#also just no one has ever heard of pacing in their entire life

[angstflavoured]

its actually insane how much ill stop caring abt a fic when the main couple just gets together and thats it. like. thats it? the next chapters are just pure fluff and you expect me to careee?? im GONE brother, the confession happens and then im off to the next fic. like in what world is the confession not the climax of the entire story? ig im just slowburn brained but honestly i just dont even see the appeal of anything else cus like what even is a story if there is no angst happening like its not even a story anymore its just FLUFF. ig i just really do not like fluff like ohhh my god i do not careeeee i dont careeeeeeeeee where is the drama the romance the bloodshed

[just-aake]

Detecting Love Part 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Detecting Love. Can a spy who's been trained to lie her entire life show the person with the power to detect lies the truth what it means to be loved?

Warnings: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 5171

Natasha Romanoff lies.

Now, that’s to be expected, considering she is one of the greatest spies in the world. Ever since she was a child, she has been trained to be able to deceive everyone she meets.

Lying comes as easily to her as breathing, and deception is woven into every fiber of her being.

A charming smile here. A flirty wink there. 

Sweet words flow from her lips like honey.

Making everyone fall in love with all of the different false personas that she created for herself.

With a life and a past as shadowed as hers, it makes sense why she never even dared to imagine finding a person who can tolerate, let alone embrace, someone like her.

Then, she met you.

With your unique power to literally see through lies, you can detect the truth from her even when she’s at her most convincing. And despite learning about who she was and how she is, you accepted her unconditionally, not just as a friend, but as a partner.

For Natasha, being with someone who can truly see her is scary, and yet, that feeling is also better than breathing itself.

The two of you have been dating for several months now, and Natasha has never been happier.

Even if she sometimes occasionally struggles to express her affection openly in public.

As the two of you stroll through the compound, her eyes drift down once again in contemplation to your hand swinging casually at your side.

As if sensing her silent deliberation, you suddenly ask her curiously.

“Do you want to hold my hand?”

Natasha straightens at your question and faces forward, responding promptly in an even tone, “No.” 

Now that is sure to sound honest to anyone else who heard it, but you’re different.

Natasha makes sure to trail back slightly behind your line of sight in an attempt to hide the glow she knows you’d probably see around her.

You don’t comment on her evading action, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you maintain your pace toward the Avenger’s personal elevator.

The two of you stand side by side, waiting for the elevator to arrive when Natasha suddenly feels the back of your hand lightly graze her fingers before quickly pulling away.

She narrows her eyes in suspicion at you, but you maintain an innocent expression, your gaze fixed on the decreasing numbers above the elevator doors.

Facing forward once more, Natasha is about to dismiss the action as an accidental touch when she feels it again – the fleeting brush of your hand against hers. 

This time, she doesn't hesitate to shoot you an accusing stare. Yet, you continue to feign ignorance, your expression a perfect mask of innocence. 

A couple of seconds pass before your hand makes contact with hers for the third time. 

Before you can retract your hand, Natasha swiftly catches it and intertwines your fingers with hers before letting out a defeated huff.

You don’t utter a word about her actions, but a subtle smile curves your lips, exposing your amusement at her reaction. 

With a soft squeeze of her hand, you pull her into the elevator, the door closing shut behind the two of you.

It's moments like these that remind Natasha why she fell for you — your ability to see past her lies, even the most trivial ones.

Once the elevator door slides open to the private floor, the two of you are met with sounds of a heated argument between the Asgardian Avenger and his visiting brother.

“I know you did it, Loki! This is not the first time you’ve taken and hidden a treasure of mine!”

“Oh, would you stop being so dramatic? We're talking about a mug, not some enchanted artifact.”

You raise a questioning brow at her, silently asking her whether you two should come back at another time, but Natasha shakes her head resolutely in response, not willing to let anything prevent her from missing her morning coffee.

As the two of you walk past the brothers, Thor finally notices the new presence in the room.

“Y/n!” he calls excitedly. 

His hand lands on your shoulder, catching you in place between the two of them which in turn pulls your hand from her grasp.

Thor’s other hand points accusingly at his brother.

“Is Loki lying about taking my mug?”

Realizing that you’re being dragged into the middle of the argument, your eyes dart to Natasha for help, only for her to give you a thumbs up in encouragement as she takes a sip of the coffee that she just poured from the freshly made pot.

The other Asgardian crosses his arms and snickers derisively at his brother.

“Do you really think that this simple mortal can expose the literal god of mischief? I didn’t take your stupid mug, and she can’t prove any—”

“He’s lying,” you answer plainly, seeing the red aura surrounding the Asgardian.

Loki shuts his mouth in surprise, blinking at you for a moment in disbelief, before pointing at you with a disdainful look.

“I don’t like her,” he states bluntly.

“Ah ha!” Thor exclaims victoriously. “You did take it!”

The two continue with their arguing as you discreetly sneak away to Natasha’s side.

She hands you a cup of coffee which you accept with a soft thanks before an alarm on your phone rings, showing your reminder for the day. 

You groan lightly in disappointment, causing Natasha to raise a questioning brow at you as she raises her cup for another sip.

“I have some interviews to get to this morning, so I’ll have to see you later,” you tell her before pressing a quick kiss goodbye to her cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper against her skin.

Swallowing her sip quickly, Natasha turns her head towards your direction, the reciprocating words also on her tongue.

“I—”

But you’ve already rushed away around the corner, disappearing from view. 

“…love you too,” Natasha finishes in a soft disappointed tone, her lips twisting at your action. 

Public displays of affection aside, Natasha has no problem wanting to tell you how much you mean to her.

But for some reason, you always seem to conveniently find ways to escape whenever she’s about to say those words to you.

“Now I’m no expert on relationships, but that right there was some cunning evasion tactic,” Loki comments, smirking at Natasha. “It appears that she’s not really interested in receiving such words from you.”

A slap on Loki's shoulder propels him forward a couple of steps as Thor reprimands, “Stop trying to cause problems for them, Loki.” 

He then turns to Natasha with a firm nod. 

“Don’t listen to him, Nat. Y/n loves you.”

Of course, she knows that. 

You whisper those words against her skin every morning when you think she’s still asleep and then again against her lips when you wake her up. 

The problem is that it seems that she never gets the chance to return the gesture before you find some way to rush away from the room or keep her mouth otherwise occupied and distracted.

A thud on the counter pulls her from her thoughts as Loki leans against the table with a mischievous grin.

“That girl can detect lies, right? Then why don’t you just tell her that you don’t love her, and then she’ll see the truth. That should be easy enough for you. After all, lying is your specialty,” Loki remarks before a smug expression forms on his face. 

“Unless that is, the truth is that you don’t actually love her,” he taunts.

Natasha glares at him silently, refusing to fall for his baiting provocation. Not wanting to give the trickster god any more amusement, she quickly downs the rest of her coffee and leaves for the meeting room, deciding to try again with you later.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

With the briefing finishing early, Natasha decides to visit your office during this break in between her meetings. Conversations flow around her as she walks past the front desk toward the administrative part of the building.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t let you enter without an appointment.”

“Well, is there any way you can just send a message to Y/n to let her know I’m here?”

Natasha’s head snaps up from her tablet at the sound of your name and curiously turns to the person who said it, only for her eyes to widen slightly in surprise at their identity.

Your ex-fiancée 

Stopping in her tracks, Natasha redirects her attention to the two of them.

“What did you need to see Y/n for?” she asks.

Your ex turns to her at her question, and an expression of amazement crosses her face.

“Oh, wow, you’re Black Widow.”

Brushing off her awed exclamation, Natasha crosses her arm expectantly as she repeats, a slight tone of protectiveness entering her voice.

“Why are you looking for Y/n?” 

Noticing her serious gaze and intimidating demeanor, your ex fidgets with her hands nervously as she responds.

“It’s kind of a private matter with an old case that I need her help with,” she explains.

Despite being the one who broke your heart, your mutual break up with her meant that the two of you are still somewhat friends, and as much as Natasha wants to, she can’t prevent your ex from seeking you out, especially since it seems she needs your help.

With an internal displeased sigh, Natasha gestures with her head towards the direction of the elevators.

“I’m heading over to her office right now if you want to come with me,” Natasha offers, nodding at the receptionist reassuringly to indicate that it’s okay, before walking away without another word. 

Natasha hears your ex scramble to follow quickly after her once she processes her words.

As the elevator doors close with the two of them inside, Natasha pulls out her phone to send you a warning text.

I’m on the way to your office with your ex.

A read message quickly appears under her text, indicating that you have seen it, and then a text bubble promptly pops up as you respond.

?!?!?

“So, do you and Y/n work together often?” your ex asks, trying to fill the silence with casual conversation.

Natasha looks up at her question, tucking her phone away. She crosses her arms and leans back against the elevator walls, adopting an intimidating posture, as she gives her a hard stare.

With a calm yet assertive tone, she tilts her head curtly and replies with the truth. 

“She’s my girlfriend.”

An awkward silence fills the small space after her answer, and your ex’s eyes dart around the enclosed space, seemingly realizing she’s essentially alone with the Black Widow who just revealed that she is in a relationship with you. 

Sensing her nervous energy, Natasha relaxes her posture, offering a more friendly demeanor.

“Relax, if I was going to do something, I would have done it already,” Natasha reassures. 

Your ex nods hesitantly, acknowledging Natasha’s attempt to diffuse the tension. After a moment of contemplation, she gathers the courage to speak up again. 

“So, you know about Y/n and her ability?” your ex asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yes,” Natasha confirms, adding, “And about what happened between the two of you.”

The revelation hangs heavy in the air, plunging the elevator into an uncomfortable silence once again. 

Honestly, Natasha knows she shouldn’t keep putting your ex in these awkward positions with her responses. 

However, just because you are on friendly terms with her doesn’t mean Natasha has to be, especially considering she never held any goodwill toward the woman before.

Natasha redirects her focus to the digital display above the door, silently cursing and blaming Tony for the sluggish pace of the elevator. 

“I-I honestly did love her,” your ex confesses, breaking the silence once again.

At her statement, Natasha regards her with a raised eyebrow, silently prompting her to elaborate on her sudden declaration.

"I mean, Y/n’s great. It’s just…it got hard to imagine being with someone who always knows if you’re telling the truth or not,” your ex explains with a small sigh, offering a tiny sympathetic shrug before asking. “I’m sure you understand that feeling too, right?"

Irritation flares in Natasha’s chest at your ex’s words, her protective instincts surfacing in defense of you.

"Maybe the fact that she can see someone for who they truly are is what makes being with her so special," Natasha counters, her voice firm with conviction.

The remainder of the elevator ride passes in tense silence until the doors finally open with a ding, signaling their arrival at your floor. 

Throughout that time, one part of the conversation continues to bother Natasha, and she finds herself asking, wanting to know the answer.

“Did you tell her often?”

“What?” your ex asks, blinking in surprise and caught off guard by her sudden question. 

Natasha presses her lips together momentarily in displeasure at the topic before clarifying, “Did you tell Y/n that you loved her often, you know, before your feelings changed?”

“Oh, um, kind of,” she admits, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. “It’s actually kind of funny. Y/n would always have this cute little shy smile whenever I said it, so I ended up saying those words to her a lot.”

The irritation in Natasha’s chest intensifies at her answer, and her feelings must be evident on her face because your ex starts waving her hands frantically in a slight panic.

“But I’m positive Y/n won’t react the same way if I said it now,” she adds quickly.

Instead of responding, Natasha leaves the elevator without another word. 

Your ex’s reassurance does little to ease the irritation that she feels at not yet having been able to say those words to you herself.

The two of them arrive at the door of your office, only to find it locked with the lights turned off.

Just as Natasha is about to text you to ask you about your whereabouts, you emerge from around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of her.

Confused at your flustered state, Natasha gives you a questioning look as she asks, “Why are you rushing?”

You take a couple of deep breaths to catch your breath before answering.

“Because…I didn’t want to…to leave you waiting.”

Natasha feels her heart flutter at your words, her posture relaxing for a moment.

“…wow…you look good, Y/n,” your ex comments.

Natasha’s body immediately tenses again at the reminder of your ex’s presence, and she becomes further annoyed when she takes in the state of your appearance that prompted the remark from your ex.

You are in your usual workout outfit, a standard black tank top, showcasing your body with a gleam of sweat still on your skin, evidence of your workout session.

As if sensing Natasha’s increasing irritation, your ex gestures awkwardly in fear toward the waiting area some distance away.

“I’ll just wait over there.”

Natasha watches your ex walk away with a slight glare in her eyes. 

When she turns back to you, her expression instinctively softens with affection and curiosity.

“Where were you?” she asks.

“My last couple of interviews had to cancel, so I decided to go train for a bit,” you answer with a slight shrug. “You know, since you suggested that I try training whenever I’m bored and have some free time.”

Natasha's lips twist slightly in conflict at your response. She's happy you took her suggestion to heart, but now she's also upset that it led to you appearing in front of your ex in such a state.

Gesturing toward your ex, you ask, “Did she say why she’s here?”

Natasha sighs and shakes her head.

“She only mentioned that it was an old case that you can help her with.”

“Okay,” you say, nodding in understanding, probably already knowing what she’s referring to. 

Then you look at Natasha with a cute tilt of your head. 

“After I finish up with her, do you want to go out for some lunch?”

A small smile forms on Natasha’s face, her earlier irritation melting away at your suggestion. 

However, she knows she might not have enough time to wait and go out before her next meeting.

“How about I go ahead and pick up some takeout first, and then we can have lunch in your office when I return?” Natasha offers as a compromise.

You smile at her in response and press a soft kiss against her cheek.

“It’s a date.”

As you’re about to move past her, Natasha presses her hand firmly on your shoulder, stopping you and pushing you back to your original position.

You give her a questioning look in confusion.

“Did you take my hoodie again?” Natasha asks accusingly. 

Your eyes dart guiltily to your office before you mutter under your breath with a soft pout, “Maybe.”

Natasha nods slightly in contemplation, her eyes glancing at where your ex was waiting and then back to you.

“Put it on,” she says plainly.

You raise a brow at her in confusion and gesture to your body.

“Nat, I’m covered in sweat. I didn’t get a chance to hit the showers before you texted,” you explain.

“That text didn’t mean that you should come here all hot and sweaty in front of your ex like this,” Natasha remarks pointedly, crossing her arms.

A teasing grin pulls at your lips as a look of understanding crosses your face.

“You think I look hot right now?” you ask happily.

“Seriously?” Natasha deadpans. 

Unbothered by her signature intimidating gaze, you pull her closer by the loops on her belt and lean in with a slight tilt of your head.

“Are you jealous?” you tease lightly, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you try to hide your pleased grin.

Natasha rolls her eyes, though her lips quirk up briefly in amusement. She knows whether she responds truthfully or not, you probably already know the answer without the help of your ability, so she responds instead.

“Keep it up, and I’ll just come back with one takeout box for myself,” she warns.

You laugh lightly at her response, nodding your head in concession.

“Alright, I’ll put it on,” you promise, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

As you pull away, you whisper, “I love you,” the words brushing softly against her lips.

Natasha’s eyes had fluttered closed at the touch of your kiss, but they snapped open when she remembered she wanted to say those words back to you too.

However, to her disappointment, before she realized it, you had disappeared from her side. 

Turning around, she finds you already in your office, putting on her hoodie.

