddenly pinching and tugging at them. You yelp â an unintended mistake â and arch your back. He is still clothed, and the metal buttons and chains of his blazer dig into your skin for the briefest of moments, eliciting another wave of shudders from you.
And the worst of the pain comes. He gives one last pinch to your nipples before moving his hands to your sides where your rib cage lies right underneath. He rubs his thumbs over the bump of each bone, gliding his fingers back and forth, perpendicular to the way your bones curve inwards to protect your insides. You do not know this, but he is searching, identifying where he will lay his wreckage next, between which ribs to leave his trace. Then, he curls his claws into you, a bone or two below your breasts, and sinks them into you, slowly wounding you parallel to the slanted direction of your cage.
It is unbearable. There is no way to prevent yourself from screaming and sobbing. Tears drench the blindfold within seconds, and you can only distract yourself by tightening your embrace around his neck and digging your own nails into your forearms to somehow transfer the pain elsewhere, overwhelm your brain so that it cannot perceive the full extent of the damage being done to your chest. Otherwise, you can only hope that his grace is understanding and allows you to wail at the gashes he is leaving.
And what about appearances? Surely, your body will be marred from tonight and may not ever fully erase the signs of tonightâs activities.
You freeze. Your blood chills. Physical pain dims and recedes to the back of your mind.
Appearances⊠do matter. If you dared to come up with any reason as to why his grace has chosen you, it would only be sensible to conclude that it is because of the way you look, no? Prior to your first night together, you had never interacted with him before â he did not even present the contract for this partnership to you â the head butler did! Therefore, there is no possibility that his grace knows you well, aside from direct reports from the head butler and, perhaps, passing comments from your family. And he would definitely not choose you for your talents, as you have none.
In fact, the only reason you are in the castle is quite simple. Though you are not disowned by your family, you are not treated as one of them. You were sickly throughout childhood, meaning you could not start training early enough. Even if you had enrolled later on, you would have never been sufficient enough in your capabilities to reach the high official ranks that your family has held onto for decades. Lacking the combat prowess your other siblings, parents, and ancestors have, you will never be able to fulfill your lineageâs mission to the Tsaritsa. Therefore, you had to find other ways to serve the Fatui, and your search led you to his graceâs household.
There is nothing to your person besides a family crest that does not want to claim you and a corporeal weak to the natural winds and storms of Snezhnaya. And, truly, the only thing you have all to yourself is this body of yours, something you can willingly choose to offer as long as it cooperates with you.
Is this it? After he scars and carves and rips you open, not even this anatomy of yours will be yours ever again. Is he to leave his mark on you forever, only to end this arrangement soon after?
Your wails are no longer because of your flesh being torn apart by cold, ruthless hands, hands that know the feel and taste and rotting warmth of blood. Instead, these wails are ones afraid of a future without these hands, these nails that are now also stained with your blood and skin and tears. When he cleans these gloves later, you can only hope the alcohol does not eradicate all of your traces.
He does not stop until the gashes reach the ends of your rib cage.Â
Taking deep breaths from your mouth, you gasp for air as he pulls away and sits back on his heels to examine your state â spent, covered in spit and blood and cold sweat, many things but your usual demureness.
You are incapable of keeping up such a ruse. You are too exhausted and tortured to even feign obedience. Though, if his grace asked, you would try for him, despite knowing you would barely be able to put on a show. Because for him, you would, without a beat of doubt or hesitation, take on any role if he asked you of it, as long as you can share a private bond with him, one that no else knows the intimate details of.Â
You hear shuffling, a pocket being pulled open â good, blood stains thread quite stubbornly â, and a quick flick of something clicking into place.
âThis will be the last thing I do to you tonight. Raise your arm.â
You do as he says, barely feeling your forearms and beyond. He catches your hand and turns it over so that your palm is facing the ceiling.
The smooth, cool surface is recognizable, even to someone who has not fought in years. He places the flat side of the blade against your skin, letting it soak and adjust to your broiling heat. Once it is warm enough, he makes quick work, making short cuts in various directions around your wrist, over the spot where you take your pulse. As he works, he turns your wrist around as needed. The cuts always sting a bit at first before the sensation of the next being made takes over. You miserably think how you will never be able to marry with the way his grace is etching himself into you.
It does not take long, given how skilled he is.
But the routine has been disrupted, and when he sets your arm down, you are not sure what to do next. Usually, you would be unconscious by now. But you are wide awake, body thrumming and pulsing, sending signals to all the places where your nerves are exposed.
Again, you think back to the same question. Is this supposed to be my reward?
âYou will now rest.â His graceâs voice commands, leaving no space for argument.
So you ask, instead of objecting. âAnd my body?â
âWe will leave it as is. I need them to mark.â He enunciates with finality. You are unable to probe further, unable to even get a glimpse of what he means beyond his statements.
You manage to croak, âMy apologies, your grace, for failing to restrain myself this evening.â
He only places his hand on the crown of your head, soft smooths and pats, like at the very beginning of tonight, before everything that has since occurred.Â
Perhaps, what you long for, whether that be his touch or his coldness or his grace himself, is salvation. Someone who can bestow you with a responsibility so you can make yourself useful, find value in your being beyond a last name and damaged flesh. Despite tonight, you still want his grace to be with you, even if that means he devours you whole by the morning. Because you are already indebted to him for your employment. And you now owe him more than ever for permitting you to invade the confines of his space, to be surrounded by everything that is his, to feel him. To be something special is what you deeply, most greedily covet, and you are fearful that, in the near future, you will not be the only person who can say they have seen the captain without his coat on. Because without his grace, what will you become? Who are you? What are you?
Rather than relieve your body of strain through arousal and pleasure, tonight, he provides tepid comfort through the slow tempo of his hand against your head, an intangible poultice against your physical wounds. Inside, you realize that, all along, the reward has been his graceâs direct kindness and generosity towards you. And you tell yourself to enjoy these last remnants of his undivided attention, and fall asleep.Â
In the morning, you do as planned. Wake early. Bathe in scorching hot water even though it could rot your untended wounds. Dress in a burgundy long-sleeved gown. Prepare your hair and makeup. Pray that this dawn is not the last sunrise you will share with him.
Before you leave the bedroom to greet his grace, who is no doubt already working in his office, you sigh, filled with a deep sense of shame, disappointment, and mourning, though these words are futile in fully grasping all that festers within you.
But the walls of this bedroom know something you do not. And they think you ought to know, as they watch you leave with palpable dejection.
They have seen their owner evolve and age over time. Yet, they have only seen him exhilarated barely a few times â and rarely excited and riled up by the same thing more than twice.
The walls see, hear, smell everything about their owner.
Last night, amidst your cries, his grace was huffing with exertion, pouring effort and energy into your body. His eyes widened, pupils dilated, at the way your body struggled under his hold, yet you only held him closer. Mouth gaped in awe at how you screeched from the pain yet did not fight back even as an animalistic instinct to survive. He was practically leaking bloodlust, or more specifically, a strong urge to claim, overwhelm, overpower you. And he did so, purposely not leaving you bandages on the night table as always so that the wounds would stay intact. These cuts and gashes and tears shall never disappear from your body, and you will never forget the pain he has inflicted upon you. He has engraved himself into you because, while his righteousness and loyalty to the Tsaritsa come first, he will still return to you when he can. And he does not want you to forget that, even if this reminder comes in the form of garish wounds and the delicate traces of a bracelet in your skin.
The walls know why his grace chooses you. What you really should know is how much of an abnormality you really are. And his grace adores that about you.
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#capitano#il capitano#genshin capitano#genshin il capitano#fatui harbingers#genshin harbingers#capitano x reader#capitano x you#capitano smut#il capitano x reader#il capitano x you#il capitano smut#capitano genshin#il capitano genshin#genshin impact capitano#genshin impact il capitano#carrot cake!#house of solis occasum#nereids' realm
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Hiii can you write something about Alessia and reader being rivals and are playing for separate National Teams Like reader plays as an Example for Germany (you don't have to do Germany but would be cool) and they get into an Argument but it ends up in sex
Please dom Alessia
(this is my first time requesting something so my explaining is really baddd)
a/n: hii!! thank you for requesting ! and no your totally fine. iâm pretty sure i understand exactly what you meant from your description :D
A.Russo x Rival!Reader
content: pussy eating (technically both receiving), fingering (r receiving), dom/sub relationship, Germany! player reader, bratty! reader, top!Alessia, bottom!reader
warnings: some impact play mentioned but not in detail, orgasm denial, overstimulation, 69ing, dom!lessi deserves her own warning tbh , enemies-2-fucking like animals, semi public for like a smidge
synopsis: You run your mouth in the locker room so Alessia walks you like a dogâŠyour own fault really.
word count: 1.9k
!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!
âââââââââââââââ„â â„âââââââââââââââ
Itâs the 2022 UEFA WOMENâS EURO FINALS. Youâre the last one left in Germanyâs locker room, the final score ringing up to 2 v 1. Youâd scored your teams only goal for the night, but still you were the one to take the loss the hardest. Your team knew to leave you alone when you got like thisâ all in your head and self blaming.
As your untying your last cleat you hear the door reopen behind you. Youâre left clad in just your shorts, sports bra, and socks now that you throw the shoe off towards the floor. âI told you I donât want to go to the fucking bar, Lena!â Your voice barks out across the room.
âOh so feisty, arenât you, love?â The familiar accent rings out from behind you. You swear you can hear the smirk in her voice as she says it, anger boiling up inside you as you clench your fists.
âWhat are you doing here, Russo? Came to gloat about a game you didnât even score in? Give Walsh and Kelly my respects, considering they at least earned it,â you whip around. A little caught off guard at how close she is, but it doesnât stop you from letting the fury spit out of your mouth like venom on your tongue.
âYou must still be mad you missed that goal when you shot wide. Couldâve at least tied us up, you know. Was it me tackling you or the fact i kept stealing the ball that got into that thick head of yours? Seems like iâm the only one who can get through that thing,â she flicks a finger onto your forehead as she ends her little rant. A small smile sitting devilishly pretty on her lips as she does so.
You go push at her chest, puffing out a huff of hot air through your angrily scrunched up nostrils. She lets your fists come down one time, then sheâs grabbing your wrists and pinning them down onto the lockers behind you. Youâre stuck struggling between her warm body and the freezing cold surface that sheâs got you pressed up against.
âIâm not one of your little punching bags, Y/L/N. You put your hands on me again, and I promise you itâll be the last time. Iâm not gonna deal with your little tantrums like your team does. Be a big girl and take the heat, or iâll treat you the way brats deserve to be treated,â Her body is flush against yours as she says it, a threatening gaze shooting out to meet yours.
âYou donât scare me, Russo. Youâre like a puppy dog whoâs never had its tail stepped on. So wide eyed and bushy tailedââ you yank one of your hands from her grasp as you point a finger towards her chest and start moving it forwards, âlike a little bitcââ youâre cut off as she flips your body around, face pressing into the cold lockers now as you feel her hand on the back of your neck keeping you in place.
âYou need to learn some fucking manners, baby. Itâs a good thing weâve got plenty of time to teach you some,â She says right against your back. Her breath tickling your nape as the tiny hairs there stand up straight.
Itâs a blur from there to her hotel room. She threw her hoodie over your head before dragging you out of there, putting you into her car before speeding off into the night. Now sheâs got you spread wide open, legs out as she devours on your cunt.
Your wrists are handcuffed to the railing on her headboard and a blindfold covers your tear drenched eyes. Youâve got red marks on your ass from her spanking lesson from the first 20 minutes inside her luxury room. The plush Egyptian cotton percale sheets soothing the burn on your cheeks.
Her hands keep your hips pinned down as her tongue slides down to your hole, it twitches under her ministrations. Begging for her to pay it some attention after all the orgasms sheâs denied you. Itâs at least been three so far. She pulls away at the slightest hint you might be close, leaving you to shake and cry out even harder than the last time.
The mean words that have been tumbling from your mouth now turning into whines and whimpers of âPlease!â and âMâsorry Less!â
You canât see it, but sheâs smirking up at you. You feel the vibrations from her laugh though, as it courses up through to your clit. A ragged moan rips out of your mouth at the feeling, sending you into a fit of pleasure.
âL-Lessi! I-Iâll do anything. Just please le-lemme cum!â youâve got a majority of the blindfold covered in one big wet spot now from all the tears itâs absorbed. Your wrists are red from pulling at your restraints, and Alessia is finally starting to think sheâs breaking you down enough to reward you. Youâre being so sweet now, saying please and thank you. And who could resist that little pout on your lips as you cry? Itâs absolutely fucking addictive. Or at least it is to Alessia, as she takes out her phone and snaps a quick picture to remember this moment.
Her hands come down to softly start taking the handcuffs off, her lips following suit as they litter little kisses along the red lines surrounding them. When sheâs done enough of that to her liking she moves to the piece of silk tied around your face, undoing the knot as she peels if off your wet little cheeks. You look up her with those submissive teary eyes and she canât help the groan that comes out of her throat.
The need to see you like thisâ so broken, has been overtaking her ever since the first time she played against you. Every game after that one the tension grew, on and off pitch. Until now, where itâs finally bubbled over and taken the forefront of both your minds. That tough girl exterior you put up is completely gone as she has you begging for her touch, a nice little slut ready for her unraveling.
Sheâs got you right where sheâs wanted you, underneath her and at her mercy. She lowers herself down, prying one of your legs up as she lifts it over her shoulder and leans down towards your neck, making you whine from the stretch she forces you into in this position. Your thigh burns but itâs soon forgotten about as her fingers start playing with your folds.
âWhose pussy is this?â
âYours, Lessi! Itâs yours.â
She chuckles at your obedience. So, so different from the same girl she was arguing with her in the locker room not even two hours ago. So she finally decides to play nice and sinks two of her fingers into your pussy. She goes slow, letting you get use to her before going at the pace she prefers.
âSuch a pretty pussy on such a pretty girl. Too bad your attitude is so fucking nasty,â itâs rasped out into your ear as you start trying to push your hips into her fingers. Your head pulls back from her shoulder, her teeth pulling your earlobe as you move away. You whimper out at that, eyes looking up into hers pleading for some relief.
âDonât worry, you can cum this time. Such a desperate whore, arenât you?â She says it as she speeds her fingers up, her thumb coming to rub tight circles on your clit as her fingers work you up. Theyâre so much thicker and longer than yoursâ reaching spots you can only dream of touching by yourself. Sheâs got you so fucked out you donât even know what color the wallpaper is.
All you see, taste, hear, and smell is her. Youâre drowning in the cocktail of Alessia Russo. The woman who drives you crazy every time you have to be opposite of her on the pitch. You two attract like flies to honey. Sweet, but deadly. Itâs always rough and a good game when you two are against each other, but holy fuck you never knew you could feel so good. You two came together in a moment of pure adrenaline, your tension finally boiling over as the emotions from the game did as well.
You both know this is just the beginning. A long list of mistakes youâll make every time you seem to cross paths now. Like a ritualâ no matter who wins or loses. Youâll seek out this form of retribution after a game.
âAlessia! I-Iâm go-gonna-â you canât even get it out as your mind starts to shatter. Youâre drooling out of the corner of your mouth as she fucks every coherent thought out of your brain.
