#about normal things and funny things. i miss my friend i just miss my friend
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boyfriends who defend and reassure each other <3
"Wait, this is Will's fault?!" 1x01
"I'm the only one acting normal here! I'm the only one that cares about Will!" 1x01
"Will could've cast protection last night, but he didn't. He cast fireball. [...] My point is, he could've played it safe, but he didn't. He put himself in danger to help the party." 1x01
"She pointed at him, at his picture. She knew he was missing, I could tell." 1x02
"Maybe it's his ghost, maybe he's haunting us." "It's not his ghost." "And how do you know that?" "I just do." "Then what did they pull out of that water?" "I don't know! All I know is Will is alive. Will is alive!" 1x04
"Hey! Hey! Hey, Troy! Hey, Troy! YouâŚyou think this is funny? [âŚ] I saw you guys laughing over there. I think that's a real messed up thing to do." 1x04
"Now she's going to let him die in the Upside Down--" "Shut up!" 1x05
"I'm gonna get you home, okay? I'm gonna get you home." 2x02
"Maybe...maybe that's good." "Good?!" "Just think about it, Will. You're like a spy now. A super spy. Spying on the shadow monster. If you know what he's thinking and feeling, maybe that's how we stop him. Maybe all this is happening for a reason." "You really think so?" "Yeah, Yeah I really do." "What if he figures out we're spying on him? What if he spies back?" "He won't." "How do you know?" *grabs his hand* "We won't let him." 2x05
"Closing the gate will kill him." 2x09
"It's a cool campaign it's really cool!" 3x03
"What if you want to join another party?" "Not possible." 3x08
"I don't think Mike is gonna like that you're lying to him. And he doesn't deserve that, and when he finds out he's gonna be mad." 4x02
"Seems like you've made it super clear you're not interested in anything I have to say." "That's just not true." 4x02
"I was being a total jerk to El, I deserved itâŚ" "No. No, you didn't deserve anything." 4x04
"Listen, the truth is, the last year has been weird, you know? I mean, Max, and Lucas, and Dustin, they're great, they're great, it's just...it's Hawkins, it's not the same without you. And I feel like maybe I was worrying too much about El...I don't know, maybe I feel like I lost you or something. Does that make sense?" *nods* "I have no idea what's gonna happen next. But whatever it is, I...I think we should work together. I think it'll be easier if we'reâwe're a team. Friends. Best friends." "Cool." "Cool." 4x04
"I should've explained myself, because then maybe Eleven would've taken me with her and things would be different, butâŚ" "No-" "IâI didn't know what to say." 4x05
"Sometimes...I think it's just scary to open up like that. To say how you really feel. Especially to people you care about the most. Because...what if they don't like the truth?" *nods*4x05
"Sorry." "No--" "No, it's so stupid given everything that's going on." 4x08
"See how you're leading us here? You're guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That...that's what you do. And see your coat of arms here? It's a heart. I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what holds this whole party together: heart. And without heart, we'd all fall apart. Even me. Especially me." 4x08
"He's not going to stop, ever. Not until he's taken everything, and everyone. We have to kill him." *grabs his shoulder* "And we will. We will." 4x09
#byler#stranger things#will byers#mike wheeler#byler endgame#mike wheeler i know what you are#byler quotes#anti milkvan#milkvan is bones
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sigh
#more than anything i just miss being your friend#i want to talk to you all the time and i wish you wanted to talk to me too#about normal things and funny things. i miss my friend i just miss my friend#it didnât end on bad terms i know and thatâs good but every time we do talk itâs like trying to catch a really slippery rock or something#maybe not catch. just. i have to refrain from sending you insane paragraphs because i catch myself because i know itâs weird and not cool#and itâs weird and not cool to do this too but like. what can i do#i just wish we could be friends again. the void gets smaller every day but then..#i just wanna tell you everything i wanna tell you about my friends and my life and what iâm doing and i wanna know what youâre doing and#whatâs new . and itâs stupid because i never did that before . but i guess these things make you realize a lot#and itâs like#i donât Know whatâs okay. i donât know . i donât know if i can make a joke i donât Know if youâre ignoring me on purpose#and itâs fine if you are i know you donât want to talk to me ever again probably. and itâs fine because iâm well adjusted and i understand#and i respect you and iâm honoring that. but i also just. can you blame me
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vtuber loop !!!
[reverse entry au? the reverse isekai part of it? tangentially related to this post here, and also the last part of this post too]
#in stars and time#isat#isat loop#isat spoilers#<- since blink and u miss it 2hats technically so!#reverse entry au#reverse isekai loop au#my friends and i got a bit silly last night on discord ASFSAFSA#it was going to be more normal bg... next thing i know everything become MC#it was gonna be JUST the bg at first!! but then it became the upside down slab for the table then the wood carving block then the knife LOL#also listen i may or may not have given up on liquifying the wood block#dw about it its okay its funnier this way at least to me in my heart#so uhhh yeah was thinking about this specific idea again....#at this point it might get proper integrated into the reverse entry au since it is very funny to me in particular actually#and also! minor retcon? of something ever only mentioned in tags of the prev vtuber loop post but yanno-#true ending was the final ending loop got before reverse isekai#BUT the perfect ending preceded it first and it also the forefront of their memory in their mind if that makes sense#i still think it would affect things but this way its more in line with canon since#well it makes sense to be more in line if maintaining the whole reverse isekai gimmick?? so yeah!!#okay lots of rambling over tag talk over WOOOO
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Hello, deranged doppelquestioner here once again at 01:02 to ask the question:
How does Carbuncle have merch, let alone bootleg merch, if The Arles(collective) also have Carbuncle.
BETTER QUESTION UNLOCKED: Is Satan rich and famous and turned Carbuncle into merch(possibly puyoesque video games?) which has since been rippes off, and did The Arles take him anyways. Are The Arles down to do crime. Are The Arles down to do gay? To others because I just realized how that sounds im not that sleepy yet. They have a good role model in Ally.
Have a good day btw :3
Hi this just occured to me id have put it in the last post if I could have. Rarle and Blarle, That is all. -Dopplepondererer at approximately 01:12
rarle and blarle is hysterical thank you so much. to (finally) answer your question: the short answer is that it's "carbuncle" merch in the way that all "simple white rabbit" merch is miffy merch, if that makes sense?
the long answer is. well. i drew it.
the longer answer, because that technically doesn't answer the question very clearly either, is that this is word-of-god retconning to justify giving them something that realistically would not exist. it's "totally generic yellow rabbit" that totally isn't carbuncle. no see look the yellow rabbit doesn't have a rubelcrack. but it is... carbuncle. i swear. for the rest of the ask; i have no idea where satan is? maybe he's the ~enigmatic masked headmaster~ again. maybe he's a teacher. maybe he's... the arles's weird family friend? i'm imagining the arles live apart from their parents for [INSERT REASON HERE] and maybe satan is the dude that checks in on them sometimes on behalf of their parents. i'll figure out where he goes someday. the arles are also infinitely down to be gay do crime, though arle would need a bit more convincing than doppel. they do have a good role model in ally, tbh all of us should follow her example. love everyone and be gay about it
#puyo puyo#puyo puyo school au#arle nadja#doppelganger arle#carbuncle#thanks for asking!!#my stuff#maybe satan is equivalent to the uncle-thats-not-an-uncle youve known all your life that always shows up at family events#despite not being related at all. who keeps inviting him? i dunno but ok he's part of the family now?#maybe he gave the arles carbuncle when they were littler. or they found carby in the woods like in ars episode a. who knows LOL not me#(to be real he's here because i find it so funny that in the drama cd where everyone's in high school despite there being no obvious magic#arle still has carby anyway.)#((also there's probably magic in this au. just a bit more toned down than canon))#ANYWAY i need everyone to know even though ive been drawing these two as arguing every past installment they love each other very much.#they argue because they're just Those Siblings#hmm i had one more thought but i think that's it for now. if i remember it i'll edit it in later o7#OH DAMN WAIT THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SFX ON THIS#uuuuuugh ive already crossposted.. just know.... there was supposed to be two KACHUNKs in the panel with arle holding the gachapon balls....#thats fine. this is fine#anyway the thing i remembered is that if i go with the weird family friend angle for satan i will have to retool his whole#arle is my fiance shtick. that may fly in canon but in this universe. where everyone's just generally normal.#i think he'd end up on a watchlist if i didnt tweak that a bit#anyway im gonna be thinking about the missing kachunks for the rest of my life
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I caved and made them real. Obverse me losing more and more motivation to draw as I made each of these back to back lol
#keese draws#oc art#oc#pmd#pokemon#pokemon mystery dungeon#pmd oc#these guys are inspired by my usual pokerogue team#oh also imagine a question mark after every he/him I have the trans woman beam pointed at all of them#these are just initial concepts for the actual characters themselves now that Iâve developed the world a lil bit#but yeah these 4 were childhood friends who wanted to be in an exploration team together but had to split up for years#tart and quart both had to move away and cart ended up leaving his hometown to try and become a real adventure a few months later#cart and bart remained in contact for a few years before cart got caught up in some crime circles#he was incredibly trusting when he was younger so he got taken advantage of and ended up digging himself a deeper hole in an attempt to be#manipulative back and eventually he got scared enough that he tried to reach out to a guild and acted as a spy for them in turn for them#eventually helping to clear his name and allowing him membership#there were parts of the deal that were unfair and kind of shady but he was desperate enough to pretend he didnât notice#after he joined he started immediately putting out listings for new team members and he fully planned on being super picky#but when two of his childhood friends applied he was over the moon about it#and immediately accepted both of them#now quart also applied because he had recently ran away from his old life and was desperate to have a new one#and he missed his old friends deeply so when he saw one of them actually managed to start building the team they all wanted to make he was#quick to apply even if he was rusty as hell on normal non contest combat#cart didnât recognize him at first and mostly only let him have a trial run because he thought it was funny that an eevee of all things was#applying for a high level exploration team and he fully planned on telling quart off immediately afterwards#this ofc made quart very upset and angry but he didnât try to clairify who he was because he just assumed that time had made cart into an#asshole which isnât wrong per say but quart didnât realize cart didnât recognize him#it was a rough trial expedition but cart found himself actually quite impressed with quartâs slight of paw skills and his impressive biting#speed so he decided to give quart a real chance instead of a mocking one#eventually quart laughs for the first time around him and that makes cart realize who he is and that makes him feel horrible
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realized my âsoupâ that i âinventedâ is just. daal. humans will always reinvent the wheel
#stream#like#i guess itâs a stew ?#girl i was thinking âgirl kp [indian friend that taught me what spices to mix & also that u can eat ⌠carbs ⌠e.g. rice lentil whatever ⌠w#literally anything & also raid [ethiopian friend that FORCES ME TO EAT IM NOT EVEN KIDDING heâs so fucking funny like thatâs not even#related to the ethiopian thatâs just being a Normal Person bc itâs usually Not Normal for friends to compare w each other how many times#each have been witness to me literally eating#ALSKALSKALSKALSKLAKSLAKSLAKSLA I HATE EATING#but raid omg he told me about this ethiopian lentil sauce he tells me how to cook E V E R Y T H I N G & how to SPICE THINGS omg heâs a pro#& he can EXPLAIN & iâm a sponge ⌠infinite inspirations them both] have impacted my cooking irreparablyâ#also this chinese woman who makes short 3 min videos + shorts sometimes that explains everything soooo simply i mean itâs translated#subtitles but sheâs soooo thorough i love her videosssss âcut into ur favourite shape :)â itâs just đđđâ¤ď¸â¤ď¸ MY fav shape ??? i think itâs a#âtoo literal translationâ but i still love it#not the point#i mean yenzhe got me on the chinese cooking immediately bc i just harass him like what are u cooking how did u cook that what did u use#kinggggggg heâs been so SUPPORTIVE & ENABLING đđ ugh miss him when is chinese new year next#or chinese independence whenâs that idk i rly need to see how much it costs to ship shit to china
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Cass Briar 2023 Patch Notes:
The Diablerie Update
Its been a long 8 years since the abrupt end of development but we're back with a significant rework and a timeskip that assumes the successful diablerie of Prince Marcel of New Orleans (that's what you get for having such lax security around your torpored brother). We sincerely hope that you'll all particularly appreciate the addition of more explicit confirmation of Cass's queer identity now that we are no longer writing in partnership with a bunch of 40-something y/o cishet dudes. Anyways, here it is:
-Aromantic and Lesbian modifiers no longer hidden
-Pronouns updated: She/They (Lesbian Variety)
-Relationship to Sire (Astrid Hallman) tweaked to be more explicitly sexual (and romantic on Astrid's part), and updated levels of both resentment (as the blood bond has faded with time) and insecurity (both being now of equal generation)
-Huge buffs to Confidence and Self-Superiority
-Huge nerfs to General Deference Capacity and Respect For Autonomy
-Remainder XP spent on Dominate 4
-Slight redistribution of Ability dots
-New Paint-job for Stolen Motorcycle (now fits red/white/black color scheme)
-Coterie Nicknames Updated (Kristos: "Dirt Nap" -> "Captain America", Marcus: "9-to-5" -> "Marie O' Net", Clair: "Covergirl" and Jean: "Socks-in-Crocs" remain unchanged)
-Tendency to mask Malkavian heritage reinforced (Hecata is now most implicated, being much more ambiguous than Giovanni alone and less suspicious than Lasombra, though lingering Ventruesque vibes from the diablerie may send mixed signals)
-Death Faked with aid from Leopoldite contacts (to end New Orleans-specific obligations just in case she ever does return to active play)
-Paranoia Increased
-Downward Spiral of Humanity now veers towards the Path of Power and The Inner Voice (just a little more palling around w the sabbat would probably tip her over into committing to it)
-Playlist now includes 100% less Panic! At The Disco
That's all for now, but community feedback is much appreciated and may spawn more future updates
aka plz ask me abt my oc so i can fill out all the shit ive inevitably forgotten to think about
#vtm#cass oc#i hope im not the only one who finds the video game patch notes style funny#tho honestly i didn't have to change as much as i thought i would to update her#though i also may be missing things that ive just subsumed into my default picture of her over time that werent actually there in game#and i did decide to keep her mechanically in v20 since i really couldn't find a way to make her fit v5#tho i have given some consideration to the lore progression and settled on something of a blend#but like. literally none of her merits and flaws even exist in v5 and neither does the distinction between normal and carrier malks#and i also feel like in general lower gen pcs feel kinda toothless in v5 compared to v20#anyways#cass is a much gayer and much worse person now that i don't have to worry about what my dad and his friends think and i love that for her#tbh its a miracle that i stuck with this game when my introduction to it was with that group
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logging back in just bc this is my only private diary
#random rant#tw for everything#god I think there is something deeply wrong with me worse than ever now Iâm questioning my own self and worth and sometimes morals#Iâm on a break from the guy Iâm seeing#and I told a mutual friend about it#heâs the one who asked for the break even tho I donât so that shit#deep down I kind of wanted it so why am I so wrecked over it#I hate airing my dirty laundry out to people uninvolved in said relationship#hate talking about trouble in paradise kind of shit but I told her the bad things he does to me#and I felt so guilty bc I got this weird intrusive thought#that as if im planning this sabotage tactic ? when Iâm not all this isnât my intention whatsoever#I just said the truth. and the thought was like âok at least now I have established with a third party a reason if I need to abandon him in#the futureâ what the fuck?? Iâm not like this. Iâm not apathetic Iâm not using him why did I get that thought#heâs said some of the most horrible things Iâve ever heard fo me#ends up regretting it and says he didnât mean it.#in reality I feel like Iâm just trying to protect myself#I felt so pathetic having her listen to me tear up while talking#god put us on this earth to punish each other Iâm having my Normal People arc#is this a form of self harm why do I do this to myself and to him too#I love him? Iâm even thinking about relapsing into using and drinking but itâs not stemming from a coping need I just miss feeling carefree#and numb and momentarily happy almost#I only told him a few issues I have but not the bigger ones and Iâm already feeling like as if he uses them against me in arguments#I want to get back into therapy but I canât I have no access or resources this sucks ass#thinking of asking my pharmacist if I can get my antidepressants otc but I went off them bc the side effects were unbearable and I just#genuinely felt better for once as if I progressed but this is undoing so much of my hard hard work#and whatâs funny he doesnât even realise or see any of these things affecting me so horribly#I feel so insane I feel like a socio I want to be normal I want to be healthy I want to be happy and actually have it last#canât sleep
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When Rafe Realizes...