A mocking chuckle sounds beside her, and she turns to see Loki leaning casually against the wall.

“Oh, you didn’t even try that time,” he taunts.

Without hesitation, Natasha raises her wrist and shoots a widow bite at him. It flies through his body, dispersing the apparition that he had left there.

Groaning in annoyance at his presence, Natasha quickly leaves to go get your lunches before he can reappear and provoke her further.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So this is the one lie detector that you can’t beat,” Fury comments with intrigue, as he examines your file.

Natasha closes the folder promptly and takes it from the table in front of him, stating firmly, “Her name’s Y/n, and no, you can’t have her. She’s just going to help review the list of potential recruits for you. Nothing else.”

She gives him a pointed look, stressing, “Especially not any SHIELD interrogations.”

Leaning back in his chair, Fury chuckles amusedly and raises a brow at her.

“Protective, are we?”

Before she can affirm the lengths she would go to minimize the risks you have to take, the door slams open, and you stroll in, giving her a wave and a charming smile. 

You stop in front of her, taking her hand suddenly in yours and giving it a light swing. 

“Ready to get started?” you ask. 

Natasha’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Something about your behavior was off and unlike you. 

She examines your expression critically, and then in one swift, fluid motion, she grabs your wrist and upper arm, pivots on her heel, and shifts her weight, seamlessly flipping you over her shoulder. 

With a resounding thud, Natasha slams you down onto the meeting table, the impact rattling the room.

Fury whistles lowly with a slight wince, a mixture of sympathy and admiration in his tone.

“Tough love, huh?” he remarks to her.

Natasha rolls her eyes at his comment and shakes her head, reaching to her side to grab something. She takes one of “your” wrists and snaps a golden cuff onto it. 

Immediately, the figure on the table shifts from your face and form to Loki’s. 

His eyes glare at her as he gathers his bearings, giving a slight grunt of pain when he moves.

“As if this woman knows anything about love,” he scoffs, standing up from the table with a groan.

Fury hums curiously at the sight of the trickster god, turning to Natasha.

“Who let him in here?”

Natasha sighs as she crosses her arms, replying, “Unfortunately, Thor and he are on friendly terms at the moment.”

Loki raises his hand and waves his finger at her in reprimand.

“Exactly. Now, is this any way to treat a guest of yours?” he taunts with a smirk before his eyes drift to the cuff on his wrist. His expression falls in recognition. “Where did you get this?”

A smirk forms on Natasha’s face as she answers, “Thor lent it to me when I asked. Since I know better than to just take his things.”

The cuff in question is an enchanted artifact that temporarily blocks the magical abilities of the wearer as explained by the god of thunder.

Loki scoffs in disbelief, placing one hand on his hips while waving his other wrist at her. 

“Hilarious, now take these off,” he demands.

Natasha’s smirk remains fixed as she shakes her head.

“I don’t have the key,” she admits, tapping her chin thoughtfully before revealing, “It must still be with Thor. But I’m sure you’ve already apologized to him for earlier, so you’d have no problem asking him to release you.”

Loki scowls, his expression darkening with disdain, and then he swiftly turns toward the exit.

“It’s no wonder that girl doesn’t want to accept any love from the likes of you,” he spits out angrily.

Natasha’s lips twist downward at his words, but before she can respond, a knock on the door interrupts the tense moment. 

Taking a calming breath, she calls out, “Come in,” already knowing who it is.

You open the door at Natasha’s invitation, only to dodge out of the way as Loki storms past you out of the room, muttering angry curses under his breath.

Turning back to Natasha, you notice the telltale red aura fading from around her and wonder what was the lie that you assume she had just told him.

As you approach her, Natasha’s contemplative, sullen expression quickly shifts to a neutral one when she catches your concerned gaze.

Before you can question her about it, Fury claps his hands firmly, looking between the two of you.

“Alright, let's finish this quickly then.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Seated on your sofa, Natasha hugs a cushion pillow closer to her chest, seeking comfort as Loki’s harsh words echo in her mind.

Is it just a coincidence that you manage to avoid her every time she’s about to say those words to you? Or is it possible that the truth is you don’t actually want to hear those words from her?

You place a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of her, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts as you finish explaining what your ex needed from you.

“So, I just need to submit my notes on the case so that the court can close it out,” you explain.

Natasha hums absently in acknowledgment, but her mind drifts back to her insecurities.

Was Loki just messing with her or were all of your previous evading actions really on purpose?

Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Natasha decides to settle this once and for all.

As you take your seat next to her and start the movie, Natasha initiates her plan. She quickly maneuvers herself over your lap, straddling you as her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing you firmly against the sofa with her body.

Your hand automatically rests on her waist and begins tracing light patterns against her side, but your lips twist into a small pout of confusion as you remark, “As exciting as this is, I thought this movie was your favorite.”

Natasha closes her eyes briefly, internally groaning at your adorable words and how incredibly in love she is with you. 

If only you could hear it from her for once.

Determined to not fail this time, she tries again.

“I lo—”

Her words are cut off, swallowed by you, as you pull her down into a deep kiss. 

Instinctively, she melts against your body, sliding her hands to caress the back of your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss as she gets lost in the feeling of your lips moving against hers. 

Then, realization hits her, and she snaps her eyes open and pulls away. 

“Hold on, I’m trying to tell you that I—”

“I know,” you interrupt, your hand covering her mouth to stop her mid-sentence. 

That’s when Natasha sees it.

The fear in your eyes.

“I know,” you repeat, giving her a look of understanding before swallowing nervously. 

You close your eyes as your head drops to your chest, a sad chuckle escaping from you. 

“You know, in all my life, I have never been afraid to discover if someone was lying to me,” you admit, shrugging lightly. “I’ve always known that people can lie, so it’s never really surprising or hurtful when it happens.” 

You let out a weary sigh and look up to meet her gaze with a sad smile. 

“Except for that one time.”

Natasha knows what moment you are referring to — the night your powers revealed that your ex no longer loved you.

The memory flashes in your mind, vivid and raw, as if it happened only yesterday. The betrayal, the heartache, the crushing realization when the red aura appeared around her after she uttered those fateful three words to you.

Your attention returns to the woman in front of you, the one who helped heal your heart. The one who now holds it. 

The one who also has the power to hurt you in the exact same way, even though you know she won’t.

“I love you so much, Natasha,” you say with breathless adoration and honesty, but your expression pinches in fear as you continue, your voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t think I'm ready to hear it from you yet. Just…not those exact words.”

You sigh sadly, understanding how unfair your words are to her, and your chest tightens guiltily as you apologize, “I’m sorry. Look, I’d understand if you want to leave.”

You look away from Natasha, your mouth pressing together tightly, fighting the urge to cry. 

The silence stretches out in the room before Natasha gently cradles your face, bringing your gaze back to her.

“You make me happy,” Natasha declares firmly.

You give her a confused look at her words.

“Wh-what?”

Ignoring your question, Natasha continues, asking meaningfully, “Am I lying?”

Your eyes observe her for a moment, but you don’t see any indication of a red aura appearing.

“No,” you answer in confusion.

Natasha nods before continuing, “I don’t mind that your powers reveal truths about me, like the moments when I want to hold your hand or when I’m jealous.”

She tilts her head at you in question.

“Am I lying?” she asks again.

Still not seeing any red aura appear around her, you shake your head at her in response.

Natasha rests her forehead against yours, letting out a deep breath, before continuing, “I’m afraid that one day…” she pauses, taking in a shaky breath to prepare herself for what she’s about to admit out loud. 

“…one day you’ll wake up and decide that because of who I was, who I am now is not enough for you to stay with me anymore.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you go to reassure her, “I wouldn’t—”

“Am I lying?” Natasha interrupts, not wanting you to worry about comforting her at this time.

Your eyes soften sadly when you see the vulnerability and fear in her eyes at her words. 

You reach up to cup her cheek, your thumb caressing her face gently in comfort as you whisper, “No.”

Leaning against your touch, Natasha lets out a steadying breath to compose herself for the final part of her point.

“So when I say I can wait…” she pauses, looking into your eyes with a serious and determined expression, making sure you can see the sincerity of her next words. 

“…I’ll wait for as long as you need so that one day I can say those words to you…am I lying?”

You watch her carefully for a moment, but nothing appears to counter her claim. Realizing her intentions to reveal her feelings in another way, your heart fills with love and adoration for her as you answer with a soft smile. 

“No, you’re not lying, Natasha.”

She gives you a gentle grin and cups your face, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before admitting, “That’s because when I’m with you, Y/n, it never feels like I’m living a lie.”

A breathless, awed gasp escapes from you at her words, and you can’t help but pull her in closer, her red hair falling around you like a curtain.

“I love you,” you whisper against her lips, the words filled with genuine adoration for the woman.

Natasha smiles softly at your words and closes the distance between the two of you once again, her kisses tender and filled with all of her unspoken feelings. Her lips move against yours with gentle urgency, conveying everything she can’t yet say aloud.

The warmth of her touch, the sincerity of her kiss, and the way she holds you protectively — all of it reassures you. 

It doesn’t matter that those three words haven’t been spoken explicitly — her actions, her presence, the look in her eyes says it all already.

Natasha may be considered one of the greatest spies in the world thanks in part to her exceptional ability to lie, but even she can’t hide the truth from you.

Without needing to hear her utter those fateful three words aloud, you already know the truth in your heart.

That Natasha Romanoff truly loves you too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for all the love that you all gave to the first part! I hope you enjoyed this one too!

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"𝑭𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆" 𝑬𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

A/N: This is part two of the Anti-Love Ettore one-shot.

Summary: Ettore mistakes a suggestion of yours as a sign that you're distancing yourself. It only gets worse when he spots you with some guy he's never seen before.

TW: Smut, Oral Sex (f receiving), fingering, tiddy sucking, lactation kink (with no lactation) p in v, creampie, bondage, vibrator play, violence

Word Count: 3k (I think this is the longest fic I've ever done lol)

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I can't remember who made the X Banner. If you know please tell me.

Your head was lying on his chest as you lazily drew shapes on his forearm over his tattoo. His hands gently rubbed your lower back as you both just lay there not needing to say any words. Just enjoying the moment.

Ettore had become fond of these moments. How calm they were. It was a big difference to how chaotic his life had always been. With you, there was only peace.

"Ettore?" As your voice reaches his ears he blinks back to reality and looks down at you. "Did you hear what I said?" He shakes his head while still rubbing your lower back.

"You should try BDSM. I think it would suit you. It would also keep you out of trouble." Ettore had heard of BDSM before but the costs alone to build a playroom was more than he had.

But that wasn't what was running through his mind right now. Why were you telling him this? He has no use for some random submissive girl when he has you. Were you getting tired of him? Did you find someone else?

You babbled on for a while about how you could help him start. Ettore didn't say a word the entire time. His brain bounced between different theories as to why you were all of a sudden interested in finding him a new fuck buddy.

Only when you moved to sit on top of him, straddling him, did he snap out of his thoughts. He looked up at you and held on to your waist.

"You ok?" He nodded. You knew he was a man of few words and expressed how he felt in other ways. His hips bucked upwards as he felt the heat radiating from your body just above his cock. It slowly hardened as Ettore thought of fucking any ideas you had of leaving him out of you.

Before he could initiate anything you kissed his cheek and got off of him saying you had to go.

To you, he was just being his normal self. You never would have imagined the turmoil going on in his head, the plans that were brewing. If only he had been honest from then about his feelings.

It could have saved you both some pain.

A day had gone by since you introduced the BDSM idea to Ettore. You had gone off to do God knows what. He assumed you were stealing stuff as you typically did in your spare time. He had calmed down slightly but his brain was still racked with thoughts of why you had brought it all up in the first place.

He managed to tell himself there was no cause for worry. That was until he tried to call you to hook up and you didn't answer. It only got worse when he texted you telling you to come over and you replied with "Can't. Im busy.".

Busy? Busy doing what? With who?

He paced around his apartment. Wondering if he should call you again. He chewed on his nails till they were too short to chew anymore. No matter how many deep breaths he took he couldn't calm himself. He had to know what you were doing.

In a matter of minutes Ettore was dressed and at the mall in a grey sweat suit with a black jacket. He had his hood up as he stalked around the local mall looking for you. He was there for about 30 minutes before he spotted you quickly walking out of a store.

A smile rose on his face when he saw you pull something out of your pocket with a smile.

See Ettore? She's just doing her typical shit.

The smile only dropped when he watched you turn around and wait for a boy to run out of the store after you. He was being chased by a security guard. You took his hand and began running as you both were in a fit of giggles.

The sight made his blood boil. He felt hot in his own skin and just wanted to crawl out. The guard gave up on chasing you both and returned to the store. Ettore began walking in the direction you both went. He needed answers. Who was this guy? Why were you holding his hand? Is he who you decided to spend your time with instead of being fucked by him?

He picked up the pace until he caught sight of the two of you heading towards one of the exits. it led towards the loading dock and was pretty much an abandoned side of the mall that barely anyone shopped in. He did his best to stay out of sight but with every step he just wanted to finally reach the two of you.

And when he finally does it changes your relationship forever. You barely have time to react as the man you are next to gets grabbed backwards by his hoodie and face-slammed into a brick wall. You scream as you see Ettore get on top of him and punch him repeatedly.

The man your with weakly tries to protect his head as Ettore continues to hit him in the head.

"Ettore stop! Get off of him!" You try to pull him off but that only redirects his anger. He stands up and shoves you. You stumble back and fall to the ground your hands scraping against the tough concrete. Ettore, driven by anger, pulls back his fist as if he is about to punch you.

And thats when he sees it.

The terror in your eyes. The tears that fall down your cheek.

The same look he saw in the eyes of the women he killed.

Seeing that look in your eyes. Your eyes... hurt him. Without knowing it you were the air he breathed. To know he had made you fear him, terrified him. He lowered his arm and ran off saying nothing else.

He doesn't remember much about what happened that night. He wakes up to his apartment trashed and can only assume his emotions got the better of him. He had sent you more messages than he could count and called you countless times. You ignored every call and message.

He didn't know where you lived considering you only ever hooked up at his place.

He had to get you to forgive him. He couldn't continue without you. He couldn't breathe without you.

He told himself that this wasn't love. That this was just fear of losing what you offered. Your wonderful pussy. The amazing sex. Thats all he's scared of losing, not you. He could care less about you.

It took him almost a week before he found out where you lived. He knew what bars you liked to hang out and started asking around. You were smart not to go out knowing he would be looking for you but eventually, you needed groceries. You stepped out to do some shopping wearing a more discreet outfit than you would usually wear.

Ettore watched from across the street as you pulled up your hood and walked towards the bus stop. He knew you would be gone a while and would give him time to do what he needed to.

You returned from shopping and carried in your grocery bags struggling a bit as the plastics pinched your fingers.

It's only when you step inside your apartment and place them on the table do you feel how the tense air. Your apartment feels different than before. You grabbed a knife from the kitchen and slowly walked towards your bedroom.

As you pushed open the door everything looked the same. You relaxed and took a deep breath.

Im just on edge. I need to relax.

"Drop it." You immediately tense as you hear his voice. You do as he says and drop the knife to the ground. "Turn around." Your heart beats in your chest, you're not scared of him, you never are, but you're scared of the confrontation. You turn around and face him.

"Ettore." He simply stares at you. When you first lay your eyes on him you notice his appearance. He doesn't look...well. His skin was pale and had dark bags under his eyes.