âGo ahead, love. Cum on my fingers for me. Make a messâ just like that. Good fucking girl,â and just like that your eyes snap shut as they roll into the back of your skull. Your back arches off the expensive sheets, as your pussy starts shooting liquid out into Alessiaâs palm. You cover your face, cheeks heating up with embarrassment at the squirt staining her sheets below you.
âI-Iâm sorry! I didnât even know I could do thatâ I swear!!â
Alessia moans out loud at that, her hands coming up to rip yours away from your eyes. A hungry lust crawling back inside of them. âAre you saying, iâm the first person to make you squirt?â
Your cheeks somehow go even redder as you bite your lip, avoiding her gaze as you shake your head yes in confirmation. The next thing to know youâre on your back. Alessia hovering over you as she climbs up your body. When her thighs make it to your head she quickly turns over, smirk covering her face as she looks down at you from upside down, âThen letâs see what else I can be the first to do to you.â
Your eyes go wide as you realize what sheâs about to do. Holy fuck Alessia is going to 69 with you. How the fuck does she know you've never done this?? You have no clue, but before you have time to open your mouth and ask her, sheâs sinking her pussy down onto your face. Your tongue seeks out her taste on instinct, your nose bumping into her clit as your eyes rollback.
She moans into your cunt once again, fingertips lightly drawing across your thighs as they shake from the overstimulation.
You know youâre going to falling asleep here, and that your teammates are going to interrogate the fuck out of you tomorrow morning, but you canât find it in yourself to care. Not when she feels this good and tastes so divine. Hell no! Youâre staying right here, consequences and teasing be damned. Youâre determined to learn the complete complexity of her lessons, and ace the next test she decides to give youâŠin whatever shape or form that way be in. Lord help your neighbors, and the poor arsenal teammate who roomed under Alessia. They sure as hell have a good story for the group chat tomorrow.
For now, she is desperately trying to drown out the straight up porn pouring in from upstairs. She tried the radio, the tv, and now a combo of both with two pillows sandwiching her head between them. Praying that you two will be tired after this roundâŠyou werenât.
#a.russo 23#woso fanfics#woso smut#woso x reader#alessia russo x reader#woso writers#alessia russo smut#alessia russo x y/n#asks.daph
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Beautiful Stranger
You Thought That You Were the Boss Tonight, but I Can Put Up One Good Fight (3)
Mommy!Wanda x Beefy!Fem!Reader
Summary: Your best friend has invited you out to a party and has also told you to try and bring your new girlfriend.
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Alcohol and drug consumption, W eats R out, R uses a strap on W, W is called Mommy, R is called Daddy, Dom/sub dynamics
A/N: Here you go have a party scene
September 13, 2023
âHey! Y/N!â You hear your best friend, Yelena, call as she catches up to you in the quad.Â
âHey Lena, whatâs up?â We were headed to the same class; English. Â
âThereâs a party this weekend that Stark is throwing. Are you finally going to come or are you babysitting again?â She asks as the two of you walk and you huff, rolling your eyes.
âNot this weekend Lena, the boys are going to their dads and itâs a bit more than babysitting at this point. I told you that.â Lena laughs.
âIâm messing with you. If they wonât be there this weekend you should convince this hot milf youâre banging to join us.â You punch Lena giving her a dead arm as she hisses in pain. âFuck jeez I canât even joke with you about it.âÂ
âYes because you know I actually like her Lena. Itâs not just about banging the hot mom next door.â You remind her and she smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.Â
âI know, so convince her so we can all meet her.â You roll your eyes.
âI doubt sheâll want to Lena. Iâm sure her party days are over and done with, besides she canât even drink.â You mention off handedly.
âWhy not?â
âSheâs pre-â You stop yourself realizing you didnât mention before that Wanda is currently pregnant and youâre banging her. Let's just add that to your list of kinks as Lenaâs eyes widen. âDonât. Lena. Fuck. Stop! Donât look at me like that!â She has this shit eating smirk on her face.Â
âLook at you like what detka? Like youâre totally into older milfâs who are also pregnant and thatâs why none of us could ever dream of getting you off? Did I forget anything?â You donât dare tell Lena that she calls you Daddy when the two of you fuck.Â
âThatâs it Iâm gonna murder you and Iâll make it look like a goddamn accident Lena.â You say through gritted teeth.
âFine, fine! I give! I wonât mention it, but if she says no at least let me meet her? I do actually care if sheâs treating you right and not just using you.â
âShe would never Lena...sheâs incredibly sweet and kind and caring and loving and....â Lena starts making gagging noises. âWhy do I even bother?â You start walking ahead of her. As she scrambles to catch back up and apologize, but, you decide to ignore her.
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âHey Wands?â You ask as she makes dinner, the boys occupied in the living room by TV and video games.Â
âYes pretty girl?â She flicks her eyes to you as she prepares vegetables for a roast sheâs making.
âI got invited to a party on Friday,â Wanda nods, listening as you speak, but concentrating on the vegetables sheâs cutting. âand my best friend Lena said since the boys are going to Visâs this weekend that we should both go...I know itâs a college party and Iâm sure you have no intent in partying with any of us, but my friends want to meet this mysterious woman I always talk about,â You feel your face heat up, âI told Lena you probably wouldnât want to go, so if you donât want to thatâs fine and we can-â
âIs it important to you?â She cuts me off.
âI mean you meeting my friends is important, but it doesnât have to be the party Lena said-â
âThen we can go to the party.â She cut you off again, but you're surprised by her answer so much that you canât even be mad.Â
âYou want to meet my friends?â You ask, tilting your head, eyebrows knit in confusion as Wanda stops what sheâs doing, moving around the island to stand between your legs, resting her arms on your shoulders.
âOf course I do sweet girl. I want to be a part of your life. Every part of it and that includes meeting your friends even if itâs some college party and I havenât partied since I was your age sweet girl.â She kisses you tenderly and the boys make noises at us.Â
âGo back to your show boys. Mommyâs busy.â Wanda gives them a look and the boys giggle. We had told them yesterday morning about us after what had happened the previous night. You laugh with the boys and eventually so does Wanda.
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Wanda wears a green off the shoulder frilled and layered dress that falls to her mid thigh. You look her over and before she can even say anything as she looks herself over in the mirror You come up behind her, wrapping your arms just under her belly which the dress hides nicely as she decided she didnât want your friends other than Lena you told her you had accidentally let it slip. Wanda wasnât mad thankfully.Â
âYou look amazing beautiful girl.â You kiss her neck, her hair is flowing in waves over her shoulders and her make-up is impeccable.Â
âYou think so?âÂ
âI know so. Iâm looking at you and it kind of makes me wanna skip the party and just fuck you all night with my cock.â You whisper in her ear.Â
âMmmm donât threaten me with a good time.â She turns around, kissing you gently, not wanting to smudge her lipstick. You see her look over your outfit, you have decided to wear black skinny jeans, a white crop top and a cropped leather jacket that just barely falls past your tits. Your hair is down and straightened and you've got your knee high lace-up boots that have these little chains hanging off them.Â
âMmmm pretty girl Mommy wants you so bad.â She bites her lip as she looks you over. You pull her chin up to meet your eyes.Â
âBehave yourself and you can ride Daddyâs cock until you see stars when we get home.â She simple nods and smiles. âGood girl. Grab your purse and letâs go.â
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You hold Wandaâs hand as you get inside, music blaring people drinking and doing drugs. You're offered a joint by some girl. You think sheâs in your language class or maybe networking either way you smile, taking a long drag as you feel Wandaâs hand squeeze yours, pulling your attention to her. You're reminded that you've never smoked in front of her. Itâs something you tend not to do, but when itâs offered you usually take it.Â
You hand it back to the girl and give a quick thank you as you find your group of friends in Starkâs basement where there are pool tables that people are playing at including your friends except for Lena.Â
âHey guys!â You speak cheerfully as you see the three of them playing a game of pool. Peter, MJ, and Kate all look at you and smile as you hug each of them asking Kate where Lena is, who is currently grabbing drinks and shots for all of you. You nod and introduce Wanda to them,
âGuys this is Wanda. Weâve been kind of seeing each other all summer. Well not exactly all summer, but we met at the beginning of summer when I moved in.â You start rambling and Wanda stops you by squeezing your hand.
âItâs nice to finally meet you all. I know Y/N here has told me you guys always invited her out, but sheâs been turning you down because of me and I feel bad about taking up all her time, but sheâs been a big help, She wraps her arms around your arm and You can feel her belly and her tits against you. You wanna melt into a puddle from the feeling as the conversation goes on without you.
âOkay who is ready for some drinks!?â Yelena calls out and Wanda snaps her head at the voice.
âYel?â Wanda asks and Lena is looking at Wanda wide eyed.
âOh hey Wands so youâre the one taking up my best friend's time!â Yelena walks over hugging Wanda like theyâre old friends.Â
âAm I...am I missing something?â You ask, dumbfounded.
âWell if you had ever said her name I would have known you were dating Tashaâs best friend! Wow! This is crazy!â You punch Yelena once again giving her a dead arm. âAh! Stop doing that! It hurts!â Yelena hissed, shaking her arm trying to get feeling back as quickly as she could.Â
âTasha as in your big sister Nat? Natty? Natty bear?â Kate asks listing off literally every nickname weâve ever given to her older sister.
âYes! That Tasha!â You say and huff.
âPretty girl itâs okay. Everything is fine.â Wanda reassures me as You lean your forehead against her temple,
âI need a drink...â You whimper to Wanda.Â
âGo have one itâs okay if you drink. Just because I canât doesnât mean you need to stop yourself.â You smile and pull her in for a kiss. You go over to the table that Lena put the drinks down at noticing she still brought over six shots and six beers, well bottoms up. You take one shot after the other of the vodka Lena had brought the clear liquid burning and setting your stomach a blaze then popped the top on the beer bottle, using the table to take off the top as you start drinking it, looking back as Yelena and Wanda talk the others getting involved.Â
You smiled though it was a turn of events. You weren't expecting your girlfriend to be getting along with all of your friends just fine and it didnât matter that sheâs ten years older than us, or that she has kids, or that sheâs pregnant. Sheâs just Wanda right now. You move back over, feeling the buzz start from drinking and smoking, wrapping myself around Wanda from behind; kissing her neck. The other four were playing pool, talking with us in between turns and eventually we played a round of cut throat so we could all get involved.Â
A few hours later you were floating in the clouds. All giggling from drinking. Wanda says the goodbyes for you two and how nice it was to meet everyone, taking your keys as the two of you approach the car, âIâm driving sweetie, go get in your passenger princess spot.â Wanda teases, making you giggle.Â
âJokes on you beautiful I like being passenger princess.â You tell her. âI hate driving sometimes. This is so much better.â You get comfy in your seat, closing your eyes after you've buckled in. As she starts driving you two home, she puts her hand on your thigh as you connect your phone to Bluetooth, putting on, Dove Cameronâs album Alchemical: Volume 1, skipping to the song Sand.
âI love hearing you sing pretty girl.â Wanda says squeezing your thigh, keeping her eyes on the road. You had your eyes on her the whole time you sang and she knew it.
âIâm not a great singer.â
âBut you sing with your heart. So itâs beautiful.â Wanda assures me, making me smile.Â
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By the time the two of you got home you were feeling better. Though you still took the water from Wanda that she grabbed from the fridge. You sat up on the counter while you drank it as Wanda grabbed something small to reheat from earlier in the week. You watched her practically dance around the kitchen, humming a tune from the music you had playing in the car. She was absolutely beautiful.
âWands?â You call out. When she looks over at you, your arms are outstretched, hands reaching for her. She smiled walking over to you and settling between your legs. Her arms wrapped around your waist and your own wrapped around her shoulders.Â
âIs this what you need, sweet girl?â Wanda's voice is muffled against your chest. You give her a small âMmmâ into her hair. âI love you being Daddy, but it's okay when you need to be all soft like this. I still love you like this.â You knew how needy you could be at times, especially when you'd been drinking. You kiss the top of her head and take a moment to just breathe her in and cherish the moment.
âI know. I just prefer it. I can be myself with you Wands and it's all I've ever given you.â She looks up at you with a smile, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss you.
âGood.â You smile into the kiss. You try to lick her lip, to keep going, but she stops you. âAh. Food first then we can have our fun.â You subconsciously let out a whine in displeasure. Wanda smirks, whispering in your ear, âBehave and do as Mommy says sweet girl.â You felt your eyes roll back as your stomach flipped.Â
Wanda had such an effect on you, sober or not. Usually you were able to overpower her; take the situation and flip it, but it was obvious to you that she wanted to win at some point. So you listened to her, even letting her feed you. You knew it made her happy. The smile on her face was as wide as ever. You knew Wanda loved being a mom, loved taking care of those around her.
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âF-fuckâŠâ You moaned out as Wanda's tongue buried it's way inside of you. She'd already had you cum once, but you were even more needy than either of you had anticipated. You never let others touch you, but Wanda made you feel like you were on fire. Your hand tangled in her hair, hips rocking against her face as you moaned out, âFuckâŠcummingâŠahhhâŠâ You bit your lip, feeling her tongue lap inside of you as you came down from your high.
Wanda crawled back up, after cleaNing you with her tongue. She leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips. A moan slipped past your lips before flipping the two of you over carefully.Â
âMy turn to make you feel good Mommy.â You leaned back down, kissing her. âI promised you my cock didn't I?â You saw Wanda's eyes light up, she'd been waiting for it. As you got up to put the strap on you looked over her body. Letting your eyes rake over her form, admiring it as you crawled up between her legs. âYou are so fucking beautiful. I swear no one could even come close to you.â You told her as you slowly slid inside of her. A quiet moan slipped out as you leaned over her. âLook at Daddy while she fucks you.â Wanda's eyes locked with yours as you started your thrusts.Â
Slow and steady at first listening to every little noise she made because of you. Watching her body move beneath you. Everything about it was beautiful, perfect. Nothing to you was better than this. Nothing was better than what you two had built over the summer. Nothing was better than the family you've found.
#ley speaks#ley writes#ley writes series#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda x you#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maxmoff x y/n#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximommy#mommy!wanda#beefy!fem!reader
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staying anon for this bec i feel disgusting indulging in this.
iâm big on dark/dddne stuff and yet I feel terrible reading it so iâm kinda glad i found somewhere i can kindof have a place to express more extreme stuff.
anyways big sis beidou wants to be your first so right when you turn 18 she takes your virginity :3
or dad zhongli sees that your bf is not what he thinks a BF should be like to he takes him out and makes you his. i mean this is more of a possessiveness than actual NSFW. i dont knowđ
Stoner kazuha roofies you (with prior consent tho w this one)
Diluc gives you too much to drink so he fucks you instead.
i have so much more.. and if i ever do come back iâll be â:3 anonâ
do what you want w any of these đ
Woahh:0, there's alot so I tried my best to do everything blog, I won't shame anyone for liking these things kind of stuff!!<3
à· Big!sis Beidou, Stoner!Kazuha, dad!zhongli, diluc X Afab!Reader [you/your]
â Synopsis:: multiple characters x reader, yeah
CW. Incest(father/child, Sister/slibing), smokes, weed, roofies, consent(Kazuha), dubcon(for everyone else), possessive sex(zhongli), drunk sex(Diluc), age gaps, fingering, Dom!characters x Sub!reader, reader wears pants in kazuha's part
A/N :: Multiple sexy characters :4â written by a minor
[MASTERLIST] â â°â (â âžâ âžâ âžâ ÂŽâ êłâ `â âžâ âžâ âžâ )â ⯠works in link!
