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redroomreflections · 16 hours ago

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With The Roses - Her Best Secret 2

1950s Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and R are having an affair. - they get to spend a night together

Note: I wrote this after watching Mother's Instinct with Anne Hathway and Jessica Chastain. I needed to make it gay. I don't know what this is truly but it's here.

Warnings: Smut and fluff and angst - there's a bit of panic =)

w/c: 7k

The sun was high, and the air was humid as you walked down the street toward your neighbor's house. Claire was having a girl's day with your mother, and Sam and Steve were away on one of their fishing trips. The house felt too big and quiet, so your feet naturally led you to Natasha’s. The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks. There she was, Natasha Romanoff, tending to her rose garden in the front yard, utterly absorbed in her work. She was sporting a crisp white blouse tucked into her black slacks. A sun visor perched on her head as she leaned down to inspect a blooming rose. She snipped away at the stems with small pruning shears.

You didn't call out to her immediately, enjoying the rare moment of seeing her so at peace. Her hair was tied back into a neat bun, with a few loose strands sticking to the nape of her neck with sweat. She hummed softly, a tune you couldn't quite place, as she moved to the next bush.

"Staring's rude, you know," She finally said, without even turning around.

"Well, I'm just enjoying the view," You said without thinking. Natasha smirked, though you couldn't see her face. "The roses are beautiful."

Natasha straightened up, turning to face you with an amused expression. Her cheeks were flushed, likely from the heat, and a faint sheen of sweat was on her brow. Even in the humid air, she looked as effortlessly composed as ever.

“They are,” she agreed, arching an eyebrow. “Though I have a feeling that’s not all you were looking at.”

You felt your face heat up, and you tried to play it off with a laugh. “Guilty as charged. But really, the roses are stunning.”

She smirked, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Nice save.”

You stepped closer, leaning slightly against her yard's white picket fence. “You’ve got quite the green thumb, huh? I don’t know how you keep them alive in this heat.”

Natasha shrugged, slipping off her gloves and tossing them into her wicker basket. “Patience. A little care goes a long way.” Her gaze flicked over to you. “Kind of like friendships.”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Is that your subtle way of telling me I don’t visit enough?”

She chuckled, pulling the sun visor off her head and running a hand over her hair. “Maybe. But you’re here now, and I’ll take what I can get.”

“Well, I was feeling lonely,” you admitted, looking down at your feet for a moment before glancing back up at her. “Claire’s with my mother today. They've gone down to do a little shopping and to get tea."

Natasha’s expression softened. She gestured toward her house with a nod of her head. “Come on inside. I just made some lemonade. The perfect excuse to take a break from this heat.”

She turned and headed toward the front porch. You followed behind her, admiring the way her slacks hugged her shapely legs and backside. Your mind drifted to the first time you had seen her in her pants. You had been unable to stop your eyes from trailing over her body, her curves barely contained by her tight clothes. Natasha was a modern woman. She was everything you wished you could be. Not too long ago, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to be with her or be her.

In the kitchen, Natasha handed you a glass of lemonade, the ice clinking as it settled. You murmured a quiet “thanks” before taking a sip. The tartness was perfectly balanced with sweetness, and it helped you cool down. Natasha leaned against the counter, her gaze casually following yours as you scanned the room.

It was quiet there too. Your attention snagged on the stack of books on the table. The covers were worn, and the spines creased from countless reads. Titles like East of Eden by John Steinbeck, Peyton Place by Grace Metalious, and The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger caught your eye.

“You read a lot,” you said, gesturing toward the books as you set your glass on a coaster.

Natasha followed your gaze and smiled. “Guilty as charged. It’s how I unwind.”

You picked up East of Eden, running your fingers over the aged cover. “These are good choices. Heavy, but good.”

“I like a story that makes me think,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “But I also like a little drama. Something juicy enough to make me forget about the world for a while.”

“Peyton Place fits that bill,” you quipped, flipping through its pages.

Natasha chuckled, her voice warm and rich. “It does. Small-town secrets and scandal? What’s not to love?”

You glanced up, catching her watching you with a soft smile. Her red hair was coming loose from the bun, a few strands framing her face. Her tight white blouse clung to her form, and you could not resist letting your gaze linger for a moment longer than it should.

Natasha noticed—of course, she saw—but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she walked over, brushing past you to pick up another book from the pile. Her perfume lingered, a mix of roses and something earthy, grounding.

“You should borrow one,” she offered, holding the book out to you. “Unless you’re more of a magazine person.”

You smirked, taking the book from her hands. “I think I can handle a real novel, thank you very much.”

Natasha held up her hands in surrender, chuckling. "Alright, I’ll behave."

You glanced at the book she’d handed you, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. Your fingers traced the embossed title on the cover, appreciating the texture of the paper.

"What a striking title," you murmured. "You do have an eye for fine books, Nat."

She smiled, her green eyes sparkling. "It’s a favorite of mine. You’d enjoy it, I think."

"How’s little Claire-bear?" Natasha asked, shifting the conversation with ease.

"She’s quite the spitfire," you replied, unable to hold back a smile. "Though she’s been picking up words, I’d rather she didn’t. I told her I’d wash her mouth with soap if she tried them again."

Natasha chuckled, her laugh as soft as the breeze. "Children do have a way of testing boundaries. I imagine Sam isn’t much help with discipline."

You rolled your eyes, though your tone was fond. "He’s utterly hopeless. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger. ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ and all that."

"Well," Natasha said, raising a brow, "it sounds like you’ve your hands full."

You hesitated, tracing the condensation on your lemonade glass. "I’ve been glancing at the classifieds lately," you admitted your voice a touch hesitant.

Natasha leaned forward slightly. "Oh? Are you considering a position somewhere?"

"Yes, though Sam doesn’t see the point. He keeps saying we’re managing fine, but it’s not about the money. I just... I feel as though I need something of my own."

Natasha frowned, her lips pressing together briefly. "And what’s his argument, exactly?"

You sighed. "It’s still the 1950s, Nat. No matter how modern things are becoming, people expect women to keep the house running while their husbands provide. It’s not as though I don’t understand it—it’s just..."

"It’s just not what you want," Natasha finished for you gently.

You nodded, the tension easing slightly under her understanding gaze.

"You deserve more," Natasha said firmly. "If there’s one thing I know, it’s that a woman who follows her heart is never truly out of step with the times."

You chuckled, her words both comforting and inspiring. "Thanks, Nat. You always know what to say."

"Anytime," she replied with a warm smile. "If Sam needs a nudge in the right direction, just say the word."

"Do I seem ungrateful?" You questioned. "Sam provides well; he is good to me, and I have everything a woman could ask for."

"Except the right to choose for yourself," Natasha remarked.

"Yes," you sighed. "I can't explain it, but something is missing. Like a piece of myself that I've yet to find."

Natasha hummed, her eyes scanning over your features. You held her gaze for a moment before shifting the conversation.

"You know," you began, tilting your head, "you never talk about you and Steve."

Natasha’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by your remark. She recovered quickly, though, leaning back in her chair with a shrug. "There’s not much to say."

"Nat," you said pointedly, giving her a look. "That’s not true, and you know it. You’re always checking in on me, listening to my endless rants, offering advice, but you never let me return the favor."

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I don’t mean to keep things from you. It’s just complicated."

"That’s not an excuse," you countered gently. "You’re my friend, Nat. I care about you, just like you care about me. Why not let me in for once?"

She hesitated, her fingers brushing against the rim of her glass. "Steve’s a good man," she said finally, her voice measured. "But sometimes... sometimes I wonder if being with me is best for him."

You frowned, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her tone. "Why would you think that? Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Natasha let out a soft laugh, though it was filled with bitterness. "I’m not exactly the ideal woman, am I? I’ve got too many rough edges and too much baggage. Steve deserves someone uncomplicated, someone who fits neatly into his world. Someone feminine. I'm not a homemaker. I can't cook but a few dishes. The roses are the only thing I can keep alive."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Natasha shifted, the weight of the conversation settling between you both. She looked down at her glass, her fingers tapping lightly against the rim. Her lips parted as if she was about to say something but quickly closed again, unsure of how to continue.

"He's lucky to have you as a wife," you said, trying to break the tension. "You're smart, witty, and a great listener. You've got the sharpest tongue and a killer sense of style. Steve couldn't have asked for a better match."

"It's not the same," she insisted, her eyes meeting yours. "He doesn't need someone like me. He needs a woman to run a household and keep his parents happy. Someone who doesn't enjoy sex with women."

You blinked, startled by the last bit. Natasha was staring at you, her expression guarded. You felt the sudden urge to reach out and reassure her, but you didn't know how.

"I'm not sure what you mean," you said carefully. "Are you saying that you and Steve don't—"

"No," Natasha interrupted. "I'm not saying that. But our sex life is... complicated. I enjoy sex with him, but I also enjoy sex with other women. It's not something he can understand."

Your cheeks flushed as her words sunk in. The air seemed to crackle between you both, charged with tension. Natasha was still watching you, waiting for your reaction. You didn't know what to say. You'd never given much thought to other women before her.

"The postman is here," Natasha said, suddenly standing and heading to the window. It was her way of pulling away from the conversation. She tended to do that a lot. "Let's see if we've gotten anything interesting today."