"You've ignored all of my calls and all my messages." He slowly takes a step forward and you respond with a step back.

"What was I supposed to say-"

"Hello, good morning, how are you? Fuck baby I don't know just talk to me-" He takes another step closer and you raise your hand.

"You beat my friend for no reason. Then you pushed-" He closes the gap between the two of you and pulls you against him.

"I didn't mean to...I...Im sorry." Ettore was not one to say im sorry. "Im sorry that I hurt you." He leaned down and kissed up your next stopping at your ear. "But im not sorry for beating that fucker up. He was touching you." He resumed kissing you while backing you up against the wall.

"He was just a friend." You want to be mad at him for what he did. You want to yell at him for being so violent but you can't.

"You ditched fucking me to hang out with him. You kept talking about this BDSM shit. You were planning on leaving me for him. I won't let you. I can't let you."

It all falls into place in your mind. He thought you were abandoning him. The realization made you smile and effectively softened your resolve. He was just scared to lose you, and this was his fucked up way of saying it.

You push him back slightly so you can see his face. Your hand runs over his cheek and he nuzzles into your hand.

"I wasn't leaving. I just thought maybe you'd like it more if...if you weren't just fucking me all the time..."

Deep down you had started to worry that over time Ettore could eventually become bored of you and even deeper down you slowly developed feelings for him. You knew he would never want a real relationship, and even if he did it wouldn't resemble the ones you see in movies. The ones you yearned for as a girl.

"I don't want no one else but you." He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to say something but pauses every time. He leans down and kisses you cradling your face. It's softer than any kiss has ever given you. "And I don't want you to be anyone else's but mine."

You knew this was his way of saying it without saying it. He wants you to be his and he wants to be yours. Ettore watches as a smile creeps on your face and he knows you understood what he meant. He pulls you back into the kiss while walking you backwards into your room.

You end up falling on the bed and he crawls on top of you already pulling at your clothes. He undresses you while kissing every bit of newly exposed skin until you're fully naked in front of him.

He's still fully undressed and the idea makes you feel vulnerable. He has seen your body hundreds of times but you still press your legs together while your arms cover your tits.

He gently pushes a knee in between your legs opening them back up as his hands uncross your arms.

"You're beautiful." He rolls one of your nipples in his fingers while he suckles the other imagining again what it would feel like for milk to flow into his throat. The thought made him painfully hard.

He stands up for a moment and walks away before coming back. You sit up and watch as he undresses slowly before walking over to your dresser.

"I was doing some snooping earlier..." He looks over at you and smirks as his hands rest on the first drawer. You already know what it is he found and can't help but smile. He opens the drawer and pulls out your vibrator and a pair of handcuffs. He looks at you with one eyebrow raised. "Care to share why you have these."

You can't shake the smirk off of your face as he walks over.

"Move up." You do as he says and move up higher on the bed. Ettore returns above you and grabs your wrists positioning them above your head. He threads the handcuffs through one of the gaps of your headboard then locks each wrist. "You gonna be a good girl for me yeah?"

You nod as he kisses his way down in between your legs. He places a soft kiss on your clit before sucking on it gently. He looks up and watches as your mouth hangs open and your head is thrown back.

He moves on to fucking you with his tongue holding you tight as you try to squirm away. Ettore adds pushes in a finger and pumps it in and out of you at a relentless pace. His finger easily brushes that sweet spot and has your back arching off the bed.

You want to touch him and try to pull your hands but are only reminded that you're bound by the tightness of the cuffs.

He can feel you clenching around his finger and all he could do is smile against your pussy. As you cum Ettore praises you saying you did so well but he doesn't stop he asks you to cum again around his fingers and brings the vibrator to your clit as he adds another inside of you.

He doesn't stop fucking you with his fingers and the vibrator as he comes up and takes one of your nipples in his mouth while watching you. Your legs shake as you give him another orgasm, shivers running up your spine. He removes the vibrator and his fingers kiss your jaw.

"You did so good." He slides himself through your folds gathering your wetness on his tip. Instinctively you try to move away from being overstimulated but he holds you in one place. His eyebrows are knit together and his mouth hangs open as he finally pushes himself inside. "Relax for me, baby." Although it's only been a week since you've last fucked you're back to being tight from the lack of his cock keeping you stretched.

You both groan when he finally bottoms out. The hairs on the base of his cock brush against your clit only making you whimper more from the contact.

Ettore sits up and grabs onto your waist holding on as leverage so he can fuck you. He watches as a white ring forms around the base of his cock and how easily he slides into you now that you soaked. the only sounds heard are your whimpers and the wet smack of his hips against your ass.

"Fuck- please Ettore." He doesn't know what your begging for but stares at your face in pride as it's screwed with pleasure. He knows no one else could make you feel this way and it only inflates his ego more.

"Does it feel good baby?" He reaches back for the vibrator and brings it down onto your clit again. At this point, tears have formed in your eyes from how fucking good this all feels.

"It's always so good." You whimper arching your hips so he slides in deeper. He can feel your pussy spazzing around him. "Fuck fuck fuck." You draw in a short breath as another orgasm washes over you. You feel heavy and spent as Ettore removes the vibrator and comes up and kisses your neck and chest.

"One more. You can give me one more." He reaches over on your nightstand and grabs the key for the handcuffs. He unlocks the cuffs and turns you over so you're lying on top of him. "Please. Please ride me." Despite how tired your body feels from the three orgasms he has drawn out from you, you sit up and look down at him.

You lift your hips slightly and reach in between you two grabbing his cock. Ettore moans as your hands wrap around him while you line yourself up. His moan only gets louder as you sink down fully on his length.

He holds on to your tits as you bounce up and down his cock rolling both nipples in between his fingers. You do your best to set a pace you know will have him cumming in a minute but you're still so tired. Ettore notices and places both hands on your hips lifting you up and down and helping you to fuck yourself on his cock.

"Fuck!" He throws his head back as he feels the tip of his cock hit your cervix. "I love you so much." The words were out of his mouth before he could control them. And though you're not sure if he means them or if they hold the same meaning for you as they do him but it only fuels you more.

You meet his thrusts and feel him throbbing inside of you. His face is screwed in what looks more like pain than pleasure as he begs you to make him cum.

"I can't cum if you don't. Please." He circles your clit once more and tells you how much he needs it. How much he needs to feel you cumming around him, how that will tell him you love him too.

You finally do cum and fall against his chest as he keeps holding on to your hips fucking up into you, his balls slapping against your ass and the vulgar noises of your bodies connecting filling your ears before he pushes you down as far as he can forcing you there. You feel him cum deep inside you moaning loudly as 'thank you' flows repeatedly from his lips like a prayer.

He eases up slightly as he rolls over and pins you down not taking himself out of you. Your breathing evens out as he kisses you gently. A drastic contrast to how ruthlessly he just fucked you.

"I meant it. Every word." Your heart flutters at his confession. He kisses you deeply.

He knows he can't let you go. But he also knows you won't stay without that confession. Even if it was hard for him to say it he was glad he did.

You both lay there wrapped in each other's embraces. Scared but excited to see where this will take you.

Nothing could go wrong now...

....Right?

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this! I still have an ideal 2 additional chapters planned out. The next one is shorter but still good!

Gen Taglist: @valeskafics @thought--bubble @dixie-elocin

"Fuck Love" Taglist: @hi-eleonora @scarletbedlam @fan-goddess @qyburnsghost

[angsthology]

Pay Attention to Things That Most People Ignore ☆ LS2

logan sargeant is most definitely not most people. it was time he started learning how

characters/pairings; daughter of poseidon!reader, chiron, mr. d, son of apollo!logan, theo (oc), son of athena!oscar.

warnings; monsters, typical pjo-type violence, logan is hopeless but that’s okay! some chb innacurracy sorry i havent read the books in a while, err very rushed writing im sorry, LAWD this is a mess i tell u 😭 perhaps i hate it — 3k words.

a/n; is the title... an all-american bitch lyric? yes. why? im not good and titles and i went to that song in instinct... for no reason. also this was based on a request — though i do admit its a little bit different as i would (hopefully) be making a part 2 hehe. by now im realizing how this title prob has nothin to do with the story

Over the years, she’s come to accept her life. Did it hurt when it felt like her entire life ended? Of course. Does it still hurt when she turns on the television to see them basically rubbing it on her face? —Whatever.

In theory, she probably could’ve gotten away with it had she not been a daughter of one of the big three—thanks a lot, dad. —but it was proven one too many times that it was not safe for her or any of the other kids. If it didn’t put anyone else’s life at risk, she would’ve disobeyed her mother, she really would (she was a child, she really hasn’t grasped the full concept of what other people would feel).

But, you know, oh well.

It’s sixteen years later and she still has that lingering grudge in the back of her head as the screen plays another Grand Prix — another Grand Prix she could’ve probably been a part of.

She tried, she really tried so hard to forget about it, to let go of it, but again, it was proven to be way too hard to let go of something she had an actual chance of, an actual good chance.

Though it might be hard to let go, she couldn’t really complain much about the life she actually had now.

Sure, it gets pretty lonely sometimes being a forbidden child, there weren’t exactly much of them (that are known and living at camp). But she had everyone else, despite practically being an only child at camp, to her everyone else there were her little siblings—of course, that probably has something to do with the fact that she was the oldest camper and the one who has been there longest.

When she heard a set of the all-too-familiar clops her heart dropped from its current fast-paced beating.

She quickly closed your laptop shut, cringing when you heard how loud of a sound it had made. That was it. She didn’t even try hiding her disappointment in herself. She slowly emerged from under the blanket with her lips tightly-wound shut, bracing herself with whatever the Centaur will have to say, her mind playing a quick telepathic farewell to her laptop.

“Hello, Y/N.”

She sighed, “Chiron.”

“Where and how?”

She swallowed the pre-existing nerves in her throat, “Mr. D.”

He hummed in response, so she continued.

“A pack of Heineken and two bottles of Jack Daniels.”

“Hm, good picks.” She responded lowly under her breath with a small ‘yeah’ as Chiron walked closer to the head of her bed near the bed-side table—his hooves making clopping noises each step.

The silence was taking too long to her liking so she just went to get it over with, “So, you’re gonna take it away from me?” she paused, then mumbling under her breath for herself, “—it’s probably another Red Bull win, anyway.”

Apparently, it was loud enough for the Centaur to hear, making him chuckle.

Surprisingly, he didn’t mention anything else about the laptop, “Who do you support?”

Hearing the question quickly made her look up from her fidgeting hands to see the smile on his face, she screwed her brows in confusion as she continues to look at Chiron for—something. Then, realizing that he was still waiting for an answer, she shook her head.

“Uhm—well, uh—”

“You think that Lando will ever get a win?”

That seemed to loosen her up, “Ugh, Gods, I hope. I’m getting exhausted over here—you know, sometimes I really wish I could ask the Oracle about it.”

He chuckled then which made her crack a smile.

When it died down, Chiron looked at her smiling face. He couldn’t help but frown a little, he knew how she felt about racing, he knew how she still feels about it.

“Y/N.”

She looks up at him, “Yeah?”

“So, I am aware that your birthday is nearing…”

“I mean… why wouldn’t you be? I’m here all-year-round.”

Chiron cleared his throat at her interruption, giving her a look.

“Sorry.”

He acknowledged and continued, “I am also aware that it lines up with a certain event…”

She raised an eyebrow it that, almost guessing what that said ‘event’ was.

“So,” he stopped, initially had her thinking he was just pausing but when he left out the door of her cabin she raised her hands as if saying ‘what gives?’

Seconds passed and it seemed like Chiron wasn’t going to come back any time soon so instead she stumbled off of her bed to quickly catch up to the Centaur that was headed to a building—the girl almost caught up to him, almost following him into the building but he was already back out in a good few seconds, stopping her right in front of the set of stairs, raising both her hands in question once more, “You just left. ‘So’, what?”

“I have it arranged that you will be attending the Miami Grand Prix.” He smiled as he handed her a lanyard.

She swore her eyes looked like it could’ve popped out of their sockets in a matter of seconds. She couldn’t believe what she was holding; a paddock pass. She couldn’t believe Chiron had done this for her considering how careful of a man (well, half-man) he is especially with her being a forbidden child. This was about to turn into the best birthday yet.

When she looked up to the smiling Chiron, her mouth still hung open in shock but her arms immediately wrapped around the man’s body in a bone-crushing hug.

She didn’t know how many ‘thank you’s that spilled out of her mouth but next thing she knew he was hugging her back with a chuckle escaping his lips.

After a few more ‘thank you’s from her, she pulled away smiling at him, “I thought you’d rather keep me here forever, why now?”

He cleared his throat, “Well, you are turning twenty-one, not many of you reach that kind of age—don’t tell them I said that—so I’d like to make it a bit more special.”

Still smiling, she looked at the paddock pass in her hand again, “You don’t know how much I appreciate this, Chi. Thank you, again.”

Being there felt… odd… unnatural.

She always thought if she were ever walking through the paddocks she would be walking as a driver.

What was even more odd was she felt her senses tingling, like she was being watched.

It was a bustling crowded place with many more interesting people compared to her, so it was weird to her that she felt like she was being watched of all people.

But alas, she brushed it off. It didn’t feel like anything bad—if it were, she would know—so she’s just going to have to save that thought for later.

She had to remind herself why she’s here; daydream in real-time of what could’ve been.

Yeah, she weren’t really keen on letting that go.

That is, until she was into her head she failed to notice the person—and group of people that came with said person—she was running into.

Before she knew it, a strong arm was holding her back with too much force for her liking, the action itself almost kicking in her self defense instinct until the person she did bump into pushed the hand away.

He was now talking to her, she assumed, but she was too focused on the person who had pushed her away.

Something about him felt… off. He was what she would count as freakishly huge for a normal human being, her eyes couldn’t help but recalculate the large man over and over until eventually the person that has been trying to get her attention snaps her out of it.

“Sorry, that’s Theo, he’s like that. I swear he doesn’t mean any harm.”

The scowl she hadn’t realized that made it’s way to her face slowly dropped as she slowly move her gaze to the person that was talking to her.

When their eyes met, she swore she saw a flash of something pass by his expression.

“Yeah,” she finally let go of this ‘Theo’ person and found her words, “Sorry I bumped into you.”

“That’s fine.” There was a brief silence across them until he cleared his throat, “I’m Logan, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know. You drive for Williams.” She replied flatly.

He cleared his throat again, scanning her for the shortest moment, “Do I know you?”

She looked to his eyes again with a small squint. “Most likely not. Good luck, bye.”

Before he could say anything else she was already speed-walking away. And for some odd reason, Logan found himself watching her walk away before getting pulled away himself just in the same time as the girl turned around to give a watchful eye.

It was getting annoying. This was supposed to be a weekend to enjoy but she could not help but feel that uneasiness creeping up on her. Over the years she had somewhat mastered the ability—well more the ability mastering her—of sensing bad things, whether that was events or creatures alike.

So, to simply put that together, that’s how she found herself sneaking around the Williams garage. Not hospitality, garage.

From years of quests here and there, many hours of weapons training, and not to mention capture the flag schemings with other campers, she had mastered the skill of being sneaky. It really did work well in her favor.

What she didn’t expect was to be completely entranced the moment she got into the busy garage; it was the first time she was seeing a real life-size F1 car in real-time.