BIG SIS! Beidou ! â She was so happy for you! It was your birthday! She got off her boat and went to your parents house! She saw you, you were still gorgeous as ever! She tears up, she was with for 18 years, her lovely slibing.... Oh how she dreamed about this day, she wants to be your first. So she's going to take you to her boat since you had always wanted to go on the water with her! She would spent time with you on there, just you and her. She celebrated your birthday, then she asked if you wanted to go on a ride. You said yes, now your both on her boat but instead of familial love it was filled with romantical love. She was half she was your first, she at first toying with your nipples. She went lower, she can hear you breathing heavily. Your eyes are hazy, your mind cloudy. Her hand was your sex, she rubbed it. She sees your lovely juices on her fingers, she can't wait to claim you as hers. Her sweet, lovely slibing all hers!
STONER!Kazhuâ The smell of weed brunt your nose, he was smiling at you. His hand on his chin, his eyes were slightly red. He had his eyes on you, you sat down next to him. "{Yourname}" he says, you tilt your head in confusion. He gets up, his legs slightly trembling, he wraps his arms around you. "Can I?" He said, you knew what he had wanted to do. You never went this far in your friendship with him! You did have dreams and did wish for him to like you, you also had sexual dreams about him. You can't believe what your going to do with him, he smiles. He grabs some pills, he was going to roofie you but instead of doing it without consent. He has your consent, you close your eyes and take it. You gulp and your head feels weird, your eyes become hazy. He smiles and gently lies you on the bed. He is on-top of you, he lays soft and gentle bites on your neck. He continues to do while his kisses gets lower, you close your eyes and let yourself into the pleasure. He toys with your chest, rolling your nipples between his fingers. He pulls down your pants and touches your sex through your underwear. His finger going up and down, pressing on it. "Your so cute..." He mutters, he take soff your underwear and Lena's down and licks at your sex. He smiles when your sex twitches. He coats his fingers in your pre-cum, then he prods his finger at your hole. His fingers scissor your virgin hole, making you more open for dick. You can feel his clothed dick against your leg while he continues to finger you, after some minutes. He stops and and pulls down his pants so his underwear shows and he slides his underwear down and his dick jumps up. He aims his cock at your hole, your hole clenches around nothing as you anxiously wait for it. He grabs a condom and enters you, his hard dick inside of you. He moves once you get used of his size. The motion is lazy and tried but it still feels good. Your virgin hole is not a Virgin anymore!!!
DAD!ZHONGLI !â He doesn't deserve his sweet baby! He stares at you and your boyfriend, he isn't a boyfriend. His boyfriend ideals for you are something like him!! He angrily glares and judges your boyfriend from afar. He can't believe that you chose someone that is trash, he gets so mad that he gets rid of your boyfriend... Oh I wonder how he got so bloody and why he is covered in blood.. don't worry it's not his!!don't worry baby, no need to worry about anything~ he comforts you after you find out your boyfriend is dead, shhh.... You still have him, your daddy is always here for you!! He won't leave you, he is going to make you his, not like you weren't his from the start! His kisses start form your temple to near your lips, his hands on your thigh to inner thighs. You sniff as you lean into his touch, just enjoy his touches. he slips his hand into your pajamas pants, touching your underwear. He continues to kiss your neck, wanting to mark you with his kisses and his touches. His fingers touch your sex and he slips his hand into your underwear, he smiles as he can feel your sex being wet. He pleasures you with his touches, he can't wait to claim you for his own. Emptying his seed inside of you!
DILUC !â He watches you, you weren't this drink from the start but you know... Things change, he continues to give you more. You were worried about the drinks because you wouldn't have enough to pay but you don't care anymore. Your drunken state, it exitces him but it's only with you. He gives you two more drinks and you drink it up fast like you want to please him... Your flustered face makes him want to kiss you and fuck your face but he can't bring himself to do so~ you let out hiccups and you lay your head on the table. He cleans the empty cups and gives you one more, you grab it weakly as you managed to drink it. You rant to him about annoying people and troubles in your life, he smiles as he listens to you. Your face still on the table, your hands are in a fist but then it goes limp. He hears soft snores from you, he walks around and rubs your hips. He blows in your ear, you still don't wake up. Your body is asleep and he could take advantage of it. He groans while he moves you over to more of a comfortable spot. He takes off your lower clothing and slides down your underwear. He sticks his finger in a cup as it is soaked with the alcohol, he pushes inside of you. Your loose and not tight, your whole body being loose. He kisses your forehead and continues to finger your hole, he lets out a grunt. His dick is really hard, he pulls out his cock and aims it at your hole. He can't wait anymore, he spits on his palm and rubs it on his dick. It's unsanitary but whatever because he is going to be inside of you!! His dick enters you, he lets out a groan, he moves his hips. It feels so good, he should do this more often to you until he gains courage to ask you out!!
#anon: :3#kittytail#kittymilk#kittypussy#kittyorgans#tw.incest#cw.incest#genshin impact smut x reader#x reader smut#x reader#gender neutral reader#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin smut#genshin x reader#beidou x reader#beidou x reader smut#zhongli x reader#zhongli x reader smut#beidou smut#zhongli smut#stoner kazuha#stoner kazuha x reader#kazuha smut#kazuha x reader#kazuha x reader smut#diluc x reader#diluc smut#diluc x reader smut
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Fouled Dreams | L. Oberdorf
pairings: lena oberdorf x dutch!reader (+ plays for bayern) / netherlands national team x reader / german national team x dutch!reader
warnings: netherlands losing. crying. swearing. changed some things about the match, but the result is the same. fouls. mentions of bruising and swelling.
authorâs: been obsessed with her lately so just had to write something. writing about nations league losses have become my thing I fear :(
masterlist
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February, 2024
They'd know beforehand that this situation could happen, yet when both their teams lost in the semifinals, it was hard to grasp the reality that one needed to beat the other in order to go to the Olympics in Paris.
Herself and Lena had played plenty of times against each other, with both their respective clubs and national teams.
However, this felt different.
Their previous international meetings had merely been friendlies in preparations for other competitive events like the World Cup a year prior.
This was for a spot at the Olympics.
Y/N had been at the previous edition in Tokyo with the Dutch team, where they had stranded in the quarterfinals against the United States on penalties.
Lena had never played at the Olympic Games, something she greatly wanted to achieve with her German teammates.
Both teams also wanted to redeem themselves after disappointing World Cup exits.
There were many things at stake.
Of course, headlines and articles had been made about how the couple was going to go head-to-head in a very important match for both sides.
Prior to their arrivals at the stadium, they hadn't seen each other for a few weeks. Lena played for Wolfsburg, while Y/N was a striker for Bayern Munich.
Although, Lena's upcoming transfer to Bayern would assure they would only have to miss each other during international breaks.
The young footballers had gotten together about a year prior, all credit to Lynn, Dom and Jill who had played matchmakers.
The distance was difficult at first, but they eventually found a nice balance. It sounded cliche, but communication really is the key to a good relationship.
Y/N was strolling around the pitch with her teammates when the German team appeared in the tunnel.
She didn't notice her girlfriend at first, too occupied in a conversation with Andries and Sherida.
It was Lynn, who so ''sweetly'' screamed for her best friend to ''get her ass over here'' that got her to excuse herself from the discussion with her captain and coach.
''Echte uitslover jij, waar was je nou weer over aan het lullen met hen?'' (''You're a real teacher's pet, what were you bullshitting about this time with them?'') Lynn teased her as she approached her, Lena, Jule and Lea.
Y/N sarcastically smiled at her fellow Dutchwoman. ''Jouw dikke kop!'' (''Your big head!'') She retorted, with Lynn playfully giving her a shove afterwards.
Her eyes lit up once she spotted Lena. Despite the tension of the upcoming match, seeing her face brought a sense of comfort amidst the nerves.
''Hey, everyone.'' Y/N moved to embrace Lea and Jule first, their proximity making them the easiest targets for her initial greetings. She let out an awkward chuckle as she made eye contact with her girlfriend again, but went in for the hug as well.
''Missed you.'' Lena whispered softly, her arms wrapping around her partner's waist in a comforting hold.
''Missed you too.'' Y/N replied, her voice equally gentle.
Their embrace was brief, acutely aware of the prying eyes of the photographers stationed around the field. It wasn't that they were afraid of showing public displays of affection, it was more the discomfort that came with the knowledge that every moment captured on camera would be scrutinized and analyzed by the media and fans alike.
They were far from being a secret- their relationship was an open secret among their teammates and the wider football community. Yet, the constant surveillance felt suffocating at times. So, when they could help it, they kept the PDA to a minimum, opting for subtle gestures and fleeting touches that spoke volumes in their own right.
''My mum and dad are coming tonight.'' Y/N said to Lena, the pair quickly disassociated to their own small bubble.
The German grinned. ''Yeah? That's nice, haven't seen them in a while.'' She replied, her tone warm and genuine.
Y/N nodded, a sense of anticipation building within her at the thought of her parents' arrival. She had a good relationship with her family, they'd been supportive of her love of football from the moment she started and went to almost every game if they could.
''My mum did make a small sign for you, cause she thought you might get upset with her.'' She playfully rolled her eyes at the recalling of her mother sending her a picture of the small poster that said 'Go Lena!'.
Lena chuckled at the mention of her girlfriend's mother's thoughtful gesture, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. ''That's very sweet, I can't wait to see it in person.''
''She's probably gonna want to take a picture of you with it, so you're warned beforehand.'' Y/N laughed, knowing her mother wanted photos of everything and everyone.
''I'll be sure to smile extra wide for the camera then, like this.'' Lena pretended to grin very big, showing off her teeth.
Y/N burst into laughter at her exaggerated pose, her eyes crinkling with amusement. ''Perfect, Obi! Exactly what she wants for a heartwarming photo.'' She teased, mimicking Lena's antics.
''Hey, you two,'' Lynn interrupted their moment, the entire group staring at the couple, ''the loser sleeps on the couch or what?'' The Dutch defender laughed.
Her national teammate mockingly rolled her eyes. ''Lynno, we don't even live in the same place. Idioot dat je bent.'' (''Idiot you are.'') Y/N responded.
Lynn chuckled in response, waving off her friend's playful insult with a dismissive gesture. ''Details, details,'' she replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, ''just make sure you've got that couch ready, wherever it may be.''
''I'm sure she has chosen a nice place.'' Lena retorted, chiming in on the banter.
Y/N's mouth gaped dramatically, and her eyes widened, exaggerating her reaction to the playful exchange. ''Actually, since you like breaking ankles, you can just sleep on the floor.''
Lena raised an eyebrow in mock surprise at her girlfriend's response, which drew another round of laughter from the group. ''Oh, I see how it is,'' she teased, ''floor it is, then. I'll bring my sleeping bag.'' She accepted.
She threw her arm around Lena at the feigned sadness over having to bring a sleeping bag, her pout being too cute to not fawn over.
It was a nice moment to have with the group, temporarily forgetting an important match would have to be played a few hours later.
There was a mixed atmosphere in the tunnel as both teams started gathering in a line, familiarizing themselves with their small mascots, who were all looking up at the players with wide-eyed excitement.
The Netherlands' usual captain, Sherida Spitse, had been forced to withdraw from the starting lineup due to a last-minute injury sustained during the warm-up. In her absence, Y/N found herself unexpectedly thrust into the role of captain for the crucial match.
As she entered the tunnel, the weight of the captain's armband felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. While she had stepped into the role of captain before, it had always been in moments of crisis, when Sherida was substituted during a match and Y/N was hastily given the band by one of their teammates.
It was not only a great moment for her, it would be one for her family as well. Though they weren't particularly patriotic, knowing that their daughter had been chosen by the entire Dutch team to lead them out for such an important match filled them with a sense of pride and honor.
Her usual spot in the line would be at the back, next to Lena. It had become almost routine for them to have a small chat before their matches, even when they were with Bayern and Wolfsburg, they were always the last players to enter the stadium.
Y/N held the pennant in her hands tight as she approached her girlfriend, careful to not make a big deal out of it since they were already filming the players as they waited for the officials to walk out.
A small pat on her arm was enough to grab Lena's attention, the German turning her head before a small, but nervous, smile broke out on her face once she noticed who it was.
''Hey, Captain.'' She grinned, her eyes briefly glancing towards where the armband was comfortably wrapped around her partner's bicep.
Y/N smirked once she noticed, but didn't say anything about it. ''Hi,'' she softly said, ''good match, alright? And please, don't break my ankles.'' She teased.
''No promises.'' Lena chuckled, playfully raising her eyebrow.
They shared a final glance before the striker made her way to the front of the line-up, only to be stopped by Dominique. ''Ze gaat sowieso je enkel breken.'' (''No doubt she's going to break your ankle.'') The Dutch defender said, a mischievous look in her eyes.
''Ik weet het.'' (''I know.'') Y/N sighed.
''Dom was right.'' The captain muttered under her breath as she was yet again taking to the ground by one of the German defenders.
It hadn't even been close to half-time yet and the Bayern Munich player had been assaulted from all sides. Funny enough, none of the challenges had been made by Lena- so far at least.
Danielle helped her get up from the ground, quickly checking in. ''I'm fine, Daan.'' Y/N reassured the older player, wiping her knees clean.
The first half proved to be eventful, yet no goals had been made by either side. The goalkeepers were making amazing saves, but both teams had also missed serious chances at scoring the opening goal.
Despite being deployed in Sherida's position as a defensive midfielder, Y/N managed to make an impact in the attacking third. She found herself with two golden opportunities to break the deadlock, however, luck was not on her side as both strikes rattled off the woodwork, denying her the chance to put her team ahead.
The opening minute of the second half was marked by a somewhat surprising moment:
Lena fouled Y/N.
The referee blew the whistle, signaling the late challenge made by the midfielder. Y/N, with a dramatic flair, collapsed to the ground, clutching her leg in feigned agony.
Recognizing the playful nature of the moment, Lena quickly understood that she was only hamming it up for the sake of a breather for her teammates and to ruin the Germans' momentum. However, she still bent down beside her girlfriend.
''You shouldn't go into acting anytime soon.'' Lena chuckled, briefly letting her hand caress over the part that 'allegedly' hurt so bad.
The captain let out a small smile. ''That's mean, you should get a yellow card for descent.''
The midfielder's eyes sparked with amusement as she helped her back up to her feet. ''Maybe later.'' She quipped, playfully nudging her girlfriend's shoulder before they resumed their positions on the field.
It didn't take too long for the fun to be over as Klara put in the first goal of the night, which had been assisted by Lena. About 10 minutes later, another Bayern teammate put one in the back of the net as Lea also got herself on the scoresheet.
As the game wore on, Y/N became increasingly determined to make a difference on the field. However, despite her best efforts, none of her attempts seemed to find the back of the net. Her teammates were not clinical enough, or the shots were deflected by the German defenders.
The more attacks she created, the more aggressive the fouls of the German grew on her.
They seemed determined to shut down Y/N's advances by any means necessary, resorting to increasingly rough challenges to disrupt her rhythm.
She managed to keep the ball from NĂŒsken, and send a pass to Esmee when a German player made a reckless tackle from behind, catching her off guard. The force of the challenge sent her crashing to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through her ankle.
A wave of concern washed over the stadium and the Dutch team as they watched their most vital player of the evening being abruptly taken out by Giulia.