Heâs Falling for You
-> Rafe x F!Reader
The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting golden light over the backyard as Rafe leaned back in his chair, the legs precariously balanced on the uneven patio bricks.
You were sitting beside him, scrolling on your phone, the occasional sound of your laughter breaking through the hum of cicadas.
He wasnât sure when it started, but lately, he found himself watching you more than he should...at least more than someone who was supposedly "just friends" should.
He told himself it was harmless. You were easy to look at, after all, with your beautiful hair catching the light and your lips quirking into tiny smirks when you read something funny.
"Rafe," you said, your voice cutting through his daydream. You barely look up, your attention still on your screen. "Your hair is doing that weird thing again."
"My hair doesnât do a weird thing," he shot back defensively, running a hand through it out of instinct.
You snorted, finally glancing up at him. "It absolutely does. Hold still."
Before he could protest, you leaned in, your fingers brushing against his forehead as you flattened a rogue piece that had sprung up, defying gravity. The touch was brief, just the lightest pressure of your hand smoothing over his hair, but Rafe felt his entire body tense like heâd just been electrocuted.
"There," you said, sitting back with a satisfied nod. "Now you look less like a mad scientist."
"I didnât look like a mad scientist," he muttered, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.
"You kinda did," you teased, your focus already back on your phone.
Rafe leaned back again, a smug retort dying on his tongue as he felt the ghost of your touch still lingering. It wasnât like youâd done anything grand. Just fixed his hair.
People did that kind of stuff all the time, right?
Except⌠no one else did it to him. And certainly not like that. There was something so natural about the way youâd reached over, like it was second nature, like it was the most normal thing in the world for you to touch him.
And now he was stuck, hyperaware of how the air still smelled faintly of your sunscreen from when youâd leaned in.
How the air between you had felt charged, even though youâd gone back to scrolling like it was nothing.
He shifted in his seat, trying to push the thought away, but it clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind. How could something so insignificant make him feel like the air had been knocked out of his lungs?
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you laugh softly at something on your phone, oblivious to his internal crisis. He swallowed hard, his chair tipping back a little further as he tried to refocus.
How does something so insignificant feel so important?
"Careful," you warned without looking up. "Fall off that chair and Iâm not driving you to the ER."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
You had no idea, did you?
No idea that one absent-minded touch had just tipped his entire world off balance.
"Thanks for your concern," he said dryly, finally steadying himself.
You gave him a fleeting smile, one he tried to memorize. Because somewhere in the chaos of his overthinking, Rafe Cameron was beginning to realize something terrifying and wonderful all at once.
He was falling for you, and there wasnât a damn thing he could do about it.
Rafe leaned against the counter of the grocery store, pretending to scroll on his phone while you wandered the aisles. He hadnât even wanted to stop here, but youâd insisted on grabbing snacks before heading to the beach.
"Whatâs the big deal? Itâs just food," heâd grumbled earlier, but youâd only rolled your eyes and dragged him along anyway.
Now he was waiting impatiently, glancing at his watch every few seconds. âYou done yet?â he called out.
âAlmost!â you yelled back. âIâm looking for something specific.â
He sighed dramatically. âWeâre going to miss the sunset at this rate.â
When you finally rounded the corner, a triumphant grin on your face, you were holding a bag of⌠lemon pepper sunflower seeds?
âWhatâs that for?â he asked, raising an eyebrow.
You blinked at him, clearly unimpressed. âFor you, obviously.â
Rafe stared at the bag, then back at you. âWhat?â
âYou told me a few weeks ago you used to eat these all the time when you were a kid. Remember? You said your dad used to bring them home after his fishing trips.â
For a moment, he was silent, caught completely off guard.
He had mentioned that, hadnât he?
Some random memory heâd thrown out one evening, barely thinking about it. It wasnât even important. Just some passing detail about his childhood.
But here you were, holding a bag of sunflower seeds like it was the most normal thing in the world to remember something so small.
âI didnât think youâdâŚâ he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.
âDidnât think Iâd what? Listen to you?â you teased, tossing the bag into the basket.
âWell⌠yeah,â he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
You rolled your eyes playfully. âI always listen, Rafe. You just donât talk enough for me to prove it.â
There was a lightness to your tone, but the words hit him harder than he expected. You listened to him. Actually listened. To the stuff no one else cared about, the random memories heâd barely even registered himself.
âSheesh,â you said, breaking him out of his thoughts. âIf Iâd known this would blow your mind, I wouldâve grabbed these for you weeks ago.â
âShut up,â he muttered, but he was smiling now, following you toward the register.
As you paid, chatting casually with the cashier, Rafe kept glancing at the bag of sunflower seeds in your basket. Something so simple, but it made him feel⌠seen. Like you actually cared about the parts of him that most people ignored.
Walking out of the store, he finally nudged your shoulder. âThanks. For, uh, remembering that.â
âOf course,â you said, flashing him a grin. âJust donât eat them all at once. Iâm not buying more if you get another craving later.â
He laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he fell into step beside you. Inside, though, his chest felt warm in a way he wasnât used to.
She actually listens to me, he thought, stealing a glance at you as you debated what playlist to put on in the car. How is she so thoughtful?
And just like that, another piece of the puzzle slid into place. He was falling for you, headfirst and helplessly, and he wasnât even mad about it.
The rain was relentless, pounding against the pavement like a drumline gone rogue. Your car sat lifeless on the shoulder of a backroad, hazards blinking uselessly in the downpour.
Youâd tried everything.
Turning the key again and again, Googling quick fixes, even giving the steering wheel a good, frustrated whack.
Nothing worked.
Which is how you ended up sitting in the driver's seat, soaked from your earlier attempt to check under the hood, dialing a number you swore you wouldnât use unless it was an absolute emergency.
âRafe?â you said when he picked up, voice sheepish.
He immediately picked up on the edge in your tone. âY/N? Whatâs wrong?â
âItâs probably nothing,â you rushed to say, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. âMy car broke down, and itâs pouring, and Iâm kind of stuck on the side of the road. I just⌠I didnât know who else to call or...or what to do...â
For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the rain hammering against your windshield and the faint noise of his carâs radio in the background.
âWhere are you?â he said, tone clipped and serious.
You gave him the location, muttering something about how you didnât want to bother him if he was busy, but he cut you off.
âStay put. Lock your doors. Iâll be there in ten.â
True to his word, Rafeâs truck pulled up exactly ten minutes later, tires skidding slightly as he parked in front of your car. You barely had time to roll down your window before he was at your door, an umbrella in one hand and an intense look in his eyes.
âYou okay?�� he asked, leaning down to peer inside.
âYeah, just a little damp,â you joked, gesturing to your soggy clothes.
He didnât laugh. Instead, he opened your door and handed you the umbrella before crouching to look under your hood himself.
âYou didnât have to come all the way out here,â you said, feeling a little guilty as you watched him fiddle with something. âI couldâve called a tow truck.â
âYeah, and waited an hour for them to show up while sitting out here alone?â he shot back, not even looking up. âNot a chance.â
You blinked at him, surprised by the sharpness in his tone.
âRafe, Iâm fineââ
âYouâre not fine,â he interrupted, standing up straight and wiping his hands on his jeans. âYour carâs dead, youâre soaking wet, and itâs pitch black out here. What if someone stopped by who wasnât me, huh?â
The thought made your stomach flip, but you tried to shake it off. âI had my doors locked.â
âThatâs not the point,â he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.
You stared at him, taken aback by his uncharacteristic panic. âWhy are you so worked up?â
âBecause I care about you!â he snapped before freezing, like he hadnât meant to say it out loud.
Your eyebrows shot up. âYou⌠care about me?â
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. âYeah, I care, okay? I donât like the thought of you being stuck out here alone in the middle of nowhere. It freaks me out.â
For a moment, you didnât know what to say. The Rafe you knew was cocky and confident, never flustered or vulnerable like this. Seeing him so visibly shaken made your chest ache in a way you couldnât quite explain.
âWell,â you said softly, âthanks for coming to my rescue.â
He finally looked at you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. âAlways.â
You smiled, holding the umbrella a little higher to shield him from the rain. âGuess youâre not as heartless as you pretend to be.â
He rolled his eyes but couldnât hide the faint grin tugging at his lips. âDonât let that get around.â
As he helped you into his truck, soaking wet and dripping water all over his leather seats, he couldnât help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye.
You shivered, hugging your arms to your chest in a futile attempt to ward off the cold.
Rafeâs eyes softened for a split second before he quickly reached for the spare jacket in the back seat, tossing it to you. âHere,â he muttered. âPut this on before you freeze to death.â
You gave him a grateful, but shaky, smile, slipping the jacket on. âThanks, Rafe.â
He didnât respond, but you caught the way he kept his eyes on you, making sure you were okay. The warmth of his jacket, the concern in his eyes, it was enough to make the cold rain outside feel like nothing.
She called me. Out of everyone, she called me.
And thatâs when it hit him, hard and fast like a tidal wave. He wasnât just smitten. He was utterly and completely gone for you.
Rafe sat back in his chair, his gaze lazily sweeping over the busy cafĂŠ. He had his usual coffee in front of him: black, no sugar, no cream.
Just the way he liked it.
It was a Saturday morning, and the place was a bit quieter than usual, with only a handful of people scattered at tables around him. His fingers tapped the rim of his cup as his mind wandered.
He was halfway through a text to a friend when he noticed something that made him stop mid-typing.
You had slid to sit across from him, sipping on your own cup of coffee. When you lowered it, you caught his eye and gave a small smile.
"Coffeeâs perfect today," you commented, stirring it absentmindedly.
Rafe blinked, then stared at your cup for a second. It was identical to his: black, no sugar, no cream.
"Youâ" he started, his voice trailing off in confusion. You hadnât ordered the same thing, had you? No, you always chose the caramel latte, but you had started transitioning to more bitter coffee...
His eyebrows furrowed, watching you take another sip.
"What?" you asked, noticing his stare.
"Whyâd you..." Rafe caught himself. "Never mind."
He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. Youâd been unconsciously drinking your coffee just the way he did. Had you even noticed?
His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back, his gaze not leaving you. Youâd also been humming that same song he had been listening to on repeat all week. An old track by some band he'd introduced you to, one that had been stuck in his head for days.
When you softly hummed the chorus as you fidgeted with your phone, he couldnât help but grin.
"You always hum that?" he asked casually, raising an eyebrow.
You stopped and blinked, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I didnât realize it was the same one we were playing the other day, though."
He sat forward slightly, his eyes searching your face for a moment, trying to figure out if you were joking, but there was something in the way you said it that made it clear: you werenât aware of the little things.
How, over the past few weeks, your habits had begun to align with his.
And in that moment, Rafe felt a quiet thrill spread through him. You were becoming his person without even trying. Without even realizing it.