Everything was so enchanting to her, it felt like she was reliving her childhood dreams all over again. When she had gone through with her plan, she didn’t really register the fact that she was going to go face to face with an actual working Formula One garage.

She really tried to stay focused on the task at hand but it really was in her blood to be unfocused.

“Hey!”

Somehow, just somehow, she had heard his voice over the loud noises around her and just somehow, she knew he was addressing her.

Immediately, she tried to hide or duck behind something—anything just so she didn’t have to face him.

Before she knew it a hand was gripping her upper arm and pulling her somewhere quieter and she was met with green eyes that looked at her with suspicion.

“Are you like a fan or something?”

She was taken aback by his words.

“…what?”

“Are you following me?”

“What—no. I mean not you specifically—why did I say that.” she whispered the last part to herself. If she was being honest, she hasn’t really been brushing up her skills in socializing with anyone else that weren’t the campers.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! I—”

Their conversation—if you could’ve called it that anyway—was interrupted by the same man she had been suspecting from earlier.

“There you are.” It was the first time she was hearing his voice and just by that she already knew that they were going to be in big trouble. His voice was low and unnerving, saying the words as if he’s been searching for them not for worried purposes rather unfortunate ones.

Logan didn’t seem to have the same feeling as her as he looked more relieved among other things to see the man. “Theo!” he greeted while throwing his hands in the air, “What’s up, man?”

Fortunately for Logan, Theo wasn’t exactly paying attention to him instead looking at the girl in front of him instead.

When he noticed he tried to interfere, “Oh, no, don’t worry about her, she’s not harmful.” He then realized he didn’t exactly know this girl so he looked at her with questioning eyes, “You aren’t, right?”

Except her focus didn’t waver from the big man that looked at her with a stare that tried to kill.

Logan, still clueless, looked between the two back and forth in confusion until Theo said something that really caught his attention.

“Daughter of Poseidon.” Theo growled.

Logan’s head couldn’t snap towards her faster.

“Shit.” She mumbled under her breath.

Before they knew it, she had grabbed a hold of his hand and running away with it, Logan still very much in shock at this new information he attained.

Through empty places and crowded ones, the girl forgot that the man she had ahold of weren’t just anyone but a very real and hard-to-miss Formula One driver. Sure, he was a rookie but a driver nonetheless.

But she couldn’t care less about the attention she was gaining; she was far too busy running for her life than think about cameras and the public.

“What the hell was he talking about? Poseidon?!” she didn’t answer his panicked question so he continued instead, “Are you a half-blood too?”

The ‘too’ in his question was what finally caught her attention but still, she didn’t answer him, only cursing herself for not noticing one when she saw one.

Just when she thought they had lost them, the monster once disguised as Theo was standing there at the end of the opening, she and Logan had slipped in.

Next thing she knew she was fumbling around trying to fight off the apparent Giant that was Theo.

“What the hell are you doing there, mind a little help over here?” she yelled over at Logan who was pretty much… useless in the corner.

He continued to panic, looking for anything he could use to get the Giant off of her.

Suddenly, while she was struggling to get the Giant’s grip off of her, the force stopped as a cloud of mist poofed where the monster was once before. She quickly scrambled herself up and was met with a figure in McLaren clothing holding a gold-dust colored weapon pointing at her.

“Oscar Piastri?!”

He didn’t answer her, dagger still pointing at her direction, “Who are you?”

Putting her hands out in defense she explained herself, “I respect that.” she commented, “I’m Y/N L/N, I am the daughter of Poseidon,” then she cautiously pointed at the Australian, “I’m assuming you’re a half-blood too.” she nodded at him, “Who do you belong to?”

Oscar then slowly lowered his weapon, his trust building by the minute, “Athena.”

Then both of them turn to Logan simultaneously.

“No!” he got defensive immediately, “I want to know what just happened!” he pointed accusingly.

All of a sudden, it just finally hit Oscar, “Poseidon?!”

The sea god’s daughter made a face and ignored the Australian, “What do you mean what just happened? Typical demigod stuff!”

The look on his face made her double-take, “You… do have occasional encounters with monsters here and there… right?”

When Logan’s expression doesn’t change, she turns to Oscar.

“I have this for a reason.” He said slowly, showing her the dagger. “—and, well, if I’m being honest, that has never happened before.”

“Shit.” she shakes her head in disappointment then pulling out her phone, “I need to make a phone call.”

She left the two men by themselves and went ahead as the line rings a couple of times before getting an answer.

After a brief conversation—that will continue later for details—the girl locked her phone and walked towards the two drivers.

“You’re coming with me this summer. It will not be up for debate and don’t worry about your… duties, I have it covered.”

Logan was quick to stop her explanations, “Wait—what—no! At least explain what the hell that phone call was about. You can’t just drop all that on us and expect us to be okay with it.

She rolls her eyes, “I’ll explain later, right now, you two have a job to do.” They didn’t object to that, the three of them walking out the pretty-hidden space the Giant had decided to corner them before.

Oscar stopped just outside, “I can take care of myself if anything else decide to come out and attack me, you should probably go with him. And uh, I actually need to talk to you,” he pointed at her, “—later. Not exactly letting you off the hook that easily.”

She didn’t complain.

The two walked in silence, every once in a while getting stopped for a picture and such, until Logan speaks up.

“Apollo.”

She turned to him, eyebrow raised.

“My dad.”

“Oh.” She paused then comments, “Fitting.”

He didn’t know what it was in her voice, it didn’t sound exactly like a compliment but he wasn’t sure if it was an insult.

Whatever, he shrugged it off.

After that, they both went into their own train of thoughts.

Without noticing, they both sucked in a breath in unison.

“I’m sorry for—”

“I think you should—”

The two quickly stepped back from whatever it was they were going to say, heat rushing up their necks. They kept walking on the awkward silence that fell upon them until Logan re-focused his attention and remembering what she had said—well, what she almost said earlier.

“Wait—‘sorry’? What were you apologizing for?” he turned to her who was now ducking away from his eyes, her own focus stayed on her fidgeting hands.

She made a noise before finally finding her words, “It’s just—this always happens, you know. I’m a forbidden kid, I attract the worst kind of trouble there is for half-bloods. And earlier; I had brought it to you and Oscar.” he was going to say something to ease her guilt but she beat him to it, “I’m just glad that monster didn’t hurt any of you.” She threw her hands in the air, “I mean, it’s qualifying day for Gods sake! —maybe I shouldn’t go to the race tomorrow.” She mumbled the last part to herself, though not quietly enough that the driver didn’t hear.

Logan was taken aback by her statement, giving him an opening on his almost-offer.

“What—no! Why not?” he asked.

“Look, it’s bad enough that there’s two demigods in one place; adding a forbidden kid in the mix won’t really make it any better. I still want everyone to have a safe race. Who knows what kind of other monsters I could attract.”

From every point of view Logan could gather, it was simply a fact that this girl knows about their world far more than he did, far more than Oscar did, so he couldn’t really be the voice of judgement in whatever she had to say. But… he wanted her to stay.

It calmed him down for some reason, knowing someone shares the same—if not, worse—fate as you.

So, he tried to find a reason, a good reason to make her stay. Of course, he wasn’t a pro at this half-blood thing so he offered something that he was familiar with. He gave her a more… human reason.

“I think you should stay.” He blurted.

“Logan—”

“Dude—is it alright if I called you that?”

“Uh, go nuts.”

“You deserve to have some fun, watch a race! I’ll even have you as an official Williams guest!”

She hummed with a smile creeping up.

“And if you’re worried about trouble, that’s fine. We can always handle trouble! We are all trouble-bound any way, better face them now than later! Plus, I think it’d be good if you could teach us the basics early.”

She felt the warmth spread through her chest. It’s been a while since she felt someone so welcoming that wasn’t anyone within Camp Half-blood. It was nice. He was nice. Almost made her forget that she was in the place she was meant to be in.

Her heart felt wholesome, but didn’t make it show, her mouth couldn’t stop the comment from escaping her mouth instead.

“You really want me to stay, huh?”

[lovelykei]

Save you

Bakugo Katsuki x reader

This one is angsty and it also has spoilers about the war arc so read at your own risk 😀

This is also my first time writing for something other than haikyuu so I hope it’s okay😩

It was chaotic, heroes were laying on the floor bleeding out, burning, screaming and begging for someone to reach them. A young hero was running around trying to reach the heroes in need. Sweat dripping down the forehead and straight into the heroes eyes but they didn’t stop, they couldn’t stop. In a world where soulmates feel each others pain this hero whose every joint was screaming to stop kept running, kept healing as the pain consumed them. For just a second it felt like time was moving in slow motion. Pressure, pressure, pressure, rip. A blood curling scream brought the entire battlefield to a halt. It was silent as the pro heroes turned towards you, the young hero who had been healing everyone, who was now on the floor hand clutching your chest. Everyone immediately knew that something had happened to Dynamight.

As fast as the pain came it was gone and now you felt nothing. Your body was lighter than it had ever been but your heart had never been heavier. Cause soulmates were meant to be forever, it was the other half that people spent their entire life searching for. Soulmates weren’t meant to die thousand of kilometers away, soulmates weren’t meant to die at 16 while fighting a villain they weren’t even qualified enough to be fighting. Katsuki wasn’t meant to die like this.

-

It had been years since day and somehow katsuki had been brought back to life with the help of the pro hero edgeshot. The apartment was silent apart from the soft thudding of feet pacing back and forth anxiously. The air was thick, the night was dark, the tears were silently streaming down. It’s past midnight, katsuki always made it home by 10pm. The dinner that was always on the table by 10 had turned cold. You put your phone to your ear trying to call just one more time hoping he would answer when the door busts open.

“I’m sorry baby I got caught up with paperwork” Katsugi apologized lightly as he walked through the door kicking his shoes off. The soft thud of your body falling to the floor brought his attention back to you and made him rush over. It was still dark, it was still late but it was no longer silent. “You have a phone don’t you? Couldn’t you call? Text? Why did you just disappear?” He reassured you that he was right there and that his phone had run out of batteries and although his tone was gentle there was an air of frustration coming from him. “You can’t get like this Everytime I’m a little late baby” you roughly pushed him away from you, standing up as you did so. “It’s been 3 hours katsuki, that’s more than a little late don’t you think” maybe it was the fear that made you lash out, maybe you were just angry he didn’t understand. “Im a hero y/n I can’t always make it home on time and I can’t always call you, we have talked about this” he ran a hand over his face frustrated that you were doing this again. Silence fell over the apartment as you turned around and walked to your shared room. He followed after you and slammed the door. “You married a hero, you knew what that meant so why are you acting like this? Ever since I started working as a hero you’ve been psychotic” he screamed and kicked a pillow that had fallen to the floor. How dare he call you psychotic when it was all his fault. How dare he turn it on you. “Answer me for fuck sake” it was obvious that he was frustrated and tired but you couldn’t get the words out. “I thought you died” it was barely above a whisper but he heard you and scoffed. “So what? You’re worried I’m weak? You’re acting crazy cause you don’t think I can take on villain?” He felt offended that you thought so little off him, angry that you saw him as someone so weak.

“But you did die katsuki” your teary eyes met his glaring eyes. “You died and I felt it all, I felt the pain from your heart exploding, I felt the emptiness of our soul band dying” you gripped the sheets in your shaking hands as you spoke louder and louder. “You fought shigaraki without worrying about leaving me behind and you died. Then you came back and moved on. But I’m still right there, thousands of miles away from you screaming and crying because.. BECAUSE I COULDNT FEEL YOU ANYMORE” you screamed at him. Every night you wait by the door for him to come through okay and at night you stay up healing his injuries while he sleeps. Every moment of every day was spent worrying that he wouldn’t make it back this time. That if he died now there wouldn’t be another miracle. He walked over to you and tried to wrap his arms around you to apologize. “It just feels like we got matching fucking wounds. But mine is still black and bruised while yours is perfectly fine.” He held your limp body in his arms for hours that night. Reminding you every 30 minutes that’s he’s right there, that he’s still alive and apologizing over and over. But even as the sun rose and the birds started chirping you were just limp in his arms, the tears still streaming down your face. It was the first time he saw how broken you were and suddenly everything made sense.

Back in UA you had insisted on healing even his paper cuts saying you wanted to strengthen your quirk. And after you graduated he had opened an agency while you had decided to stay and work with recovery girl. He didn’t get it at the time, all the years you trained to become a hero only to turn around and become a school nurse..it had pissed him off for sure but he got it now. After that day you hadn’t spoken a word, you called in sick to work and spent most of your days laying in bed crying. You didn’t eat, you barely slept, the only thing you could do was cry. For once in his life Bakugo really didn’t know what to do, he tried to work less so he could feed you and bathe you but it’s like you were gone. He thought that this time he’d pushed you to far and as he sobbed into his hands he was furious that he couldn’t save you.

[utahimeow]

ooo for the character + kink thing

tobio and dry humping (is that a kink? idk but here's what I ask you to consider: my kink is men being so desperate to have you that they don't need to be inside you to cum)

cw — nsfw content minors dni. smut, fluff, f!reader, slight intoxication, dry humping

tobio’s always been a little smitten with you. not that he’d ever be able to tell you– although, with the alcohol making his head a little fuzzier than normal, the timidness that constantly weighs on his shoulders feels a little lighter.

you’re sat next to him on your couch, giggling to yourself, courtesy of the one glass of wine too many you’d had. tobio wasn’t supposed to be drinking, what with his strict pro-athlete diet and all, but something about you made it hard for him to say. all it takes is the flutter of your eyelashes and he’s a goner.

you turn to him, all dazed, eyes twinkling. “you’re pretty, tobi.”

it’s true. he’s one of the prettiest boys you’ve ever seen.

his cheeks turn red and it’s not from the wine. “you’re prettier.”

“no, you are.”

he runs a hand over his face, chuckling and oh, he’s so cruel.

“you’re being gross,” he says, but his grin gives him away.

“i’ll shut up if you kiss me.”

he blinks at you. his grin fades, but it’s only replaced with an expression of pure wonder. he thinks he’s dreaming– his ears must be tricking him, right? maybe not–

you’re leaning towards him. suddenly tobio is completely sober, and when your lips meet his he swear his soul leaves his body. it takes him a moment to kiss you back, his heart beating out of his chest, and then another moment passes and his tongue is lapping into your mouth and you’re in his lap.

a moan slips out of your throat before you can help it. you pull away, a sudden timidness creeping up your spine, made worse by the string of spit that connects your mouth with the boy’s. you open your mouth to apologise, only to be cut off by tobio’s kiss once more.

giant hands trace along your shoulders, then down your back, sending goosebumps over your entire body. at last they settle on your hips, pressing you closer to him, and that’s when you feel it– his erection straining against his jeans, poking at your thighs.

in an instant, your hips, with a mind of their own, begin to move. it’s gentle at first, a slow rocking back and forth against his crotch.

when they pick up their pace a little however, when you start to fall into a (sloppy) rhythm, tobio’s breath hitches in his throat. his hands travel under your shirt, desperate for his fingers to sink into flesh not fabric.

your lips, swollen and slick with spit, move down tobio’s jaw, hungry for the taste of his neck.