People close to her rushed to her side, including Giulia who didn't have the intention to actually hurt her Bayern teammate. The referee swiftly intervened, issuing a yellow card.
''Shit, I'm sorry- didn't time it well.'' The midfielder apologized immediately, knowing right away it wasn't a great or necessary challenge.
Y/N made a gesture with her hand, which translated to ''it's okay, just give me space now,'' which Giulia understood, the pair having a great relationship at Bayern.
Lynn was the first of her teammates to reach her, shouting profanities at Giulia and the referee for letting the fouls on her best friend get to the point where she needed the medical team.
''Alles goed, meid?'' (''Everything okay, girlie?'') The Wolfsburg defender asked, concern etched on her face.
''Ik denk dat me enkel er elk moment gaat afvallen.'' (''I think my ankle is going to fall off at any moment.'') She sarcastically replied, rolling her eyes.
Lynn chuckled at her friend's attempt at humor, though the worry still lingered in her eyes. ''Ik hoop van niet, we hebben die nog nodig.'' (''I hope it doesn't, we still need it.'').
Meanwhile, the medical team arrived, quickly assessing Y/N's ankle to determine the extent of the injury. The other players quickly backed off so the staff could work in peace.
Lena noticed her club teammate's concerned expression and approached her quietly. ''How's she doing?'' She asked softly, her eyes flickering toward Y/N, whose ankle was covered in bruises.
Lynn sighed, her hand smoothing down her hair. ''I think she's trying to make it out as if she isn't bothered by it, but it's obvious it hurts- look at it, completely blue.'' The Dutchwoman motioned towards where one of the physios was icing her foot.
The midfielder nodded. ''I hope it's nothing too serious.'' She observed the way her partner was hissing at the way the staff was assessing her ankle, visibly agitated by the pain. She wished she could do more to help, but all she could do for now was offer her support from the sidelines.
The Dutch team held their breath as Y/N gingerly tested her weight on her injured ankle, her expression a mix of determination and discomfort. Every eye on the sideline was fixed on her, silently praying that she would be able to continue.
''As soon as the match is done, you're coming with us to the medical room. I'm surprised you can walk still.'' Their physiotherapist ordered her, glancing down at her iced and taped up ankle.
Andries sent her a thumbs up, asking if she was okay to continue. However, Y/N knew they had used up all their substitutes so there would be no use in forfeiting the game, so she confirmed with a nod that she would carry on.
She could walk on her own to the side of the pitch, though there was a limp in her step. The striker carefully jogged onto the grass as the referee gave her permission to join the match again.
A few tense minutes later, the shrill sound of the referee's whistle pierced the air, signaling the end of the match.
Amidst the disappointment of the Dutch team, the German players erupted into jubilant celebrations. They hugged each other tightly, their faces beaming with joy and relief as they reveled in their hard-earned victory.
The Oranje Leeuwinnen on the pitch dejectedly gave each other hugs and consolations, most with tears in their eyes.
Y/N had lowered herself onto the ice-cold grass, the throbbing pain in her ankle too much to bear. She winced as she cautiously propped herself up against the turf.
She suddenly felt two pairs of arms slip beneath hers, lifting her gently off the ground. Startled, she looked up to see Esmee and Kerstin, their expressions filled with concern as they looked at their captain.
''Kom op, meid,'' (''Come on, girl,') Kerstin gently said, ''je was echt een beest op dat middenveld.'' (''You really were a beast in the midfield.'') The Manchester City player chuckled, trying to lighten up the somber mood.
Esmee nodded in agreement, her grip firm yet gentle as she supported Y/N's weight. The two youngsters guided her towards the waiting medical staff, who had been watching the scene unfold from the sidelines.
Some of their teammates and staff patted their heads and ruffled their hair as they walked across the pitch, offering words of sweet nothingness.
With a reassuring nod from the physiotherapist, Esmee and Kerstin carefully lowered her onto the stretcher, ensuring she was comfortable before the medical team began to carry her inside the stadium for further examination.
The injured player could hear the applause from the bystanders, but it wasn't much solace as the pain and disappointment hit her like a truck. Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, Y/N felt a sob escape her lips, the sound muffled by her hands as she covered her face.
The staff of the Dutch team carrying the stretcher watched with downcast eyes, feeling for the young player who had literally given her body and soul this match.
After what seemed like an eternity of navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the stadium, they finally reached the treatment room. With practiced efficiency, they set to work assessing Y/N's injury, carefully removing her shoe and sock to examine her blue ankle.
As the physiotherapists administered treatment, taping up her ankle and applying ice packs to reduce the swelling, the striker remained silent, lost in her thoughts and emotions.
Once her ankle was securely taped and she was given the green light to proceed, Y/N wasted no time in making her way back to the pitch. The pain was barely noticeable anymore as she walked with quickness in her strides, simply wanting to be with her team.
Surprisingly, the German and Dutch players were still exchanging handshakes with one another, acknowledging each other's efforts or catching up with teammates.
The Dutch captain delicately walked onto the pitch again going for the officials who stood in the center of the big field. On her way there, she shook hands or gave hugs with either her national teammates or club teammates, each of them praising her performance of the night- though the striker didn't feel deserving of it.
With a firm handshake and a nod of acknowledgment, she greeted the officials. One of them had asked about her injury, but the player assured her that she was alright. With a suppressed smile, she turned away from them.
''Y/NâŠ'' She heard a voice next to her, immediately recognizing whose it was.
The Dutch striker tried to beam the best she could, a strained grin plastered on her face. ''Hey.''
Lena hesitantly motioned for a hug, not confident in how to handle the situation. Her girlfriend nodded, opening her arms, and welcoming each other in an embrace in the center of the pitch.
''I know it doesn't look like I am, but I am very happy for you and the girls.'' Y/N mumbled into Lena's neck, her voice thick with emotion as she fought to hold back her tears.
The German midfielder brushed her fingers gently through her hair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. ''Danke,'' (''Thank you,'') she whispered in response, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. ''I know you're happy for us, you don't need to say it.''
Their embrace lingered for a moment longer, each reluctant to let go. But eventually, they pulled back, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange.
''How's your ankle?'' Lena asked, discreetly peeking at her girlfriend's taped up ankle.
The Dutchwoman shrugged her shoulders. ''It's just very bruised, that's it,'' she dismissed, ''you played really well- nice assist, by the way.'' Y/N changed the subject, not wanting to linger on the topic of her physical well-being.
Lena's cheeks flushed at the compliment. ''Thank you. I meant to score, though.''
The German glanced around the stadium, scanning the crowd. ''Where are your parents sitting?'' She asked.
Y/N pointed towards a section of the stands where her parents were seated, their faces alight with pride and excitement as they waved to them from the crowd. The couple happily waved back at them, Lena lightly chuckling at the poster that her girlfriend's father hastily pulled out of his wife's bag, motioning it around for Lena to see.
''They're so sweet.'' She remarked, her voice filled with affection as she glanced back at Y/N. But as Lena turned her gaze back to her girlfriend, she noticed a sudden shift in her demeanor.
As Y/N watched her family in the stands, a flood of emotions washed over her. She felt a lump form in her throat as she took in the sight of them, their smiles radiating nothing but support for their daughter and her national team. However, it was once she glanced down at the fans around them, downed in orange decorations and clothing, that her true feelings about the outcome of the match came to the surface. The sea of orange seemed to mock her, a painful reminder of the missed opportunities and shattered dreams that had taken place tonight.
The team had fought tooth and nail to simply make it out of the group stages, the late drama at the match against Belgium had filled the squad with newfound confidence and resilience. They'd come so close to their ticket to the Olympics, it was practically in their hands before it had been taken away from them and ripped in millions of pieces.
She couldn't help but feel a sense of profound loss. The weight of the defeat lied heavily on her, feeling somewhat the most responsible for the defeat, as if she had been the only player on her team. Deep down, Y/N knew this was far from the truth- football was a team effort, and their loss was a collective outcome. But the pressure she had felt was immense, spurred on by the absence of key players like Jill, Victoria, and Vivianne.
In the eyes of the Dutch media, Y/N had been hailed as the team's ''saving angel,'' a title that now felt like a heavy burden on her shoulders. She had been the one to step up in critical moments, delivering crucial assists and last-minute goals that had propelled the Netherlands to victory in the past. But tonight, she couldn't replicate that success- something she feared she would be crucified for by the fans and pundits.
Lena's heart ached at the sight of her girlfriend's distress, the lines of worry etched into her brow as she struggled to maintain her composure.
With a gentle touch, she reached out to Y/N, her fingers lightly brushing against her arm as she offered silent support. Lena understood right away what she was thinking as she watched her observe the crowd, it's what she had felt at the World Cup, it's what she had felt when Wolfsburg were knocked out of the Champions League.
Utter and complete disappointment.
''Hey,'' Lena murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she sought to break through the walls of self-doubt that surrounded Y/N, ''it's okay, you did well.'' She comforted as she pulled her into another embrace, her arms caressing the Dutchwoman's back.
Y/N buried her face against Lena's shoulder, her tears soaking into the fabric of her jersey as she clung to her girlfriend's warmth. ''I wanted it so badly,'' she admitted, ''and I played so fucking bad, missed so many sitters.''
It was frustrating for Lena to hear, especially since her partner was easily one of the best players on the field tonight, and was the sole reason the Netherlands were still in the game the entire match. ''Do you know how hard you made it for us? You kept taking the ball from me.'' She tried to convince her, her voice resolute.
Y/N sniffled, her breath hitching as she struggled to hold back her tears. ''But I could have- I should have done so much better.'' She lamented, her voice muffled against Lena's shoulder.
Lena pulled back slightly, cupping Y/N's face in her hands so she could look into her eyes. ''You did everything you could,'' the midfielder reassured her, her gaze unwavering, ''you were playing out of your position the entire time, you were constantly creating chances for yourself and for your teammates, you were my player of the match- and I'm not just saying that,'' she interrupted herself before her girlfriend could, ''you're a phenomenal player, and I was so proud watching you tonight.''
Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and disbelief at Lena's words. She had been so consumed by her own self-criticism that she hadn't realized how much her partner valued and appreciated her efforts on the field.
She wrapped her arms around her, giving a swift peck on the cheek. ''Love you.''
''Love you too.'' Lena reciprocated, landing a kiss on her girlfriend's cheek as well.
The Dutchwoman glanced to her side, seeing the German team starting to form a huddle with one another. ''Obi,'' she caught Lena's attention, signaling towards her teammates, ''go and celebrate, we'll talk tomorrow, alright?''
As Lena hesitated, Y/N gave her an encouraging smile. ''Seriously, go join them, you're going to Olympics, have fun with them. I'm gonna be mad if you don't.''
''Okay, but we face time tomorrow?'' The young midfielder asked, needing the reassurance.
Y/N chuckled softly, touched by her partner's concern. ''We will. Now go, and party- oh my God.''
With a final nod of understanding, Lena gave her girlfriend's hand a gentle squeeze before reluctantly turning to join the German team in their huddle.
As Y/N watched her disappear into the celebratory chaos, a bittersweet smile touched her lips. She could see her own team waiting for her, already standing in a circle.
She took the spot next to her best friend, as Lynn made space for her to join.
A slight grimace crossed her face as the entire team listened to Andries, prompting the defender next to her to furrow her eyebrows. ''Je enkel?'' (''Your ankle?'') She asked.
With a wry smile, Y/N shook her head. ''Nee, de rugpijn die ik ga hebben na het slapen op de grond.'' (''No, the back pain I'll be having after sleeping on the floor.'') She responded, a teasing smirk on her face.
lena requests are always welcome!
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Do you read much fic yourself? and if u do, do u have any recs?
I kinda read fic in fits and starts, to be honest? Like it ebbs and it flows, pretty much, hah. So sometimes I read a TON of it and sometimes I pretty much don't read any at all. So like, currently not really, but previously enough that I def DO have recs, haha.
Not an exhaustive list of my faves, just some random Good Ones I can think of off the top of my head ( all some variant of DC or DPxDC ).
( also def read the tags on these, there's def some tags on a few of them that at least some people would wanna know about before reading. )
Catching Icarus by Fantasyfire ( YJA!Conner gets Super-adopted, interdimensionally-speaking. Fully the inspo for that "the last son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon" WIP of mine, for the record. )
I Want It That Way by WynterSky ( Tim/Kon but make it 90's and also an emotional rollercoaster. )
Stress Relief by daemoninwhite [ nsfw ] ( Kon goes to a sex club in space for some free-use/stuck-in-wall-style stress relief and gets exactly what he wants. )
Jasmine Luthor by Die_Erlkonigin6083 ( Jazz finds out her biodad is Lex Luthor and literally does not care until she finds out CONNER Luthor exists. )
The Unnecessarily Dramatic Death of One Jasmine Fenton by Rowan_the_Escapist ( Jazz and Jason meet at a party and it all goes to shit pretty quick. fyi I will chew on this worldbuilding and also this version of Jazz/Jason until I ALSO die. )
Lazy Sunday by Faeriekit [ nsfw ] ( . . . I did not think I'd be so into Jason/Tucker but uhhhhh turns out I'm real into Jason/Tucker and especially into Jason getting consensually hypnotized into a househusband while absolutely desperate for his boyfriend Dom to fuck him, go fig!! )
The French Mistake by Vamillepudding ( The wrong Bruce is in this reality but he's a much better dad than the right one, so is that really a problem?? )
Buy One, Get One by iselsis ( Incubus!Jason gets rescued/surprise-adopted by Batman and then tries to figure out if it's safe to ask Bruce to save his succubus!mom from his shitty dad. )
Catherine/Bruce Medieval AU by iselsis and PotatoLady ( I am not emotionally well about this whole entire concept, hahaha. Omegaverse medieval AU where Bruce beats Willis in a fight and therefore wins whatever belongs to him. Which in this scenario includes Catherine and Jason. )
bystander by greeneyedfirework ( Batfam omegaverse where alpha!Jason finds a messed-up Robin!Dick in heat and it is a Problem(tm). One of the specific genre of omegaverse-Robins-in-distress that was inspo for the "Robin gets nested" WIP. )
Eyes Like Kryptonite by dragonez ( Lena Luthor gets a strange Kryptonian on her balcony who doesn't know if he's from an alternate reality or time-travelling and wants specifically HER help. Kara/Lena. )
your ghost i will gladly bear by merils ( Interdimensional Timkon featuring two Robins on a rooftop while they're both dead. THIS CONCEPT, I LOVE IT. )
This isn't how things are supposed to go. But we've always been unorthodox. by RenkonNairu ( Please and thank you for this slightly niche and highly interesting omegaverse take including omega!Kon, bless. Also Tim/Kon and Bruce/Clark, accidental and deliberate and deliberately-AVOIDED bonding, and the shitty version of Lex/Clark. )
Fairy Godbrother by envysparkler ( Batbrothers accidentally-on-purpose decide to meddle in another reality's version of themselves in quick succession, or over the course of several years, depending on how you timestream it. )
. . . . . . like, just go check out thebodydies and Briarwitched, I cannot effectively narrow down the options there, haha, just gooooo.
#anonymous#rinrecs#not sfw#meaning some of these links but not all#and I marked the not sfw ones#omegaverse mention
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Nightshade
Chapter 5: Fuck The Cape
Chapter 4 | Chapter 6
TW: depictions of near drowning, memories of parental abuse & neglect, smoking, drinking, fights (not graphic), unhealthy coping mechanisms, panic attacks, general stress, I know nothing about cameras or photography, emotional vulnerability.