She didn't wait for your reply before stepping outside, the screen door shutting behind her. You watched her walk down the front steps, her posture perfectly poised. She spoke to the postman briefly before heading back toward the house, a stack of envelopes in hand. You stood, clearing your throat as she came inside.

"Let's see," Natasha murmured, sorting through the mail. "Bills, bills, more bills... oh, and this must be the latest copy of Vogue."

She pulled out a magazine, its cover featuring a stunning model wearing an elegant evening gown. You glanced at the cover, admiring the sleek design.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who loves fashion," you teased, giving her a knowing smile. She stacked the mail on the foyer table.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good," Natasha said, a faint smile curving her lips.

You hesitated, the words spilling from your lips. "Do you want to go out?"

Natasha raised a brow, surprised by your suggestion. "Like a date?"

"Yeah," you said, shrugging. "We could get a bite to eat or go dancing."

"Oh, honey," Natasha said with a soft chuckle, leaning against the table's edge as she folded her arms. "You know it can’t be a date."

"I know," you said quickly, feeling a slight flush creep up your cheeks. "I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought..." You trailed off, fumbling for the words. "Well, I just thought maybe we could spend some time together. But if it’s too much, forget I said anything."

Natasha’s smile softened, her green eyes warm. "Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth," she said lightly. "I didn’t say no. I just think stepping out together might turn a few heads. Folks around here love a bit of gossip."

"True enough," you said with a small laugh, nodding in agreement. "The neighborhood grapevine’s quicker than a telephone line."

"Exactly," Natasha said, her tone playful but with a hint of caution. She paused for a moment, tilting her head thoughtfully. "But who says we can’t make a night of it here? I’ve got a good bottle of wine in the kitchen and more records than I can count. No need for all the hullabaloo."

You raised a brow, your lips curving into a smile. "So, you’d rather keep me hidden in your house than be seen with me in public?"

Natasha smirked, grabbing the stack of mail and heading toward the kitchen. "Something like that. Besides, I think you’d enjoy the songs I’ve been spinning lately."

"Oh, now I’m curious," you teased, following her. "What kind of tunes are we talking about?"

"Only the best," Natasha replied, glancing over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eye. "But you’ll have to stick around to find out."

"Fair enough," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you. Spending a quiet evening with Natasha, just the two of you, felt more inviting than any night out.

********

Hours later, you found yourself back at Natasha’s house, taking note of the sun setting as your cue. You’d taken your time getting ready, selecting an outfit that was comfortable and flattering. It wasn’t overly fussy—Natasha would never expect that—but you wanted to look your best for her.

You’d even dabbed on your favorite shade of lipstick, which always made you feel more confident. And for good measure, you pinned your hair up, remembering how Natasha once mentioned how much she liked the style on you. Her words had stayed with you, playing on repeat in the quieter corners of your mind.

As you climbed the steps to her porch, the soft glow of light spilling through the windows made the house feel welcoming, almost magical in the dusk. You smoothed your skirt one last time and knocked, your heart picking up a rhythm that felt both ridiculous and exhilarating.

When the door opened, Natasha stood in a simple yet elegant outfit—a soft sweater and slacks that looked effortlessly chic. She gave you a once-over, her lips curving into a small, approving smile.

"You clean up nice," she said, stepping aside to let you in.

"You don’t look so bad yourself," you quipped, though your tone betrayed how much you meant it.

The house smelled faintly of roses, and the faint crackle of a record player filled the air with a familiar melody. Natasha led you into the living room, where a small table had been set with two glasses and the bottle of wine she’d mentioned earlier.

"You didn’t have to go to so much trouble," you said, taking it all in.

"It’s not trouble," she replied, her voice warm. "I just figured if we’re staying in, we might as well make it nice."

You couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a little flutter in your chest. Natasha always had a way of making the simplest moments feel extraordinary.

"Here," she said, holding up the bottle. "I think it's best to start with a toast."

She poured the wine, and you each took a glass, clinking them together before taking a sip. The wine was smooth and rich, warming your throat as you swallowed.

"Good choice," you murmured, admiring the deep red color.

"Only the best," she repeated, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"So," you said, glancing around the room. "What song did you have in mind?"

"Ah," Natasha said, nodding. "Let me put on the record, and you'll see."

She crossed the room, and as the music began to play, your eyes widened.

"Oh, I love this one," you exclaimed. "Billie Holiday is a gem!"

Natasha smiled, the look in her eyes softening as the music filled the room. "She's a favorite of mine. This particular song always reminds me of a dear friend. A girl, actually. We used to dance together when we were younger."

Her voice was full of affection, and you imagined a young Natasha swept up in the arms of a girl, their bodies pressed close as they moved together to the music. You swallowed, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy in your belly.

"Did she mean a lot to you?" You asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Natasha laughed, her eyes sparkling. "We had some fun times. Truthfully, she was always a bit too wild for my taste."

"Oh," You nodded.

"Are you jealous?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. "Just surprised.”

Natasha grinned, her lips parting slightly as if she was going to say something, but instead, she walked over and held out her hand.

"Dance with me."

You stared at her, surprised. You didn't know what to say, and your heart was racing.

"Dance with me," Natasha repeated, her voice softer now.

Slowly, you took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. She drew you close, wrapping her arm around your waist, and you followed her lead. Your bodies swayed to the music, the rhythm guiding you both. You and Natasha had never danced this close before. You'd never had this moment of intimacy with her. All of your meetings before this were guided by hurriedness and practicality. There was always a purpose—a reason—for your time together, whether it was helping with her garden, sharing a quick cup of coffee, or catching up about your families. But this moment was different. There was no rush, no task to complete, no excuse to look away.

The world outside her cozy living room slowly faded, leaving just the two of you. Natasha’s hand rested firmly but tenderly against the small of your back, her touch grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

"You’re a natural," she murmured, her breath brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft laugh, a little embarrassed but unable to tear your gaze away from her. "I’m just following your lead."

Her lips twitched into a faint smile that softened her typically sharp features. "You make it look effortless."

You couldn’t tell if she was talking about the dancing or something else entirely, but the weight of her words wrapped around you just the same. The space between you was almost nonexistent now, and you were hyper-aware of every place her body met yours—the press of her breasts against yours, the warmth of her breath, the brush of her thighs against yours. You knew it was wrong to feel this way, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt.

You couldn’t deny how much you wanted her.

As the song ended, you remained close, neither willing to break the spell.

"This is nice," Natasha muttered. "Being here with you like this."

You hummed in agreement, her words sending a shiver down your spine.

"I can't believe you've been here this long and I haven't kissed you," She said.

"Natasha," you whispered.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Kiss me."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Her lips met yours, her kiss tender and firm, and you melted into her. It was unlike any other kiss you'd experienced, and you wanted more. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss, and she responded in kind, her tongue meeting yours in a slow, languid rhythm.

You were lost in the sensation, the taste of her, the scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin. You couldn't think straight. Your whole body was buzzing with desire, and the only thing you could focus on was her.

"You always taste so sweet,"

"Mmm, it's just my lipstick," you said with a soft laugh.

"It's more than that," she countered, her fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. "It's you."

Her words made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel yourself getting flushed.

"Nat," You murmured.

"Yes?" She asked, her gaze locking with yours.

"I love being here with you.”

Her expression shifted, a mix of emotions playing across her face. Surprise, desire, and something else, something softer. Somehow, she figured that’s not what you were going to say.

"I love being here with you too.”

And with that, she captured your lips in another searing kiss. You both knew there was no turning back now. You were each other's, and nothing could ever change that.

"We haven’t had dinner," She whispered. "I cooked for you. Um, brisket. It's in the oven."

"It's perfect," you breathed, the two of you stumbling to the couch. "Everything's perfect."

"Well," Natasha said, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Take a compliment," you replied, a playful edge in your voice.

She smiled, leaning in to capture your lips once more. As the kisses grew heated, her hands began exploring your body, her touch igniting a fire within you. You were burning up with need; she was the only thing to quench the flames.

You couldn't resist reaching for her, pulling her close as your kisses became desperate and hungry. The heat between you was undeniable, and you were both lost in the moment.

"Can I touch you here?" Natasha asked as her hand raised to rest along your breast. It was an interesting question, considering she'd touched you in far worse places. You nodded.

She was careful and gentle, as if afraid to scare you away.

"Don't stop," You said, breathless, as she cupped your breast and rolled your nipple between her fingers.

You could feel yourself getting wet, the ache between your legs growing more intense. Natasha was relentless, her touch firm but tender, and you were drowning in the sensations.

"Please, Nat," you begged, not sure what exactly you were asking for, but you needed her more than anything.

"Shhh," She cooed. "Let me take care of you."

She began kissing down your neck, her tongue tracing the line of your collarbone. You gasped, your body responding to her touch as if it was made for her.

"I'm glad you wore a dress tonight," She said, her voice low and husky. "It makes things so much easier."

Before you could respond, she was lifting your skirt, exposing your thighs. She traced a path with her fingers, slowly making her way up. She took note of your lack of stockings and garter.

"Oh, no undergarments?" She teased. "You naughty thing."

Your face was hot as she slid her hand between your legs, her fingers teasing at your entrance. You couldn't hold back a moan, the pleasure too intense.