“oh, f-fuck,” he breathes as your teeth nip at his skin and your tongue swirls over the mark, all while your clothed cunt grinds against his restricted cock. he’s even more lightheaded than before, the pleasure melting his brain more and more with every roll of your hips.

his head falls against the back of the couch, letting you rut into his lap as his eyes fall shut and his mouth drops. there’s electricity in his veins– everything feels intensified, not just from the alcohol but from the fact that it’s you. you, who tobio thinks of when his hand pumps at his cock and who he imagines holding late at night and playing with your hair until you fall asleep and who he wants so badly to kiss all the time whenever he wants.

he has you now. and it’s better than he could have ever imagined.

just the thought is enough to send him over the edge. he spills into his boxers in hot, white spurts, his hips twitching and jerking into yours as he sighs out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

he gazes at you, eyes fuzzy and half-lidded and filled with an affection unlike anything you’ve seen from him, and he also looks so cute that you can’t resist kissing him.

“th-thank you,” he whispers, his breath still ragged.

you giggle once more, amazed at how his politeness remains even after you’ve made him cum in his pants.

“you’re too cute, tobi,” you say with a peck to his lips.

“and you’re pretty.”

[reveluving]

WAIT bc i was thinking of batmom and bruce with their new baby and how excited/protective each of the batkids would be in their own way <333

NOW WE'RE TALKING

warnings: fluff after fluff after FLUFF

The sheer joy and pride in Bruce's face when he sees the little one in your arms would've been on the front page for days. Thank goodness the hospital had brought you to the room away from prying eyes but closest to the nurses and doctors. He has yet to believe that he's married to, in his humble opinion, the most wonderful woman in Gotham, no, the entire universe, and now, just seeing that bundle of joy, that you and him have brought to this world?

Wow.

He literally cannot describe the moment into words. He's just watching you, eyes wide and frozen in his spot, blinking rapidly when you call him over. He does, eventually, but his focus is on the newest addition to the family. His sleeves rolled up, jacket nowhere to be found and hair disheveled when he got the call from his office.

"Do you want to hold 'em?" He had only registered your words seconds later, and before he know it, he reached his arm out. So tiny, so fragile, so... so... sleepy.

The little yawn his kid let out was too cute to ignore. It started off with an upturn of his lips, then it grew to the point of grinning, but his eyes held tears, only beginning to shed when finally had the baby in his arms, holding them with much care.

"Hey..." Just like before, he was truly speechless. But you knew Bruce long enough to know that to him, actions speak louder than words, and seeing him plant kisses on the little one's head and whispering all sorts of words like 'look at how small you are' and 'I'm here', all you could do was watch the man who once believed that he had no chance in happiness in his life.

He didn't even bother checking the 9 calls and 31 messages from his kids when they heard when you went into labour. It didn't matter if he did though, because they were all waiting outside. Alfred, too, was there with them, and was also the only one not pacing back and forth like the rest of them, but that was only because he already did it before their arrival. Though, sitting down did little to nothing to his nerves.

Considering the big ol' family, they were only allowing people two at the time.

But, to Bruce's surprise (a welcoming one, of course!), all of the kids agreed to let Alfred alone enter first. Who was more deserving to see the youngest Wayne, if not the father figure himself?

"Oh, look at how precious you are." Alfred cooed, sniffling as he ever so slowly rocked the baby in his arms. He has always seen the Batkids as his own grandchildren, and no amount of demeaning articles could tell him otherwise, but with how different this little one in particular has joined the household, and a newborn no less, his nerves pretty much shot through the roof!

With the baby in Alfred's arms, Bruce took the opportunity to be with you, kissing the top of your head like he did with your baby, holding your hand and both thanking you and praising you for everything.

"You did so, so well. I’m so proud of you." You and Bruce watched Alfred being in his own world, sharing chuckles at his giddiness and antics before handing the baby back to you. He didn't want to, but with the siblings waiting in anticipation, he had to.

Next, came Damian. He had been so hesitant yet eager to come in, all while being thankful that none of his brothers and sister had teased him when he clearly seemed fidgety as they waited together.

"It's okay, Damian, you can come in," You beckoned your boy to come closer, and he did, with his head high but still nervous. He had been preparing himself for this, to be the best big brother in the whole wide word, so why was it so hard?

You and Bruce had patiently waited for Damian, knowing this was all very overwhelming, but all three of you were caught by surprise when Jason came in moments after Damian did.

"Sorry I'm late," He was quickly shushed by his father, unaware that his voice was too loud for the baby and Damian, who whirled around when he entered the room, "Sorry. C'mon kid, we got a sibling to meet."

If there was one person Damian came to see a lot more in the past nine months, it was none other than Red Hood himself. Expressing his concerns from different angles about his then-unborn sibling. But one concern stood out the most.

"Would they still love me the same?"

Jason knew exactly where this was coming from; being a good sibling was one thing, but the thought of being replaced or less loved was another. Jason was quick to correct him, toning down his sharp tongue and having a deep, one-on-one conversation with Damian like no other.

Jason walked to your bed, nodding to Bruce with a half smile before turning to Damian. The look of encouragement helped the latter to come closer. The scene before you was all too touching, while it may not be the first time you've seen them putting their differences aside, seeing it with your very eyes has never failed to tug at your heartstrings.

They had both declined your offer in holding the kiddo, with Jason coming back from pulling an all-nighter and Damian not feeling all too ready just yet. You didn't mind though, not when they still stayed to take in the baby's features.

Plus, Damian glaring at his older brother whenever he starts talking out of his ass, but said nothing of it when it made you and Bruce smile.

Jason left the room first, promising you, Bruce and the baby that he wasn't going anywhere. Just staying within the perimeter and making sure no nosey journalists or literally anyone from the press were crazy enough to get a glimpse of the baby.

"You're going to be a great brother, Damian." Bruce's statement had really been the reason he calmed down, breaking into a smile when he felt your other hand caressing his cheek.

"I hope so."

Damian left the room, calling Cass and Dick to come in before sitting next to Alfred, now at ease. Dick looked over his sister with a comforting smile, the latter returning the expression before walking in together.

Their nerves had been for different reasons; Dick, despite going through the whole 'hi, I'm your eldest brother' role countless of times, it never made it any less nerve-wracking. On the other hand, this would be Cass' second time welcoming a new sibling to the family, but for someone so young? Yes, it was all very new.

Still, their anticipation was more than anything.

Seeing the biggest brother and biggest sister of the Wayne's rushing over to you with such excitement, marvelling at the tiny human and whispering about how cute the little one was at each other.

"So cute!"

"I know!"

Having the two squeal over them, their arms over each other's shoulders despite the height difference was a sight to behold. A breath of fresh air, if you will.

Dick has promised to stop by the manor more often, as if he hasn't already done for years now, and Cass has promised to do 'all the siblings things in the world', whatever that meant.

Seeing Dick and Cass leaving the room with pure joy in their faces, Tim and Duke had no issue coming in. Though, Duke had been a little more quiet since than his brother, who had been shaking in his seat. Tim's eagerness really helped him out though, knowing he had no reason to worry about welcoming the bundle of joy for the first time when he had all this encouragement from not one, but six brothers and a sister!

By the time they came in, it was Bruce that was holding the baby, seeing how your eyes have been droopy every once in a while. Still, you were wide awake as soon as the two made their appearances. Tim had been more analytical about it, seeing which part of them would likely resemble you or Bruce while Duke just played along.

"I'd say mom's eye colour."

"Really? 'Cause my vote's on Bruce's," Duke paused before smiling sheepishly at you, "No offense."

"None taken." You giggled. Duke had told you about how he went temporarily deaf when he called Steph and Barbara about the baby, only for them to scream on the phone about it. Kate was more chill about it, but that didn't mean she wasn't happy, even telling Duke to make sure of your well-being as soon as possible.

They stayed long enough to allow the last pair of members to see you, greeting each other by the door, considering how they had just arrived. Terry and Matt peeked their heads in, holding each other’s hands before coming over to finally see you. If they had arrived much later, you would’ve been in slumberland. Bruce had told you to get some shut eye, for any of them would’ve understand, but being the stubborn you, you wanted to see them all before ever drifting off into a slumber. 

“Hey, you two,” You held both of the boys’ free hands before asking Terry, “Did school hold you up?”

“Nah, I had a study group after class, and I just picked this guy off from his school trip.” He motioned to the younger McGinnis, who was clearly too distracted by the way your ruffled his hair to hear his brother’s teasing tone.

“Right! You went to the aquarium, right, kiddo?” 

“Mhm! I saw like, eighteen eel species!” Then, he dug something out of his backpack before handing it to you, “Here! I didn’t know what to get at the aquarium so I got Mr Bubbles!” 

The hand-sized whale plushie was such a random surprise, but the sparkle in his eyes couldn’t be any sweeter. 

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” You praised him for his thoughtfulness, leaning in just a little to kiss him on the forehead. 

It was when the baby briefly gurgled that they finally came closer to Bruce to see the one and only. Well, Terry needed to give his brother a piggyback rather than expecting Bruce to kneel. 

Matt commented on how small they were, tilting his head as the baby did nothing more than cuddle in his father’s arms. 

“Well, you were as small as them at some point. Probably even smaller.” Terry smirked. 

“Was not!” Matt pouted, “Hope they’ll like Mr Bubbles.”

“Of course, we’ll make sure to put the lil’ guy in the crib to keep ‘em company.” Bruce assured him, all while noting how you were pretty much fighting (and losing) to your sleepiness at this point. Bruce whispered to Terry to go home with the rest of the family, promising that he’ll keep the family updated on you and the baby and when exactly you’d be able to leave the hospital. The teen nodded, telling his little brother to quietly say goodbye to you before meeting up with his siblings and Alfred outside. 

Bruce sat back down on the chair placed next to your bed with a sigh, smiling down at the baby for the umpteenth time before looking at you, sleeping soundly. He has yet to inform Lucius about his plans in taking some time off, but right now, the last thing he was worried about was his company. The two of you had a giant family to come home to and you’re honoured to be a part of this little one’s new life. 

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

Update are hella slow as of now, and I have some more in my inbox, but I hope this will suffice for now! Please don’t forget to leave some sugar, I’d love to hear what you think of this! And have a great weekend! <;33

[t0oth-r0t]

Closer, Please-Sanemi x M!Reader

hello :3 (nobody talk about the fact i haven’t been active for months 💀)

Summary: A oneshot in which reader gets injured on a mission and Sanemi is almost too scared to let the Kakushi take care of him.

WC~ 1k

Warnings: violence/injuries (sorta graphic), sanemi is really soft and a little ooc, sanemi is also anxious :((

The gasp that Sanemi lets out is one that's never been heard by anyone but you. Though, you barely hear it over the sound of ringing and the startling sight of blood, splashing up against your face. As if controlled by a motor, on autopilot, Sanemi is able to quickly make work of the demons surrounding the two of you, rushing to your side faster than the wind his sword stirs up. You gasp too, not entirely sure what happened until the sharp pain in your stomach can remind you of the reality. Your clothes are torn, and so is the skin across your stomach, gushing red liquid onto you and your partner's hands. You fall back, Sanemi barely catching you before you can hit the ground.

"Hey, hey, don't– you'll hurt yourself tripping like that!"

You don't point out the fact that you're already injured; With the blood–your blood staining his once white haori, you're sure he's already aware. He doesn't tell you he's nervous, he doesn't have to. You're almost sure he's aware of that, too. Your head is pressed to his chest, and you're painfully aware of the speed of his heartbeat. He'd never admit it, of course, but this is the most terrified he's ever been in his life. Every Hashira has had a loved one or a partner get injured. Obanai and Mitsuri worked missions together, often worrying over each other's health, Tengen's wives were all kunoichi, Shinobu lost her sister, Rengoku's partner was clumsy, often cutting themself accidentally during training and earning a worried scolding, it happened a lot. Just... not usually like this. Never like this.

This was going to earn you much more than a worried scolding.

This ended in his arms around your shoulders, gripping so tight his fingers were sure to leave marks, ended in long waves of pain shooting through your body and your heart as Sanemi's voice gets shakier by the minute. It ends with Sanemi getting desperate, watching for his crow, for the Kakushi, for anyone; He's lost far too much already for this to end in your death.

When the Kakushi do get there, he's conflicted. They reach for you, but his arms stay a vice around your body. You're losing blood, the ensemble has to get you help. It's their job to get you somewhere safe, Sanemi knows that better than anyone, but he can't bring himself to do anything, to tell them anything other than,

"Touch him, and I'll fucking skin you."

He wants you to get help more than anything, but his pride, the constant bass drum in his chest tells him it needs to be his own. Sanemi's help. Sanemi has to fix this. He can't let that go, can't let you go. It takes screaming, kicking, shoving, and more members of the Kakushi than they thought to pry you out of Sanemi's grip. Though, when they do, he stays on his knees, haori falling into his lap, hands shaking. For the first time in years, he feels tears brim in his eyes, because they took you away. Because there's nothing he could've done.

"Nothing he could've done," Is all Shinazugawa Sanemi can tell himself, pacing grooves into the lawn of the Butterfly Mansion. He thinks there's too many liquids on his face. Sweat from the fight, water that tried to wash it all off, tears, and the silvery streaks they leave behind, and your blood. The worst one by far. It kills him that he doesn't know if you're okay, doesn't know how much Shinobu can do for you. He can't remember what your body looked like getting slashed at by that demon–he's tried too hard to block it out–which means he doesn't know anything. Not until Shinobu herself is standing in front of him; He didn't hear the doors open.

"San-"

"Is he okay??" Shinobu's eye twitches a little–she hates when people ask that.

"Why don't you go see for yourself?" She asks, through gritted teeth and that smile, the one that seemed permanently ingrained on her features. Sanemi nods, tapping his fingers together. He never fidgeted like that. Or at all. Clearly he was nervous, or picking up on your habits, but God, he hoped it wasn't that. He has to keep himself from throwing the doors open, immediately looking for you. There were other people in the infirmary, some he knew, some he didn't; It never seemed to be empty. But in that moment, all he cared about was finding you. Though, you spot him first. A relieved giggle tells him this, along with a voice he'd know anywhere.

"Sanemi!" He runs to you, tearing up as he realizes for the first time, how badly he took the feeling of your arms around him for granted. He fights the urge to slap you across the face, to scream at you, to beg you to tell him why you'd do this to him, but he can't–you're crying too.

"Oh... oh, lovely," He crumbles, kneeling at the side of your bed and clutching you to his chest like a diary he didn't want anyone to see. He sniffles, letting tears he prays you can't feel fall into your hair. "Goddammit baby, you can't just go and do that to me." His voice cracks at the end, so you know he's crying anyway; He internally thanks you for not saying anything.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I just-" You sniffle into his shoulder, and it breaks his heart. "I wish I could've done more, I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare fuckin' apologize again. It's okay," You're okay. That's all that matters. That's all that's mattered to him since he met you. All he's wanted since then was for you to be okay, and right now, you are. There isn't much more he could ask for. You take the risk though, biting the bait and asking him for just one more thing, as he holds you.

"Sanemi? Closer, please?"

[cerise-on-top]

hiiii!!! i love, love, loveeee your writings!

if it’s fine, I’d like to request Valeria, Kate, Farah, and Price with an s/o who dances folklorico (traditional mexican folk dances) if you can! Im a folklorico dancer so it’d be nice to see how you would personally think these 4 would be lol ^^

Hello! Thank you! That's more than fine, but I had to do some research on it since I've never heard about folklorico before! I hope it's alright still!