He leaned back, smiling to himself, then took a sip of his coffee. âGuess weâve got the same taste,â he said with a half smirk, watching you carefully for your reaction.
You looked at him and shrugged again, clearly clueless about what had just happened.
"Guess so," you said, a playful glint in your eyes.
Rafeâs heart gave a small, almost imperceptible flutter.
You werenât his yet. Not officially, at least. But in this small, unspoken moment, he was already beginning to feel like you were.
You had spent hours upon hours, which felt like minutes, talking, joking around, and watching ridiculous movies with stupid plots, chowing down on various snacks.
The door had clicked shut behind you with the usual soft thud, and now that you were gone, he couldnât help but feel that sharp pang of longing in his chest. It was like someone had tugged at something deep inside him, pulling a part of himself along with you as you left.
Rafeâs lips pressed together, and his gaze drifted to the spot on the couch where you had just been sitting.
When did she start taking up so much space in my life?
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the thought. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how true it was. Every time you were around, everything felt just a little more... right.
Even the way the silence between the two of you felt more like a conversation than an awkward pause.
With a groan, he grabbed his phone, half-wishing he could text you to come back, but he knew that was ridiculous. Youâd left, and it was just the way things were.
Still, as he sat there in the quiet, he couldnât help but wonder how heâd gotten so used to your presence in his life.
And how much he already missed it.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction
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texts w/ brothers bsf!matt + drabble
pt. 5
it had been two days since you last talked to matt. you didnât want to admit the fact that him sleeping with another girl pissed you off. you didnât want it to mess with you as bad as it did.
with you and matt being apart you realized how much you pained in his absence. how you ached for his touch. you would do anything to hear his voice, his laugh, even his moans and whimpers. you missed everything.
it didnât take long for nate to notice something was wrong. he wasnât going to push you, but he didnât like seeing you like this, so after you came home from class one day he decided to check on you.
âhi.â nate said standing at your door, not moving so he doesnât strike a nerve.
âuhhh hi?â
âare you um.. like okay?â he leaned against your door frame.
you sat up on your bed and crossed your legs, pulling a pillow to your chest, âi donât know.â
âyou know you can talk to me right?â
ânoâ you said half joking
âcmon donât be a smart ass, iâm here for you y/n. you can talk to me about whatever is wrong.â he said tilting his head.
seeing your brother desperate for a reason as to why your acting so off broke your heart. you wanted so badly to tell him, to confess all your actions and sob to him about his horrible friend.
âi..â you start thinking about if you really want to risk matt losing his best friend, and your brother hating you, âi donât think you wanna hear whatâs wrong.â
âwhat is it a boy?â he asked chuckling
âum yeah actually,â it wasnât a lie but somehow felt like it.
âoh, well you donât need a boyfriend anyways.â he said shrugging
âit wasnât a boyfriend nate,â you said your voice starting to tremble
âyou wanted him to be?â he said hesitantly taking a step into your room
you thought about the question for a second. you yourself didnât know the answer to the question. you knew you had a crush on matt, you had ever since your were little, but a relationship? you had always thought of it more as âfriends with benefitsâ but the more you thought about it, the more you realize how intense your feelings for him were.
âare you like in love or something?â he asked breaking the silence from his previous question.
were you in love with matt?? you didnât think you were. i mean, heâs a fuckboy and your brothers best friend. sure you guys had amazing sex, you love his dick, the noises he makes, how dominant he is, and how good he was at it. sure he was funny, you loved his corny pick up lines, his stupid jokes, and his laugh. sure he was a good person, you loved how deeply he cares for his brothers, how he would listen to you anytime you were upset, and how well he treated your brother. you loved everything about matt, but you werenât in love with matt, were you??
âi donât knowâ you simply replied to your brother.
âwell do you wanna go for a drive?? clear your mind??â nate suggests
âsure. thanks.â you smiled up at him. he just nodded at your turning around to walk out of your room.
âiâll be in the car.â
mattâs pov
the truth was, being away from her fucking sucked. i wanted to text, but i didnât want to push her. i only hooked up with another girl to hide my feelings from myself. having feelings for someone wasnât normal for me. usually i can fuck someone without catching feelings easily, so when i realized i felt something for y/n, i fucking someone else to get her out of my head.
fucking someone else only managed to make things worse. the whole time all i could think about was her. no one felt like her, sounds like her, tastes like her. she was unique. she was herself, and that was what i liked about her.
the past two days i spent trying to get her out of my mind, but everything reminded me of her. something as simple as her favorite show coming on the tv would fuck with my mood. i tried seeing other girls, but i couldnât bring myself to even touch anyone else. it all felt to weird, weird it wasnât her i was touching.
nate had told me that she was acting different. that she wasnât coming out of her room, and wasnât really talking to anyone. that broke my heart. sheâs hurting because of me. i hurt her. i hated that, but what i hated more was i couldnât bring myself to apologize.
i was seated one the couch of a party, alone. i wasnât particularly looking for anyone to hook up with, so when a girl came up and planted herself on my lap i thought about turning her away, but i didnât. it felt weird, almost like i was cheating even though i knew i wasnât. knowing how bad she was already hurting made it feel like i was doing something wrong, even though i knew i wasnt. but was i?
âyou got a girlfriend or something, baby?â she whispered in my ear
ânoâ
âthen touch me.â she said grinding herself on me.
she leaned down placing a kiss on my lips. she deepened the kiss, grazing her tongue on my bottom lip. she pushed her tongue into my mouth, trying to fight for dominance, but i barley reciprocated so she easily won. the only thing i could think of was wishing it was y/n.
âyo yo yoâ i heard a familiar voice say. i pulled away searching for nate. i found him greeting our other friends before he spotted me.
âyo whatâs up, matt.â he said dabbing me up.
when i looked behind him i saw her. staring at me, staring at the girl on me. she watched her hands explore my body, snaking up into my hair, falling onto my chest. she leaned in to kiss me again, but i swerved her only being able to focus my attention on y/n.
âare you in love with her or something? i thought you didnât have a girlfriend?â the girl spoke up staring over at y/n
her question hit me like a truck. i never missed a girl this much in my life, i never felt sad over a girls absence, but for some reason i wanted her to come back to me like crazy.
i tried my best to hide these feelings from myself, but i couldnât. i loved the way her hair smelt, the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs, the way she tenses up under my touch. sure i loved certain things about her, but i wasnât in love with her. was i?
y/n looked like she had seen a ghost. it was like she snapped out of a trance, and she suddenly booked it for the front door. i pushed the girl off me and ran after her, but by the time i got to the front door, she was no where to be found. she wasnât outside, in the bathrooms, up stairs, downstairs, gone. fuck
xoxo, isa
a/n: sorry:,( comment ââď¸â to be added to my taglist and iâll add you!đŠľ
taglist: @matteatmeout @littlefreak-liz @mattsplaything @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @isasflorals @harls-sturn @h3arts4harry @rcklessheavn @chrissysturnzz @rafesapprentice @mattysketchup @imobsessedwithtaylorswift @emely9274 @trvqvoiisee @heartsforsturniolo567 @rafecameronsbitch @annsx03 @slutmattout @trevorsturniolo @h3arts4nat @beersangel @sturniolosluttt @sturnzpro @slutmattout @rainebow333 @nmegamett20 @ivysturnss
dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws
#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt stuniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo fanfic
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Hello Dandy's World fans.
I've recently been playing the game on Roblox with my friends and sibling, and it's been a ton of fun! Sure, I'm horrible at it, but it's the thought that counts ig.
And don't worry, I draw normal things too.
Like these things.
But it's mostly angst and unhinged things lol.
Below is a silly goofy Shiny Shrimp (that's the ship name I made up for Glisten x Shrimpo lol) AU that's just angst and tragedy and bullying Shrimpo emotionally lol:
OKAY SO CONTEXT: I thought it would be funny if Shrimpo had to keep Glisten company while exploring the floors but was also the one to witness his change into his full twisted form and almost die lol.
SO, I'd imagine it going down like this.
Basically, during one of the missions below, Glisten doesn't make it to the elevator in time. Shrimpo gets wind of this and gets very pissed. Despite everyone's protests, Shrimpo decides to join on of their runs to gain iquor, but mostly to fine Glisten.
And boy does he find him and all his shattered face glory.
Glisten: "Shrimpo!?" Shrimpo: "G-Glisten?" Glisten: "I knew you'd come back for me!"
Shrimpo attempts to leave the situation, seeing that Glisten is indeed twisted, despite Glisten's insistence that he is not. As Shrimpo tries to leave, Glisten gets more attached, constantly asking Shrimpo to not leave and to stay with him. Another person in the party (haven't decided who yet), tells Shrimpo to stay with Glisten and keep him company until all the machines are done. Shrimpo reluctantly agrees (and says "I HATE YOU" a couple times) and spends the rest of the round with Glisten.
However, the whole time Shrimpo's trying not to get attached because deep down, he knows it's too late for Glisten.
At the end of the round, everyone is called to go to the elevator. Shrimpo goes to leave. Glisten tries to block him off. Shimpo forces his way through. Glisten gets pissed and rips off his ribbons in anger, letting the infection take over his whole body. As Glisten's shifting, Shrimpo grabs one of his discarded ribbon pieces and beelines it to the elevator (as fast as Shrimpo can run). However, it is not fast enough, and Glisten easily catches up. He knocked over Shrimpo and lunges at him, ready take him out.
That's when Goob comes in. While everyone is trying to get the elevator to close faster, Goob grabs Shrimpo from below Glisten and pulls him into the elevator. Glisten hits the floor and breaks his face even more. As he gets up, he shouts at Shrimpo, who is shaking in Goob's arms watch Glisten break down.
Glisten: "YOU PROMISED YOU'D STAY WITH ME-- YOU PROMISED!"
Then, the doors close. Glisten is gone, and Shrimpo is angry and traumatized. How fun.
Shrimpo does not do well after the whole incident. He is much more reserved, but still just as angry. Except to Goob. Goob saving him gave Shrimpo a soft spot for the guy. Also, Goob let's Shrimpo vent to him like the supportive icon he is.
Shrimpo: I think I miss my partner, Goob.
But he's not the only toon Shrimpo talks to.
Vee: "Geez. This crying is ruining your "tough guy" persona."
My sibling gave me the silly idea to have Shrimpo and Vee be "friends" in this bc Shrimp hates Dandy waaaaaaaaaay more after the Glisten incident. And Vee hates Dandy in general, so boom, situation friendship. However, Vee sucks at being a supportive friend.
And some silly stuff my friends requested. Shrimpo chucking Dandy into the stratosphere and Goob being Goob. Healing the world one crappy doodle at a time.
Thank you for looking at the dooles and mindless rant of a grown adult about a Roblox horror game for 9-year-olds. You're a real one. Have a good day broksies.
#mmmmmmmmm i love shipping characters who hate each other#dandys world#dandy's world fanart#dandys world fanart#roblox#roblox dandys world#shrimpo#glisten#twisted glisten#razzle and dazzle#rodger#teagen#goob#finn#vee#dandy's world shrimpo#dandy's world glisten#dandy's world goob#dandy's world vee#dandy's world rodger#dandy's world teagen#dandy's world razzle and dazzle#dandy's world finn#dandy's world au#glisten x shrimpo#shrimpo x glisten#shiny shrimp#doodles#katiekatdragon27
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Alt!Megumi who fucking hates you but has to tolerate you bc youâre Yuujiâs best friend. Yuuji drags both of you to a party and abandons you, leaving the two of you to get drunk off your asses and insult each other. Until Megumi starts getting handsy and leads you off to a room for a nice hate fuck đđ
YEEAASSS BOOM SHAKALAKAAAAAâ
thinking about... â hate sex â
featuring... megumi fushiguro
content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, alt!megumi, hate sex, rough sex, mirror sex, swearing, dirty talk, HELLO SAILORâ
author's note: u have awoken something in me i hope ur ready for my wrath, also i made them actually fucking hate each other it's so funny.
ââ alt!megumi who has hated your guts from the start.
ââ yuji was your best friend and was always bringing you around, and it always pissed megumi off because why exactly did you need to be involved in everything?
ââ you were a rude, insolent brat at the best of times, always had a snarky remark or a smart ass comment loaded in the chamber ready to fire when you could sense megumi was even slightly irritated by your presence.
ââ it became a thing. everyone knew you hated each other, always bickering and arguing over stupid shit.
ââ alt!megumi who is normally a very chill and somewhat anti-social guy. but you just bring out this hot-headed, unbridled anger in him. and you do it all with the flutter of your lashes and a cheeky fucking smile on your face.
ââ you always had something to say. like when yuji and nobara were taking forever to pick a snack at the convenience store down the road from your college campus:
ââ megumi was cranky, "jesus christ, just pick something, you're taking forever"
ââ "you'd know all about finishing fast, huh, fushiguro?"
ââ alt!megumi who simply put, cannot stand you. if looks could kill, you would be so dead. and you, who is equally bothered by him and his fake tough-guy persona and how he's always pretending to be this big scary guy who is just so unbothered by everything.
ââ except for you, since you always manage to wriggle under his skin and piss him off.
ââ or when yuji dragged you both along to a party, telling you two to "be nice" to each other then promptly ditched you because, well, he's yuji, a social butterfly who makes friends wherever he goes.
ââ alt!megumi who isn't a big drinker, but if he has to stay at this god forsaken party, he may as well drink.
ââ alt!megumi who is chatting up a girl when you appear, bumping shoulders with him drunkenly as you scare away whatever little piece he was talking to because you're you and you make his life difficult for your own enjoyment.
ââ "why don't you just fuck off?"