âI canât do it!" I cried out as the waves tossed against me. The sun was still high in the sky, blinding slivers of light reflecting off of the moving water and shining into my eyes as I desperately tried to stay above water.
The boat only a few movements away bobbed on the surface, groaning with each shift of the waves. "You either sink or swim, Lena." The voice was soft and nurturing, but the words were anything but. "And Glovers don't sink."
Water crashed over my head, forcing me beneath the surface for a moment before I managed to push myself back to the top. I freedom sucked in as much air as I could, wide eyes looking at the half-shaded figure lounging on the boat. "Mom please!"
With a sigh, she shook her head as she stood. "Sink or swim."
The roar of the engine ripped along the surface of the water as the boat eased further and further away from me, back toward the shore. My heavy breaths did little the warm the cold that settled in my limbs as they moved, struggling to keep me afloat. With hot tears blurring my vision I forced myself to swim forward.
Salty. Sweet. Bitter. The water hit my tongue each time my heavy limbs splashed above the water. Each time it was a different taste, a different sensation that filled my brain with a moment of distraction. The taste, however potent, did little to help keep me from sinking as the fatigue finally set in. My eyes burned each time I forced my head to breach the surface, taking in as many sharp breaths of the frozen air as I could before sinking deeper and deeper into the ever-darkening water.
Sink or swim.
With one last push of my arms, I forced myself above the water and fumbled for the ledge of the buoy. My frozen fingers curled around the even colder surface as I tugged myself closer to the bright red material. It swayed with the waves, chaotic and violent but I held on. The sun began to set over the sparkling horizon and as night fell I could only wait and pray she would come back for me soon.
Sink or swim.
"Lena?" Howard called on the other end of the phone. "Are you still there?" The red buoy caught the light as I stared across the shimmering water, stuck in echoes of the waves and the cries of the birds, everything that held the bitter memories of a girl lost to this sea.
"Yeah⊠Yeah, I'm still here." I sighed, tearing my eyes away from the ocean and forcing my breaths in and out. Just breathe. "Sorry, I⊠got distracted."
Howard made a noise of acknowledgment. "Perfectly understandable. I take it you found somewhere nice and secluded to rest and maybe have some fun?"
My eyes shifted once again to that damn red buoy. "Secluded is definitely a fitting word. Sorry, again, for giving you such short notice."
"Don't worry about it," he insisted. "I'm well versed in keeping the restaurant afloat through sudden changes."
A sharp tingle ran through my limbs, forcing them to recall the numb heaviness of fatigue that had stemmed from keeping me afloat on those damn waves. "Still, I'm sure Scott won't be too happy about it."
"Scott will understand. Enjoy your vacation, Lena, you've earned it."
"Yeah... I will," I lied. "Thanks again, Howard."
"See you in a few days."
I squeezed the closed phone in my hands trying to stave off the numbness before it spread to my legs. God, I was so stupid. I knew what Cape fucking Cod held⊠I knew what would happen when I got here and yet I came anyway. I always did. At this point, it was some sick and twisted ritual that forced me to face the past and move on. Except the last part never happened. Instead of sorting my shit out and moving on, I spent my time either avoiding it all with booze and drugs and fights or by stupidly diving headfirst into the worst of it all and reopening every damn wound I worked so hard to mend. I'm so fucking stupid, I told myself again as I walked back towards the house. This is fucking stupid!Â
The beach house was exactly how I left it, covered in broken glass and empty bottles of whatever booze she left lying around before she left. I walked over the glass, intentionally stepping down harder to ensure itâd shatter into even smaller more difficult pieces to clean up, and made my way to the kitchen. There was nothing to eat, never was, but there was always plenty of wine and whisky and right now that was all I needed. Pulling a bottle off the counter I sat down on the floor, looking out across the floor of glittering glass and dust, I flipped my phone open and dialed the number without sparing a second glance.
Ring. Ring. Ring. âHello?â My breath caught in my throat as tears began to fill my eyes. âJust kiddin, youâve reached Jack Harrow leave a message after the beep or whatever.â Beep.
âHey pops,â I whispered, closing my eyes. âItâs Lena⊠I⊠I just wanted to hear your voice, you know that sentimental shit or whatever. Peteâs coming home next week. Heâs not out of the woods yet, but heâs looking better than he has in years and I hope this is the thing that actually works for him, ya know? He deserves to get better and to live the rest of his life. Oz has the bar pretty much under control, though I think he misses having you around to mess with. Patrickâs doing right by the place, hasnât changed a thing. I⊠I started working at 22West.â I laughed, imagining the slew of phrases heâd say to lovingly mock me. âI know, I know⊠I missed it. Well, the cooking part at least. Feeling like I was part of some top-notch kitchen and getting to watching rich people blow thousands of dollars on a chicken thigh or some wine. Everyoneâs been nice, youâd like them.â After a minute of silence, I couldnât help the soft sobs that worked their way out of my throat. âDaddy I⊠I⊠your jacket got ripped up. It was all my fault and Iâm sorry. Iâm so sorry Dad.â
The machine beeped again, cutting off the rest of my sobs and pleas for forgiveness. I curled up on the floor and pressed the phone harder to my ear, listening to the ringing again and to his deep voice and quiet chuckle. âHello? Just kiddin, youâve reached Jack Harrow leave a message after the beep or whatever.â
Beep.
*
Cape fucking Cod. Jake hated the cape more than he hated anything, even Howard or Etienne. He hated the little shops and the ugly blue-chipping color that almost every building seemed to be painted. He hated how everyone would smile and wave as they recognized him and Simone making their way toward her mom's house. Why did I even fucking come back here? He asked himself scowling at everyone they passed by. Simone laughed ahead of him, catching up with someone she knew or something.Â
Jake watched her for a second and sighed. Simone asked him. Thatâs why he came. She told him she needed him around to support her while she dealt with her mom being her mom. It wasnât that big of a deal⊠and he owed her that much at least after everything she did for him back then and still did for him now. If Simone needed him Jake would be there, no matter what.
âMoms pulling out all the stops,â Simone said falling into step beside him. âCooking our favorite meal and all that good stuff.â
âYippie,â Jake mumbled, pulling out the last of his cigarettes from the pack and getting ready to light it before Simone ripped it from between his lips with a sigh.
âCan you go just one day without smoking like a damn chimney?â
Jake clenched his jaw and tensely smiled at her. âSure.â
She stopped walking and dug a small piece of paper out of her bag, holding it out to him. âIâm going to go get things settled at the house. You head to the store and pick up the wine and dessert for tonight?â
âIâm on it,â he assured her, separating from her to head off toward the small store he knew was just around the corner.
âAnd Jake!â She called after him, causing him to turn and look at her. âThank you⊠for coming with me.â
Jake smiled, âNo problem.â
The second Simone was out of sight Jake returned to his displeased scowling. Everything in this town reminded him of the childhood he couldnât wait to get away from. Every street and person that walked along it contributed to the heavyweight that settled in his chest, growing tighter and tighter the longer he stayed here and breathed the thick salty air. As he turned the corner the weight on his chest lifted for a minute at the sight of that familiar red hair. No fucking way.
Lena walked down the sidewalk toward the small store with her head down and dark sunglasses covering her eyes. She looked like shit. Tired and dressed in clothes that looked old and tattered compared to what she normally wore. What made him narrow his eyes were the bruises that she hadnât even bothered trying to conceal on her jaw and hands. When she walked into the store Jake smirked and made his way across the street. Maybe this trip would be good for something after all.
*
I said thank you to the young clerk and walked out of the store, holding my new pack of cigarettes in one hand and my lighter in the other. "Hey, can I bum one of those?"Â
"Damn it!" I hissed startled, turning to find Jake standing next to me, smirking like heâd just won the damn lottery. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
He reached over and grabbed a cigarette out of my pack and scoffed. "It's a small town, princess. You want anonymity, you're gonna have to find it somewhere else."
I chose to ignore the new nickname as my head throbbed and I growled out, "Did you follow me?"
"Don't flatter yourself, " he replied, holding his hand out to me waiting for my lighter. "Simone has family here, our trip has been planned for weeks."
"So it's a coincidence then?"
"Yep." He nodded to my lighter. âGonna help me out or?â
I handed it to him and turned to keep walking. Jake followed, of course, happily puffing smoke along the way. âStop following me.â
He chuckled and shook his head. âBut Iâve got so many questions!â
âIâm not answering questions today Jake. So, just I donât know go do whatever the fuck youâre here to do.â
âJust one question, since Iâm such a good friend,â he offered.
âWill it get you to leave me the fuck alone?â
He laughed. âMaybe.â
âFine.â
âWhat are you doing in Cape Cod?â As we walked side by side I could see his eyes looking me up and down, likely focusing on how shitty I looked.
Fuck it. âI used to live around here during the summers with my mom.â
Jake stopped, pulling me with him. âNo shit, really? Simone and I lived here. Just up the hill over there.â
âGreat for you,â I replied pulling my arm free of his grasp. âNow, excuse me I have things to do.â
âIf you lived here how come we never ran into each other?â Jake continued to follow me with his pestering questions.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. âYou got your question, Jake, now fuck off.â
He didnât listen, of course, he didnât. âThink I woulda remembered a girl like you around here.â
A girl like me⊠he wouldnât have recognized the little girl I was back then. I hardly did. âI wasnât like this back then.â
âNo?â He hummed. âWere you fat or something?â
âNo.â Fucking asshole.
âWhat then?â
"You really don't want to come with me," I warned him, choosing to stray as far from the topic as I could. "It's not your scene."
He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. "I'm up to try anything once."
With a poorly concealed smirk, I nodded. âAlright then, come on tough guy.â
The old gym made Jakeâs eyes narrow, but he didnât stop following behind me until we reached the basement door and the burly man that stood in front of it. He nodded to Jake. âHe with you?â
âYup,â I replied looking back at him over my shoulder. âUnless he wants to leave?â
âAnd miss out on all this fun mystery shit, nah,â he replied with a quirked brow. A challenge.
The big man gave us both some garbled warning before moving to the side and letting us descend the dark stairs into the brightly lit basement filled with a crowd of people cheering and shouting at the two fighters in the middle of the room. It was hardly professional, but I didnât need it to be.
Jake looked around curiously, though I could see a shred of doubt in the way his eyebrows creased. âYou donât have to stay.â
He looked down at me with narrow eyes. âYou fight people in your free time?â
âNot always,â I answered. âJust when thereâs a lot of shit I need to work through. Having something to punch usually helps. Itâs an old habit of mine, not exactly healthy but it works.â I set my bag down on one of the shitty tables they set up off to the side of all the action. âLike I said, you donât have to stay.â
I was expecting him to make some excuse to save face and hurry out of there while he still could, but Jake surprised me again, sitting down next to my things. âYou think Iâm just gonna leave you here to get the shit beat out of you?â
âIâm not gonna get the shit beat out of me,â I assured him with a smile. âI am rather good at this.â
âYeah, those bruises youâre sporting sure instill a lot of confidence.â
âI gotta give them a few hits or no one will fight me.â
Jake chuckled, settling further into the seat. âWell, when you need help limping home Iâll be here.â
Wrapping my hands I rolled my eyes. âI should just take my frustration out on you instead.â
He opened his arms, making room in his lap. âIâm definitely down for that.â
âYouâre unbelievable.â
âSuit yourself,â he replied. âAt least my offer wonât give you any new bruises.â He paused. âScratch that, at least my offer wonât give you any bruises you wonât enjoy getting.â
Once my hands were properly wrapped I turned. âTry not to get your ass kicked while weâre here? I know itâll be a real challenge for you.â
*
Jake hadnât expected, well, this. Most girls he knew would spend bad days drinking wine and watching some shitty movie or shopping to take the edge off. Lena Harrow was not like most people, heâd quickly discovered. Watching her move in the shitty ring, dodging hits and landing even more was a surreal experience. Sweat glistened on her body, making her face practically glow in this brutal way that made him question a few things about himself. The satisfaction and pride that swelled in his gut at the sight of her taking down opponent after opponent was something he wasnât expecting either.
Lena wasnât much to him, a friend maybe but that was still a relatively new thing, and even that was forged in his underlying desire to get her to accept the mutual attraction and act on it. Jake tried to remind himself in the moments when Lena treated him like a friend that it wasnât real, that she was just another back waiter, cook, or whatever, that he wanted to fuck. She wasnât Simone. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. Lena was something else, though, something that Jake was more afraid of than heâd ever let on.
As her third opponent hit the floor she turned, her tired eyes gleaming and a bright smile on her face. She was beautiful, even covered in sweat and blood and lit up by the shitty basement lights. She was beautiful and Jake fucking hated it.
*
I sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the sting of the alcohol-soaked rag that Jake lightly pressed to my scratched-up knuckles.
"So, Hurricane Harrow? That another one of your boxing names?"
I shook my head, carefully undoing the rest of the wrap with my free hand. "It's more of a term⊠My dad's family comes from a long line of boxers. People would chant Hurricane Harrow when one of them got so mad in the ring that they stopped caring about rules and just went for blood." Jake was quiet, his blue eyes watching me with shockingly clear concern. "When my dad started teaching me how to fight he told me I had demons in me. He said the fire and rage they gave me was useful in a fight, but I needed to control it or it'd consume me."
"Harrows seek out fights like damn bloodhounds," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I know you're gonna keep this goin til you can't move, so the least I can do is show ya how to be good at it."
I looked at him through my one good eye. "You're serious? You're gonna let me fight?"
Dad smiled. "I'm gonna teach ya, never said I'd encourage your little alleyway brawls. There's a catch though."
"Course there is."
"You keep those demons in check for me, yeah?" He grinned, ruffling my hair. "Last thing I want is to end up lookin like you."
"You're such an asshole!" I shrieked with a laugh, shoving his hand away and sorely standing up. "You're on pops."
Jake pressed the cloth down a little harder, but even then he was being so gentle Iâd almost forgotten it was him here and not someone else, like Peter or Patrick. âEveryones got demons Lena, not just you.â
"My brother doesnât⊠not like me at least." I smiled a little, the bitter feeling making my chest tighten. "Peter has always been kind and good⊠Everything I'm not. He never fought out of anger, but out of passion. He loved the sport⊠And he was just so fucking nice about it. Why? Why did I have to be the one with all the anger?" It was a question Iâd asked a lot, one that I already knew the answer to, but Jake answered it anyway.
âI donât know,â he said softly. âBut if itâs any consolation I kinda liked seeing that side of you.â
I looked up at him and laughed nervously. âOh?â
Jake nodded, continuing his careful cleaning of my hands. âIt was badass.â
âThanks,â I grumbled, wincing when he rubbed a particularly sore spot.
"And hot."
"Shut up."
After a beat or two Jake said, âYour dad would be proud of you, Lena."
Clenching my jaw to keep the ugly noises trapped in my throat I nodded and wipe a tear from my eye before it could fall. âThanks, Jake. Iâm⊠oddly glad you decided to follow me.â
He smiled. âIâm great company, I know.â
âYour confidence is truly an inspiration,â I said, kicking his shin lightly. âCome on, Iâll buy you dinner as a thank you.â
He helped me up and fell into step beside me as we made our way out of the locker room and down the street, leaving the coppery tang of blood and the grunts of blows landing far behind us. This was something new, having someone around me while I was living it up at rock bottom. It felt both nice and unsettling. What was even worse was the fact that Jake didnât judge me. He didnât say anything or give me a judgmental look no matter how many cigarettes I smoked or glasses of whisky I ordered. Jake just stayed. He talked about his childhood here, or lack thereof, and spoke about how much he hated the stupid town. Jake hated Cape Cod almost as much as I did and I liked it.