Price, Valeria, Farah and Laswell with a Folklorico-Dancer!S/O

Price: He has never heard of folklorico before,but he’s always willing to learn about something new, especially if it’s something relating to you or your heritage. Or just about anything that makes you happy. So naturally, you brought up folklorico at some point and he asked you about it. While he can’t really imagine what it would look like just from your verbal descriptions alone, he does look into it when he has the time, thinking it would be something nice he could dance with you. As soon as he sees the footwork of those men and how they hold their hands behind their backs he’s thoroughly impressed, albeit a bit intimidated. Price would love nothing more than to indulge you in your culture, eat your food, speak your language, dance your dances, but this doesn’t seem like something he could learn overnight. He just knows he’ll topple and fall over if he tries. But nevertheless, he consults you since it does seem really fun. It’s very fast paced and the dresses, the gorgeous dresses, are very colorful. You can teach him if you want, he’s a pretty good student. Although it will take him some time to become your counterpart, he does his best to learn as quickly as possible. At first he will be content with just watching you, though. If you’re a professional dancer then he’ll go to your shows if he can. And if he can’t be there in person then he’ll try his darndest to be able to watch the show afterwards. Folklorico, in his eyes, is so elegant and mesmerizing, he’d be a fool to miss out on such a thing. Will ask you to dance with him every once in a while, he’s not really afraid of making a fool out of himself in front of you, as long as it’s just you.

Valeria: She knows about folklorico. She knows about it very well since it’s part of her culture. If you ask her about it, she’ll claim she knows how to dance. This, however, is complete and utter nonsense, Valeria can’t dance particularly well. Slow dances, yes, but nothing this fast paced. You can ask her to dance with you, she’ll always find an excuse to not do so and watch you instead. Sometimes, if you really insist, she might growl a bit and tell you off before watching you dance on your own anyway. Don’t get me wrong, though, she loves the fact that you can dance folklorico. While she may not be as connected to her culture, seeing you dance does fill her with some form of pride for Mexico. You look absolutely stunning, spinning and tapping away, no one could ever match you and your energy or your beauty. Although Valeria would absolutely love to dance some folklorico with you at some point, she knows she’d just make a fool of herself, so she leaves you alone, for the most part. However, you can count on her to get you the most jaw dropping dresses or suits in the entire country. You will look dapper whenever you’re on stage, that’s for sure. Like Price, she’ll try to go and see your shows when she can, but don’t count on it since she, too, is a very busy woman. Will also look for ways to watch your shows afterwards, and if she can’t then she’ll just have you give her a private show. As mentioned before, seeing you dance like this fills her with some form of pride, so, when you’re done and panting, she might just pull you in for a kiss and tell you just how well you did as you were dancing. Please continue to do so, she absolutely adores it.

Farah: She has never heard about folklorico before, but you can’t particularly blame her either, she spent her entire life in Urzikstan fighting for freedom, so she doesn’t necessarily know too much about the world around her. However, she’s interested as soon as you tell her you’re a folklorico dancer. Like Price, she won’t really be able to imagine what it is you do based on you telling her how you dance, but you can always give her a little demonstration. She’s absolutely blown away by your moves, regardless of whether you’re twirling around in your dress or stepping away in your suit, she loves it. Farah does try to dance with you as well, but be warned, she has no experience in dancing whatsoever since she never had the time to properly learn. So, in the beginning, you’ll both probably just be twirling and spinning around, but at some point she would like to learn about your dance and your culture so she can be a part of it as well. In turn, she’ll teach you about her culture as well since she does love sharing it too. However, Farah is a very quick learner. She’s very quick on her feet and is able to keep up with you sooner rather than later, so at some point you will be dancing together, she’s determined to do so. Although she might not have the time and resources to get you your own suit or dress, she’s more than happy to make do with whatever she has. Farah can’t sew either, though, so she will just be using whatever she has at home. Due to what she does, she likely doesn’t have the time to watch your shows either, not even a rerun. You’re just gonna have to convince her of your capabilities as a dancer in person, what a bummer. Might sometimes mimic your movements as you dance. Not out of malice, but one day she just wants to be as good as you are, that’s all.

Laswell: She’s heard about folklorico as well. In fact, she’s been to cultural festivals all around the world and likely has seen some couples dance it together on stage, even if she might never have really known the proper name for it. But she remembers having seen it before. As soon as you tell her that you know how to dance folklorico, she’s very impressed. It was rather fast paced, something that likely takes quite some time to learn, so she can appreciate your dedication to it. Laswell isn’t the youngest anymore, but she’s still got some moves. While I don’t think she’d be able to dance proper folklorico with you, she will come watch you instead. Another one, who gets you the absolute nicest clothes out there to dance in. Does get a bit jealous when she watches you dance with someone else, but she gets over it fairly quickly since she knows you and her are a thing, not you and the other person. Sometimes she wonders how you don’t get dizzy, but it’s another thing she can admire properly about you. You’re just so beautiful while you’re dancing, plus you look like you’re having fun, and that’s all that matters to her. Will also ask you to dance for her when Laswell’s mind is full and she needs a distraction from it all. It’s just so elegant and it looks like it would be so much fun. Eventually, she’d give in and ask you to teach her a bit. She’s not doing that bad either, though. She, too, has somewhat quick feet, but she also has the determination to learn. Not as good and quick as Farah, but she tries. Loves, loves, loves the fact that you want to share your culture with her, is always more than willing to learn about it. Besides, what’s more beautiful than learning about a culture that isn’t your own? Everything about it is so cool to her, she’ll thank you for introducing her to it more properly.

[deadrayg2mf]

The Gargoyle's Captive (A Deal with a Demon #3) by Katee Robert

Honestly, like, what do I even say at this point that ya'll haven't heard from me about how much I freakin' love Katee Robert and this series. I will keep this one brief for real because if I don't it'll just be like "Oh my god, Ray, shut the fuck up we get it - this book came out three months ago you're late to the party!"

Okay, so aside from it being Katee freakin' Robert, this book is full of enemies to lovers, femdom, grief-consumed protags, and - my favorite, of course - angst. Yeah, did I see the plot twist coming from a mile away? One thousand percent. Did I care? Frick no. Okay, so we're following the same story - deal with a demon, seven years basically married to leader of demon territory, maybe a baby... But this time, it's Grace the monster hunter and Bram the Gargoyle.

Grace is another enjoyable female lead who is a headstrong take-no-shit kinda gal, probably what you would expect from someone who makes a living out of hunting monsters. She's the last of her family and she's really only here for answers because Azazel happens to be the same demon her mother, who disappeared, made a bargain with, and by golly, she is going to get those answers even if it means selling seven years of her life. Bram is traumatized, grief-stricken, lonely, and at this point has the most sad-boy, giving up on life, fuck it energy I've ever seen in a protagonist - and I am so here for it. I eat that shit up. I love the tragics - stories and characters. He's also the last of his family after his entire family was murdered by an outsider his father brought in. He doesn't actually really want to be there but the opportunity and benefits it brings are too good to pass up, especially when you're in the leadership position he is...

I loved the story clearly, and really liked how handling grief was portrayed, no two people will be able to handle it the same even when they are in the same situation. Grace dug her heels in and became even more stalwart and determined while Bram gave in to the grief of loss and resigned himself to an empty life... and even potentially having it purposely ended at the hands of a scrappy little monster hunter in the bath... They are two people coming to terms with events of the past, the shadow of their parents, and suddenly dealing with someone new who they bought at an auction/got auctioned to for the next seven years that they don't necessarily get along with. That's right, they're totally toxic for each other. Don't worry, we're always promising happy endings here :) It's fast paced, there's a lot to get through in 186 pages, but I really think it was done to the best of its ability. Do I wish this was 500 pages? Uh, YEAH, but it is what it is and what it is, is really good. I will admit... it took me a hot minute to slug through obviously. I actually feel a little bad about this review because I was kind of forcing myself to read this. I wasn't in the right headspace and so while objectively I knew I was enjoying it I was also aware that I was, like, not locked in. I am very much intending to reread it when I'm not begrudgingly reading while rotting in bed just because nothing sounds enjoyable.

With that, I swear I am not just pulling shit out of my ass with everything I've told you. I really did enjoy the book, I love the way it's written, I liked the characters, the cover art is amazing, and it's just another great addition to the Deal with a Demon series. I think I'll give it a solid.... 7.9/10 with subject to change in the future :)

Would I read again? Yes, I plan to. Once the pesky ole depression and imminent demise anxiety wear off.

Would I recommend? Of cousre, I'm always recommending Katee Robert... I'm not sure what happens on the day I don't...? Does the world end?

[beekeeperspicnic]

What a nice day to reconceptualise my entire game

Last night I reblogged this lovely post from @inkonice-main talking about Holmes and Watson's relationship as a great love story (whether romantic or platonic), and it's been clanging around in my brain ever since.

Just in case you stumbled across this post randomly, I'm currently making a cosy mystery Sherlock Holmes game set in Sussex, which has Holmes trying to put together a picnic for Watson. My plan is to write them in a close platonic friendship or queerplatonic partnership because that interpretation means a lot to me, but to keep it shipper friendly and leave the possibility open that they are a romantic couple.

The problem I've been toying over for the entire six months of development so far is WHY Holmes has decided to drop everything and make this ultimate picnic for Watson. What's his motivation, dah-ling?

And I've cycled through a few ideas:

He doesn't need a reason, elaborate theatre is how he shows affection. Perhaps true, but that doesn't give much of an emotional base for the game.

It's all sparked off by Watson writing and publishing the Creeping Man, the story with all the "The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar" content. But it never quite flowed for me. If Watson is happy with Holmes in Sussex, why is he writing so discontentedly? It also felt like telling-not-showing for players.

I thought perhaps it could be spurred on by Holmes having a nightmare where he's back on a case everything goes wrong. He realises that both he and Watson are in the twilight of their lives and if he doesn't tell Watson plainly how he feels, he may lose the chance. This is closer to working for me, but I think a dream being a character's primary motivation is silly and lazy, and this anxiety Holmes has doesn't seem reflected in the fact that they're living together happily. To the player it's obvious Watson already knows Holmes loves him, so there's no tension.

Then I read that post, and it all clicked. Because let's look at the Canon: it is a love story, but like most love stories of glorious intensity, things have not always run smoothly.

Holmes has withheld truths. He pretended to be dead for years. He constantly toys with his health and causes Watson pain and anxiety. All the paths Watson laid out for his life have been disrupted by his adoration of this brilliant but challenging man. Years of living together at this frantic, breakneck, head-over-heels pace seem to have taken their toll: Holmes suddenly wants to retreat from the world and take up his beekeeping, and Watson remarries and doesn't follow him, as he needs to live his own life. By His Last Bow, it seems they haven't seen each other for years.

"We heard of you as living the life of a hermit among your bees and your books in a small farm upon the South Downs," says Watson, suggesting he's never visited. But they reconnect, and thankfully the spark between them is still there. War is looming on the horizon, and both fear it may take their lives - "Stand with me here upon the terrace, for it may be the last quiet talk that we shall ever have," says Holmes.

That's where we leave them, looking out over a moonlit sea waiting for the dawn, exchanging words that they fear will be parting ones.

But the reader is left with the hope that perhaps they won't be parted again this time. War can't separate these two, surely? Nothing can.

So. That's where the picnic comes in, as a last coda in this great love story.

The War is over. Holmes and Watson have reunited. Perhaps Watson visits Holmes more often now, widowed once again. And Holmes realises that what both of them need now is to be together.

Except how does he say that, as someone who does not share his innermost thoughts easily?

The picnic represents the one chance that Holmes feels he has to say, I've treated you badly. I've made mistakes. But we can get through them, because we love each other. Let's not be parted ever again. Come and stay with me here.

The picnic isn't just a picnic.

It's a proposal.

So like, no pressure, players. :P

EDIT:

Just to clarify because I think my wording confused some folks - My plan is still to write them in a close platonic friendship or queerplatonic partnership and to keep it shipper friendly and leave the possibility open that they are a romantic couple.

The change is just that in my original storyline Watson had been living with Holmes for years, and now I'm playing with the idea of exploring the picnic being the moment when they commit to living together for the rest of their lives.

[bcbdrums]

Full Disclosure

A Drakgo fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: This next one-shot has a few sources of inspiration. First, the prompt from this list: 2. "If I kiss you, will you shut up?" Prompt was recommended by the legendary "Guest" on AO3 (you know who you are!) who specifically wanted French kissy-face, and the story was inspired in part by @lordwiggyton whose recent Mama Lipsky art has had my mind stirring. I'm also submitting this work to the "Hey, Sweetheart" Valentine's event run by @ficwip. It's not the conventional route perhaps, but within the rules? Pretty sure. And last but not least, it's an answer to @kim-possible-prompts's Valentine's Day prompt! (Have y'all noticed I adore answering prompts? lol.) ALSO this is the first of some birthday gifts I have for the incomparable @gothicthundra. Happy birthday, chaos queen. :) Enjoy!

Full Disclosure

Shego sighed from her perch at the end of the bed, leaning back and re-crossing her legs as she watched Drakken pace and listened to the same worried ramblings for the third time.

"But what if she never forgives me!" he cried as he wrung his hands.

"Dr. D.... We've been through this," Shego said, glancing down to study her nails. "She's jumped across moving train cars for you. Somehow I don't think finding out you've spent the past twenty years attempting world domination is going to come as much of a shock."

"But Shego..." Drakken said, pausing in front of her.

Shego looked up and took stock of her lover's appearance. He had, at her insistence, gone for black slacks instead of his usual Dockers, a tailored cherry-red dress shirt, and a black silk tie that perfectly accented the rest of his attire. And of course, the gold medal he'd received for saving the world hung heavy over his chest.

Shego wished she were the one going out with Drakken that evening, especially considering the calendar date. But this night had been planned for quite some time.

"She's had faith in me my entire life... How can I tell her it was all for nothing?"

"Drakken—"

"I admit it's past time to tell her the truth, but I just can't bear to disappoint her!"

"Drakken—"

"And then I'll never hear the end of it!" Drakken continued, throwing his hands up and resuming his ambling around the bedroom. "Passive-aggressive cards and letters is all I'll get for Christmas now! And lumps of coal instead of home-knitted sweaters!"

Shego stood up from the bed and briskly approached him.

"Drakken—"

"All the years of silence I left between us so she wouldn't figure it out. All those lost years I could have been close to my lonely old mother. That's what her letters will say, now. Have you ever heard that woman start on a guilt trip? She's an absolute master!"

"Drew!"

This finally caused the mad scientist's jaw to snap closed. He stopped mid-stride and whirled around to face her.

"If I kiss you, will you shut up?"

"Hnn?"

Shego didn't wait for an invitation. She snaked her arms around Drakken's neck and pressed in close before he could protest, and was gratified to feel tension leave his shoulders first and his lips a moment after.

She was far gentler with the kiss than with her words, her lips sliding with soft friction against his until they parted and gave her tongue purchase. She felt his soft exhale through his nostrils against her cheek as his fingers found her waist, and she could feel his hum of satisfaction where their chests were pressed together. His tongue was gentle as it slid alongside hers in caress, and he still tasted of cinnamon from his toothpaste.

Warmth blossomed in Shego's chest at his attentive response, and for the moment the dilemma of the present was forgotten. There was only the gentle pressure of noses fitted together, the give and take as their tongues took turns parting supple lips and exploring the heat and texture of one another. Drakken's body melded hot against hers as his hands slid lower, and her fingers rose to tangle his perfectly slicked-back hair.