ââ "you'd miss me too much."
ââ the two of you becoming progressively more drunk at this house party, and the alcohol seems to thicken the sexual tension between you and megumi.
ââ you're the only person he knows here other than yuji and vice versa, the two of you unintentionally gravitating toward each other no matter how much you try to avoid one another.
ââ you, who is dancing and grinding up on some guy and megumi is standing by the stairs just fucking watching you and he's clenching his jaw and staring daggers at you because don't you have any fucking self-respect?
ââ and you're wearing the tiniest mini skirt he's ever seen and a low-cut top that your tits threaten to spill out of and the gawking of these useless frat guys is pissing him off.
ââ and when you bend over to pick up a drink off the table, megumi just loses it because he can see your lacy black panties and your plush ass from under your skirt.
ââ and alt!megumi who drags you upstairs and away from all the prying eyes and wandering hands by your arm before laying into you about your lack of self-respect.
ââ "you want everyone to think you're some fucking slut?"
ââ "yeah, but you were looking too, weren't you, fushiguro?"
ââ alt!megumi who just stares at you, absolutely seething before the tension between you two just fucking snaps and he slams you against the closest door, his mouth on yours in mere seconds.
ââ alt!megumi who's tattooed hands grab and knead at your hips and ass and your tits over your shirt.
ââ alt!megumi who pushes you into the closest bathroom, his hand squeezing your throat as he kisses you but it's not gentle, it's mean and it's hard.
ââ and you, who tugs at his hair and at his belt buckle because the two of you just need to fuck out whatever the hell your problem is.
ââ alt!megumi who is pulling your skirt over your ass and forcing your panties down your legs and you're fucking helping him because there's something seriously wrong with how much you want him to fuck you.
ââ alt!megumi who bends you over the bathroom sink and squeezes your heated cheeks together as he forces you to watch him fuck you.
ââ "always acting like a fucking slut."
ââ "you've wanted to fuck me so bad from the beginning. don't lie."
ââ alt!megumi who is thick and long and heavy, and his pace is fucking brutal. he's forcing noise after noise out of you as he forces your hips back onto his cock, your knees buckling as he basically holds your lower body up while you brace your hands against the counter.
ââ and the two of you hate how good it feels.
ââ hate how good he's fucking you, hate how soaked you are, hate how hard you've got him.
ââ you hate it all so much you fucking love it.
author's note: HAHAHAHAH I NEED TO MAKE THIS A FIC IM FERAL HELLOâ help i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure like a rabid gorilla.
#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#megumi x reader#x reader#jjk megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#jjk smut#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi smut#jjk megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader smut#megumi fushiguro x reader smut
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ÂˇË â¡ ÍÍÍÍę°âł đŽđ§đđ¨đŤđ đđđđđđĽđ đŤđ˘đđ | natasha romanoff
. Ýâ đ đ˘đđđđđŚ . it was a new era of her life. she no longer had missions or a team to rely on â only endless free time, and a bunch of thoughts that weren't really helpful. Natasha for once, had time to pick up her phone â something trivial. through the dating app Tony had dared her to install months ago, she meets somebody. finally, her heart was at peace.
. Ýâ đ¤đđđđđđđ . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! â a TW for the photo editing thing. this may be a sensitive topic for some. lonely Nat, insecure Nat â she edits a picture of her body, swearing, oral (N receiving). lots of fluffy stuff, too. set after Civil War.
. Ýâ đđđĄđđ . english is not my first language (đ§đˇ) so i apologize for any spelling errors. this ended up SO MUCH longer than i initially planned. i put a lot of dedication into this so, yeah đĽš
thanks to my lovely @sunswish who helped me with the plot and the proofreading! âĄ
The trailer was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the wind through the trees outside. Natasha sat at the small wooden table by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, a steaming mug of tea resting untouched beside her. The Norwegian countryside was beautiful, vast and unassuming, but the stillness pressed down on her.
Her phone laid on the table, the screen dark. She stared at it for a moment, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. Sheâd never been good at this â being still, alone with her thoughts. For years, her life had been one constant motion: missions, battles, briefings, always moving forward because stopping meant thinking, having time to ponder about her life.
Her jaw tightened, and she looked out the window instead. What was she even doing?
Sheâd fought tooth and nail to become an Avenger, to carve out some sliver of redemption for herself, some sense of belonging in a world sheâd spent so long working against. Sheâd believed in their cause, in their family, even when it meant trusting people with pieces of herself she hadnât known she was capable of sharing.
And now? The Avengers were gone. Torn apart, like everything else sheâd tried to build. She was a fugitive, hunted by the very government sheâd once fought to protect. Her friends â her family â were scattered, some in hiding, some in prison. She was left with nothing but her name and a handful of private contractors who worked in the shadows. People she barely trusted, people who barely trusted her. Yet she still needed them for supplies, false documents, and a roof above her head. Funny, she thought.
She reached for her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth of the ceramic, though she didnât take a sip. She had no mission now, no team to fall back on. No one to call when the silence became too much. She wasnât sure if she missed the fights or the people more.
A faint vibration against the table snapped her from her thoughts. Her phone. She glanced down, the screen lighting up with a notification â some random email, one of these âno replyâ ones, nothing important. She hesitated, then picked it up anyway, her thumb hovering over the screen.
Scrolling through her phone felt⌠strange. Almost trivial. She opened Instagram, an app she barely used but kept around for the rare moments she wanted to feel tethered to something normal. The feed was full of snapshots of a life she didnât recognizeâvacations, dinners, smiling faces, people celebrating milestones she wouldn't ever have.
And right then, the name âAvengersâ didnât make sense for her anymore. She was supposed to have this. This life where she would have a fun moment and think âoh, yes! i should absolutely shoot a pic and add to my storiesâ. After all, Natasha was just an unavenged girl, woman, human. A picture of a mother celebrating her daughter's birthday wasn't just one more picture showing on her feed. It was her dream.
She scrolled absently, her mind only half-engaged as her thumb flicked upward. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room and forget sheâd ever picked it up. But another partâthe quieter, lonelier partâheld onto it like a lifeline.
She then receives another automatic notification. How has your love life been going? It took her a moment to remember what it was, and when she did, she let out a dry, humorless laugh.
The dating app.
Sheâd installed it months ago as a joke, because Tony had bet her she wouldnât. She could still hear his voice in her head, teasing her. âCome on, Nat. You might actually meet someone who doesnât want to kill you for once.â At the time, it was funny. Sheâd downloaded it, filled out the bare minimum of the profile, like: cat lover, captivating green eyes & martial arts enjoyer and promptly forgotten about it.
Her finger hovered over the icon now, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable twirl in her chest. The idea of opening it felt absurd. What would she even say to someone? What would they see in her, beyond the scars and the lies and the mess sheâd made of her life? That was made of her life? Could she even try and have a relationship? When throughout her life, she didnât ever have a conversation about feelings? Clint was the closest attempt to that â he knew her past, more than the others, at least. So she spoke to him about things like that before. But he had a wife, kids, a home.
Natasha damned her heart every single day â for wanting a connection with somebody â for wanting to be somebody's, and for not being content with what she already has.
What does she even have?
She sighs deeply as she gathers a little bit of courage (that usually wasn't necessary when one was to open a simple app in their phone) and presses her thumb against the icon. Her eyebrows show a little frown as she realizes the app wasnât open â she had held the icon for too long, making the options add to home and uninstall pop up on her screen.
âGoddammit,â she mutters to herself. Maybe she had done it on purpose. She considers choosing the second option. But her thumb, once again, hovers over the uninstall word for too long.
She was just confused. In conflict, with something so small. Although, she was braver than that.
âLet's just get over with this.â She mutters to herself as she finally opens the app â SparkMatch, she reads the name, for the first time. She lets out a scoff. Though the feeling of unease didn't take long before coming back to her. The about me section was completely empty, in exception for-
âCaptivating green eyes. Cat lover.â she reads the words she had typed, aloud, cursing herself. It was what she had written in order to simply make the Iron Man laugh and leave her alone. âGreat job, Romanoff. Truly irresistible.â
Scrolling down her profile, which was named only @Natasha1203â having in mind that her surname wasn't one to be openly shared â she finds the photos she had chosen, months ago, without really thinking much. Her gallery didn't have much cheering stuff. They were as nondescript as possible: a picture of a skyline she had taken while on the run. Her in sunglasses, her most common accessory. And.. a single closeup of her face, that felt too honest for comfort. She doesnât know why she left that one there, for the world to stare at. Maybe it was the one moment where she caught herself looking like.. well, herself. If somebody squinted their eyes, they could see a small scar on her shoulder. She hoped people wouldnât do that.
Summing up: the profile was a mess. And that was a perfect reflection of the person behind it. She doesn't make a move to edit any information â before remembering an important detail. It would be nice to change her profile's name, in case anybody (especially Tony, that was aware of this) tried to look for her.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203 was the new username.
Perfect. She does a little âtskâ with her tongue, a little habit she developed when finishing a task.
Flirting was easy. She had been trained for it â trained in the art of seduction, molded into a woman that could slip into any persona, say the right words, touch in the right way, just to get what she needed. But this wasn't one of the spy programs she had access to in SHIELD. This wasn't about manipulation or information extracting. This was trivial. Normal.
Natasha browses through the app for a while. She stops in profiles of strangers that smiled back at her through their pictures â men, women, who were teachers, doctors, engineers. People with families and hobbies. Who had the chance to live a life without looking over their shoulders every second. Yet something about this.. gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was faint, but it was there. Knowing all these little details about random folks, she could find small pieces of herself in each one: some did ballet when they were little. Some had a scar due a kitchen accident. Some did karate simply for liking the sport. Some liked peanut butter sandwiches. She quietly giggles, her previous nervousness replaced by a silly feeling.
Maybe it wasn't that bad. It is not like a random person was gonna crawl out of her phone screen and have a date right then, anyway. And there was another âproblemâ. This app was still american, while she was in a whole new timezone.
What a relief.
She shifts on the small couch of her trailer, now laying down on it, allowing herself to get entertained with SparkMatch. She even found some profiles that were probably deactivated by now, seeing that they were created, like, a decade ago. She purposefully clicked on the small heart on them, meaning Match. She softly laughs.
But the sound is interrupted by herself as she finds a specific user.
It was a minimalist profile â elegant, even. It didn't say much about the person's personality: it said enough. It wasn't extravagant or absurd like some she had found. And it certainly wasn't a mess, like hers.
Y/n. 34. Not good at small talk, but I'm a good listener. A photographer, currently traveling around. Just someone who thinks the world is too big of a place to stay idle for too long. Currently: Norway
It was truly something else, compared to the live, laugh, love bios or the gym rats flashing their abs.
Her curiosity picks up, and soon enough, she sees a picture of them in Oslo.
And it was posted just three days ago.
So they were active in this app. But this wasn't what her mind grasped. Traveling in Norway. International trips usually didnât last just three days, right? So that meant they were still there. There with her.
Out of all countries in the world, they were there?
She reads the bio again. Currently: Norway.
A strange shiver runs down her spine the more she thinks about the situation she found herself into. She bites on her lip, her stomach twirling almost painfully, like a school girl texting her crush. She was the Black Widow, for God's sake. She didn't get to go on silly dates and receive flowers.
No. This was too much. Without closing the app, she locks the screen of her phone again and drops it to the couch, quickly standing up and running her fingers through her hair. There were many reasons why this wouldn't work, especially when she was a fugitive and could get recognized, even in a small cafe.
Heading to the tiny kitchen, she opens a drawer on the countertop and grabs a bottle opener, opening the fridge and taking a beer out. She removes the cap and downs the bottle with no second thought, the bitter liquid ripping down her throat. Deeply breathing, shakily. Amidst the vast emptiness, not only of the place she was currently settled, but of her heart too, she fought back tears. The glass of the bottle clicks against the marble countertop as she places it down, her hands tightly gripping onto the edge of the furniture, holding herself up. It was a hard decision to make, whether to take this opportunity and keep it safe in her heart, or to let it go and pretend it never happened in the first place.
But she wouldn't be able to rest tonight knowing she simply did nothing about that special person the app charitably put into her hands. So, on this night, the unshatterable Natasha Romanoff did something she never thought she would. Before heading to bed, she picked up her phone again. Gladly, she didn't have to look for the profile once more. She simply had to press onto the small heart next to their picture. And she did.
The screen flashed: It's a match!
Natasha blinked in surprise, almost dumbfounded by this message. But this was meant to happen, right? Now, she could only hope that she would receive something in return by the morning.
It felt.. good. She had something to expect, a little flicker of hope that followed her even in her dreams, that made her feel better than she could ever imagine.
And this was just the start.
âĄâË đąăťââ§
When the next day came, all of Natashaâs thoughts regarding the whirlwind of recent events were replaced by a single thing: that person. That New Yorker who was currently in Norway to take photos for a personal album. She initially wondered if she could really lower her guard like this and not think too much about Secretary Ross â who was still after her â but it was not like she would leave this trailer anytime soon. Thus, she needed a distraction, something to keep her brain entertained until this whole mess was over.
Talking to them was a relief â a solace she had been needing and didn't even know until now.
Talking to you.
Right away you had seen the match notification of SparkMatch, even if it was already one in the morning when it arrived. You sent this woman- Fanny? a message, and waited, but no response came until the next day. You wondered if she had impulsively pressed the match button and ran away from her phone out of nervousness. You actually imagined it, seeing the one picture of herself she published on her feed. Her profile was.. vague, to say at least, but she was incredibly beautiful, and indeed had captivating green eyes, like she boldly described herself. It made you smirk to your phoneâs screen. No, genuinely smile.