We sat down outside, ordering a simple plate of cheeseburgers and french fries both of us insisting that fish was fucking disgusting. While we waited for our food Jake took another cigarette out of my bag and stole my lighter. âAre you planning on reimbursing me for my cigarettes?â
âFuck no,â he replied inhaling the smoke.
âOh, so youâre stealing from me then?â
Those blue eyes sparkled. âSays the girl that stole a drug dealer's motorcycle.â
âTouche.â
The food got brought out to our table and I instantly took hold of the large burger before looking up at Jake, who looked at me curiously. "I'm not gonna eat this all dainty like," I warned.
Jake shrugged with a roguish smile. "By all means, chow down, princess."
"Stop calling me that,â I grumbled.
"Nah," he said, blowing smoke across the table before dropping the rest of his cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out with his boot. "I like the way it sounds. And you clearly enjoy it."
"Ass."
I took a big bite of my burger, maintaining eye contact with the smirking Jake as he did the same. The two of us tried hard not to laugh and spit our food out. Jake managed to chew his faster, wiping the condiments from the corner of his mouth as he chuckled. âThat was impressive.â
With a little bow, I swallowed my food and laughed. âNever seen a girl almost choke on a cheeseburger before?â
âNo, that was definitely a first.â
âI aim to please,â I replied digging back into my food.
Jake finished his food first and had quietly taken up smoking as the wind began to grow colder the more the sun started to set. âSo, seriously, how come I never saw you around here when we were younger?â
Part of me didnât want to answer, but the other part looked at his totally idiotically handsome face and the sincerity that had taken to his features. I shrugged. âI donât know. My mom and I never really stayed long and we mostly kept to ourselves. I wasnât exactly the same as I am now.â
âI mean I figured the boobs and ass werenât as noticeable then,â he teased with a smirk. âBut that hair is hard to miss.â
âBelieve it or not I used to hate my hair. Iâd always wear a hood or a hat just to try and blend in a bit.â I sighed. âEven dyed it one year. It was horrible and I regretted it instantly! I was a lot less cool than I am now.â
âI donât believe that for a second,â Jake insisted.
âItâs true!â I laughed. âI was a geek that spent all day inside practicing the piano or cello or ballet. I didnât really do much during the summers with my mom.â
He nodded, an odd look shining in his eyes. âThink we woulda been friends back then?â
âDepends, were you nearly as annoying then as you are now?â
Jake laughed, loud and full, and the sound made me feel something deep in my chest, something I never felt out here. âOh, I was just as annoying.â
âThen I think we wouldâve been quite the pair.â
âYeah, me too.â Jake leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on the table. âCan I get one last question?â
I sighed, exaggerating with a smile. âI guess.â
âWhyâd you run?â
The image of my dad's jacket torn apart and hanging in my hands was seared into my memory as I bit my lip and looked anywhere but Jakeâs face. âThat fucking leather jacket. It was my dad's. Was⊠the last thing he gave me. Iâd been sitting with him in that fucking hospital for days when he just held it out to me and told me to look after it for him for a minute.â I chuckled a bit. âHe was convinced one of the nurses was going to try and steal it. I⊠I put it on when I went down to the cafeteria to get us some food and when I got backâŠâ Blinking the tears from my eyes I shook my head. âHe was gone.â
âIâm sorry,â Jake said. âI figured it meant something to you, but I didnât know it was like that.â
âItâs not your fault,â I said. âI was the one that was supposed to look after it and I didnât.â
He shook his head and reached across the table to take hold of one of my hands. âIt wasnât your fault either. If anything let's blame the idiot that tore it up.â
Jakeâs phone ringing broke the quiet moment between us as we both pulled away from each other and he reached into his pocket to answer. âHey⊠No, I know⊠Alright chill out, Iâm on my way⊠I said Iâm on my way Simone, Jesus.â
I stood up and placed the tip on the table. âDuty calls.â
âYeah,â he sighed following my lead. âYou gonna be okay?â
âIâm a big girl Jake,â I replied with a tense smile. âIâll be fine.â
He nodded, but I could see in his eyes that he didnât believe me. âWell, if you end up needing anything call me.â
âI donât have your number.â
âYeah, you do,â he replied with a grin. âI put it in your phone back at the gym.â
Scoffing I started walking. âWhat an invasion of my privacy.â
He laughed and shrugged. âTry not to get too fucked up out there.â
âYou too, tough guy.â
The quietness of the house usually never bothered me, but as I downed my fourth shot of tequila it suddenly grew almost unbearable. I was used to being alone⊠at least I had been, but now. I wanted to go home. I wanted to sleep in my own bed or even in the uncomfortable cot next to Peter. But I couldnât go home, not when the only thing keeping me from falling apart was booze and cigarettes. I couldnât. If I did Iâd go straight to Dom and Iâd fuck all my progress up. Iâd fuck everything up.
Out the window, the red buoy seemed to glow in the orange light. The numbness in my hands slowly started to return as I twirled my phone in my hand and considered calling Jake. He was busy no doubt, with Simone and whatever it was they came here for. Heâs busy, I told myself setting the phone down on the counter and committing to the idiotic idea that had settled into my head after the second shot. I almost slipped on the shards of glass as I made my way out the front door, and just started walking. I forced myself to breathe deeply, even though the air smelt rancid the closer I got to the ocean.
Driving a boat drunk is not something Iâd recommend, but somehow I made it past the red buoy and managed to stop the damn thing in the perfect spot. Staring out across the shimmering water I could feel the panic rising in my chest, could feel it but idiotically didnât even try to stop and think. No more thinking. I stepped off the edge and plunged into the cold water. No more thinking.
*
Jake couldnât get out of that house fast enough. Heâd forgotten to get the wine and dessert, which made Simone almost unbearable through dinner. Her mom was sweet like she always was, but it made Jake feel uncomfortable, reminding him too much of what little he remembered of his mom. He excused himself, holding his camera up and telling them he was going to get some shots of the beach before the sunset.
So there he was, walking along the beach next to the docks, taking pictures of the ocean and the sand. He aimed the lens out onto the water, focusing on an empty boat and snapping the picture before his brain registered the name neatly painted on the side. Harrow. A pit settled in his stomach as he pulled his camera away from his eyes for a moment before looking again.
He looked around the boat for a moment before he zoomed out a way. The camera lens focused on the floating red buoy and Jake felt his chest tighten at the sight of Lena, swimming sluggishly behind it. âLena?â
She disappeared under the water for a minute too long and Jake could hardly breathe as his feet moved quickly toward the boat at the dock, the one heâd used to dare kids to take for joyrides because the idiot owners always left the keys in it. He hopped in and looked back out at the water as Lenaâs red hair resurfaced and her pale hands gripped onto the buoy for dear life as the waves crashed over her. âLENA!â
God fucking damn it! He cursed, turning the engine on and hauling ass out onto the water toward her. The boat cutting through the water echoed distantly in his ears as that hideous fucking fear consumed him just like it did when he was a kid. He could hear the police quietly whispering about his mom as he sat on the stairs of his old home and waited. He could recall the sad smile on Simoneâs face as she tucked him into his new bed for the first time and curled up beside him stroking his hair while he cried. At that moment he remembered what it felt like when heâd first tried to drown himself. The breathlessness. The pressure.
His mom walked into the ocean and didnât come back. Heâd be fucking damned if Lena was going to do the same.
*
Every inch of my body shook as I clung to that damn buoy. What the fuck was I thinking? Who the hell just jumps into the fucking ocean to try and prove some stupid point to a mother thatâs not even here?! I could hear the water around me, the engine of some boat or another driving past, but everything was muffled as the panic began to overtake everything else. âSink or swim.â Iâd sunk. Sunk and fully settled into everything she said I would be. âYouâre going to regret this, little one. Not now, maybe not even in a few years, but one day, when youâve accomplished nothing in your life youâll regret this moment.â
âLENA!â Jakeâs muffled voice echoed in my ears as my head was pushed below the water again. âLena give me your fucking hand!â
Jake? I turned my head the second I came back up to find him leaning over the edge of some boat, reaching out for me. His blue eyes were wide and full of fear. âJ-J-Ja-ake?â
âIf you donât give me your hand right now I swear to fucking god Iâm going to drag you by the hair into this boat Lena!â He reached out to me more as his voice turned desperate, pleading, âJust give me your hand.â
Shaking I reached out to him and numbly latched onto his arm as he pulled me up into the boat. Jake shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around my front before pulling me into his arms and rubbing my cold skin. As my breaths quickened and the memories of all the other times Iâd failed replayed over and over again in my head as I mumbled.
He didnât know what I was talking about and honestly, he probably didnât care. Jake just held onto me tight, whispering to me, âIâve got you. Itâs okay, Iâve got you. Just breathe. Please just breathe.â
By the time my panic attack had settled the sun was gone and the stars filled the sky. Jake and I sat in the boat, looking up at the sky, neither of us sure where to start. âMy mom died out here. In this water.â
I turned my head and looked at him. Though his face remained stoic I could see the pain in his eyes as he looked up at the sky. âIâm⊠Iâm sorry⊠I didnât know that.â
He shrugged. âItâs fine, most people donât.â
His mom died⊠drown and yet heâd come to get me. He mustâve been so angry, so scared⊠I shook my head. âItâs not fine. You had to come out here and drag me out of the water your mom died in. I canât even imagine how terrifying that must have been.â Jakeâs face only twitched into a moment of fearful sorrow. I leaned further into him. âIâm sorry, Jake.â
âWhy were you out here?â He asked, voice cracking slightly. âWhy the fuck were you out in the middle of the fucking ocean?â
I could have given him whatever answer I wanted. Jake didnât know the truth and he didnât have to. No one did. The longer I sat there, covered in his leather jacket and being warmed by his body heat the more difficult it was to keep the truth inside. Eventually, I sighed and the words began to slip out, âI was never good at the piano or the cello or ballet. No matter how many hours I spent practicing⊠no matter how badly my fingers bled or my feet ached from the effort I put into the stupid things it was never enough.â I tapped on my leg for a minute, working up the courage to continue through the lump in my throat. âMy mom insisted I wasnât trying hard enough. Glovers are hard workers with talent and determination and in her head, I lacked both. To her, I was just lazy. So⊠when Iâd keep getting the notes wrong or messing up the routine sheâd plop me in a boat, drive out past the buoy and tell me to get in the water.â Jake was watching me closely now, I could feel the heat of his eyes, but I didnât have the heart to look at him. âIâd swim for hours before sheâd start the boat and tell me to sink or swim. Sheâd leave me there to swim back to shore myself. I never could⊠Iâd always end up hanging off that stupid buoy until one of the neighbors came and got me. She wouldnât even let me back in the house when I got back so Iâd have to stay with the old couple across the street for the night.â
âThat's⊠Thatâs fucked up.â He mumbled.
âYeah,â I wiped the tears from my eyes and glanced back at him. âAfter a while, I went to live with my dad and brother. She signed over custody without a fight and told him good luck.â
âIâm sorry,â Jake said, his tone low and unsure. He clearly wasnât expecting all this and sure as hell didnât know how to respond to any of it. âWhat is it about this fucking place that makes everything just shit?â
I laughed softly and shook my head. âI donât know. But, hey, at least we turned out only marginally fucked up.â
Jake laughed at that. âI fucking hate it here.â
âMe too,â I replied. âItâs probably the worst place in the world.â
âAnd yet neither of us seems to be able to stay away.â He sighed. âMaybe weâre more fucked up than we think.â
"Let's make each other a promise then," I said, holding my pinky out to him. He visibly bit back a snarky remark about the "childish" action. "To never come back here again."
The blue of his eyes sparkled as he thought about the offer for a minute before he nodded, reaching out to link his pinky with mine. "Yeah, okay."
"Fuck the cape," I said, my pinky squeezing his.
Jake smiled. "Fuck the cape."
*
I stood in the aisle of the store, looking at the condiments blankly while I tried to kill time. Mom was in another meeting, like always, and I'd been practicing for hours before I decided it was time for a break. So there I was, standing in the shitty store staring at condiments.
"Hey, pass me a thing of mustard?" A voice asked from beside me.
"Sure," I replied, bored.
The boy smiled crookedly as I handed the mustard to him. His ocean-blue eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lights and his dark hair was sticking up in several places. "Thanks."
"No problem."
He tilted his head. "You new around here? I don't think I've seen you before."
"Not new," I said. "But no, you probably haven't seen me."
He was about to ask another question when a blonde girl rounded the corner and gave him a scolding face. "There you are! You can't just wander off!"
"I didn't wander off." He rolled his eyes. "I was getting the mustard."
I silently excused myself from their argument, tucking my red hair deeper under my hood and making my way past them toward the front door. I needed to practice some more anyway, not stand around some store with arguing strangers.
#nightshade#jake and lena#lena harrow#jake x lena#sweetbitter jake x oc#jake sweetbitter#sweetbitter jake#jake smut#sweetbitter smut#sweetbitter#tom sturridge jake#tom sturridge#tom sturridge fanfiction#sweetbitter simone#sweet bitter#sweetbitter tess#sweetbitter howard#sweetbitter ari#sweetbitter dom#sweetbitter sasha#sweetbitter quinn#sweetbitter prue#sweetbitter patrick#sweetbitter ozzy#sweetbitter fanfic#sweetbitter scott#sweetbitter peter
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you and natasha were star-crossed lovers, separated by galaxies and timelines. like any other shakesperean tragedy, you and natasha's tale comes to an end... or does it?
pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)
note: this is the 3rd installment to the goddess!nat universe! please read the other parts first if you haven't already. this part contains major angst and smut. i have spent ungodly hours on this chapter.
word count: 4.5k (i am impressed with myself)
series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3
PreviouslyâŠÂ
No one escapes the consequences of their actions. Not even the Goddess of Lust, who had formed romantic relationships with a mortal. SHIELDâs decision to forbid the two of you from ever seeing each other again tears apart all the âwhat-ifsâ of a bright future.
NowâŠ
Natasha doesnât know how many hours sheâs been crying in the bathtub.
After the finality of SHIELDâs crushing decision had truly weighed itself upon Natashaâs burdened shoulders, the mere thought of what she would have to do to you shook her to the bone.
Which is why she crashed at her sisterâs place: to cry her problems away in a bathtub made of priceless gold, alongside a fine bottle of Pinot Grigio.
âJesus, Nat, youâre gonna die of hypothermia if you stay in there a second longer.â Yelena says, kicking open the bathroom door with a tray of smoked salmon appetizers in hand.
âTake one,â Yelena says absentmindedly, sitting herself on the edge of the bathtub next to Natashaâs partially-submerged form. âFood helps with everything.â
Natasha doesnât respond, only looking up at her sister through glassy eyes. Empty eyes. She felt raw and numb at the same time, but the contrasting emotions were merely childâs play in comparison to the storm that raged within her weary mind.
Yelena looks at her unamusedly, before folding her arms. âTalk to me,â she stated firmly, and it wasnât a request. The blonde sister was the Goddess of War, after all, she could be as intimidating and ruthless as she wanted to be.