"Is this okay?" She asked, her touch light and deliberate.

"Yes," You gasped, your hips rocking against her hand.

She bit her lip, watching your facial expressions and chest heaving.

"I want to try something," She bit her lip. "If you're okay with it."

"Anything," You moaned.

She smiled and removed her fingers, placing them in her mouth. You could only stare, transfixed, as she licked them clean.

"You taste even sweeter down here," she said, her tone full of mischief. She dropped to her knees and, without another word, buried her face between your legs.

"Oh," you whimpered, feeling her tongue lick a long stripe over your sex. She hummed against your skin, sending vibrations through you.

"You like that?" She asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

"Yes," You breathed, barely able to form the word. Based on your responses, she could tell this was your first experience with a person's mouth there.

She was unrelenting, her tongue finding every spot that made you cry out and then some. The sounds coming from her were positively sinful, and they only added to the pleasure building within you. You were lost in the feeling, unable to do anything but let go and surrender to the waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

Your orgasm hit you hard, and you cried out, gripping the cushions beneath you. Natasha's grip tightened on your thighs as she helped you ride out the aftershocks.

"How was that?" She asked, a self-satisfied grin on her face.

You could only stare at her, completely speechless.

"That good, huh?" She chuckled, licking her lips.

"More," You demanded, your voice hoarse.

Natasha was happy to oblige until a distinct smell came into the air.

"Something's burning," You said, alarmed.

"Shit," Natasha exclaimed, leaping up and running toward the kitchen.

You followed her, quickly taking the pan out of the oven and opening a window.

"Damn it," Natasha cursed, looking down at the charred brisket. "I was so distracted, I forgot about dinner."

"It's alright," You reassured her. "The important thing is that we're together."

She smiled, the expression warming her features. "I couldn't agree more."

"We should eat something," You said.

"I'm not sure there's anything edible left," she joked.

"I can make some sandwiches," you suggested, not wanting the night to end. You looked over at Natasha's face. Her lipstick was smudged, and her hair was a mess. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"What?" Natasha asked, looking at you.

"Nothing," you said, grinning. You reached across you to wipe her mouth. "Was it enjoyable for you to do that? It seemed awfully one-sided."

Natasha blushed. "I enjoyed it."

You gave her a coy look, feeling brave.

"Do you want me to... um... return the favor?"

Natasha swallowed hard, her gaze locked on yours. You could see the desire burning in her eyes. She leaned forward to kiss you, but you hesitated.

"What?"

"Is it proper for us to kiss after?" You asked. "I mean, you did just..."

Natasha grinned, shaking her head. "Nothing about what we did is proper. "

"Then why do we bother doing it?" You asked.

"Because it's fun," Natasha replied, her voice low and seductive. "And because I'm selfish. I want to see how far we can go before the neighbors start to gossip."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, your heart racing at her boldness. You leaned in and kissed her, the taste of you on her lips sending a thrill through you.

"To the bedroom," She said, standing and pulling you with her.

"But what about the sandwiches?"

"Screw the sandwiches," Natasha said, her expression dark with desire. "I want to fuck you."

You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, and a rush of heat flooded your core.

"Then take me," you breathed, wanting her more than anything.

The two of you made your way to her room, an unfamiliar room. You'd never been in her bedroom before. There was no reason to be, considering. She was a very private person. But now, you were both ready to take this relationship to the next level.

Once inside, she wasted no time in pulling you close, her hands exploring your body as she kissed you deeply. You could feel her urgency, her need, and it fueled your own.

"Let me undress you," she murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

"Natasha, let me spoil you," you insisted, wanting to repay the favor. "You deserve."

She didn't protest this time. Instead, she simply nodded, a small smile curving her lips. You stepped back, allowing her to watch as you slowly stripped off your dress.

"Beautiful," she breathed, her gaze lingering on your bare breasts.

You blushed, feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny.

"Don't be shy," she said, her tone soothing. "You're perfect."

You couldn't help but smile at her praise, and you were suddenly filled with renewed confidence.

You stepped toward her, reaching for the hem of her sweater. You lifted it slowly, exposing her smooth skin.

She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts were just as perfect as the rest of her. You couldn't resist running your hands over them, feeling her nipples harden beneath your touch.

"You're amazing," you whispered, kissing her.

She responded eagerly, her lips parting to allow your tongue entrance.

The kiss quickly heated, and you pushed her back toward the bed. You both fell onto the soft sheets, your bodies tangled together.

Natasha was the one to break the kiss, her green eyes dark with lust.

"I want to do what you did to me in the den," You blushed. "I've never done that before. Will you show me how you like it?"

Natasha was more than happy to oblige. She lifted to remove her pants and underwear. Then, she laid back and spread her legs, allowing you to get a good look at her.

She was glistening with arousal, and the sight was almost enough to make you come right then and there.

"Go ahead," she encouraged, her voice low and husky. "Taste me."

You bit your lip, leaning in and pressing against her center. It was a simple kiss, one that garnered a weak expression. She was being patient with you. Her scent was intoxicating. Musky and uniquely her.

"Again," She urged gently. "But, harder."

You did as she said, putting more pressure behind the kiss. You could feel her body tense, her breathing growing heavier.

"More," she pleaded. "Use your tongue."

You obeyed, flicking your tongue against her, causing her to moan softly.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her hips bucking against your mouth.

"Is that okay?" You asked, worried you were doing something wrong.

"More than okay," she assured you, her hand resting on your head. "Just keep going." She directed your head where she wanted it, and you happily complied.

"Yes," she groaned, her grip tightening. "Just like that."

Her sounds were intoxicating, and you found yourself getting more and more turned on by her reactions. Recalling where her tongue had taken you, you decided to try something new.

You puckered your lips and suckled the sensitive bud there, earning a loud moan from Natasha.

"That's it," she gasped, her back arching off the bed. "Keep going."

You continued the motion, alternating between sucking and flicking your tongue. Her taste was addictive, and you couldn't get enough of it.

"I'm close," she warned, her voice strained. "Don't stop."

You picked up the pace, wanting to bring her to the edge. You could feel her body tensing, her breathing becoming ragged. You appreciated the fact that she could tell you how she felt, as this form of sex was not a common practice.

Suddenly, her body went rigid, and a cry tore from her lips. Her release was intense, her muscles clenching and releasing in waves.

You kept going, wanting to draw out her pleasure for as long as possible. She was breathtaking like this, lost in the throes of ecstasy. You'd never seen anything so beautiful.

As her body finally began to relax, you slowed your movements, bringing her down from her high. You rested your head against her thigh and waited for her.

"Come here," she said, her voice shaky.

You crawled up her body, meeting her lips in a deep kiss.

"That was incredible," she murmured, a lazy smile across her face. "Not bad for your first time."

"I had a good teacher," you replied, returning her smile. You slipped under the sheets.

"And a very willing student," she teased.

You settled into her arms, both of you content and satisfied.

"Sex with you is," You began.

"Incredible?" She smirked.

"It is, but also... it's just so easy," you explained. "Being with you is like breathing."

Natasha didn't speak but drew you closer, kissing gently on your temple.

"I'm learning so much," You continued. "Thank you for letting me explore with you."

Natasha's expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss you, slow and tender.

"You're welcome," she whispered, her voice full of affection."Why do you do that?" She questioned.

"Do what?" You asked, unsure what she was referring to.

"Hide from me," She said, her gaze trailing over your bare skin. "There's no need. Not here."

You swallowed, not knowing how to respond.

"I've had a child," You answered. "My body isn't as..."

"It's perfect," She interrupted. "Just like the rest of you."

She was right, you decided. Why should you hide from her? After all, she had seen you in all your naked glory. It was only fair that you returned the favor.

Slowly, you emerged from beneath the sheets, letting her look her fill.

"Beautiful," she murmured, her eyes filled with desire. "Absolutely beautiful."

"Come here," She instructed, holding out her arms.

You obliged, crawling into her embrace. Her lips met yours, and the kiss quickly grew heated.

You found yourself straddling her, her hands exploring your body, and the ache between your legs intensified. You wanted her, needed her.

"Please," you whispered, desperate for her touch.

"Tell me what you want," she said, her voice low and husky.

"You," you replied, unable to articulate more than that.

"Then you shall have me," she said, rolling the two of you so she was on top.

"How would you like to come this time?" She asked, her hands cupping your breasts.

"Whatever you want," You answered, eager to give yourself to her.

She chuckled, her lips curling into a devilish grin. "Then we're in for a long night."

And with that, she proceeded to show you exactly how many times a woman could orgasm in a single night.

By the end, you were utterly spent, your body exhausted and sated. You lay against the pillows, your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath.

Natasha was curled around you, her body pressed against yours, her head resting on your shoulder.

"I could stay here forever," She said, her voice sleepy.

"Me too," You agreed, your own eyes heavy. "I should probably go home soon."

"What if you didn't?" She suggested, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused.

"What if you stayed here with me?" She elaborated, her words slow and deliberate.

"It's risky," You sighed. "If anyone found out—"

"I know," She interrupted, her tone soft. "But we've been doing a good job keeping this a secret. No one suspects anything. Besides, I can't bear the thought of not having you by my side tonight."