It was pretty much clear that she wasn't a dating app person. And neither were you! You just had a better sense of organization than her, that's for sure. What if you two could really be a match?
As the day went on, you two engaged into a conversation that was surprisingly enjoyable for both sides. Opening the inbox chat, that could be found:
@Y/n: Good night. Is your real name Fanny Longbottom?
â eight hours later â
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Good morning! The first thing you ask a woman is if her name is real?
@Y/n: It just doesn't suit a beautiful redhead with captivating green eyes.
Natasha groaned to herself at this, laughing. The humor in the text was evident, and she loved that.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Right. It was a joke. You can call me.. Nat.
It was a glimpse of her name. It could be Natasha, Natalia, Natalie.. or all of these.
@Y/n: Nat.. that is better. Yet still very vague. Like your whole profile.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Perhaps my whole account here is a joke.
@Y/n: And we still matched. And sincerely, I'm intrigued. Intrigued and curious.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Thatâs a dangerous thing to tell someone you just met.
@Y/n: Personally, I wouldnât call a cat lover dangerous.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Will you stop mocking me for my irresistible biography or what?
It was an easy playful banter. It felt light. Not like these conversations where you had to directly ask the other person to be nice to you.
@Y/n: You just donât strike me as someone who spends much time on dating apps. What brings you here?
With that, she debated whether to mention Tonyâs dare or not. She could talk about it, but not for now. If sheâs sincere, about how much she needed not to be alone anymore, this could lead to something good, more profound.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Iâm just trying something new. What about you? Norway seems kinda away from the rest of the world.
@Y/n: It is. But sometimes you have to go far to find what youâre looking for.
Natasha leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didnât know who you were, or why your words seemed to settle something in her chest, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt.. excited.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Have you found it?
@Y/n: Not yet. But I have a feeling I might be in the right place.
She stared at the message, her mind turning over the possibilities. She was already glad that this hadnât started with âhey, youâre cuteâ or âwhatâs up?â, and now? It felt like she was in a dream â to find someone that shared her ideals, or that at least, thankfully, sounded like a mature adult.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Maybe Norway isnât so bad after all.
@Y/n: So youâre also here!
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That seems like an excited message to me.
Gladly, her phoneâs camera wasnât capturing anything. Because she swore her eyes were sparkling right now.
@Y/n: Of course Iâm excited, Nat. Now I have something else to think about other than shooting pictures.
Natasha stared at the reply, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her phone. There was something disarming about your words â direct, yet not forceful. And the way you used her name so casually made her blush.
She hesitated, before typing back.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: What do you shoot? Other than clever replies, apparently.
@Y/n: Street photography. Portraits, mostly. But Iâve been known to dabble in the occasional cat picture. You know, for balance.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Balance is important. What would the world do with no cat pictures?
@Y/n: I shudder to imagine it. Speaking of balance.. would you let me buy you coffee sometime? Or would that be too much?
Her breath caught. You really didnât waste time, did you? she thought. For a moment, her walls threatened to go up again â she could almost hear that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was not a good idea, that it wasnât smart, safe.
But she silenced it. It was too soon, for sure â but she couldnât knock it till she tried it.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That depends. Are you going back to New York in the next few days?
@Y/n: I donât have a specific date to go back. So I guess it depends on how things go.
Yeah. Now she felt a little pressured. It was a dilemma, she could be the reason you stayed or left. Adrenaline coursed through her veins â that was determination.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Itâs not like I am going anywhere anytime soon, either. But.. I like to play hard to get sometimes. How about we wait and see how things go?
@Y/n: Hard to get, huh? Well, patience is a virtue. Let me know when you feel like stopping the chase.
And you two went on like that â talking about your favorite portraits, sending her some â receiving her compliments, which sounded way too genuine for your liking. It was casual, like talking to a friend. Natasha didn't take long to start feeling comfortable with texting you. If she weren't a spy without a private number, she would've asked for your WhatsApp. Or maybe she was just exaggerating. The thing was: she didn't have to wonder about how to answer you. Your way of having conversations was so nice that she didn't feel forced to text back.
And with these new discoveries, Natasha felt like she could be in this new country without feeling too out of place. She feared that in the end this would be just one momentary experience, one of the many personas she played.
But shockingly, for once, she didnât feel like paying attention to her overthinking.
âĄâË đąăťââ§
Weeks had passed, and the nightly silence Natasha once dreaded was now filled with something else. Her phone screen, once cold and impersonal, had become an opening to something warmer. A new phase of her life. She never thought she would be so close to a mobile device before. Supersecret agents couldnât have personal ones other than burner phones, it was risky â they could get hacked, tracked, recognized. She didnât have a number, or an email with her name, bank accounts, or any sort of thing that could link her to the authorities. She only had TikTok, Instagram, some games like Candy Crush Saga and her newest best friend, SparkMatch.
Everyday, without fail, your conversations flowed effortlessly. You spoke about everything: Norwayâs quiet beauty, silly anecdotes, and even the mundane things that somehow became meaningful when shared. She made herself get used to the habit of not thinking much. This wasnât part of the plan â or rather, there was no plan. This constant connection grounded her in a way she didnât fully understand.
Having someone willingly care about her, without having to ask, beg for it â she couldnât understand.
This evening, after eating her exquisite caviar and drinking champagne, she settled onto her couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and her mind involuntarily anticipated your witty reply, or question about her day.
Instead, a picture greeted her.
It wasnât posed or staged â just you. mid-laugh, with a goofy expression that instantly betrayed your attempt to be serious. Your hair was a bit disheveled, and the lighting was off, but the image carried a kind of authenticity Natasha couldnât let pass. The caption reads:
@Y/n: I donât usually do selfies, but I figured you deserved to see what youâve been stuck talking to all this time.
It was caring. You thought about her often enough to send a picture of yourself, doing absolutely nothing important.
Natasha softly blinked at the picture, completely still as her brain worked to process what she was looking at. It wasnât just a picture. There was trust behind it, a hidden message. She couldnât tell where you were getting at with this action â actually, she could. She just tried to convince herself of the contrary, afraid of putting her hopes up and screwing up afterwards.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Hi. I wasnât expecting that.
@Y/n: Hi! How are you right now?
She bites her lip, incredulously chuckling. She was almost certain that this question was supposed to come before the picture.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Better.
She was feeling better, but not just that â she was feeling.. something. Something like.. seen. Like she was remembered by someone, like she existed, for once.
And those feelings stirred something even deeper within her.
The connection was becoming deeper â it was just now that she realized that the flirting which occurred every now and then wasnât meaningless. It had a deep impact on her, in her soul â as a friend, as a person, and mostly.. as a woman. She needed it. She needed someone to like her, to pay attention to her, to see her â intimately, closely. Even better when this someone wasnât a superficial person, and actually one who she related to and felt like she could share this dormant part of herself.
So she decides to share a picture, too.
She sits upright on the couch, the blanket falling and pooling around her hips as she opens the camera. She switches from the back camera to the frontal one, and takes a selfie. She was wearing a simple grey tank top, so her shoulders, collarbone and neck were on display. She wasnât smiling smiling, just briefly, just enough to make a friendly expression. It was soft, tender. Unlike the deadly Black Widow.
Thankfully, for you, she didnât have to be that.
So she presses send, laying back again and staring at the screen in anticipation â her eyes closely watching as the send mark changed into seen, that then turned into open. It stayed like that for a long while â like you were examining the picture and werenât ashamed of it.
It gave her goosebumps.
The typing bubble appeared again after what felt like an eternity.
@Y/n: Youâre beautiful, Nat.
It was a compliment you had already used on her. But this situation? Oh, it felt so, so different. You were talking about the simplicity, the domesticity of her in this closeup, the softness.
Fueling the fire that started to burn within her on this specific day.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Just a selfie.. don't get carried away. I'm hardly camera ready.
@Y/n: It's more than a selfie for me. It made my day. If that's not camera ready, I wonder how it'll be like when you try.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Would you like to see?
Oops. She didn't think before sending this one.
@Y/n: Hell, yes.
Her mind was immersed, totally consumed by the attention you were giving her â no jokes, no hints, just shameless flirting. Standing from the couch, she walks to her small bedroom, which was already dark, gladly â she closes her door, and slumps on her bed. Seduction was her nature, she couldn't control it. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now. Reaching her hand out, she turned on her yellow dim lamp, a gentle, warm glow casting her skin, making a better environment for the incoming picture.
She reopened the camera and adjusted herself in a comfortable position â knees pulled up, her left hand resting above her stomach as she held her phone with her right one above herself â taking the photo. There was auburn red hair all over the pillows, some strands framing her face perfectly. There was skin showing â a bit of her thighs, her arms, waist.. the curves of her body leaving room for imagination.
And something that she forgot about for the longest time.
The bullet scar above her left hip.
She stared at the photo on her screen, finger hovering over the "Send" button instinctively. The lighting was perfect, the pose effortless yet captivating. Her expression was soft, relaxed â but her pupils were darkened, a hint of the sinful emotions coursing through her body. But her eyes fell to the scar.
It was unavoidable, cutting through the smooth expanse of her pale skin like a brutal reminder. The bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier, a relic of her past life, stood out glaringly in the image. Her jaw clenched as a familiar wave of self-consciousness surged through her, a feeling she thought she had buried already.
She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard as her thumb swiped to open the editing tools. It took her less than a minute to brush the scar away, leaving her skin unmarked, untouched. Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the result. The photo looked⌠perfect. Too perfect, perhaps, but she didnât allow herself to dwell on that.
With a deep breath, she pressed send.
Unlike your other conversations, she felt.. heavy. Like the instinct of having to show her perfect body in order to be liked was speaking louder than her rational side.
The message was delivered almost immediately, but the seconds felt drawn out, agonizingly long. When the "seen" indicator appeared, her heart raced. She bit the inside of her cheek, anticipating your response.
The reply came swiftly:
@Y/n: Wow. Iâm speechless.
She smirked (bittersweetly), her thumb hesitating for only a moment before typing back.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Thatâs a first. Usually, you always have something to say.
The typing bubble reappeared, and she waited, her heart thudding in her chest.
@Y/n: You make it hard to think, Nat.
Natasha felt warmth flood her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Donât let it go to your head.
@Y/n: I think it's too late for that.
For a moment, she wondered what you would have said if youâd seen the unedited version. Would you have found it ugly? Would you have pitied her? Or would you have admired her for wearing it like the badge of survival it was?
In her dreams, you would have worshiped it.
Before she could send anything else, you decided to take a shot on meeting her in person once again.
@Y/n: I'm sorry, I'll have to suggest. How about this: I'll find the best cafĂŠ within a 10-mile radius, and you can tell me if my photography is as good as my coffee recommendations.
Time passed, and the accusations against Natasha had toned down a bit. Maybe, just maybe, if she's careful enough, she can do this. The first date she'd have in what, a decade?
It was refreshing. And scary. But overall refreshing.
@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Deal. But I will be the judge in both.
The day and place was decided â it would be in Oslo, downtown â a cafĂŠ, where tons of people would be present. Natasha, growing up, became a master in blending in.
If fate decided to be on her side, this would be one of the best days of her life.
She tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the scar again, tracing its jagged edges as if trying to understand its place in this new chapter of her life.
âNot everyone gets to see this side of me,â she murmured to herself.
And for the first time, she wasnât sure if that was a warning or a promise.
âĄâË đąăťââ§
The cafĂŠ buzzed with the warmth of chatter, the soft clinking of ceramic mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was tucked into a quiet corner of downtown Oslo, a place where the world felt comfortably distant yet close enough for her to disappear if necessary. Hours before, Natasha had dressed herself up â a burgundy dress, black tights, her usual black boots â and her jacket, of course. Her hair was naturally wavy, falling down her shoulders and back â and the makeup was simple. She wasn't a woman for makeup. But this time, she wore red lipstick and the faintest glitter eyeshadow.
She felt like a doll. It was stupid, a thing she liked to imagine how it would feel like back then â in the Red Room, where the girls wore black uniforms â grey sometimes, but always robotic, always calculated. It was a comforting feeling, which made her want to go back in time and tell little Natalia: yes! we are older now, and we are all dolled up for the date of our dreams.
Natasha arrived early â of course she did. She always did. She chose a seat by the window, her back to the wall, a vantage point where she could see everyone coming and going. Her heart wasnât racing, but there was a slight tension in her chest. She sipped her coffee slowly, the warm bitterness grounding her as she kept an eye on the door. Then, you walked in.
Her doubting thoughts flew away the moment the green eyes landed on you.
She recognized you instantly. Your smile was smaller in person but somewhat warmer, more genuine. You scanned the room briefly before your eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Natasha thought she saw your breath catch. She softly smirks, gaze involuntarily daring.
Come and get me. This? Is all for you.
She shaked that thought away as she watched you approach her table â your clothes, your style, your body language â she scanned it all. The Black Widow wasn't an easy woman to conquer, which made her dump most of the people that tried to hit on her in the past. You were a rare exception, someone who didn't even have to try to make her heart race. It happened in itâs own.
âYou made it,â Natasha said, standing to greet you, to give you a quick hug â the subtle press of your body against hers making her skin tingle. Damn it. She adjusted her dress before sitting back down. You did the same, sitting in front of her.
âOf course I did. This date was all I could think about,â you reply, eyes drinking her in, like she was the prettiest woman to exist. She truly was. âNo. Let me rephrase. Seeing you was all I could think about.â
Natasha lets out a soft laugh, shifting her gaze towards the floor. She was so pale that the fact that she was blushing was, unfortunately, evident.