Hot-headed at times, sure, but so paradoxically calculative and strategic at other times Natasha felt like she could get whiplash. Despite all of the finicky situations the older sister had found herself drowning in, Yelena was always there for her, fiercely protective with a passion like no other.
This was no different, with Yelena being the hand to pull her out of the water. Physically and metaphorically.Â
Natasha inhaled shakily, then exhaled and felt a whole lot worse than before. Impulsively, she snatched one of the smoked salmon appetizers off the plate and stuffed it in her mouth, feeling her eyes well up as she does so.
âDamn, this human fucked you up this bad?â The blonde said quizically, with an air of sarcastic wit on the surface but a layer of genuine concern underneath only Natasha would be able to decipher.Â
"... I've fallen in love with her." The Goddess says softly, faraway, like she was floating with the wind and time itself. Detached from reality, or perhaps running away from it.
Yelena stayed silent. For once, the Goddess of War was at a loss.Â
âIâve fallen in love with her,â Natasha says again, with slightly more conviction. She looks to her blonde sister, and Yelenaâs heart nearly shatters at the sight of the sheer hurt on Natashaâs face. So broken, so agonized, everything that she did not deserve to be.
âBut that doesnât even matter, alright? She gave me her heart, Lena, and Iâm going to have to break it. Iâm gonna break so manyâ Fuck, Iâm gonna have to break every single promise Iâve ever made to her, like sheâs some kind of toy.â Natasha chokes out. âAnd I donât, I fucking donâtâ understand why it was us, why I lead her on and why I let it happen. Iâm fucking stupid, and now itâs blown up in my face. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I-â
âYouâve never deserved it,â Yelena interrupts, placing a hand over her sistersâ. Is that how youâre supposed to comfort someone? Yelena doesnât know. Anyways, sheâs trying. âNat, I know youâre the Goddess of Lust, and your reputation precedes you, but, you, of all people, deserve love.â
You deserve love⊠what a fucking lie that was.
âDonât try that on me,â Natasha snaps, her walls snapping back up in record timing. Her self-destructive defence builds like armour, and soon sheâs standing up.Â
âIâve done some fucked up shit in the past, and Iâm very aware of it. I thought Iâd moved past it, but now those demons have caught up to me, and I canât do jackshit but watch the love of my life slip away from my fingers. I donât deserve love, it just happened to find me and I played along because I thought it could last.â
Natashaâs chest heaves at the impact of the outburst. She stares at Yelena, who remains painfully impassive. Arms folded, jaw working on the stupid fucking smoked salmon.
Fuck, she wanted to hurt someone. Make them feel her pain. Let it consume them like itâs consuming her, let it choke them andâ
âIs that what you really think, Nat? That you were simply playing a game with Y/N L/N? Because I assure you, I havenât seen much but I know damn well that those two months with her pure, unfiltered, undying, devotion.â
Yelenaâs words puncture a hole into her conscience, injecting venom with it. Each syllable, each emphasis, cuts her. Because Natasha knows that itâs true, but she canât accept it or sheâll never be able to let you go.
So all she does is give Yelena the best death stare she can muster, and stalk out of her bathroom like her clothes arenât dripping with bubbly water. (Yes, she had gone into the bathtub with all her clothes on. Depression waited for no man, or Goddess.)
She shakes her head, forcing the stray thoughts to dissipate, and fixes up her appearance with wordless magic.
My palace. Natasha visualizes the place, closing her eyes, and when she opens them again, sheâs standing right outside the door.
Apprehensively, she puts her hand on the handle to the huge, sparkling door. You would be waiting on the other side, waiting for Natasha to come home.Â
Waiting for Natasha to break your heart.
She pushes the door open before she can cower and hide, before she can run away and curse every sentient being in existence.Â
It was time for her mortal demise.
â
It was time for Natasha to see the fruits of your hard work.
You wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, huffing heavily but proud nonetheless. You step back to admire the absolute feast you had prepared for your girlfriend.
The fancy dining table was adorned with a checkered tablecloth and ornate with all kinds of things, expensive plates and cutlery already set up, just for two.
It was no secret that Natasha loved your home-cooked meals, despite being able to eat whatever she wanted, as a Goddess with a private chef. She had sworn you put something magical into your food.
Youâll never forget the moan she let out the first time she ate your perfected medium-rare New York Strip.
Which is exactly why youâve spent over an hour cooking up a banquet of all kinds of food for the Goddess, an array of cuisines from all around the world. As much as you loved the hot sex you had with Natasha, you were an absolute sucker for the domesticity of life with her, how simple and perfect it was.
As if on cue, you hear the front door open, which was not too far away from the dining hall.Â
Your heart physically leaps, unbridled excitement adorning your features. Natasha had taken longer than she normally would, and you could barely contain the anticipation thrumming in your bones.
That is, until you see Natasha standing in the hallway defeatedly, shoulders sagged and eyes lowered. Like all the life had been sapped out of her.
Fuck, you had never seen her like this. Natasha was the embodiment of undying energy, always with a smile on her face, or her expression schooled into composure, or her eyes fluttering in a state of lust. Not like this.Â
Never like this.
âDarling?â you ask, hushed. You take one step towards her, tentatively. The head of red hair looks up to you, and Natashaâs biting her lip like sheâs stopping the words from falling out of her mouth, like sheâll start crying if you say one word more.
âI-â Natasha tries, her voice hoarse and choked. The rest of her sentence dies in her throat, as she shakes her head and strides past you quickly, like she canât burn any longer under your gaze.
Your hand drops in complete loss as Natasha simply walks past you, shoulders brushing like a ghost of what used to be warm hugs and sweet kisses. You chase after her before you know it, yelling her name as the Goddess speeds up.
Natasha blinks back tears furiously, striding through the dining hall as the servants scatter like mice. She hardly registers the feast prepared on the ornate table, vision blurring with each desperate cry of her name you let out.
âNatasha? Whatâs the matter? Talk to me, please!âÂ
You sprint faster, dodging your way through the hallways and up the wide set of stairs. The Goddess is within armâs reach, now, and you extend your arm to grab onto hers, so you can spin her around and ask what on earth is goingâ
And the Goddess simply teleports away at the last second, the fleeting touch of her warm skin dissipating into thin air.
âFuck!â you yell, eyes darting in frustration. Why was Natasha acting like this? Had you done something? Forget her birthday? No, that was December 3rd. Forget the anniversary of your first meeting? Nope, that was January 24th. What on earth had you done? Or had she done something? Youâ
No, okay, calm down. Slow down. The rational voice in your head speaks up. Where would Natasha have gone? What was a significant place she would escape to, in times of distress?
After a moment of contemplation, you find your answer, and sooner than later youâre sprinting up the long flight of spiral staircases to the Astronomy Tower.Â
â
Natashaâs thankful for the dome-shaped glass ceiling the tower has, doing what it can to block out the cold. The sky is absolutely breathtaking, a heart-wrenching contrast to her inner turmoil.
Itâs a dark blue and a soft pink, with millions of little bright planets splashing across the canvas like silver sequins. The view of the galaxy from the land of the Gods had always been the greatest, after all.Â
The Goddess stands, unmoving and breathing lightly. She doesnât feel the least bit better, but at least sheâs calmed down in the slightest.
Sheâs bought some time by teleporting up here. Her hands were clammy, but no matter how many times she wipes them down on her dress it doesnât change a thing. She canât change a thing, not for anything, not for you.
âNatasha?â you ask, weakly, heaving at having sprinted up so many flights of stairs.Â
At the sight of you, the Goddess feels the tears spring back into her eyes again. Stupid. She wants to say sorry. Stroke your face and kiss your lips, maybe. Well, not maybe, because she canât. Because itâs the lastâ nope, she canât say it.
âNat, can youâŠ.. fuck, I need to work out more. Can you tell me whatâs going on, please? I made- I made a New York Strip, if youâre hungryââ
The Goddess walks up to you, cradling the side of your face in her hands. Oh, fuck it. Tender, sweet, delicate. Youâve never seen her face like this before, so soft yet so broken.
âWhatââ
Youâre cut off when Natasha leans into your space, eyelids fluttering shut. And for once, this wasnât preordained or predetermined. You didnât have to calculate the next move. You didnât have to fix a destiny.Â
Natashaâs lips meet yours in a grand, cruel, beautiful, broken kiss.
It feels so right, tongues interlocking like cogs on a machine, quavering breaths escaping from the sides of her mouth. You let her in, you drink her up. All other thoughts shut down.
Natasha kisses you with a hyenaâs jaw, swearing she could never get enough, never satiate her desires for you, even if everything else is wrong. Youâre stealing her every breath, every kiss, every sigh â she needed more.
She slides her hand down your torso, hands already finding the hem of your pants. But then you push her away â for the first time, for that last time â you push her away, and step back, and your head is spinning.
âI deserve to know,â you breathe heavily, and Natashaâs heart cracks. âYouâre scaring me, Nat, okay? First you brush past me all soulless, and then you make me chase after you, and then you kiss me so- so sadly, and now you wanna fuck? It doesnât make sense, not at all. I wanna know, I deserve to know, Iââ
âYou deserve everything,â Natasha interrupts, eyes transfixed on you now, and they look kaleidoscopic, just like the galaxy that hung above your heads. âYou deserve everything, but I canât give you what you need, and thatâs why this is the last time weâre ever seeing each other again.â
Silence ensues.
You take a good moment to actually mentally digest what Natasha had just said. â...What?âÂ
âThis is the last time weâre ever seeing each other again,â she repeats, firmer. You let out a bark of laughter in disbelief, half-joking, but Natashaâ stony face makes your face drop.
âAre you⊠breaking up with me?â you whisper, scared to say it loud, like doing so would make it less true. Natasha feels her heart clench, and her hands shake because youâve never sounded so small, so vulnerable.
âNo, Iâm notâ I had to, Y/N, darling,â Natasha says, trying to reason, clasping your hands in hers, shaking her head desparately, like it would stop her eyes from welling up. âIâm a Goddess, and youâre a mortal. I love you, please. But we canât do this, we canât-â
âIs it me?â you ask, softly, troubled. Eyes locking Natashaâs magnificent green eyes, oneâs that youâve fallen in love with a thousand times. Ones that you were still in love with.
âNo,â Natasha says immediately, her knuckles whitening. âItâs not you. Definitely not.â
âThen who is it?â you follow up, eyes narrowing, head tilted. âWhoâs the one tearing us apart?â
It was them, Natasha wants to scream out, until her lungs burned and her chest heaved and she ran out of tears. Youâre the best fucking thing thatâs happened in my life, and Iâm a damned fool if I ever let you go, but this isnât in my hands anymore. She wanted to curse the higher beings for centuries, taint their names with bitter words, but she couldnât get the words out of her mouth.
You grow more hopeless as the silence stretches on.Â
No, youâre the villain. Natashaâs voice says in her head. This was what had come to bite her back, this was her karma. Youâre paying for everything youâve ever done wrong, for all the hearts youâve broken and never mended. Itâs your turn to face the music, your turn to go through suffering. What a shame, isnât it? That sheâs the one whoâs so hurt because of you. Y/N L/N. Only person to blame is yourself.
âŠOnly person to blame is yourself.
âItâs me,â Natasha finally says, a shell of a woman who once was, and the Goddess swears she hears your heart smash into smithereens, the glass pieces against the floor you trod on.
âNo, what are you saying, Nat?â you ask, confused, tearing up, visibly shaking. âYouâre- weâre together. Weâre doing good. Weâre doing so fucking good, please donâtââ
âIâm the Goddess of Lust, and youâre an attorney from earth. We were never gonna work out. I wasnât made to have long-lasting, committed relationships. Just⊠lustful nights,â the falsehood of the words that fell out of Natashaâs mouth wasnât her own. It tasted bitter on her tongue, but it was like medicine and it was the right thing to do.
You needed a villain. Someone to hate. Someone to blame it all on.
And Natasha happened to be a very good one.
âWe were a time-ticking bomb, Y/N, separated by galaxies you could never even fathom.â she continues. âWe were never meant to be. I realise how wrong I am for this, because it was never realââ
âIt was real to me!â You yell out, voice cracking, tears in your eyes.Â
Natasha is stunned by the sheer volume of your words, so ferocious and so determined and fuck, she was pathetic. âIt was fucking real to me, alright? It was the realest thing Iâve ever had in my entire life. It was so fucking real, Nat, so you donât get to just pretend you never fell in love!â
Love.
âLove?â Natasha asks, letting out an amused huff of disbelief. âLove doesnât exist, not in my world, Y/N L/N. It had to end at some point, you know that. You have your responsibilities, I have mine. Weâre over, alright?â
You stand there, feet rooted on the ground, face fallen and ashen and grey. This was a dream. This was a dream, and youâd wake up next to the real Natasha later, the one with sweet smiles and peanut butter cookies, and everything would be alright.
âIâve said what I had to say,â the Goddess says, and she has to regulate her breathing so she wonât choke on her words and swallow them back. She had to escape before she fell to her knees and begged you for forgiveness. âIâm leaving, now.â
She turns, and you grab her arm. âYouâre staying.â you state, non-negotiable. A commanding tone. One that Natasha had grown to love.
This time, she scoffs, wrenching herself out of your grasp. âFucking make me, then.â
Just like that, a lever between the two of you was flicked, and the sexual tension youâd been trying to avoid since just now is nearly suffocating.
âWeâre not gonna do this right now,â You growl, looking up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. Teetering on the edge of precipice was your raging impulse, to either punch a hole in the wall or shove your hand up Natashaâs skimpy dress.
The Goddess tilts her head up in defiance, looking at you daringly in the eyes. Your eyes narrow, taking it as a challenge. God, she looked so fucking bratty like that, and it didnât help that she was still wearing a stupidly skimpy dress and that her pink lip gloss made that mouth so damn kissable.
âNo? Then Iâm leaving,â Natasha says abruptly, her tone of voice unyielding and domineering. She uncrosses her arms and turns on her heel, her hand going to the door of the tower.Â
The rhythmic clicking of her strappy high heels against the tiling of the ground ticks your brain like a metronome. You stand there with your arms folded, her long legs in the field of vision of narrowed eyes.Â
Click, click, clickâ
And then sheâs being spun around and slammed against the back of the door with an unruly force.
âThe only time someone ever turns their back on me, when Iâm talking, is when theyâre bendinâ over,â you growl into Natashaâs skin, each pause in your sentence filled with a harsh bite to her porcelain skin. Her gasp-turned-moan is heaven to your ears.Â
Natasha struggles for a moment, hand still grasping for the doorknob. âFuck,â she cries, but she feels the gyration of your roughly-shoved thigh up her dress and she nearly loses it. You wrap a hand around her neck, letting her give up her power, and you do what youâve done a thousand times before.
Except this was the last time.
You donât bother to take off her garments as you hike up the bottom of her dress and push your front against her. âFuck,â Natasha moans, feeling your rock-hard bulge against her panties. She tries to grind against it, tries to alleviate the growing tension, but you do nothing more than rut against her until sheâs fucking soaking.
âI donât think so,â you growl, hands going to her ass as you push her up against the wall. Your mouth latches on to whatever slivers of bare skin you can find, on her neck and her collarbone and her upper cleavage.