You considered her words, your heart pounding in your chest. It was true; the two of you had been careful. And, you had to admit, spending the night in her arms was tempting.

"Okay," You finally said, making up your mind. "I'll stay."

Natasha's smile lit up her face, and she kissed you, her lips warm and soft.

"Good," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Because I can't get enough of you."

***********

You stood by the armchair, slipping back into your heels quickly. The soft sound of your dress fabric brushing against your legs filled the quiet room. Natasha sat on the edge of the sofa, still in her robe, nursing a cup of coffee that smelled rich and inviting.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, observing every movement you made.

You gave her a fleeting smile, smoothing out the creases in your dress. "Claire’s coming home soon. She spent the night with my mother, but you know how she gets—she’s practically attached to my hip.”

"Mm," Natasha hummed, sipping her coffee.

"They’ll be back soon, too," you said, avoiding her gaze as you adjusted your earring. The rush in your movements betrayed the careful calm in your voice.

Natasha set her cup down, leaning forward slightly. "You’re in a hurry," she noted, her voice softer now, almost teasing but edged with something more. "Do you regret our night together?"

You froze for a split second, feeling her words settle uncomfortably in the air. You knew you shouldn’t feel guilty. You hadn’t done anything wrong—or had you? Shaking off the thought, you reached for your purse.

"I just don’t want to raise any questions," you said, your tone light. "It’s nothing."

Natasha’s voice followed you, stopping you in your tracks. "Do you think about it?"

You turned to face her, her words catching you off guard. "Think about what?"

Her green eyes stayed on yours, steady and unflinching. "What it would’ve been like if things were different. If we were different."

You blinked, caught in her gaze, the question hanging in the air. "Natasha," you began, trying to find the words. "I—"

"It's alright," she said, her lips quirking up. "I understand. We have our responsibilities. And, besides, some things can't be changed, no matter how hard we wish they could."

Her words cut through you, and you felt a wave of sadness.

"I'm sorry," You sighed. "I enjoyed my night with you. I really did."

"I know," She reassured. "So did I. We should do it again sometime." She opened her arms for a hug.

"I would love that," You answered. She breathed in your scent, smelling herself all over your body, and hummed.

"The idea of him touching you makes me crazy," she murmured. "But I also love smelling my scent on you. I bet he wouldn't be able to do a quarter of what I did to you last night."

It's the first time you've heard her be so possessive. Your breath caught in your throat at her words.

"It's only fair," She continued. "You should have let me mark you."

You felt a surge of arousal course through you at her words but also a flicker of unease. It was dangerous territory, the two of you getting so attached.

"We have to be careful," You warned, though it was the last thing you wanted. "Someone could find out."

"Would it be so bad if they did?" Natasha knew she was being reckless, but she didn't care. All she cared about was you. She nuzzled her nose into your neck.

"Natasha," You protested, your resolve weakening. "We can't."

"Yes, we can," She said, her voice low and seductive. "Just think about it, being with me every day, sharing our lives."

It was tempting, but you knew it was impossible. "It would never work," You said, trying to sound firm, but the words came out sad.

Natasha’s brows furrowed as she pulled back slightly, her piercing gaze locking onto yours. "Why wouldn’t it work?" she challenged, her voice steady, though there was a hint of frustration beneath it.

"Because it’s not just about us," you admitted, your hands trembling as you stepped away, needing space to think clearly. "I’m scared, Natasha. Scared of what this... of what you make me feel."

"Scared?" Natasha repeated, her tone sharp now, almost incredulous. "What’s there to be scared of? Isn’t it scarier to stay in something that doesn’t make you happy?"

You shook your head, your voice cracking as you tried to explain. "It’s not that simple. I love Sam. He’s a good man. And I don’t want to hurt him—or Steve."

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, she looked away, exhaling deeply. "You should have thought about that before," she said quietly, her words cutting like a knife.

"I know," you replied, guilt heavy in your chest. "And maybe... maybe that’s why we need to cool down. This—whatever this is—it’s too much, Nat. It’s moving too fast, and I... I could lose Claire."

Natasha blinked, clearly taken aback. "Lose Claire?" she repeated, her voice filled with disbelief. "That’s ridiculous. Sam would never take her away from you."

"You don’t understand," you said, your voice rising as panic bubbled. "You can’t understand because you don’t have children. You don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life revolve around them, to know that one wrong move could take them away from you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and biting. Natasha’s face hardened a flicker of hurt, crossing her features before she masked it. "You think I wouldn’t understand?" she asked, her voice quieter now but no less intense.

"I didn’t mean it like that," you said quickly, regret pooling in your stomach.

"But you did," she countered, stepping closer, her gaze uncompromising. "You think because I don’t have children because I can’t have children, that I wouldn’t understand what it means to love someone so much it scares you?"

You froze, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut. "Natasha, I—"

"Don’t," she interrupted, her voice thick with emotion. "You’re scared, fine. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t understand love? That’s the one thing I do understand."

The room fell silent. Natasha’s breathing was steady but labored, as though she was holding back everything she wanted to say.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just... I’m trying to do the right thing."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "The right thing? For who? For Sam? For Steve? When do you start doing the right thing for yourself?" Natasha sniffled. "You're right." She said. "You should go home and prepare for Sam."

"Natasha," you started, but she held up her hand.

You stood there, conflicted, unsure of how to proceed when she moved towards you. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to say something more, but instead, she reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that surprised you.

"You're a good friend," She murmured. She placed a final kiss on your lips before pulling back. "I suppose you can see your way out."

She turned and walked down the hall, leaving you alone.

You stared after her, feeling the ache in your chest grow, and tried to ignore the sense of loss that was settling in.

You told yourself that you were doing the right thing, even as tears spilled down your cheeks. It was the right thing.

And yet, as you walked out the door and headed home, you couldn't help but feel like a part of you had stayed behind.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #smut #angst #fluff and angst

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quirekey · 1 day ago

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Can i request an Orion x gn!reader x d16 but the two try to fight for readers attention and friendship?

<3 pleeeeeeeaaaassse?

Live laugh Orion x Reader x D16 fr dude, I love this request dude I WAS WAITING FOR THIS

[ ORION PAX ] x [ GN!READER ] x [ D16 ]

[ Orion pax x D16 x Cybertronian!GN!reader ]

You were a pretty quiet Cybertronian Miner. Socialising wasn’t something you enjoyed and you preferred the peace and quiet instead of the constant bustling that you will hear. Not having any connections did make your job more lonely since every-bot had someone to call a friend while you are working your aft off in the mines.

After working in the mines for a while, these two mechs named Orion Pax and D16 turned out to become your closest friends you ever had yet. The three of you guys always got into some sort of trouble that was started by Orion and you three are inseperatable in the mines.

Overtime, the two have become possessive and each wanted one-on-one time with you and only you. It’s not that they were not friends anymore, they just had a disagreement on who should talk to you.

D16 thinks it’s unfair how Orion can just pull you away from him just to get in trouble by the higher-guards. D16 thinks that it’s rude to pull you away from what you are already doing and assumes that you just wanna talk to him instead of going around since it’s better to stay by the the rules instead of rebelling.

Orion thinks that it’s unfair because D16 is constantly bickering and yapping to you about whoever his new interest or idol is and nothing else. Orion assumes that you think it’s boring and it’s better to get your body moving and frame in shape instead of being isolated in the mines.

They’re both fair reasons but they keep vouching for you and assuming what you want, you’re just too scared to speak up. The two are now constantly fighting over you since they always want your attention and that you enjoy only their company.

“D, you have kept them inside of this isolating waste for so long! It wouldn’t hurt to at-least go outside and get some real light in your optics!”

“Well, I want to keep (Y/N) safe unlike you. You always get them into trouble and you guys could get punished! This is for their safety.”

“Well, you’re only online for so long.”

“At-least I’ll be online for longer than you.”

“And at least I am actually doing something with my life instead of staying in the mines.”

D16 just scoffed and walked off. D16 still cares for Orion but doesn’t want to admit it due to their friendship being at stake. Orion just smirked and shrugged at you, basically not caring one bit about the guy he used to hang out with every klick (minute).

“(Y/N), why is D now so down? He’s changed.”

“I’m not sure…”

You lied to him, you knew both of their secrets to a T but it was best to not share. You are pretty observant so you took some mental notes overtime and you’d reflect over them. Both D16 and Orion Pax are always fighting for your approval and friendship but seemingly their actions prove otherwise. They are way more affectionate than your regular friends and some could never be considered as platonic unless you are really close with them. You didn’t mind their affection but it was strange that they wanted you and only you.

It gets to a point where D16 gives you small kisses on the cheek when he walks by or Orion brings you somewhere empty then asks you to cuddle. You never declined because you didn’t mind but it was hard to pick between the two. You knew they liked you and you liked them back, the problem was that they didn’t want to share.

You just walked away from Orion and thought to yourself

‘Why did this have to happen to me…?’

Well you’re lucky enough that I enjoyed this because now I’m gonna continue this overtime… bigger poll than normal that’s for sure.