âFeels good to finally hear your voice,â she says, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at you. âIn person. Not in audio messages or calls.â
After ordering pastries and more coffee for the both of you, the conversation flowed easily, from the usual mundane topics to little jokes that made Natasha chuckle softly. She found herself studying you more and more, the way you gestured when you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.
Eventually, the question came.
âSo, whatâs it like?â you asked, your voice gentle but curious. âBeing an Avenger?â
Natasha paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup. She had expected this, of course. She knew it would come up. She couldn't simply hide, not when her face had shown up on TV so many times. But if necessary, she would say that this wasn't what she wanted to be anymore. Not with you. She simply wanted to be herself around you, and not the superhero.
She wasn't Natasha who assaulted T'challa. Wasnât the Sokovia Accords breaker. She hoped you knew by now.
âItâs⌠complicated,â she said after a moment, her tone measured. âNot as glamorous as it looks on TV, if thatâs what youâre thinking.â
You smiled. âIâm sure. But itâs still something, isnât it? Saving the world, fighting alongside legends.â
A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. âIt was something, yeah. But it wasnât always about saving the world.â Her gaze softened as she thought back. âThere was this time when Tony installed this AI in the kitchen â Fridayâs cousin or something â to help us cook. It ended up burning everything it touched. Clint started calling it âFlamebot,â and SteveâŚâ She chuckled, shaking her head. âSteve tried to fix it, of course. Said it was âworth saving.ââ
You laughed, and Natasha found herself smiling more openly. She was rambling.
âAnd Thor,â she continued, âhe once mistook a microwave for some kind of⌠magical contraption. He tried to âsummon its powerâ with Mjolnir.â
âDid it work?â you teased.
Natasha smirked. âNo, but we had to get a new microwave.â
The nostalgia warmed her, but it also left her feeling melancholic. She missed them. Not the missions or the battles, but the team â the messy, dysfunctional family they had become. You seemed to notice the shift in her mood and didnât push further. Instead, you leaned in slightly, your voice soft.
âI can tell you miss them,â you said.
Natasha nodded, her walls lowering just a fraction. âYeah. I do.â
You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing she needed some cheering up. This was supposed to be a happy day, not one to bring up sad memories. So you opened your bag, pulling out of it your camera â which made Natasha's eyes brighten up.
âYou brought it!â she exclaims. âI almost forgot that you're a photographer,â
âI thought of the possibility of having to register this moment. And I was absolutely right. You look.. beautiful isn't enough to describe it,â you deeply sigh, as if surrendering to her, to this feeling of being completely in love. âCan I please take a picture of you?â
Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. âA picture of me?â she asked, her tone teasing. âYou know thatâs dangerous, right? What if you decide to sell it to the tabloids?â
You laughed softly, looking at her like a lovesick puppy, shaking your head. âIâm not interested in fame, Nat. Just in you.â
That made her pause, her smirk faltering for just a second. It wasnât often she heard something so direct, so sincere. She tilted her head, studying you with those piercing green eyes, as if trying to gauge if you meant it.
âAlright,â she said finally, leaning back in her chair. âBut only if itâs a good angle. No pressure.â
You grinned, lifting the camera and adjusting the settings with practiced ease. âNo such thing as a bad angle with you.â
Natasha rolled her eyes, but the blush dusting her cheeks just got worse. She straightened up, her posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding that natural grace and power.
âLike this?â she asked, tilting her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.
You brought your chair closer, lowering the camera for a moment. âNo. Donât pose,â you said quietly. âJust be yourself.â
That caught her off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shifted in her seat, unsure of what to do with herself for once.
âBe myself, huh?â she murmured.
You nodded, lifting the camera again. âExactly. I donât need the Black Widow. I want Nat.â
Her lips parted slightly at your words, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore every day seemed to slip. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted to the side, and a genuine, very shy smile spread across her face. âI-â
Before she could protest, the shutter clicked, capturing her in that rare, unguarded moment. âPerfect,â you murmured, lowering the camera and meeting her gaze.
Natasha shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. âYouâre trouble, you know that?â
âOnly the good kind,â you replied with a grin, setting the camera down.
She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand again as she studied you. âSo, do I get to see it? Or are you keeping me in suspense?â
You turned the camera around, showing her the photo on the screen. Her expression softened as she took it in â the warmth in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the way the light framed her face, her rosy cheeks. It wasnât just a picture. It was a glimpse of who she really was, beyond the layers of secrecy and survival. It was simply her, away from espionage, having coffee with her date.
Her unforgettable trip to Norway.
âItâs⌠good,â she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.
âGood?â you ask. âItâs stunning. Just like my model.â
Oh, thatâŚ
The way you emphasized the word âmyâ.. the way you were making her feel.. actually precious. She was trapped.
âAlright,â she said, sitting back. âYouâve had your fun. Now tell me, do I at least get a copy?â
You laughed, nodding. âOf course. But only if you promise to go easy on me when I take more later.â
She smirks, her confidence returning. âWeâll see about that.â
As the evening wore, the sky showed a beautiful indigo, stars twinkling just like the sparkles in both of your sets of eyes. Natasha allowed herself to relax. To bask in this kind of normalcy that she never had the chance to experience. She had seen a lot, lived a lot. She knew what people could do in response to fear. She saw war and hatred, she saw coldness and cruelty. But from now on, she could live in a lighter way â like her heart was finally at peace.
âShould we get going?â you asked as the people also started to leave, standing and offering her a hand.
Natasha hesitated for half a second before taking it. Your touch was warm, steady, grounding, and promising. As you stepped outside, the cool air of Oslo wrapped around you. The city lights flickered like stars. Natasha felt a strange sense of calm. When she felt your arm enveloping her shoulders, her breath hitched, but she didnât let it show â leaning into you gently.
âWhere to now?â she asked, glancing at you.
âWell, the hotel, if youâre up for it,â you replied, your tone playful but not pushing.
That playfulness was a disguise for more surprises that awaited her back into the hotel room you were hosted in.
âĄâË đąăťââ§
When you unlocked the door to the hotel you're staying in, Natasha followed you inside, her steps hesitant, as if she wasnât quite sure what to expect. The space was warm and inviting, even if it wasn't a fixed place â especially after knowing you for a good while now â tons of polaroids laying across the bed, portraits, some funko pops that you bought recently. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, tied together with a simple ribbon.
Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to you, her lips parting in surprise. She didn't even have time to look around the place. âWhatâs this?â she asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.
You stepped past her, picking up the bouquet and holding it out to her with a smile. âThese are for you,â you said.
Natasha blinked, momentarily stunned. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the bouquet, her touch delicate, as though the flowers were something precious. She examined them quietly â deep purple irises mingled with soft yellow sunflowers and a few sprigs of white heather.
âSo youâre a hopeless romantic.. you didnât take them to the cafĂŠ. What made you so sure I would come back to your place?â
You shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. âI wasnât sure,â you admitted, meeting her gaze with an honesty that made her pause. âBut I hoped you would. And, well, I wanted them to be a surprise. It felt more personal this way.â
Natasha glanced down at the flowers again, her fingers gently brushing over the petals. âYou really thought this through, didnât you?â
âI thought you were worth the effort,â you said simply, the sincerity in your voice making her blink rapidly, as though she was trying to process it.
Natasha smiled as she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the overwhelming feeling creeping up on her. âYouâre really something, you know that?â
You chuckled, stepping closer. âIâll take that as a compliment.â
She tilted her head, her green eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. âIt is,â she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. âYou didnât have to-â
âI wanted to,â you interrupted softly, stepping closer. âYou deserve something beautiful. Something that shows how incredible you are, even if you canât always see it yourself.â
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The Avenger, the unshakable spy, was speechless.
Natasha turned to face you fully, the bouquet forgotten for a moment as she searched your face. It was almost desperate, how she tried to find reassurance, anything that told her that her past wasn't a problem. âYou⌠you donât even know the half of it,â she murmured.
âMaybe not,â you admitted. âBut I want to. Every part of it, Nat. I want to know you.â
For a long moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could let her walls down one more time. Talking through an app was easier. In person felt way too serious. And then, with a deep, trembling breath, she set the bouquet back on the table and closed the distance between you.
She walked with determination, her chest lightly touching yours as her hands found their way to the back of your neck. Her fingernails softly scratched in between the hair strands. She didn't know what to say â she didn't want to say anything. In this very second, she simply wanted to feel. Feel what she never had the privilege to feel as the years passed, because yes, this felt like a privilege. She stood on her tiptoes to press herself closer, doe green eyes pleading.
They told you everything, and you didn't need to be passed the message twice. Your right hand cupped her cheek as the left one wrapped around her waist, bringing her even closer.
She was an angel. Not a deadly spy. A sweet angel to be taken care of. To have her needs satisfied and tears wiped away.
As Natasha felt you responding, she allowed her eyes to close.. basking in the darkness, wanting to be enveloped by this only one sensation. This soft, intense sensation of your lips against hers, moving in a way that wasn't rushed, but wasn't too deliberate either â your hands gripping her waist and bunching the fabric of her jacket, maneuvering her back against the counter. Holding onto your shoulders, she sat on the countertop, welcoming your body between her legs. The kiss lasted. She softly whimpered as she felt your tongue brushing against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, for more of her. And she allowed it. Her head tilted to the side, moving in sync with you â as your tongues danced, a dance she hadnât discovered before.
Needing air, you pull away, foreheads resting against one another as you deeply inhale, messily. It was torture to stop kissing her, she was good. But air was necessary. Calming down, your arms circle her waist. A smile makes its way to your lips as you see the state she was in. Flushed. AndâŚ
âI think your lipstick is a little smudged,â
Natasha felt that â every nerve of her skin was burning, including the parts with the messy makeup. She lets out a huff of air and clears her throat, trying to find her voice so she could respond.
âThat wasâŚâ she whispers, her hands cradling your jaw. âWow,â
âYou are âwowâ,â you whisper, using your thumb to wipe away the red lipstick from the corners of her lips, fixing it. âYou are perfect,â
âI'm not that- I'm not,â she nervously giggled, humming as you finished fixing her up. She shifted on the countertop, her legs pressing around your hips, as if afraid of you leaving.
âI wish I could give you my set of eyes,â your hands travel down to her thighs, feeling the slightly rough fabric of her tights, but that didn't make her skin any less smoother to the touch.
Her dress was basically all the way up her hips at this point, something she hadn't paid the necessary attention to, due being too busy making out with you â and in the pit of her stomach, a small flicker of panic started rising. This was reckless, so reckless. It is not like she didnât think of the possibility of things escalating while coming back to the hotel with you, but in her head, she would have more control over the situation â and with that, manage to keep her secrets uncovered.
But she didnât. Her body was reacting in its own and her mind was cloudy. She had zero control.
Before you could even touch the zipper of her dress, Natasha froze. Her breathing hitched â barely noticeable if you werenât paying attention, but you were. Her hands, which had been so confident just moments ago, trembled as they pressed gently against your chest.
âWait,â she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if it might shatter if spoken any louder. âJust.. give me a second,â she muttered, avoiding your gaze as she detangled from your grasp, getting off the counter and hurrying to the bathroom.
The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet room. Natasha leaned against the sink, gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her reflection stared back at her â flushed cheeks, wide eyes, red marks staining the corners of her lips.
Why did she have to choose a matte lipstick?
Her fingers brushed against her side, over the spot where the bullet scar lay. She had hidden it from you before, in that photo. It had seemed harmless at the time â a small deception to preserve the image of herself she wanted you to see. But now, in the raw intimacy of this moment, it felt like a betrayal.
She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldnât lose this moment â not to her own fears, not to a scar that was just one more piece of her long and painful past. But how could she explain it? How could she show you this part of her without ruining everything?
Natasha pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. Itâs just a scar, she told herself. It doesnât define me. It doesnât change who I am.
Except that it does. And a small tear rolls down her cheek.
Youâre not in the Red Room anymore, she reminded herself, gripping the sink harder. And this person⌠theyâre different. They donât expect you to be perfect. They just want you.
The doubt, the fears that you managed to keep away from her in the past month, came back to her â only a thousand times more painful.
Regardless, Natasha didn't have any more time to think, before she heard the doorknob turning, the damn door she didn't lock opening. She kept her head low, her body stiff as she continued to hold onto the sink. You could see her reflection in the mirror clearly. The fact that she was silently shedding tears.
âYou're crying,â you state quietly, taking baby steps towards her.
âAnd you're bold,â she chuckles, the sound a mixture of tears and sarcasm. She sniffles, using her arm to wipe her nose. âEntering like that.â
âYou're crying.â you shake your head, once again standing face to face with her. You reach out your hands and cup her tear stained cheeks. âWhat's wrong?â
âIâŚâ she debated what to tell you. That she was afraid of physical intimacy since she was young? Or that she hid a crucial thing about her body all this time? âI don't know-â
âYouâre hiding something from me and are afraid Iâm gonna hate you?â you inquire, voice serious â not mocking, not pressuring.
What?
Her eyes go wide instantly, the tears stopping. You wipe them away from her cheeks, expression softening again as you prepared to explain yourself. âYouâre part of a New Yorker superheroes team. There was absolutely nothing that spoke about your personality in SparkMatch, which is expected, Nat. Iâm aware that thereâs a lot that I donât know about you. I know where Iâm getting myself into.â
âFor the longest time, all I wanted was company. Someone to talk to, to listen to me, and that I could listen to them. Someone to see me,â she quietly confesses, leaning her cheeks into your palms. âYou did just that. Youâre that person.. you filled a huge void in me. You saved me in more ways that you could ever know.â
âIâm so grateful for that.â you lean closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. She shyly wrapped her arms around your waist, her eyes searching yours once more.