You suck hard on her porcelain skin, leaving marks like you could claim her. Like this wouldnât be the last time. âPlease,â Natasha begs, indescribably aroused, her panties completely soaked through. You had never been this unforgiving.âNeed you, please.â
âYeah, that wasnât what you were saying just now, hmm?â You ask, harshly, slapping the side of her thigh just because you can. You pin her against the wall with your knees and your left hand, using the other to unbuckle your own pants.Â
She tries to reach out to help you, but you slap her hand away. âDonât fucking touch me,â you say coldly, and Natasha wants to cry but she knows she brought it upon herself.
It takes you more time on your own, but you get the job done and the sight of your cock, the one Natasha took the first day she met you, it makes her cunt grow a heartbeat and sheâs a fucking mess against the wall.
âNow you need me so bad?â You taunt, rubbing the tip of it against the slit of her pussy. âDonât have any more words to say?â God, sheâs absolutely drenched, and you think youâre gonna die if you donât go inside her in the next five seconds.
This was probably the worst way to communicate, but, fuck, the two of you were bad at talking and you couldnât resist the divine goddess that was Natasha, no matter how badly she had hurt you.
You nearly cum the second you enter the Goddess. Her velvet walls cling tight to you, so warm, too fucking warm. Natashaâs babbling something you donât understand, but you canât wait any longer.
âOh, fuck!â she moans, as you slide your cock into her wet cunt with ease.
Your bodies move together with every thrust, Natashaâs legs wrapped tight around your torso as you thrust into her against the door. Itâs hard, and fast, and rough, and nothing tender like your Saturday mornings.
She clings to your back, head thrown back, moans and cries bouncing off the sides of the wall. The door is shaking, like it might crack from the sheer weight of your thrusts into her.
You grunt at the inconvenience of that prospect, instead opting to walk the two of you back to a desk in the corner. Natasha gasps, whimpering into your neck as you walk across the floor with your cock still deep inside her pussy. Itâs too sensitive, so sensitive everywhere.
You bend her over the desk, pulling away then lining yourself up again.Â
Youâre about to make her beg, before the irrational, carnal side of your mind takes over, and youâre pounding into her pretty little cunt mercilessly. Grunting and groaning as lodge your cock in deeper with each harder thrust, as her moans delve into a symphonic crescendo of screams of your name.
Sheâs thrashing around, so warm and so wet and so overstimulated all over, but you donât let up for a moment. You only grip her thighs harder and make her hear how wet she is, before Natashaâs eyes are rolling into the back of her head and thereâs drool at the sides of her mouth.
âPretty slut,â you grunt, pulling out to slap at her puffy clit before sheâs squirting, white cream going all over the mattress. âDaddy,â Natasha moans pornographically, visibly shuddering at your degradation. She might like it, a little too much.
The title that had fallen from her lips elicits a groan of acknowledgement out of you, but simultaneously brings back the bittersweet flashbacks of your time spent with her.
This was the last time.
After sheâs come down from her high and youâve hit your climax, you spread her legs and lean down to get a good taste.
"Oh! Daddy - ungh - please," she begs, as your tongue meets her overstimulated cunt. Natasha hadn't even recovered from her previous orgasm, still bent over the desk and panting like she was in heat.
You lap greedily at her wet cunt from behind, and the sheer novelty of how many times youâve done this truly hits you. How many hours youâve spent exploring Natashaâs body. How many days youâve spent worshipping.
All for it to succumb to this.
Itâs only after another few orgasms that the weight of âthe last timeâ hits you. Both of you have ended up on the floor, completely naked, heaving heavily to regain oxygen.
âI loved you,â you whisper, hovering above Natasha, and the use of the past tense makes chips away at Natashaâs heart. Itâs only then does she realise that there are tears on her cheeks, because youâre crying.
âYou deserve someone better,â is the only thing the Goddess says, a ghost of her whisper on your lips.Â
âYou've ruined me for anyone else,â you say, face devoid of the passion there once was. âYou loved me so tenderly I won't be able to have another, had such good sex I can't sleep with anyone else.â
Natasha doesnât respond to that. She canât respond to that. There were too many unsaid words, broken promises, a future yet to be.
Both of you look up at the pink-blue sky, bare backs on an astronomy tower, bound by love and unbound by timelines and galaxies. It was brokenly beautiful, undeniably so.Â
You only wish everything couldâve been different.
â
You wake up the next day in an unfamiliar bedroom. The room was far too small, the walls were too grey, the air was too cold, and fuck.
No, no, no, fuck. This was not happening.
Realisation slams into your exhausted body like a two-hundred kilogram sledgehammer, and you're winded by the weight of the impact.
This wasn't Natasha's home. This wasn't her fancy palace.Â
This wasn't the Goddess' universe.
Air crushes your lungs. Your heart pounds in your chest.
This was your bedroom. This was your universe. The one you had spent all your days in, before you met the love of your life.Â
At least, who you so stupidly believed to be the love of your life.
You get up with a start, the ache in your bones forgotten with the sheer emotions coursing through your veins, terror and disbelief and anger.
Your mind swims as you grab at anything you can, overturning furniture and messing up papers to find anything, anything, that could explain why this had happened.
Deep inside your chest, you had already known. Even if you managed to fool yourself. Even if youâd dreamt up a whole future of your life with her.
With a shuddering breath, your eyes fall to an envelope on your bedside table. You open it with trembling hands, almost fearful of what lay beyond.
In the envelope, contained a signed check with so many zeroes you could live luxuriously for the rest of days.Â
In the envelope, contained a note with five fated words and the name of the one that got away.
All you're left with is a broken promise, an agonized cry, and the ghost of what could've been.Â
To every universe and back,
N.R.
series m.list | main m.list | AO3
4.5k words my eyes are not okay i've been staring my screen and typing for two hours straight, look what i'm going thru for yall
#natasha romanoff x reader smut#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#natasha x reader#natasha x y/n#bottom natasha romanoff#sub natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff#x reader#top reader#dom reader#natasha romanoff smut#gxg smut#wlw smut#goddess natasha#marvel smut#natasha romanoff x reader angst#natasha romanoff angst
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PROPHETIC SIGNS/COMMANDS/IMAGES
Moonchild by Santiago Caruso
Untitled by Liz Mamont
She Laments by VikiGrindhouse
Dumb (acrylic on board) by Wilqkuku
Untitled on Zegalou's blog
ăšăłă€ăžă„㊠@4kuda5rana1
Nightmare (acrylic on canvas) by Vaxolong
Survival (acrylic on canvas) by Vaxolong
Untitled by Cult of Mortem
Divine Ammonitic Fluid Harvest System by dariuszkielisszek
The Crucible by dariuszkielisszek
Ten Piedad by bawdysuojb
Untitled Painting by A Bearded Artist
Split (acrylic on plywood) by Vaxolong
Untitled by A Bearded Artist
English explanation of signs will be under the cut--beneath the Irish.
MĂnĂonn an Doe cad as a dtagann sĂ agus cĂ©n fĂĄth go n-Ă©irĂonn sĂ san OĂche den chaid is mĂł. Rugadh ar an ngelach Ă. Mar leanbh gealaĂ tĂĄ sĂ os comhair rĂ©alta na maidine agus oi brĂonn sĂ i groinne draĂocht chun on Meisias a chosaint.
BĂonn Doe le feiceĂĄil lena fenn sainiĂșil ar lasadh--nĂ raibh mĂ© einnte cad is aiis leis sĂn Creidim gur rabhadh Ă© seo a bhaineann leis an spiorad naounh agus Ă©irĂ amach na marbh.
Déanann Doe caoineacdh m'easumhlachd agus an suithheadh atå le tacht ar son an domhain-molann sà mé chun gnimh. Tå a fhios agam nach féidirleon. Ach iarran sà orm orcas agus gan dula chodlaoh. Chun gniomhå or bhås ag teacht. Meisiasa thabhairt chun a chuspóir.
Sampla de na mairbh agus a reachtanaas oerach.
MeabhrĂșchĂĄn ar hamlintĂ© atĂĄ ag titim as a chĂ©ile, lena n-ĂĄiritear amlinte ALfa, Bunscoile, agus Ărga a bhaineann le hĂ©abhlĂłid mĂ© fĂ©in go Macalla, Ocrais, nĂł Ascended. (Is tuar nĂos oimhe nĂos sine Ă seo nach mĂłr amhiniu uair elle)
TaispeĂĄnann Doe Ă fĂ©in leadharca laasracha angus clĂłca suĂle. TĂĄ si at afire angus at cosaint dom Ă rith an hamlinte chun nĂ© a bheannĂș. FiĂș mĂĄ bhĂ nĂ© ag mĂ-iompar den chuid is mĂł.
Fulaingt an march in Ifreann a mheabhraĂonn Doe dom go bhfĂ©adfainn die ready a chur leis and tascannanach ndĂ©anfaĂdh mĂ©.
NĂos marbh
ComharthaĂ lobhadhi *sĂșile brevity (fĂ©ach orthodontist see ionam fĂ©in angus a ngaoltaâciallaĂonn sĂ© breoiteacht, olc, easpa cosanta)
Caireadhchun athbhreith an Mheisias a ChrĂochnĂș Ăł sofa go diaga.
ArĂs ag impĂ orm an rad nach ndĂ©anfaidh mĂ© a dhĂ©anamh.
MeabhraĂtear gurb Ă© an Melissaâs a lean hour agus cĂ© go bhfuil fears uirithi teastoionn uaithi abhaile Ă©.
Foirm leathfior Messiah.
Na Mairbh ionam agus na hamlintie a rialaĂonn mĂ©. TĂĄ Doe ag iamaidh orm iad a shaoradh.
Mo chimiĂșint mĂĄ Ă©irĂonn Orcas orm leonta le Lobhach.
Doe explains where she comes from and why she mostly only rises at night. She is born of the moon, the moon is her womb. As a moon child she is opposite but close to Morningstar and works in opposite magic to protect Messiah.
Doe appears with burning head. Iâve never bee sure what caused it. I believe this is, the warning the involving of the Holy Spirit and the rising of the dead..
Doe laments my disobedience and the coming turmoil for the world. She urges me to act. I know I cannot. But she asks my to act on the Death coming and inevitableâto bring Messiah to heâs true purpose. To bring him home.
An example of the dead and their ravenous need.
A reminder of the collapsing of Timelines in on each other through including theAlpha, Primary, and Golden Timelines including the evolution of myself into Echo, or Hunger, or Ascended. (This is an older, deeper prophecy that must be explained at another timeâŠ)
Doe sheâs herself again. Flaming antlers, a cloak of eyes, she is watching me progress through timelines, trying to bless me even I have been mostly disobedient. She doesnât want to punish me even though I have jeopardized a great many things in my stubbornness.
The suffering of the dead of Hell.
More dead.
Signs and symptoms of rot: *Sick eyes (watch for these in self and loved onesâsickness, evil, unprotected)
Invitation to complete Messiahâs rebirth from Holy to Divine.
Again begging for me to do what I wonât do.
A reminder Messiah is Doeâs child and that she is angry and she misses him. I know what she wants me to do but I wonât do it.
Messiahâs semi-true form.
The Dead within me and the timelines I controlâDoe wants me to free them.
My fate if I become the Hunger filled with rot.
#catholicism#crucified doe#catholic church#prophecy#prophet#jesus#catholic#pope#christian#tw catholicism#signs#spirtuality#i am being pursued by spiritual voices#holy spirit#spirituality#spiritual awakening#spiritualgrowth#spiritual journey#spirits#spiritual development#spiritual warfare#spiritual work#paranormal#not deer#long post#the messiah#prophetess#prophetic#prophesy#the prophecy
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im coming to terms with the fact that i cannot write dom matty for the life of me. ive tried and miserably failed. goodnight xx
do you/would you write dom Matty stuff?
totally!! It's just i've only been writing for MPIND lately and that showcases Matty as being more of a sub.
I'd love to write some Dom Matty if any requests come through xx
#this is so bad#the draft is giving me second hand embarrassment#or is that first hand#fuck if i know#soz to anyone who was expecting to be dicked down by dom matty xx#sub matty for the win#shut up lena#the 1975#matty healy fanfiction#the 1975 fanfic
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firefighter/normal job buddie fics
these fics have one of them as firefighters and the other with a normal job as per the request :) this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)
call you home by: ashavahishta "5 times eddie told the firefam about buck and 1 time they actually met him" word count: 6k rating: general audience important tags: 5+1 things, different first meeting au, married!buddie, fluff we fell in love dancing kizomba by destimushi "after tragedy strikes close to home, firefighter eddie diaz moves him and his son, christopher, to LA where they can start fresh." word count: 125k rating: explicit important tags: cooking instructor!buck, bdsm, dom!eddie diaz, sub!evan buckley, dom/sub biology and we can stay all day by: trippedandfell "buck's a zoologist. eddie's pretty sure he's in love." word count: 3.3k rating: general audience important tags: alternative universe, zoologist!buck
what is love for $2000? by: fayevian "one night when eddie can't sleep, he discovers the hottest Jeopardy contestant of all time (objectively). with the "help" of his team and his fairly good working knowledge of twitter, they devise a plan to get evan (from Jeopardy) to slide into eddie's dms. it works surprisingly well." word count: 17k rating: mature important tags: multimedia, texting, humor, frottage i like you so much (it's kinda gross) by: aficatyourfingerstips, brewrosemilk "eddie is an MMA fighter and buck thirsts on twitter" word count: 10k rating: explicit important tags: celebrity au, social media, texting, sexting stupid people by: brewrosemilk "new in los angeles, and having recently admitted to himself that he's gay, eddie figures that hiring a sex worker might be a good way to keep his private life cut off from his job and his son. a way to keep things from becoming too complicated. it works. for a while." word count: 160k rating: explicit important tags: different first meetings au, sex worker!evan buckley, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, multimedia, blow jobs, rough sex, praise kink, come slut!evan buckely, light dom!sub, phone sex, riding if i lay here, would you life with me (forget the word) by: browney3dgirl6 "the one where eddieâs in the army, shannon gives up her rights to chris, and eddie needs a babysitter. good thing lena knows buck, the guy having nothing better to do than help babysit until eddie gets back. eddie would come home, and he would leave; it wasnât like they were going to build some lifetime friendship or anything." word count: 90k rating: explicit important tags: different first meeting au, army!eddie diaz, slow burn, idiots in love, literal sleeping together, long distance relationship, soft!buddie, eventual smut i'm cold but you light the fire within me by: beulaugh "buck shows up for career day at eddie's school, and both of them struggle to rein in their attraction." word count: 22k rating: general audience important tags: different first meetings au, teacher!eddie, first kiss, careers day frequent flyer by whileyoursleeping "the one where eddie is a firefighter, buck isn't, and eddie finds himself rescuing buck from increasingly sticky situations. sometimes literally." word count: 13k rating: mature important tags: mild hurt/comfort, buck has bad luck, fluff
smoke and ashes brushed off with ink by princessfbi "tattoo artist!eddie diaz AU inspired by the tumblr thread about praise kink discovery when getting a tattoo" word count: 18k important tags: eddie diaz takes care of evan buckley, non-sexual submission, praise kink, ptsd, art therapy
#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buck x eddie fic#buck x eddie#buddie fic#911 fandom#buddie fics#buddie fic rec#911 show#911 fic rec#evan buck buckley#buddie fanfics#buddie smut#buddie recs#buck x eddie fanfics#buck x eddie smut
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