It was fortuitous perhaps when Drakken pulled back slightly to stroke the outline of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. It was intoxicating, but the faint distance allowed her other senses a chance to process the sound of approaching footsteps. Not in time to leave her lover's embrace, however, before they reached the doorway.

"Hey, Sweetheart— Drew Theodore P. Lipsky!"

It was Shego who moved first, putting a healthy space between them and leaving Drakken blinking and confused for a moment with his lips still parted before he had processed the voice that had spoken.

"M-Mother!" Drakken cried, darting behind Shego instinctively at the sight of his mother's judgmental expression.

"And no ring on her finger yet! For shame!"

Shego's face flushed as she was sure Drakken's was doing as well. That was a topic she definitely did not want to get into right then, and least of all with Drakken's mother who had her own agenda on the matter.

Mrs. Lipsky had opted for nicer attire for the evening as well, choosing a conservative charcoal sheath dress with a floral teal and peach floral sweater and pearls.

"Dr. D.," Shego said quickly, stepping away from the mad scientist and leaving him looking very exposed as he waved at his mother and attempted a weak smile through kiss-swollen lips. "Shouldn't you and your mother hurry to make your reservation on time?"

"Ahh...y-yes. But first," Drakken said, turning and nearly tripping over his feet as he hurried to pick up his mother's gift from the bed. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

The irritated crinkle at the older woman's eyes softened as her frown bloomed into a smile.

"Roses! And chocolate! Oh Drewbie, you shouldn't have!"

"O-Only the best for you, Mother," Drakken said as he presented the gift with a nervous smile.

"Marzipan! My favorite!" Mama Lipsky said after plopping one of the chocolates into her mouth.

"Of course! Now...Shego was right, we'd best get going," Drakken said. He began looking around for his suit coat, and then stopped short when he found Shego holding it up for him, a smirk on her face.

"Aw, she's so thoughtful Drew!" Mama Lipsky said, smiling fondly at Shego as she closed the chocolate box. "Dear, would you mind putting these in water for me until we get back?"

"Sure," Shego replied, smoothing Drakken's jacket over his shoulders.

She received the flowers from the woman a moment later, who squeezed her hand with a grateful smile before turning toward the door. Without the watchful gaze of older generation, Drakken turned worried eyes back upon Shego. All of his fears from the rambling of before were spoken in the inky blue of his irises, and Shego was tempted to give him a shove toward the door as a way of telling him to knock it off. Instead, she leaned in to let her lips graze his ear, speaking so softly she could hardly hear her own voice.

"She'll always have faith in you. Besides, you saved the world. You've accomplished more than she could have ever dreamed. Have some faith in her."

Shego felt again the release of tension from Drakken's frame as she adjusted the medal over his tie. She smirked again when he pulled away, the light of hope having returned to her lover's eyes.

"Coming, Drewbie?"

"Yes...yes, Mother," Drakken said and turned to go, confidence back in his stride.

Shego tilted her head down to smell the flowers as the two left. It was a strange new world they'd found themselves in since the invasion, but, some things would always be constants.

"Now, Drew, on the phone you'd said there was something you wanted to tell me...?"

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 13/03/2024

Nuclear Pomeranian

Season 8 Featured on: Now That's What I Call Quality! 3

Ripped by Half Pixel

Requested by Oetam! (Discord)

I've covered a number of rips featured in Now That's What I Call Quality! 3 already on here, and I maintain that it's likely the best album the channel has yet put out in terms of raw concise quality on offer. Beautiful Dreamer, Initial Deluxe (I've Just Raced on this Course Before) and Owner of a Mahjong Board are all absolute highlights of Season 7, and it feels like the entire SiIvaGunner team came together to truly show the best of the best on the album. Yet beyond featuring classics from the Season that was then wrapping up, Now That's What I Call Quality! 3 also featured a good few rips that had yet to be uploaded to the YouTube channel - that is to say, some of the first-ever rips that you could consider to be part of Season 8. Its in this category that Nuclear Pomeranian finds itself in: the seventh rip of Rhythm Doctor makes an incredible first impression on what to expect from Season 8 in the months to come.

Honestly, it wasn't as if Half Pixel had to prove his prowess in creating these sorts of dense meme medleys: Since way back when I first heard Everybody's Special Course in Season 1, I'd known the guy had an undeniable knack for these sorts of rips. It may be coincidence, but it, Nuclear Pomeranian and Siiva Lining all just have this immense energy and adrenaline to them, a celebratory party atmosphere that never fails to bring a smile to my face. So then, I suppose Nuclear Pomeranian mainly shows just how much Half Pixel has grown as a ripper in those years, how many creative flourishes are added and implemented with complete confidence. The lyrical silliness in the opening is one of my favorite examples: transitioning Infinite's lyrics of "I am the last one that's standing, don't try and stand in my way" into a simple "okay" sound, followed by a response of "and now you're in my way" from Call Me Maybe. That's so fun! That has nothing to do with Rhythm Doctor, or SiIva's own memes, or Season 8 or anything, it's just a little bit of flavor added to the rip by Half Pixel to make it a funnier listen.

It goes through so many phases, yet compared to something like Memey Hell, it feels as if each part featured is allowed room to breathe in isolation from one another. Some of the sources. such as PSY's music, feel like they're subtly in the background almost throughout the whole rip, but segments focusing on just one source at a time feel like they strike such a perfect balance in terms of how long they're featured. The rip will for instance use Bo Burnham's Bezos I for a six second segment to give you just enough time to register the song as both funny and catchy in its context, before using a snappy Among Us sound effect break to transition into an equally-as-long segment using Boulevard of Broken Dreams, repeating the cycle. Much of that is of course owed to the structure of the original Bomb-Sniffing Pomeranian itself, but it's incredibly commendable just how well Half Pixel adapted that frantic, back-and-fourth pacing of the Rhythm Doctor song into such a different format. Very few of the sources, even when focused on as the sole joke for seconds at a time, are left completely unedited: small little quips from other sources, little interjections and pieces will play alongside or over the joke in focus, althewhile remaining completely harmonious.

I realize that a lot of what I'm describing is just the standard procedure on what to think of when creating a meme mashup medley like this in general, but what I'm aiming to say is that Nuclear Pomeranian is one of the best examples of how to do things right across the board. The amount of sources featured span across the channel's entire life, from the aforementioned PSY to appearances from Smooth of 【＝３】e-MUNO Disco (vs. 音MAD AGENT) fame in Season 2, the Season 1 classic Chip the Ripper closing the rip off, the Big Chungus-posting of Season 4 Episode 2 and AIN'T NOTHIN' LIKE A CHUNKY BEAT, the Among Us posting of Season 5 and Among Drip Drop Galaxy, and oh so many more. Yet compared to something like, say, the Season premiere collabs such as Joke-Explainer™ 7000 Fusion Collab and Bramble Blast Collab, the rip doesn't place more emphasis on these nostalgic, well-remembered sources than anything else featured in its vast list of sources. SiIvaGunner classics or not, Half Pixel uses what sounds best and what's funniest at every possible moment to create a rip that works incredibly well even outside the context of the SiIvaGunner channel, as a huge tribute to Rhythm Doctor and the art of ripping itself.

Put concisely - Nuclear Pomeranian is a banger, and was a fantastic showcase of the level of quality that we've now seen many examples of in the last month and a half. The SiIvaGunner team is truly firing on all cylinders, and I'm all here for it.

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

You Don’t Go To Parties-Part 2 | R.C.

Read part 1 here

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: When you and Rafe run into each other at a party after your breakup, neither of you are sure what comes next.

A/N: I’m sorry that this took me literal ages to finish. I’m not quite sure if this is the part 2 that any of you wanted or expected but I hope you love it all the same!

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: drinking, drug use, allusions to panic attacks, overall angst

Word Count: 3.3k

-

“Y/N, please.”

“Sarah, there is no way I’m going to that party.” You throw a pointed look at the girl pacing in front of you.

“Please! Look, you won’t even have to see him.”

“You can’t promise that. He’s literally throwing the party at his house.”

“Okay yes, but it’s also my house, and it’s huge so the odds of running into him are low.”

You just shake your head.

“Maybe it’ll even be good for you. It could bring you some final closure. You could even meet someone new.” She grabs your hands giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes she can muster. “Please, Y/N! If you hate it and you’re miserable I promise we can leave.”

“Fine, but you owe me big time.”

-

If someone had told you last week that you would be going to a party hosted by your ex-boyfriend you wouldn’t have believed them, and yet here you are letting Sarah lead you through the crowd of people in her kitchen. You down the drink she puts in your hand, quickly grabbing another before she can stop you.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Come on, Y/N. You have to at least try to enjoy yourself. Just relax, okay?”

You reluctantly let your friend pull you to the living room to dance, unable to help the giggle that passes your lips when she spins you around and lowers you in a dip. She’s right, of course, and you find yourself having a pretty good time dancing and chatting, but at the back of your mind is always Rafe.

You haven’t been to a party since the breakup, and every aspect of it reminds you of the parties spent by his side. The house is full of memories itself and his friends filling every room don’t help. So you don't hesitate to down drink after drink, in hopes of keeping the painful memories at bay.

Sarah gives you a concerned look after drink five, but you just shake your head. You work at a bar after all, you can handle your alcohol. “I’m fine,” you tell her. “Just having fun.” She doesn’t seem convinced, but you drag her back to the dance floor, cutting her off before she can voice her doubts.

Sarah’s the life of the party, after all this is her world. People keep coming over to say hi and she greets them all happily, introducing you to the ones you don’t know. She spends a particularly long time hyping you up to an old teammate of Topper’s when he comes over to chat. She introduces him as Jake, or maybe Jack, you aren’t entirely sure. He’s pretty cute and nice enough, and it’s clear Sarah is trying to make a connection. You chat with him a bit, mostly using him to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts.

You expected him to get bored and leave after a while, but he sticks by you and Sarah for the rest of the night. The three of you take a round of shots, then head back to the living room to dance for a bit.

Sarah seems to have finally caught up to your level of drunkenness and starts cracking cheesy one-liners left and right. Your sober self would have thought they were the dumbest jokes in the world, but in your intoxicated state they become the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.

You clutch at Sarah’s arms, laughing so hard that you sway sideways on your unsteady feet, and Jake has to catch you. You and Sarah start laughing again at your clumsiness, and he keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as it becomes clear you can’t keep your balance.

“Yo, Rafe!”

Your laugh cuts off abruptly and you stiffen, the sound of his name making you feel suddenly sober. You turn slowly to face the direction of the voice, and come face to face with Rafe. He's almost close enough to touch, eyes locked on you while Topper rambles obliviously in his ear.

Time slows and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off him, taking in every inch of the man who broke your heart. Your gaze trails back to his face, where your eyes lock on his. Wide, beautiful baby blues, with the pupils blown. He’s been using.

The world crashes back into you then, music too loud and lights too bright. You’ve got to get out of there. You push Jake’s hand away, turning quickly and almost stumbling in the process.

“Y/N?” You hear Sarah’s voice but it’s muted and distant, as if she's underwater.

“I can’t be here. I can’t-” You don’t finish the sentence, breath coming fast and shallow. “Get me out of here.”

“Okay. I’ve got you.” Sarah grabs your hand and pulls you behind her, heading for the exit. You stumble out the front door, hands on your knees as you frantically breathe in the cool air.

Jake has seemingly followed the two of you to the driveway. You can hear him mumbling something behind you, but your brain can’t focus on the words.

You cut him off mid sentence. “Look, Jake.”

“It’s Jack.”

“You seem like a really nice guy, but I can’t handle this right now and you do not want to get involved in my shit. You should really just go back inside and find a different girl with far less issues.” You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He nods his head slowly and makes his way back into the house.

Sarah comes to your side, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head in response. “Just take me home. Please.”

-

Two months since the breakup and Rafe hadn’t seen you once. He knew you and Sarah still hung out and she had told him you were doing well. He had to admit, it was impressive how well you’d been avoiding him, considering the small size of the island. The last thing he had expected was to see you standing in the middle of his living room at a party he was throwing.

When Rafe first heard your laugh through the loud music, he thought he was hallucinating and when he turned and saw you standing there, it was like he stopped breathing. He couldn’t even move, just standing frozen in his spot even after you went running out of the room. Topper had tried to say something, but he didn’t even hear it. He just mindlessly walked up to his room, where he stayed until the party ended.

Now the next morning, Rafe can’t stop replaying the scene in his mind. The man’s hand wrapped around your waist, the way your head was thrown back in laughter, and most of all, the panicked and hurt look in your beautiful eyes when they met his. It was the exact same look you had the night you broke up with him, and it hurt just as bad the second time around.

-

The week after the party goes by like a blur. It almost felt like going through your breakup all over again, just going through the motions, but not really being present. You spend the whole week in your bed, drowning in self pity and bittersweet memories.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. You know it’s Sarah, just as it has been every day for the past week, so you just yell from the mound of blankets you’re curled in atop your bed.

“Go away!”

No more than thirty seconds later, you hear the blinds being opened and feel the blankets ripped off your bed.

“Hey!” you complain, pulling them back and snuggling in deeper. You should’ve known better than to give her a key to your apartment all those months ago. Sarah just pulls the blankets off again.

“Nope, up.”

“I don’t want to get up, Sarah. Just leave me be.”

“You’ve been in bed for a week. I know you're upset, but it's time to get up.”

“You say this every day and you have yet to convince me that it’s actually true.”

“I’m serious, Y/N.” Sarah puts her hands on her hips. “Wallowing like this isn’t healthy. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” She sighs before sitting next to you on the bed. “I’m sorry for pushing you to go to the party. I really thought it would be good for you.”

“I know.” Seeing Rafe again had rattled you more than either of you thought it would. “I don’t blame you.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sarah talks again. “You know, you still haven’t told me what made you run out like that. It seems like it was more than just seeing him again.”

You take a steadying breath before rolling over to face her. “It was his eyes. His pupils. He was high again.”

“Oh.” You can tell the statement surprised her, but she tried not to let it show.

“You didn’t know he was using, did you?”

She shakes her head no. “He told me after… everything, that he was going to get clean again, but I guess that hasn’t happened. To be honest, he hasn’t been telling me as much the past couple months as he used to. I wouldn’t have made you go if I had known, I’m really sorry.”

“No, hey.” You sit up, covering her hand with yours. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry. You’ve been so supportive after the break up. I didn’t mean to get in the way of your relationship with your brother.”

“You haven’t. I promise. This is just Rafe’s demon to deal with. There’s only so much I can do if he doesn’t want help.”

You nod.

“Okay!” Sarah jumps up. “Enough of that. You are getting out of bed and we are getting you out of this apartment. It’s time for a girls' day.”

You groan, but don’t protest as she drags you out of bed.

-

You hate to admit it, but the girls’ day was actually going pretty well. Sarah had dragged you to all of her favorite places, her nail salon, the restaurant on the pier, the little boutique with the cutest dresses, and her favorite ice cream shop. Now, the two of you are sitting in the park across the street, trying to finish your ice cream before it melts in the heat.

“Shit!” Sarah jumps up as drops of melted ice cream fall onto her shirt. “Okay, this is getting all over me. I’m gonna run and grab more napkins.” She takes off across the road, swearing as more ice cream stains her clothes. You laugh at her antics and shake your head.