âItâs not just thatâŚâ she adds, her breath hitching. She was now determined to continue from where you left off on the entrance counter. âI longed- I long for.. touches, and..â
âAnd closeness,â you complete, head dipping down and tucking itself into the crook of her neck. âGeez, you smell delicious,â
âItâs⌠Twilly DâHermès,â breathless, Natasha speaks, a small hint of pride in her tone as she spoke about her moisturizing cream. âMy body lotion,â
It wasnât cheap, but she liked to spoil herself sometimes. It was also great to deal with the constant bruises and cuts on her skin. Your brows raise in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. Natasha could feel the warmth of your breath on her neck, a surge of happiness and ecstasy washing over her.
âThatâs.. pretty luxurious, one can say.â
âCanât a woman spoil herself sometimes?â she retorts â interrupted by a gasp that left her as your lips pressed against her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands holding onto your arms as she did her best to keep talking. âB-Besides, years of bruises and burns require good skincare.â
âI see,â you hum, nuzzling into her, into the spot behind her ear. She felt soft today. Now you knew the reason. After staying like that for a while, you pull back, looking into her eyes with a gaze that showed admiration, respect and concern towards her comfort. âCan I?â
She deeply inhales, feeling you reach for her dress again â only more mindfully now. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she places it next to her on the sink and nods.
She was prepared for the question.
âOkay, hold on.â you kneel down, beginning to untie her boots, catching her by surprise. You remove them and place them aside, before slowly pulling down her tights. âDamn. Why did you have to wear something so complicated?â
âI wanted to feel beautiful,â she quietly chuckles, allowing you to get rid of the excessive fabric on her body.
So, it's time for the dress. You got up to your feet and slid your palm up her spine, holding onto the zipper and then pulling it down. Natasha was expectant, self aware, but mainly, consumed by her desire â finally awake again.
âI'll make you feel beautiful,â you nod, pushing the dress straps off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.
âYou already do.â She breathes.
She doesn't stop you from getting her off the dress. But when it stops below her hips, she tenses up. That's because she sees you freezing. To look at her. It's strange, to have someone look at her body with no apparent emotion. You didn't look at her as if she were a prize to win â an object, or a weapon. Helping her step off the dress, you toss it aside on the floor. Now nothing was disturbing you from taking her in. Her black underwear. Her toned muscles â which you assumed were from years of workout. And her scars. Cuts, a few small keloids, and the bullet scar.
âYou didnât have to hide this from me.â you breathe, dropping to your knees once more as you held her by the hips. She found herself leaning against the sinkâs counter, breathing ragged, every nerve of her body buzzing in anticipation. âMakes you even more gorgeous.â
âIââ
âYou're fucking gorgeous.â you hiss, kissing above the place that once had a bullet in.
Yup. Her dreams came true.
âPlease,â she murmurs, not knowing how to vocalize what she wanted. But the heat pooling between her thighs told you everything.
Your lips make a path from her hip down to her pelvic bone, right hand grabbing her thigh and putting it on your shoulder â coaxing a gasp out of her. Your palm covers her scar, as though it were something precious about herself â making her feel safe, above everything. Natasha, for a moment, almost lost her balance â having to hold her weight with one foot â as your pointer finger hooked around the soaked fabric of her panties, pulling it to the side. You gave her one look. One look before diving in.
You are no longer alone.
She took the message. And her world exploded.
Your tongue working on her â licking past her folds, tasting her â as if committing to memory, and not just using her â her slender fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your head closer to her core, soft moans leaving her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.
âYes,â She gasps, her hips bucking, seeking more of the kitten licks you showered her clitoris with. âDon't stop.â
None of her sexual experiences had been good in the past â not in the slightest. So having something so good, so pleasuring â it was truly her first.
In the Norwegian hotel, Natasha was more Avenged than she ever was with the Avengers. In the end of the night, she ended up with you on the bed â your clothes making each other company on the floor, as she lost herself â in your body, your scent, your hands on her,
and your love for her.
âĄâË đąăťââ§
You were tucked under the covers when the bathroom's door opened â the hot steam of her recent shower now dispersing and mingling with the air. You sat up, leaning against the headboard as you watched her with a smile.
Natasha walked towards you, the white hotel's towel in her hands, drying her damp hair. She was wearing a t-shirt you lent her, which was probably three times her size. She was smiling. Happily.
Before climbing back onto the bed, she absentmindedly placed the wet towel on an armchair. She gently settled onto your lap, straddling your hips, her head instantly nesting on your shoulder.
âHi, baby.â you embrace her.
âIf I have to leave the country, for any reasons,â she says, her hands tracing random patterns on your back. âWill you come with me?â
âI'll go anywhere with you.â you reply, voice unwavering.
She released the air she didn't know she was holding, and allows herself to relax her sore body. She nuzzled closer as you played with her still damp hair.
Maybe dating apps weren't so bad, after all. If she ever saw her team or Tony again, she would thank him for making her install it.
âOh, and by the way,â
Natasha whispers, finally. Probably, you were aware. But it was one more thing about her true self she wanted you to know.
âMy name is Natalia.â
#natasha marvel#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff smut#marvel#natasha x y/n#natasha x you#g!p natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff soft smut#black widow#black widow x reader#avengers#natalia romanova#mcu
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Part 4
Mister(s) Steal Your Girl is, somehow, now the official title. Congratulations you little shits (affectionate).
Content: Toxic Behavior, Brief Weight Shaming, Hurt/Comfort
You didnât expect to see Johnny much after that one night - or possibly ever again. Kyle introduced you two, it was a lot of fun, but you figure thatâll be the end of it. Like introducing a new man to your girlfriends (not that you can really introduce Kyle to yours) you passed the vibe check and now Kyle will keep you and Johnny separate.
Thatâs how itâs been with Brandonâs friends. (Granted, you donât really care for Brandonâs friends. And you figure itâs mutual based on the âuptightâ comments they pretended to think you couldnât hear.)
Youâre starting to realize that Kyle is always going to subvert your expectations.
Johnny becomes a fixture - a welcome one. While you and Kyle still have your date nights and privacy, Johnny joins you two at least once a week for movies, drinks, dinner, or just silly adventures out and about.
Youâre surprised that you donât mind. Johnny is fantastic company, always respectful, funny, and friendly. Whenever the two of you are left alone, thereâs no dead air. In fact, sometimes you could almost swear thereâs electricity. Which is⌠well. It makes it hard to look him in the eye sometimes - and looking at Kyle even harder.
Guilt nips at your stomach until one of them distracts you with another story youâre 70% sure they shouldnât tell you.
You and Johnny play a game with pub napkins, doodling something on one folded half, then passing it over for the other to scribble on the second half. The trick is not cheating and seeing the first half, then unfolding it to a complete (and usually silly) picture. Gaz always gets to name whatever monstrosity has been created.
You get a month of that good company. Then Kyle sighs at his phone one night.
âShipping out again,â he explains when you glance at him.
âWill you be gone long?â you ask, shifting.
His brow furrows. âNot sure. They canât tell us much over the phone.â
You hum in understanding. Still new to this whole military thing, the redacted danger of it all, but you think youâre getting the hang of it. At least, Kyle never seems annoyed when he canât answer you, only apologetic.
âIs it gonna be the whole team?â you ask.
âNah, just me and the cap.â He rubs his palm along your calf, a gesture that you suspect is self-soothing rather than for your benefit. âProbably not too dangerous, then.â
You make a noise of protest, nudging at his thigh with your foot. âBad luck!â
âSorry, sorry!â he chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the wooden end table. âYouâre right.â
You crawl from your side of the couch to his, nuzzling up under his arm. He trails kisses along the side of your face as you snuggle in.
âIâll miss you,â you mumble into his neck. Still a little embarrassed to be so needy, but you want him to feel appreciated.
âIâll miss you too, chickadee. Iâll call if I can, yeah?â
You hum in agreement, squeezing an arm around his middle.
âWhile Iâm gone, if you need anything - even some company - you ought to call Soap,â he adds.
The idea is tempting but⌠âI donât want to bother him.â
âI promise you wonât,â he laughs. You donât know whatâs so funny, but hearing his voice rumble in his chest like this is always a treat.
âMaybe,â you allow.
âWeâll take it.â Before you can ask what that means, he loops an arm around your waist and scoops you into his lap. âNow then, about my send off.â
Your giggle turns into a moan as his mouth slants over yours.
Kyleâs only been gone three days. Youâve occupied yourself with cleaning up the flat you share with Brandon. Dust has been collecting since youâve been out and about so much - and god knows Brandon hardly does more than load the dishwasher. Besides, a good bit of spring cleaning is a pleasant enough distraction, humming as you toss out old things to make more room for the new stuff youâve been collecting.
âGood to see you getting back to normal,â Brandon says cheerfully. You glance up from the laundry youâre folding. He continues, âI was worried with how behind you got on things, but I knew you just needed some time. I told you this would be better for us both.â
You try not to let that sting. Even if things are better now, and continuing to get better, you canât forget the pain that lingers from the beginning.
âTell you what,â he adds, hands in his pockets. âWhen you finish cleaning up, Iâll take you out to the pub, yeah? Put on something pretty.â
You perk up, pleasantly surprised, though hesitant.
âWe could leave earlier if you helped,â you point out, hoping for more than just dinner. âMaybe we could walk in the park or something before eating.â
He gives you a weak smile. One you recognize more than his real one by now. Itâs almost apologetic, but not quite.
âI would but Iâm bloody exhausted from this week, ya know? Big projects coming up at work.â
Your smile freezes. âAnd some late nights, Iâm sure,â you try to joke.
He doesnât laugh like you expect, but gives you an odd look. âWhy would you say something like that?â
Baffled, you shrug. He shakes his head.
âIâm going to take a nap, come wake me up when youâre ready to go.â
You manage to finish the majority of your to-do list by 5. Shower, get dressed, do your hair and makeup with Brandon snoring in the background until 6. By then, he still hasnât woken up from his nap, so you perch on the edge of the bed and gently nudge at him until he stirs.
âIâm ready to go, babe,â you murmur.
He scrunches up his face - you spare an affectionate thought for how cute it is. Youâve always found it cute.
âFive more minutes,â he grumbles.
You laugh a little. âItâs getting late, we should probably head out.â
He groans. âFive. Minutes.â
You huff in amusement and reach for his phone to set an alarm, but pause at all the notifications from dating apps crowding his screen. There are⌠a lot. And as youâre looking, a new message pops up, just labeled âblondeâ with a peach emoji. Gross.
You set the alarm and slip away to the living room.
It takes him another half hour to finally rouse, shuffling into the living room with a groan.
âCâmon,â he yawns. âItâs going to be bloody crowded by now.â
You follow him quietly to the car, knowing heâs not chatty when heâs just woken up. Hunger only adds to his mood; you can practically see a cloud forming over his head. By the time he pulls up to the pub, heâs downright grumpy. He grumbles about shit parking, and the milling people outside. It looks busy.
âWe could go somewhere else?â you suggest.
âThis is fine,â he says.
He parks a block away and starts at a swift pace. You try to hold his hand, but halfway there, he pulls away to check his phone and doesnât take it again.
Surprisingly, itâs only a twenty minute wait for a table - but Brandon sneers something like âof course it isâ under his breath. You smile apologetically at the hostess and usher him away.
He doesnât talk during the wait, at first. Until suddenly he blurts. âWe wouldnât have to wait if youâd woken me up.â
You blink at him. âI did. You asked for five more minutes.â
âWell, why didnât you wake me up then?â
âI set an alarm?â
You donât know why heâs so irritated, just that he seems tired and hungry.
âYou know I donât listen to alarms,â he complains, scowling at the sidewalk.
âOkay⌠Iâll wake you up next time,â you offer.
âYeah, next time.â
Thankfully, the two of you are called a little early. The pub is indeed loud and crowded, and youâre definitely overdressed. But at least you know what you want - Brandonâs taken you here a million times before.
Wisely, you wait until heâs downed the texmex rolls before trying for conversation again. He hums along as you talk about work, about the books youâve been reading, about the new movie you saw last week. You think itâs going pretty well, catching up on each otherâs lives, when he interrupts you mid-sentence.
âWhere was this?â
You frown. âAt the grocery storeâŚ?â
âYouâre still on that? Thought we moved on from that story.â
You donât bother finishing it, just ask him about his work. Itâs like pulling teeth. A lot of âgoodâ and âbusyâ and âsame as usual.â By the time your entree comes, youâve given up, not sure if you want to cry or just walk away to see if he even notices. He keeps checking his phone. Your fingers twitch to text Kyle, but you donât want to bother him while heâs working.
The end of dinner canât come sooner. You decline dessert when the server asks.
âProbably for the better,â Brandon tells you lowly when theyâre gone to get the check. âI think youâve put on a bit of weight. You know how you get.â
You probably have - Kyle has a sweet tooth and practically begs you to split desserts with him. Johnnyâs shares his food with you now too, grinning when you express approval for whatever high-protein dish heâs picked and shoving more at you.
As for âhow you getâ⌠Brandonâs mentioned in the past when you were heavier that you get mopey, arenât much fun to be around.
(A small part of you wonders how that would even effect him at this point. He doesnât spend enough time around you to notice if youâre mopey. Is that why tonight has been such a disasterâŚ?)
You just collect your purse and lead the way out of the pub. Itâs a quiet walk back to the car, even though Brandon seems to be in a better mood. Heâs still texting, nearly bumps into an elderly couple along the way.
Back at the apartment, he runs his hand down your side, tugs at the lace hem of your shirt.
âCareful,â you chide.