#transformers #transformers one #tfone #d16 #orion pax #optimus prime #transformers x reader #megatron #megop #d16 x reader #Orion pax x reader #Optimus x reader #Optimus prime x reader #Megatron x reader #fanfic

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ladybirdswritings · 1 day ago

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INVISIBLE STRING, AU — clark kent x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you lock eyes with a charming stranger at a party you’d rather not be at, and now he’s whisking you away on a date. NOTES - leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

three;

Your skin was drowned in amber and cashmere—rich, silken, and sparkling. Your hair was tied up in a bun, allowing a few mischievous ringlets to escape, highlighting the curve of your slender neck, and the pulse racing there.

Your dress was a deep violet, so deep that only under fluorescent lights could you see the purple hue—otherwise, it appeared black.

You looked gorgeous.

And nervous.

Entirely nervous, as you reapplied your gloss and paced the tile floor, where Kate and Axel eyed you suspiciously.

“Y/N, you really need to stop pacing. You’re making me anxious,” Kate snapped, having had enough of your shaky tirade. Axel nodded in agreement. “Calm down, you’re going to scare him away before he even gets here.” You scowled at that.

In the time since you and Clark had shared a quiet moment by the fire, when he trapped a ruby berry between your joined palms and blurted his desire to take you out, you’d texted sporadically and awaited a jolt to snap you from this dream.

“He’s definitely a serial killer,” you decided, and Kate pinched the space between her brows, shaking her head.

“Y/N, if he was a serial killer, don’t you think he would have killed you when you were alone at the bonfire?”

You huffed. “Ted Bundy had a girlfriend he adored. He didn’t chop her up into tiny pieces.”

“Oh my God…” your brother sighed, and Kate snorted.

Vera, Kate’s strawberry-blonde bombshell of a sister, stood and pressed warm palms against your shoulders. “Or maybe… you’re a really pretty girl, and he wants to take you on a date because he likes you. Duh.”

You gazed into the sincerity swimming behind her cyan eyes, nodding hesitantly. No, she was right. Your doubt, your pacing—it was just self-deprecation that had burrowed into your bones over the years. It had been so long.

Your ex was a jerk. Beyond that, he was cruel. His words still echoed in your mind.

You won’t find anyone else like me…

No one can deal with your baggage like I can…

No one else would want you like I do…

When you first dumped him, you were confident—until that confidence slowly evaporated, as time passed. Two years, in fact, with no strong man to keep you warm. All the boys you looked at were either taken or vile creatures who only wanted in your pants. Or worse—they didn’t want you back.

Vance was a great example.

Flirty, but noncommittal.

Yet for some reason, you still pined, and it made you feel pathetic.

The hum of the doorbell made your eyes widen to saucers. A cold chill kissed your skin.

“Do I look okay?” you nearly shouted in a whisper, anxious.

“You look great,” Vera promised, and you nodded, dragging your kitten-heel-clad feet toward the door.

The scent of pine from January’s chill lingered with honeyed whiskey, chai, and… flowers.

Flowers? Oh, you were definitely dreaming.

His glasses were lopsided and fogged, and he bumped them up with his wrist before offering the bouquet of creams, mauves, and navies toward you.

“Hi,” he breathed, furrowing his brows in frustration as the fog filtered his perfect view of his date. But he could smell you, and hummed a low, satisfied sound in his throat that you just missed.

“Hi.” You offered back, glancing anxiously at Vera and Kate, who hid their smiles behind their palms. You gently grabbed the flowers, fingertips grazing his, and brought them to your nose, inhaling their lovespelled scent.

“They’re… lovely. So lovely. Thank you, Clark.” He grinned, less lopsided than usual, and you handed them to Kate, who promised she’d find a vase before waving goodbye as you stepped outside.

A chill ran across your skin, and though Clark couldn’t see you clearly through his foggy lenses—too big for his face—he felt the ice linger on you. Without a word, he draped his suede blazer over your shoulders. It smelled of him, just like the bonfire, and you inhaled deeply, wrapping it closer.

Who taught him to be so… bookish?

“Come on,” he urged gently, his hand at the small of your back, guiding you to his sparkling navy truck.

You felt every bit the Miss Bennett to his Mr. Darcy as he offered you a warm, far larger than yours, palm and helped you into the elevated truck. Once inside, he quickly rounded to sit beside you. After buckling, he cleaned his glasses with the cloth of his navy shirt before tucking it back into his onyx pants.

Then he faced you and grinned again.

“Well, don’t you look purdy.” He teased, amplifying that Kansas twang, making a flush kiss your cheeks.

He was handsome. So handsome behind those glasses and his books and—well, everything. And here he was, on a date with you, one he initiated.

You’d been anticipating the night to go horribly wrong.

But it hadn’t just yet.

“So, I was thinking, I want to give you options. Mellow, casual—or fancy and… schmancy? Trust me, I don’t mind either. Especially not with you looking like that… uh—not that you don’t always look like that, I just mean—”

You arched a brow, watching the pinch return between his own chocolate brows. He met your eyes, catching the glint of mirth there. He huffed a laugh at his own expense. “I’m bombing this already, aren’t I?”

He tilted his head, his lazy grin making your head spin. You pursed your lips.

“Just a little,” you whispered, grateful that the moonlight cast enough of a shadow over your lips to show him you were joking. He laughed softly. A moment passed, and you realized you hadn’t answered his question.

“Is this another test of yours?”

His brows shifted upwards, and he smirked.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm…” Fancy schmancy restaurant sounded… exhausting. As pretty as you were, you knew very well you couldn’t keep up a tiresome charade for the entirety of the date. It wasn’t you. His pretty car and his Pinterest-worthy face made him seem like the type to prefer that option. But you decided that after you spoke your next words, he’d likely kick you out of his truck— and maybe that was okay.

“Mellow. Casual,” you whispered, and your heart dropped when his mouth turned into a thin line.

There it was.

Too good to be true.

Your palm itched for your seatbelt before that lopsided grin slid back onto his face.

“You’re trying to steal my heart, huh?” he whispered, perhaps more to himself, eyes roaming over your glossed lips. He offered a satisfied nod. “Okay, Y/N, hot chocolate or chai?”

•••

By the time you reached your destination, your eyes widened in awe at the glowing fluorescent letters.

THE WANDERING QUILL;

A bookstore.

You blinked, glancing toward Clark, who flexed his palm in an anxious manner whilst stepping out of the truck. Before shutting the door, he ducked back through it.

“Stay there,” he ordered, and you had to purse your lips together to stifle the giggle bubbling in your throat when he circled to open your door and offer you a veined hand.

Maybe this was a trap. Maybe this perfect stranger was leading you into a slaughterhouse, ready to slice your skin and pick his teeth with your bones.

“C’mon, purdie,” he whispered as you hesitated, grabbing his hand. He led you down with ease, his fingers twitching in your grasp, but he let go, not wanting to push you before he even had you.

“I’m taking you book shopping,” he said, his hand on the small of your back as he guided you through the doors. You were admittedly overdressed, but his suede jacket hid that from view.

It didn’t matter, though. The moment the scent of aged parchment and spiced chai kissed your nostrils, you almost melted in contentment.

“This is my favorite place,” he said, his voice snapping you back to your senses. You looked up, and he was already peering down at you with an anticipatory expression.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, and his lips twitched as he turned you sharply right and led you to a quaint café beside all the books. He was amused, perhaps because it was maybe the third word you’d spoken all evening. A flush spread across your skin at that realization. You were being too shy. He’d undoubtedly grow bored of you, tire of your muteness, and—

“What’re you thinking about?”

Your eyes snapped to attention, and his expression softened when you spoke.

“No one’s ever taken me to a bookstore,” you said, catching yourself. The barista handed him two warm cups of molten chocolate that made your mouth water. Goosebumps erupted as you wrapped your hands around it.

“Do you like it?” His voice carried hope, and you were far too naive to catch it. Your beaming face melted something in him—like a puppet freed from its strings.

“I do,” you promised, and his lips twitched again. He blew on his drink and led you to a corner behind the café, surrounded by gold-dusted pages and crimson and violet-bound books, like something straight out of a storybook. He swapped your cups, less scorching than before, and then grabbed his own. He tilted his chin, signaling you to take a sip.

You did, and when the molten chocolate coated your tongue, you nearly melted too.

Christ.

If he dumped you on the side of the road after this, at least you’d die with a stomach full of this delicacy.

He laughed—a subtle, joyful sound. “That’s good, right?”

You could only nod, sipping again in tandem with him. His eyes wandered over the books around you. Then you blinked when you read the cursive sign that displayed “romance” in bold letters.

“Okay,” he began, taking your cup gently from your hands, making you pout. As if afraid to wilt you, he guided you forward. And god, if your neck wasn’t so close—so suckable—he might have stopped there. “Um…”

You tensed, wondering if maybe your amber-and-cashmere scent was off, if you’d forgotten deodorant. Christ, your stomach dropped.

Then you felt it—his hand at your hip, warm and firm, much firmer than you expected from his sweaters and flannels. Slowly, it snaked around your waist. He was asking permission, not demanding anything.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, so low you almost missed it. His touch wasn’t sexual; it was exploratory, as if seeing just how the pretty, shy girl—who he’d seen in ridiculous hedgehog pajamas before this—could feel in his arms. You exhaled shakily and nodded.

“And this?” he whispered again, guiding you a step back, treating you like the delicate flower you were. You were back to chest with the bookish stranger you’d met just a week ago. Held. Wanted.