Deciding to give up on the melting cone in your hand, you trek across the park to drop in the trash can. You inspect your clothes for any drops as you turn, causing you to run straight into the person behind you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it was my fault-”

You both stumble over your words, cutting off abruptly when you realize who is standing before you.

“Oh, Rafe. Hi.” You take a step back nervously.

“Hey. Um, sorry.” Rafe removes his hands from where they were placed on your arms to steady you, quickly shoving them in his pockets. “I didn’t- Um, I was just looking for Sarah. Wheezie said she was getting ice cream. I didn’t realize you would be with her. I’m sorry.” He looks around uncomfortably.

“No, it’s okay. Um, she just ran back into the shop to get napkins. I’m sure she’ll be right back.”

He nods and you play with your fingers, both standing there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do.

After an uncomfortable minute, Rafe breaks the silence. “So, I saw you came to the party last week.”

“Oh. Yeah.” That wasn’t what you expected him to say. You decide to avoid the topic of your hasty exit and painful moment that led to it. “Sarah asked me to come. Hope that was okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You're always welcome.” Another beat of silence. “Your boyfriend too.”

That throws you for a loop. “What boyfriend?”

“The guy from the party.” You just give him a confused look. “Jack, right? Friend of Topper’s? I didn’t realize you two were seeing each other.”

“Oh! No, no, I’m not, we’re not.” Rafe visibly relaxes as you explain. “I hardly know him. I thought his name was Jake.”

He chuckles at that and you can’t help but join in. You missed these moments with him. It’s weird feeling so distant from him.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve misread it. To be completely honest with you, I was pretty…” He trails off, not wanting to say the word.

“High?” you offer.

He looks surprised. “You could tell?”

“I know you pretty well, Rafe. I can tell when you’re not all there.”

He nods slowly, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear, but you can tell he means it.

You don’t get a chance to ask him if he’s talking about last week or two months ago, because right then Sarah reappears. She gives you an apologetic look, but you brush it off, stepping away so the two siblings can talk.

-

Your conversation with Rafe has been playing in your head for days. You have no idea what to make of any of it, the said and unsaid. Luckily, you don’t anticipate running into him again any time soon. After two months of avoiding him, what’s a couple more days?

You certainly don’t think he’s going to seek you out, so when you leave the restaurant after a long waitressing shift and see him waiting at your car, you’re shocked to say the least.

He straightens when he sees you coming. “Hey.”

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I knew your shift would be over soon, and I wanted to ask you something.”

It surprises you that he still remembers your schedule after all this time. You can’t imagine what he came all this way to ask you, but it peaks your curiosity.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Rafe looks nervous, fiddling with keys in his hands, eyes not quite reaching your face. You’re not used to seeing him like this, so used to the confident carefree guy you met so many months ago.

“So I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation in the park. There’s so many things I’ve been wanting to say to you, so many things to apologize for.” He takes a breath and clears his throat. “I know I hurt you more than I ever thought possible, but do you think we could ever get back to where we were?”

That’s the last question you expect him to ask, and you take a minute to respond, not quite knowing what to say.

“I- I don’t know, Rafe.”

He nods, disappointed but not surprised by your answer. “Do you think you would consider it, if I got clean again for you?”

You take a deep breath, thinking about your answer. You love Rafe more than you’ve ever loved anyone. You can’t imagine anything better than being with him again. But you also know that it’s not as simple as he wants it to be.

“I think you tried to stay clean for me once already and it wasn’t enough. Not that you didn’t love me, there’s just more to it than that.”

You close the distance between the two of you, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, both of you soaking up the comfort of each other’s presence. His eyes gaze hopefully into yours.

“I think if you are truly going to get clean, it has to be something you do for yourself. I can’t be your reason, Rafe. You have to want this for yourself or it’ll never last.”

Rafe looks crestfallen at your words. You know it’s not what he wants you to say, but you also know it’s the truth. He reluctantly pulls your hand away from his face, giving it a squeeze before returning it to your side.

“I understand.” He gives you a small smile. “And thank you.”

You nod back, unable to say anything more in fear that you’ll begin to cry, and he turns away, walking back to his car.

When he pulls out of the parking spot, you climb into the safety of your car and let the tears fall. You hope with every fiber of your being that he finds a reason within himself to get clean, and you wish you could be by his side in the process, but you know you know it’s not possible.

-

“Hey, Sarah? Are you here?”

Rafe knocks on the door to his sister's bedroom. A minute later she pulls open the door, a concerned look appearing on her face when she sees his serious one.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I talked to Y/N earlier. I want to get clean, for good this time. Will you help me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I will.” Sarah pulls her brother into a hug. “I’ll be here the whole time. I’m really proud of you.”

Rafe can’t help the tears that fall at her words, squeezing her a little tighter. “Thank you.”

-

It’s been over a month since you last saw Rafe. The day after your conversation outside the restaurant, you got a call from Sarah. She told you that Rafe made a decision to get clean, and that she had helped him find an inpatient rehab facility on the mainland.

You were so happy for him, still are. You know how tough the decision to go to rehab must’ve been for him. You can’t imagine what Ward had to say to his son about it.

Taking your advice to heart, Rafe hasn’t attempted to contact you during his treatment. Sarah gives you frequent updates on his progress when you hang out, giving you peace of mind that he was doing well.

You try your best not to think about Rafe too much, but with Sarah out of town this week to visit him, you can’t control your wandering mind. As you drag yourself through the motions of work, making drink after drink for rowdy customers, you wonder what he’s doing right now.

When you see a tall figure approach the bar, you think you must be hallucinating, the long day catching up to you. There’s no way it’s actually Rafe standing in front of you.

“Hey, darlin’.” He grins at you, and your mind flashes back to nearly ten months ago when the two of you were standing in the exact same spots.

“Rafe,” you breathe out, a smile growing on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m back.”

“You’re back. For good?”

“For good.”

You beam, pushing yourself up and over the bar to throw your arms around him. You hold him tightly for a minute before pulling away. “When did you get back?”

“Just now. This is the first place I came. I had to see you. I’m clean, Y/N. For good this time.” Rafe looks down at you, eyes so filled with love and pride you could cry.

“I have a very important question for you.” He leans closer to you, lowering his voice. “Will you go on a date with me, please?”

You reach up, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck before crashing your lips against his. Rafe holds you close, fitting himself to you as though he never left. You let yourself melt into the kiss, taking in his presence, his comfort, his touch. After a second peck, you pull away slightly to answer his question.

“Yes, I would love to go on a date with you.”

-

Writing masterlist

Tagging those of you who asked for a part 2: @beautifulvoidwinner @icanfixhimclub @proactivetypaperson @holy-macncheese-balls

[spockandawe]

Binderary! I already spoiled how this went last night, but now let's review how it went with slightly nicer words and slightly nicer pictures. And, as a special treat at the end, I even have a spreadsheet.

Last winter, I expressed a vague desire to do a speed test, and see if I could sustain a pace of a book per day for an entire month. Text harvesting, typesetting, everything. This was at the stage where backing books was a terrifying leap of faith rather than a mildly tedious chore, and I'd never tried leather. I had a cricut, but had been too nervous to use it yet. And I did it! In fact, in pursuit of nice round numbers, I hit 30! I didn't realize, but the month wrapped right around my one year anniversary of starting bookbinding, and those projects landed me somewhere in the 130s of total books bound (my tracking spreadsheet has gaps and also needs a revamp).

This year, I had progressed a lot. I had gotten much more ambitious with my projects and was a MUCH better typesetter. I was confident I could hit exceed thirty, so instead I thought I would see how quickly I could do it. This was a fantastic plan, because work had me so exhausted and strung out that I accidentally started february a day early. Doing great. I pushed on so I wouldn't get an artificial rest and set my deadline at the 27th. Then.... in 13 days I hit 28, and all it took was one joking poke, asking if I thought I could average two books per day. It sank in. My brain ADORES ridiculous artificial conditions. I just Had to do it. I was emotionally invested. Anyways! I'm flirting with genuine burnout, but I DID IT, BABY. Last night I hit sixty!

SIXTY BOOKS! Five in leather! One in denim! One in velvet! Two edge marbled! One over a thousand pages! Three cnovels! All but one book cover done with my existing stash of paper, fabric, and leather! That one exception was tian ya ke where I knew which fabric I wanted, and I had precut pieces in my stash, but I wanted to fussy cut alignment on the fabric so I went out to buy more, hahaha

I did ease up my initial self-imposed rules a little, just because like forty books in, the concept of STORIES stopped meaning anything. I went hilariousuly numb. It's like semantic satiation, but for a concept. Stories? Never heard of em in my life. So when fics has multiple authors I wanted to gift them to, I made multiples and each counted as a separate book. Other books here were anthologies of a couple dozen stories, counted as one book. So I didn't stress it. I am legit more burned out than I wanted to be, I wasn't going to find EXTRA unnecessary reasons to push and make it worse. This was a fantastic achievement, and I'm really so proud of myself right now. My last svsss was book 201, and these are 202-261. This is just under a quarter of the books I've ever bound. I am EXTREMELY proud of this.

Now for dessert. SPREADSHEET. I'm redacting all the books and authors, because some of these are gifts and if i do decide to fully spoil the surprise, I'm at least going to do it with individual glamour shots. For now, this is what we've got. Please note the right three columns, where I tracked the total numbers of stories, words, and pages in here. Mistakenly saving the villain (part two) is the one that counts as 0 stories because it's split across two volumes, but everything else should make sense, I think. I did PRETTY DARN GOOD

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I love to see my biases get the BB 1s, but when one starts making that their goal, hmm that kind of disconnects me from them as an artist.

I won't say more. I just wish artists I stan placed more focus on the art. Let charts happen naturally.

You're blog isn't like the blind fandom, so I am saying this here.

It's not hard to see through things. Chapter 2 has been interesting so far. I am not making any opinions based of things that are happening, but if it becomes a pattern with the artist, well... that's a problem.

Anon, we both know who were're talking about, lol. I'm gonna use the names, for the sake of making it easier for me to write a response.

A few weeks ago, I was watching this documentary about Wham. Some light entertainment for me initially, but it did offer me the chance for a fresh perspective. I don't exactly remember the details, but they've reached a point in which George Michael wanted to have 4 songs to reach number 1 on some chart, the fourth being Last Christmas. He was a bit obsessed with this and he also wanted to be a bigger artist. In later archival interviews, Michael actually mentions it was his ego as an artist because he knew he could. And he did, he outgrew the boyish band and the situation was almost ideal because Andrew, his bandmate, also knew that. It also meant getting away from their carefully constructed image, the object of desire for teenagers and women everywhere. For George, it was also about stepping away from performing a specific type of heteronormativity that can be found in boy bands. It never crossed my mind while watching it that his ego is too big, or why is he so obsessed with the charts. Maybe because it was all in the past and I've seen what the future would hold for him. Or that when I heard him talk about what he wants to achieve and his inner struggle, there was sincerity there and also that drive that only someone really young can have when they believe they can do anything.

I've read Jungkook's Weverse interview and listened to what he had to say during the Seven promotions. And while there may be some comparisons to be made to how George Michael came across when talking about his musical career, there were also some differences.

I'm glad to see Jungkook being more confident. I remember some of the things he used to say in the past, about his self worth, a lack of confidence and meaning outside the group. That wasn't healthy. And to hear him now, especially on Suchwita, it's a 180° change. But in his case, there's a very fine line between being confident and becoming cocky. And that's not a good look. It's almost like he's trying to project an image of a new Jungkook but one that is still in the works and not all parts fit perfectly together. He's going through a transformation ever since the hiatus, which I expected. It was about having to adapt to a different pace, life after 10 years of being part of a group. Jungkook was always trying to find his identity and this single is only one step in that journey.

But that doesn't mean that I as a fan and as a person, have to like it. If it doesn't match with what I'm looking for in the artists that I'm interested in, then so be it. I will talk about it, but I'll also not follow that person's musical career anymore. If I don't like the artistic direction and I don't like this overconfident, slighly exaggerated bravado, then that's it.

It's also impossible to not make a comparison to Jimin. Not for some dick measuring contest (it's what pjms and jjks are doing), but because there is room and justification for it. Both are from the same kpop group, both have embarked on a solo career and both chose a more mainstream pop music, as opposed to their older bandmates. And both got that BB 1. And what we can compare is song quality, artist reaction and how the company's response came across into fan spaces.

In terms of the songs, I could write entire essays because at the end of the day, it wouldn't matter. It's all subjective. There is no rule that says a number one song should be about some personal experience, or the singer should have writing credits on it. And I also can't take away my subjectivity. I will chose Like Crazy over a song that not only sounds like a Bieber tune from years ago, but also has lyrics as if they were written by the boys from Larry Clark's Kids.

As to the reaction, Jimin did exactly what I expected him to do. He was humble, grateful and emotional and we saw that when he turned on the livestream. It's what makes him who he is and how he always behaves. As opposed to that, Jungkook wanted to be appear cool. And for what? Especially when later he said how excited he actually was but he refrained from expressing that. Where's the authenticity that he seeks so much through his livestreams? Because he released a song about sex for which he never officially performed live the explicit version, that means that the attitude should match that? I know the next day he was live and he was really nice. But that entire event is tainted in my mind with this almost expectation and confidence that he'll get that no. 1 and after he got the western validation, they decided to remember there's fans at home too and went to Inkigayo.

Which leads me to the last point that shows the obvious bias and preference that cannot simply be denied when it comes to BH. It's even more obvious because the entire BTS brand was that there are no favorites, which is not the same strategy as with other companies and groups. And now, all of a sudden, there is. It's great that BH celebrates an artist's success and they can immediately put on a show. But it doesn't justify how the first one to have the achievement was ignored. I have to admit, I was happy when Jimin got his no. 1 because I thought it only meant more promotions, more Jimin, more of everything. Just to be left utterly confused.

I've put that all in the past and I really try not to get too emotionally involved because as an individual, it has no bearing on my personal life and it doesn't have that many negative effects on my fan engagement.

I side eye Jungkook for how he presents himself in official promotions, but then he goes live and all of a sudden, it's the Jungkook that I'm used to. The guy who is a dork and funny and grateful to his fans. The one who cries hearing fan songs and who still beats himself up for hours because he messed up a song. I do criticize some of his actions and statements, but I'm not slandering him. The guy seems like a genuinely nice person and I still like him. He's still one of my biases for many reasons. But me having this reaction to content catered specifically for fans to create a more intimate connection is something BH was always good at. We only have to look at all the BTS footage out there. They've perfected the way in which personality comes first a lot of the times. It's what draws fans in (aside from music) and what keeps them interested. I'm part of that.

I'm convinced that it's most likely that a Jungkook fan or army or whoever disagrees with me, will read all this and believe I hate Jungkook. Which would be a shame because all I'm trying to do is explain how complex this situation is. It's never as black and white as solo stans would like everyone to believe and it's not a debate that can be generalized and tossed aside as solo talk by the ot7 chorus. I'm sure there are a lot of reasonable people in this fandom still who are able to have more than one thought in their head and see that only through a naunced discussion we can look at facts, see what's an exaggeration and what's false. To be able to distinguish between facts and personal opinion and also to admit that. That's not possible if we're not looking at these people as complex beings, instead of victims and villains.