He sucks his teeth and drops his hand. âIâm just trying to be playful.â
âI know, but I like this shirt.â
He rolls his eyes. âYouâve got three just like it.â
You donât answer, know itâll lead to more useless bickering. Just tug the stupid thing over your head, ready to go to bed.
âHey now, thatâs more like it,â he drawls, fingertips running down your spine.
You jump, surprised, but play it off that his hands are cold. He makes some crass comment about warming them up, reaching for your breasts, and your stomach churns.
âI-I think I ate something bad,â you lie, all but sprinting for the bathroom.
You close the door behind you - but donât lock it. Just sit on the floor, the wall cold against your back, while you try to breathe through your spinning, conflicting thoughts.
Heâs finally giving you attention, affection. Why arenât you jumping at this opportunity to spend time with him? Not long ago, you would have been weeping with joy to have an iota of your normal relationship back. Maybe you really did eat something bad.
âHey,â Brandon calls through the door, âIâm gonna stay somewhere else tonight.â
You stare at the blank white wood, aghast. âBut Iâm sick.â
âItâs not like I can do much, is there? Except listen to you be sick all night,â he reasons. âAnd who knows. Maybe it wasnât something you ate. Maybe itâs contagious. I donât want to spend the weekend ill.â
Your eyes burn. He didnât even open the door to check. âYeah,â you agree, voice robotic, âyouâre right.â
Not even five minutes later, you hear the front door close. That almost, almost does you in. You manage to keep your lackluster dinner down, but not the tears.
You let yourself be pathetic for a few minutes, crying into your arms, folded over your knees. When you finally manage to get yourself together, itâs not Brandon you ache for. Itâs Kyle. Itâs not possible, you know. You just donât want to be alone even though the nausea is dissipating.
Sighing, you remove your ruined makeup and wash your face, climb into one of Kyleâs jumpers. At least it still smells like him. Itâs only as youâre trying to decide on a comfort show, huddled into a ball on the couch, that you remember his advice.
It takes all of fifteen seconds of debate before you scramble for your phone.
I know itâs late, but are you free, you text Johnny.
A response comes almost immediately.
Always for you, lass. You bite your lip on a tiny smile, already feeling better. Your phone buzzes again. Whatâs up?
Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment as you figure out what to ask - then how to ask it.
Would you want to come to mine for movies? I donât feel goodâŚ
He answers instantly again. Ice cream not-good or Theraflu not-good?
You sniffle when you remember that being sick was a dealbreaker for your night with Brandon.
Ice cream not-good, you reply.
Say no more, hen. Be there in fifteen. Pick a good one.
You watch TikTokâs until thereâs a knock at the door. Upon answering, youâre swept up in a bear hug that lifts you off your socked feet.
âJohnny!â you cry, laughing a bit in shock.
âThere she is!â he crows, swinging you around. âBeen missinâ my best girl!â
You tell yourself the thrill in your stomach is just from him setting you down. (Itâs a harder sell when it happens again seeing his wide smile and warm blue eyes.)
âYou're ridiculous,â you huff, âIâm not your best girl.â
He arches his eyebrows. âOh, yer keepinâ track, are ye?â
âCâmon, you must have a partner or something?â you prod as you usher him inside.
âKyle mustâve told ye, hen, itâs hard in this line of work,â he explains, shrugging. âTried before but⌠usually they just end up feeling neglected, ya ken.â
You hum. Thatâs why Kyle said you and he would work so well with the open relationship - that youâd still have someone at home while he was out. That you wouldnât be alone if something happened to him.
âAnyway, this is no kinda talk for a cozy night in, now is it?â Johnny says, cutting your melancholy musing short. âCome look at what I brought ya!â
You only notice then the two grocery bags in one hand. He herds you to the couch and sets them on the coffee table for you to root through.
âMy favorite!â You exclaim when you extract the tub of ice cream.
The grin Johnny shoots you is proud. âKyle said so.â
âYou two,â you sigh happily.
Heâs also brought a squishy stuffed animal, crisps, popcorn, soda, candy, and a small collection of self-care items. You hold the face-masks up with a questioning smile.
âHeard somewhere that itâs good for ye, when yer feelinâ down.â You try not to giggle when the last word comes out sounding like âdoon.â He continues, blissfully ignorant. âHope thatâs the right shite, there was a lot to choose from.â
You throw your arms around him, chest warm. âThank you, this is perfect, Johnny.â
He circles his arm around your waist, holding you close. âAnytime, bonnie,â he murmurs into your hair.
You squeeze his shoulders as you pull away, waving one of the mask packets with a wicked little smile.
âWanna try this âshiteâ with me?â you tease.
You expect a resounding and masculine-heavy no. Instead, Johnny tilts his head consideringly for a moment, then shrugs.
âEh, why the hell not?â
You wake up the next morning to a mess of candy wrappers, discarded moisturizers, and an empty carton of ice cream. And the smell of eggs. Cartoons are playing quietly on the telly. When you yawn and sit up, youâre greeted by a cheerful Johnny at the stove, wearing your pink apron.
âMorninâ, sunshine,â he calls.
You flush and smile back, glad that you called him. âMorninâ!â
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#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#misters steal your girl#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mactavish#Brandon the crash dummy
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Sheâs Not So Little Anymore
Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader
Warnings: none, dad Lewis yes pls
âYouâre not leaving the house until you change your clothes!â
âBut dad-â Harper stammered in a broken voice and teary eyes.
âThereâs no but, I said what I said. You can go out with your friends after you put some clothes on. End of discussion.â Lewis told his daughter sternly before turning and heading towards the living room.
âI hate you!!â Harper growled bursting into tears and slamming the door of her room.
âDonât slam the door at me!â He said in a raised tone. Sitting on the couch he sighed and rubbed his face feeling awful because of the argument between him and his fifteen-year-old daughter.
It was not natural for Lewis to yell and get into heated arguments with his daughter. The two have always had a special relationship - she was daddy's little girl for whom he would remove the stars from the sky just to make her happy. Harper loved and was just as close to you as she was to Lewis, but still, her daddy has always been her number one.
But since Harper entered her teenage phase, it has become very difficult for Lewis to accept that she is actually growing up, that she is changing, that she is interested in some other things that are actually normal for her age.
He really was having a hard time facing the fact that his little girl is not so little anymore. Thatâs why often broke out arguments between the two of them when Harper would stay out too late with her friends, when she would come home late or mention that she had a crush on a boy or for example like today when she would wear something that Lewis thought was too revealing.
Lewis did all this because he loves her too much and wants to protect her, but, of course, the teenager thinks that her father is working against her and that he is "purposely ruining her life".
Fortunately, not long after the argument, you came back from grocery shopping and found Lewis sitting on the couch looking at the switched off TV.
âHi, babyâ You greeted him happily, but you felt a strange energy in the air.
âHeyâ He muttered not turning to look at you.
âIs everything okay?â You ask suspiciously, leaving the heavy bags on the hallway floor.
âEverything is fine except our daughter just told me she hates meâ
You immediately knew what it was about. You were aware of how much it affected Lewis. You weren't always happy with some of your daughter's behaviors either, but you understood that it was just a phase and that it would pass, but you also understood that it was difficult for Lewis to face it.
You sighed walking up closer to the couch to Lewis from behind and bent down to wrap your arms around him.
âAnd that is why?â You asked pressing a kiss to his cheek.
âBecause she thinks itâs normal to leave the house wearing a short ass dress that doesnât even have any straps God forbid some sleevesâ He says visibly upset and you canât help but chuckle at him. âThatâs not funny, y/n?â
âThatâs not, but you areâ You say making yourself comfortable in his lap. âYouâre being too overprotective of her-â
âOf course Iâm overprotective of her, sheâs my little girl!â He cuts you off trying to justify his actions.
âWould you let me finish, please?â
âIâm sorry..â
âSheâs no longer a little girl, Lew. You have to make your peace with that. Sometimes I don't like her clothing choices or her behavior either, but that's why we're here to guide her. But you forbid her too many things and she sees it as you trying to control her.â
âI just..â He sighs leaning his head against your chest. âI just want to protect her.. I miss the time when she was with me non-stop. We used to do so many things together now she only wants to hang out with her friends.â
âBaby, thatâs normal. If it were any different, we would have been worried.â You assure him putting your hands on his cheeks. âYouâre still her number one, youâll always be.â
âYoue ability to calm me down amazes me.â He smiles at your soothing and comforting words. âI donât know what Iâd do without you. I love you more than you know.â
âI love you too, babyâ You place a soft kiss on his lips. âNow go and talk to herâ
Lewis immediately got up and headed towards Harper's room while you decided to sort the groceries you had brought into the house a little while ago.
âMy princess?â Lewis said gently knocking on the door. âCan I come in?â
Almost the same second, the door opened revealing crying Harper who was still sobbing. What Lewis didn't expect was for Harper to give him a tight hug and start crying in his arms.
âBaby, whatâs wrong? Why are you crying?â Lewis asked a little worried.
âBecause you made me say that I hate you. And I donât hate you, daddy, Iâm sorry I didnât mean it.â She cried. It stung her as much as it stung Lewis because Harper is aware of how special her relationship with her father is.
âBaby, itâs okay. I know you didnât mean it. Iâm sorry too.â He comforted her rubbing her back. âI donât like when we canât talk things out and I hate when we argue. We donât do that, thatâs not us.â
âI know we donât do that. I donât like it eitherâ She said quietly.
âItâs hard for me to accept that youâre growing up and that you are no longer my little girl.â He lifts up her head to look at her. âI promise to try to be more understanding of your wishes.â
âDaddy, Iâm always gonna be your little girl.â Her words warmed Lewis's heart. She knew what she meant by that. The love Harper has for her dad will always be strong and special and nothing can ever replace it. Lewis was grinning like a child thinking how he is the luckiest man in the world to have the two best girls in his life, Harper and you.
#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 fic#sir lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton#f1 x reader#f1 scenario#f1 smut#f1 fluff#f1 one shot#f1 imagine
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Firsts
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.
WC: 6k
Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it
A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update â uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!
| masterlist
"Do you think we'll stay friends?"
"I'm sure we'll stay friends."
For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns â he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.
Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.
"You know⌠I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."
"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."
"Will I?"
"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.
Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"
"Yes, I will."
Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change â honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.
Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"
"You'd look good with braids."
"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.
"I didn't ask to."
You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.
He was happy.
â
As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.
Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.
As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.
Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You⌠You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.
Anyway, er... I miss youâhahâI don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!
You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...
You were happy.
â
Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.
"It was overwhelming me," you explained.
"I know." He replied, still looking at you.
Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face â especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for⌠while you looked like you were glowing.
You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"
He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.
You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?
Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.
"I was thinking..."
"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.
God, your mouth.
"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.
"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.
"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."
Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"
"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"
He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"
"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."
He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.
"I haven't had my first kiss yet."
Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."
If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"
"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. IâI know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. Andâand... even if things are... embarrassing... iâit will still be a good memory in the⌠future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.
Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'mâI'm not... opposed to the idea."
Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days â and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.
Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.
You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.
He smiled back.
Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.
He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.
â
At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.
Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things â he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.
As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.
It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.
You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.
"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom
"You named 'her' Marie?"
"She has a special place on my heart."
He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."
"You gave it to me!"
"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.
You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."
"Oh... okay..."
Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.
His heart was doing somersaults.
After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.
The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.
Sigh.
Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you â when he was twelve.
He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.
It was time to go.
â
Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house â the state of California had finally issued his license â, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.
He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.
Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression â unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.
Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.
Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."
"Hi."
Silence.
"Can we talk?"
Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."
Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "Wâwhat?"
"He didn't wake up."
"He didn't wake up?"
"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."
He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.
With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."
"Maybe he was joking."
"Maybe he knew he was leaving."
Silence.
You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.
Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all â he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.
Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.
It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.
"I think..." you started, but never finished.
Silence.
"I think you should move away."
You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.
"What?" You whispered softly.
"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.
You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.
"Your brothers are always around." He replied.
"Not anymore. Much has changed since⌠since you... left."
"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.
"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."
He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.
"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.
On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. IâI⌠I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"
"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.
He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.
âMy father's in a casket. I have got no plans.â You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.
âYou've got me. And I've got you.â
Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.
But that wasn't how it worked.
You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.
He held you through it all. He was there for you.
Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.
Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place â both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.
â
Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.
A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now⌠It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.
âHi,â you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.
âYou're here.â Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.
âI am.â
âGod, it's been so long,â he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.
Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.
Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone â not that you'd judge him for it. âI miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,â he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.
Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.
You giggled. It set his heart on fire. âAh, Spencer⌠You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.â
He smiled. You were still you.
âIn fact, I have something to tell you.â
His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. âYou⌠you have something to tell me?â He echoed. He was still him.
Chuckling softly, âI'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.â
Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. âDo you think it's weird that I study what I do study?â
âNo, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?â You inquired back.
âI don't know⌠sometimes I think that people find me weird.â
âYou're not,â you said, simply. âYour interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.â
He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.
As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings â one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand â which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.
As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.
Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. âSo, you found the book or what?â The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only⌠curiously.
When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date â and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. âI⌠You⌠You⌠Did you⌠see it?â You managed to nod, weakly.
âWhat does it mean?â You asked, eyes never leaving his.
Looking away, he replied, âI was scared to forget.â
âForget?â You inquired, shifting your weight.
âAbout itâŚ. That night, I mean. about⌠us.â You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.
âAbout us?â Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.
He breathes out, âYeah, us.â
A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. âHave you forgotten?â
He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, âThere's not a single day I don't remember that moment.â You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes â a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.
I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.
Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.
On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet â that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.
Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from âDoctor Whoâ, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:
"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things donât always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things donât always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."
As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.
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