And though your paranoid, self-saboteur mind screamed that this would be disastrous, The gentle thrum of your heart told you this was exactly where you needed to be.

A breathy giggle escaped you as he tested a gentle squeeze on your hip.

He felt almost barbaric, on the verge of losing control as he buried his nose into your honeyed locks with a not-so-subtle inhale, followed by a grin. You smelled like fresh linens and gourmands, and if he were a lesser man, he’d tilt your chin up so to taste you with his starved tongue.

But you were shy, and he wasn’t a lesser man. Raised well by his parents, he only swayed you slightly, loosening the tension in your sharp bones.

“Alright,” he whispered, amusement in his voice, dipping his head low as if to shut out the noise of the world around you— as if to trap you both in this moment. He handed you your cup back, warm, though his body was warmer, and it took all your strength not to shiver and melt into him.

“How about this: you pick a book for me, and I pick one for you. We’ll read them, then when I take you out again, we’ll talk about them.”

When.

Already… when.

You swallowed hard, wondering for a moment if he was seducing you or if he was just a little mad. You were shy, quiet, and painfully awkward, yet he was planning a second date already.

Despite your racing mind, how you felt in that moment told an entirely different story. Maybe playing along wouldn’t be so bad.

“Deal,” you murmured, a mirrored grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. He swayed you again.

“Yeah? Okay. Romance only.” You nodded, “Romance only. Got it… close your eyes.”

And he did. His lashes brushed against your silvered ear as he lowered his head to steal another inhale. It took all his restraint not to pull you closer, not to lazily lick at the vanilla coating your skin.

Your fingers skimmed over the book spines for a long moment before settling on the first one that came to mind— Book Lovers by Emily Henry. Fitting, the title alone was enough, but beyond it— the meaning. Girl doesn’t believe in love, boy changes it… maybe this little game he had you playing could be more than just fun— maybe it could tell him something deeper.

For a moment, you considered playing it safer, but in the end, you decided against it, tucking the book to your chest. “Okay, your turn.”

His grin grazed the place just below your ear as he tilted his head up again, moving his hand from your hip to cover your eyes. You giggled, the sound light and sweet.

“No cheating, y/n,” he murmured, waiting patiently as he plucked a gold-trimmed book from the rattan shelf.

“I’m sure you know this one,” he added, tucking it to his side as you turned to face him, free from his warm grasp. You felt cold again.

“On three?” you offered, and the corner of his mouth lifted, a lazy grin spreading.

“Three,” he said, and your eyes widened as you quickly turned your book to him— and he did the same.

The Notebook.

“Oh, Clark.” His gaze shifted from your chosen book to his own, brows furrowing. “You’ve read it,” he concluded, but you shook your head. “Never even seen the movie.”

His brows lifted, blue-gray eyes widening slightly as he processed your words. A ringlet of onyx hair fell across his forehead as he checked his watch.

“Can I steal you for another… two hours?”

You just didn’t have it in you to say no…

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sourw0lfs · 2 days ago

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ash from your fire

written for @steddiebingo 12 days of christmas prompt: fire rating: t words: 501 tags: firefighter au, hurt/comfort, angst

Despite having scrubbed his skin near raw, Steve can still smell the smoke, can still feel the fire, can still taste the ash every time he closes his eyes. After so many years, he should be used to the way he feels after a particularly bad call, but something about them still shakes him to his core every time. His heart, body, mind, and soul all sync up with a deep-rooted desire to be back at home, to be in a place he knows is safe. It’s so strong this time, Steve doesn’t even bother drying his hair before he’s out the station’s door and in his car.

The drive home feels like a dream and he doesn’t wake up until he’s walking through the front door and falling into his husband’s embrace. For the first time in hours, Steve feels like he’s returning to his own body, feeling the strain in every muscle, the ache in every bone, as Eddie’s arms wrap around him, squeezing all of his broken bits back in place.

“Your hair is still damp,” Eddie greets him with a kiss on the top of his head as he pulls the two of them onto the bed, holding Steve closer still. It feels like he’s trying to mold the two of them into one person, and Steve can’t find a reason to complain.

“Needed you more than my hair needed me,” Steve mumbles into Eddie’s shoulder. To anyone else, the words might be at least a little silly, but Steve doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s muscles tense slightly before relaxing again.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, mulling over his answer. His therapist would definitely encourage talking about the things that plague him, but he’s not sure if he’s willing to drag Eddie into that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He doesn’t want to risk blurring the line between work and home more than he already does. He needs the space to keep them separate. He needs Eddie to be something he has beyond the ghosts that haunt him at night.

“Not right now,” he decides eventually. “Maybe in the morning, once the world feels a little less dark.”

They both know he won’t, but the words are part of their routine for bad days anyway. They give Steve the space to open up if he ever finds the strength to, and they give Eddie the chance to feel included in something he’s only on the fringes of. They’re comforting, even if they never amount to anything.

Another kiss finds its home in Steve’s hair and Steve sighs. Now that he’s settled back in his own body, surrounded by the safety that is Eddie, the exhaustion is creeping up on him. Lazily looking up at Eddie, Steve moves just enough to give him a peck on the lips before settling down again and finally, finally, finally letting himself rest.

He can only hope that things will feel better come morning.

#fox writes things #steddie bingo #steddiebingo2025 #steddie #steddie fic

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the-kr8tor · 3 days ago

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I love your writing! Would you mind writing something about Hobie and the twins getting jealous of the new baby boy? Maybe the reader spends so much time with him that she forgets about the other 3 🥹😭

Whoops I forgot that Hobie is included in being jealous 😔 hope you still like it! Thank you for requesting ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, mum! Reader, dad! Hobie, twin au, Billie and Ramona au, parent au, dad au, cw food mentions, fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie comes back from the shops with an eerie feeling. Goosebumps rising on his arms, knuckles tightening around the plastic bag he's holding. With his spidey senses going haywire as he opens the front door to the shared home, his vision immediately hones in on his twin girls who look like they're sulking on the settee. The telly's volume rings in his ears, tamping down his son's wailing from upstairs.

He was about to yell for you, asking if you and the new addition to the family are alright, but you beat him to it by calling him over. His relief can be felt across town with his loud sigh rumbling his chest.

Before he goes upstairs, he stops by his girls' sides, dangling the plastic bag in front of the telly to get their attention.

“I've got ice lollies for both of you.” He smiles, but the girls continue to frown in their seats. “It's strawberry and mango.” Shoulder to shoulder, the two of them have their arms crossed atop their chests, eyes narrowed at poor Dora on the screen. “What's wrong?” Kneeling down, he nudges their knees playfully. “Do you feel sick?” Worry is etched on his brows as he stretches himself to check their temperatures with his palm on each of their forehead. “You two feel alright to me. C’mon, mac and cheese, tell dad what's wrong.” Now he's starting to really worry now that his girls are barely acknowledging him when they're usually dangling around his limbs by now.

“Nothin’” Ramona answers first, tone flat as she pouts at him. “Mum's askin’ for you.”

Before he could ask further, his son's crying echoes around the house, shaking him to his core. Your desperate voice has him standing up and giving the girls their candies before patting their heads as a promise that he'll come back to them right after.

With his familiar footsteps going up the stairs, your chest fills with relief as you bounce your baby boy in your arms. His cries has your heart aching, not to mention your back from carrying him. The door to the nursery creaks open, the exact culprit on why he woke up from his nap. Hobie has made a mental note to fix the squeaking hinges.

“Hobie.” You sigh, eyes begging him to come to your side. “I called the pedia and it's definitely his teeth that's bothering him.”

Hobie's arms are already reaching towards the baby, eyes gentle and soft as he coos and takes his son in his arms. “He just misses dad, hm, ain't that right, Kitt?” Once Kitt hears his dad's voice, he opens his eyes, a direct match of your own eyes, as he stares at his dad with his lips wobbling. Hobie beams at his son, bouncing the bundle carefully. “The teethin’ gel is in my pocket, love.” You ogle Hobie for a second, you can't help it when he's carrying Kitt so sweetly like that. He wears being a father well.

You take the small paper bag containing the medicine from his back pocket. Hobie smirks at you, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“How do you keep doing that? I swear he only quiets down in your arms.” Hobie chuckles, kissing your forehead as you lean down to squeeze out the medicine on your finger and carefully dabbing it on Kitt's gums, right where his baby teeth are popping out. “There,” you look into his big doe eyes, staring fondly at his nose that he got from his dad. “Feels better now, right, Kitt?” He gurgles in Hobie's arms, fingers making grabby hands at your face, which you immediately move to satisfy his need to be close to his mum. His tiny palms pat your cheeks until he's all worn out from the exercise. “I don't remember Billie and Mona having this kind of toothache when they were babies.” You keep smiling as you talk to calm him further.

“Speakin’ of the gremlins, why are they all pouty? Did somethin' happen while I was gone?” Hobie pulls you in closer by your hip, placing you on his side as you settle in on the crook of his neck. You nudge your nose on his jaw as if he was gone for days when he was only out for less than twenty minutes.

“They feel neglected.” You murmur in a small voice. “Oh god, I'm neglecting my girls.” Your small sniffs fill the room, urging him to hold you closer as you hide your face atop his skin. You blame your pregnancy hormones that are still left over.

It all clicks for Hobie, all the sulking, and their glaring at you and Kitt from the past few days, it all connects. “You made ‘em breakfast this mornin’, dressed ‘em up and did their hair. Trust me, love, you're not neglectin’ ‘em.” His free hand rubs up and down your spine, comforting you.

“Then why are they still sad? It's like I told them that the tooth fairy isn't real.” You embrace him and in turn Kitt, whose tearful eyes are slowly closing from sleepiness.

“You didn't do anythin’,” Hobie whispers to you, assuring you quietly with his lips kissing the top of your head. “They're jus’ jealous.”

You lift your head up to look at him with a raised brow. “Jealous? Of Kitt?”

“Yeah, like Kitt, they jus’ miss you.”

“Oh,” realization hits you, you've been so preoccupied with your son that you haven't noticed the twins practically begging for your attention whenever they get a chance. Especially when they get home after school. You still take care of them, make sure that they're okay, but you haven't spent much time with them these days. Just hanging around and giggling with them while you paint their nails or help them with homework. Your shoulders slump, hugging Hobie tighter. “I miss them.”

Hobie hums, eyes flicking towards the open bedroom door. “How much do you miss B and R?”

“So much,” you're still hiding on the crook of Hobie's neck, eyes fliting over Kitt's sleeping face and Hobie's smile. “A lot, I miss telling them bedtime stories, and picking them up from school.” Sighing, you hold Hobie's hand where he's holding Kitt in place. “I'm just so tired these days that I've forgotten to be a mum for them too.”

“You didn't, mummy.” Billie's small voice suddenly appears behind you. Tears prickling from her eyes, lashes stuck together by the unshed tears.

“Yeah, you're still our mummy.” Mona pipes up, sleeve subtly wiping at her eyes.

You're immediately crouching down to meet them, arms raised to the sides to hold them as they collide into you. “Oh, I'm so sorry, my girls.” You rub their backs, lips giving each of their cheeks a kiss. “We'll have a day together soon, okay? Just us three, do whatever we want.”

“Just us?” Mona moves away from your chest, eyes flicking over their dad and their baby brother. “What about, Kitty?” You smile at the nickname they bestowed upon their little brother.

“And dad?” Billie finishes.

You chuckle, heart filling with warmth as you give them much needed kisses until they're finally smiling. “They can come with us too.”

“Well, Kitt and I want a day to ourselves too.” Hobie adds, lifting up the sleeping Kitt slightly in his arms, pretending that your six month old is the one who's talking. “That's right, dad.”

The girls giggle, “thanks, dad.” They simultaneously say together as they give Hobie their sweetest smile.

Hobie winks at them, speaking their language and understanding what they really want. “Why wait? Kitt's sleepin’ and I could use the nap too.”

“You sure, Hobie?” Scooping the girls in your arms, you carry them despite your back aching. You'll carry them until you physically can't. For now, you'll settle for a bit of a backache just to see them smile and cuddle you.

“Yeah, love. Kitt and I will have our own fun.” Hobie crosses the small distance, kissing you chastely before pecking each of his girls' cheeks. “‘sides, the ice lollies are meltin’”

Billie gasps, wiggling out of your grasp. “The lollies! I left them on the couch.”

“You know what pairs well with ice lollies?” You ask as Billie lands back down on the rug with some help from you. “Cookies.”

It's Mona's turn to gasp, smiling from excitement and doing the same thing as her sister by wiggling out of your hold.

“I'll put on a movie!” She follows closely behind her sister, their giggles echoing down the stairs.

With some miracle, Kitt is still asleep.

Beaming up at Hobie, you give each of your boys a kiss, lips lingering a second more on Hobie's willing lips. “I'll save you and Kitt a lolly.”

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aggieharkness · 3 days ago

Note

would you do a story with lilia calderu maybe surrounding substance misuse? like maybe hiding it from her? you can decide the details of it all

Survivor

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It is said that time heals but you hadn't believed it at all, the dark thoughts crushing you once again, drawing you into a past that you wanted to run away from. You had felt so alone. But she took your hands and steadied you, guided you to the light. Perhaps time didn't heal, but you were sure Lilia did

Warnings: substance misuse, mention of drugs, mention of alcohol, alcoholism, past abuse, past child abuse, bullying, implied suicide. I'm sorry if I've forgotten any warnings.

Authors note: I'm sorry it took me a bit longer to post, but I hope that this story is what you were expecting and that if it hits close to home that it helps you heal and move forward. Some of the experiences are real and are my own, so please, be kind. If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, or if you want something else, I'm here. Thanks for the request, btw.

Special thanks to @renafisher27 for checking part of it. Love you girl!

Survivor

You were two hours late. Lilia glanced at the clock on the wall, the thin black hands staring back at her, telling her that you were not going to come. The table had been set, a beautiful rose in the middle of it surrounded by candles, a delicious meal in the oven that had turned cold a while ago, the smell lingering in the air. You had promised you would come to her tonight, that you would spend a quiet evening together, you had sworn you would be there, but alas, the house was empty except for the silence that dressed Lilia’s sorrow. She had thought you cared about her, she had let herself believe you cared about her, but it was obvious that you did not, or at least not enough to think that this entire date might be important to her, that you were important to her. She felt anger rising on her chest as the clock struck nine, and in a gust of fury she stood from her chair and stomped towards the front door, grabbing her shawl and purse. She didn’t bother to blow the candles, her magic sparkled incessantly in between her fingers making the lights flicker and the flames vanish into nothing, thin threads of smoke rising up in the air in rivulets.

You lived next door, literally a door down from her, which made things even worse as Lilia, in a beautiful dark grey dress with spaghetti straps, rushed down the street, her gown brushing the dirty pavement as her heels made loud footsteps until she stood before your building. The lock was broken, and no one had bothered to fix it yet, so she pushed the gates, the metal of the door banging and bouncing against the wall, the loud sound echoing out into the street, but she didn’t care, she had a mission, and she was going to tell you exactly what she thought of your behaviour. But upon reaching your door she stopped. What if you were not there? What if you had been in a terrible accident and had hurt yourself? What if you had… died? She began to spiral into this sea of what ifs, images clouding her mind as her feet paced from one side of the empty hallway to the other. If it had indeed happened, why hadn’t she seen it, she should have seen your demise, no one she had ever cared about hadn’t passed without her not having seen it first. Maybe you had not gone to her house because you were working late, had she even asked you at what time did you get out today?

Noises coming from the other side of the door woke her up from her spiralling, the sounds calming her racing heart. You were home. Wait, you were home! She felt the anger spiking again, only muffled by the fact that you were alive, but that did not stop her from using her spare key and barging in. Now this was something she had not expected. All the lights were off, not even the streetlights could be seen coming from the windows, it was as if she had walked into a deep dark tunnel, and the simple feeling that she got as she stepped inside made her shiver on the spot. Something was wrong, she could sense it, but she could not figure out what it was as she traded careful over the carpet, the door left ajar so a little bit of light could come in. The entire apartment was quiet, the noises she had just heard faint memories by then, her breathing and her own blood pumping through her veins, the only sounds that her ears could hear. Upon reaching the intersection between the kitchen and the living room her foot kicked something. It was cold to the touch of her bare toes, and it seemed to be cylindrical, her eyes fighting to get a better view of the object as she pushed it from under her dress. How odd, what was an empty bottle of vodka doing on the floor?

She had never seen you drink, not even when you two went out on dates, no, you always choose water or juices, maybe a hot chocolate if it was a breakfast date, but never ever alcohol. Had you… had you brought someone home? She could not bare the thought of you doing something like that to her, her heart breaking slightly at the possibility that you had cheated on her. There she had been, at home, waiting like a fool for you to rush into her arms only to find out that there might be someone other than her holding you in bed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Someone loving you like she did. She was letting her mind wander once again, and she could not afford it, she had to find you, so she forced herself to breath deeply, letting those thoughts be pushed to the back of her mind, after all it was only an empty bottle on the floor, it could mean literally anything. She lifted herself off the floor, the bottle in her hand as she stepped into the living room. It was even darker, the windows blocked by something, but how was she supposed to make her way towards them if she could not see what was two inches in front of her? This is how people die in horror movies, she thought.

Each step took her closer to a big object she could sort of make out the shape off, crashing into it after a moment, nearly bending over what she realised was the couch. Okay, she had to see, a freaking vampire could come out of any corner at any minute, and she’d be dammed if she was going to fight one in the dark. It had happened before, and it had not been a pleasant experience. With a snap of her fingers a tiny little bulb of yellow light brightened the room, a sigh of relief puffing out as she was finally able to see, but what her eyes came across with as she took in the room was far from what she had expected. The couch had clothes spread all over it, whether they were clean or not she could not tell, but there was certainly this thick odour that resembled that of a closed house, as if you had not bothered to ventilate in weeks. You had not spent that much time down at her place, this wasn’t something related to you sleeping with her, it ran deeper, she could feel it in her bones. Rounding the couch, she saw containers of different takeaways laying over the coffee table, rotting food inside, though the smell had not yet spread throughout the room.

Alarms had begun to go in her head the instant she had stepped into your house, but now she could have almost lit up like a Christmas trees had she had warning lights. This, whatever it was, was very very wrong, more bottles laying in between blankets and under the couch and tables, her eyes finally seeing that there were cardboards against the windows so no light would come in. Why would you do that? You loved the sunlight, you adored walking with her in the park, down in the woods, any place Lilia desired, she could not comprehend why you would run away from it now. A sound came from the other side of the apartment, startling her to the point that she almost tripped with a bag that you had left in the middle of the floor, making her turn her body towards the source of the noise and begin walking in slow steps. It had to be you, unless it was a thief, or worse, a murderer; Divine Mother, she needed to stop doing this to herself, she was going to give herself a heart attack one of these days. Reaching the foyer again the light from her fingers showed that your bedroom was right across the hall, the door ajar, a gentle blue light coming from under it as the noises got louder until suddenly, she heard your voice. It was quiet, and she could not understand very well what you were saying, but she picked up on the hurt tone that tainted them. Carefully she pushed it open until she could finally see you.

This room was the worst out of the entire house. There weren’t only bottles spread all throughout the floor, desk and nightstands, but packets of beers and premade cocktails laying over the ruined carpet, clothes and trash everywhere. Lilia flicked the switch so the lamp above your head would light up the room instead of the screen of your phone, but nothing happened, the motion making you turn your head over your shoulders from the spot you had on your bed, your back to the door. What was Lilia doing there? Was the alcohol making you see things? It wasn’t supposed to do that, the drugs were, but you hadn’t taken any, yet. Shit, you had forgotten about the date. Looking up at her you were waiting for the moment she would start screaming at you, telling you how utterly disgusting you looked and how disappointed she was, but it never came, she could only stare dumbfounded at you, your eyes raking over her beautiful dress and tidy curls to the bottle of vodka that she had in her hand. Lilia could not even begin to process the way you were looking at her, like a child who was waiting to be scolded, to be yelled at, your make up smeared all over your cheeks and chin, splatters of alcohol staining your clothes, a notebook in front of your crossed legs, a bag with a white powder resting over your left knee. Oh, Divine Mother, you were… no… you couldn’t be. Your hoarse voice and slurred words reached her ears, but it was the terrified tone what hit her heart as if it had just been run over by a train.

-Get out! You are not supposed to be here!

-Y/N

-NO! I CAN’T DO THIS WITH YOU HERE!

-Do what? – you had never raised your voice at her, in nearly a year of being with her the most she had heard you scream was one time when you had almost burnt yourself as you were pulling out a roasted chicken from the oven. That had been a funny little moment, but this was far from that, this was bad, really bad, and Lilia found herself dropping the empty bottle on a chair and walking to your side as slowly as possible, kneeling gently in front of you. Her hands itched to take yours but you were holding onto your hoody with such strength that it was making your knuckles white. - Y/N, please, tell me what’s wrong.

-I can’t. Please, Lilia, please, go away. This is not… I’m not… You are not supposed to see this. GO HOME!

-Y/N.

Suddenly your phone rang, the ringtone loud and shrilling in your ears, the name of some woman appearing on the screen. You growled at the sight, picking it up and motioning your arm as to throw it against the wall, but Lilia’s warm hand stopped you, wrapping around your wrist and pulling it down gently, your fingers letting go of the phone until it fell with a thud over the mattress. You stared up at her, the tears that had stopped falling about ten minutes ago returning in earnest, those big doe eyes of hers watching you as if you were something broken. You could not fight it, you were. The horrid sound carried on until you slid your finger over the green sign to answer it, the sound of a woman’s voice filling up the space after you tapped on the speaker symbol. If this is how things were going to come out, if Lilia was going to learn the truth tonight, might as well do it right.

-Oh, so now you answer the phone!

-Please, stop calling mom. I can’t do this, not again.

-Is this how you speak to me?! You owe me your life you ungrateful bitch! I put a stop to my own to raise you, you owe me Y/N.

-I don’t owe you shit! – you turned your body away from Lilia’s touch, unsure of how you were going to react all throughout the conversation; you didn’t want her to get hurt, she did not deserve to end up in harm’s way because of your messy life. - Every time you call is to ask for money or to insult me and degrade me and I can’t do it! I was clean mom, for a fucking year; I was doing great and then you had to come back! WHY?!

-DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE SCREAM AT ME! IT’S YOUR OWN FAULT THAT YOU’VE FALLEN BACK INTO DRINKING. YOU ARE WEAK, USELESS!

-STOP! FOR FUCK’S SAKES STOP! YOU LEFT ME ALONE FOR A YEAR, ONE WHOLE ASS YEAR AND I GOT CLEAN! WHY HAVE YOU COME BACK?!

-IF THIS IS HOW YOU ARE GOING TO BEHAVE, IF THIS IS HOW UNGRATEFUL YOU STILL ARE, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED WHEN YOU HAD THAT OVERDOSE TWO YEARS AGO!

The silence that followed was fucking deafening, your limbs feeling like lead as her words stabbed you deep, the phone slipping from your fingers until it landed on the bed, so very deep that you grabbed the closest bottle, whiskey Lilia saw, and brought it to your lips, but she was faster and pushed it away, fighting with you to take it from your hands until it slipped onto the floor, crashing against the wood, the amber liquid spreading and staining the edge of the carpet. The only thing you wanted to do was crawl into a ball and wait until death claimed you. You hurt too much; you felt exactly like your mother had said, weak, useless, a fucking failure and Lilia was now there to see the real you when you had fought so hard to hide all this from her. She didn’t deserve someone as broken as you, you thought, the phone forgotten at the foot of the bed as your mother kept talking, berating you. She had never stopped, since the moment you had been placed in her arms you had been a mistake, an accident that should have never happened, and both her and life had never stopped reminding you. The only person that had cared for you simply because had been Lilia, and now she would run away like all of them had done before her. You could not do this, you just couldn’t, your face hidden into your pillow as you cried, hands over your ears to drown out your mother’s voice.

-Listen here lady, - Lilia stepped in then, picking up your phone and bring it to close to her lips, her voice clear and hard, so cold that if you had been at the receiving end, you would have felt a shiver running down your spine. This was clearly a recuring event in your life, one you had never mentioned, but that wasn’t important right now, the main thing was to get your mother to shut up. - I don’t know who you are, but I can tell you one thing. Y/N is not weak, or useless or any of the many things you’ve called her, she’s the most wonderful woman I have ever met.

-Who the hell are you? Y/N, are you still there? Who the fuck am I talking to?!

-I’m her girlfriend and you need to…

-Oh, so you are trying to ruin someone else now? Great job Y/n, fucking fantastic. Are you going to call me again crying “mommy mommy, they’ve stolen from me, they’ve broken my heart” like the fucking pathetic idiot you are?!

-I will not tolerate this talk from you lady! I don’t know who the hell you think you might be, but you have no right to speak to Y/N this way. You are supposed to be the most important person in her life, the one she can trust, and you are failing at that. Maybe Y/N is not be faulted for what you have driven her to do! She’s not weak, she’s not a failure, she has survived you, and that says plenty. If you had acted as a mother when you were supposed to, she would not be like this now!

-Who the fuck…

-I’M TALKING AND YOU WILL WAIT UNTIL I’M DONE! – the other woman fell silent, stunned at the other end of the phone, probably unused to someone actually having the balls to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Lilia was on a roll, and she keep talking without even noticing. - You have no right to say to her that she should have died when she was at rock bottom, and she needed you! So how about you say what you phoned her for, and we can all end this before we say things that we will fully regret.

-Well… Now she has a defender. This is new. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen lady, she’s going to go back to doing drugs and to drinking when life doesn’t handle her things on a silver plate and drag you down with her. She’s always been a spoiled brat, and she will remain being so.

-THAT’S NOT TRUE! – you jolted from your spot to kneel in front of Lilia, snatching the phone from her hand, your face red from crying, your voice so loud that you were sure your neighbours would come down in a minute and reprimand you. -YOU NEVER GAVE ME SHIT; I HAD TO GO TO THE NEIGHBOURS HOUSE TO GET FOOD AND RIDES TO SCHOOL BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T THERE! WHEN I BROKE MY ARM YOU MADE ME GO TO SCHOOL WITH A FUCKING STICK TIED TO A BEDSHEET BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT TO TAKE ME TO THE DOCTORS!

-HERE WE GO AGAIN WITH THE LIES! THAT’S WHAT YOUR TEACHERS ALWAYS USE TO SAY; YOU LIED TO GET OUT OF DETENTION BECAUSE YOU COULD NOT FACE THE CONSEQUENCES TO YOUR ACTIONS!

-I WAS CHASED OUT OF THE FUCKING DINNING HALL AND THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO BE FUCKING KILLED!! IT WASN’T MY FAULT! NONE OF THIS WAS! WHY WON’T ANYONE LISTEN TO ME?!

-LIARS DON’T DESERVE TO BE HEARD! YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELF!

The scream that tore out of your throat was so raw, so full of pain that it felt as if you were tearing it out of your chest, maybe you were ripping it out of your broken and smashed heart. This was why you had poured everything that had ever happened to you into drugs and alcohol, they made you numb, they made you forget, they killed you at a faster rate, but tonight the four bottles of vodka, tequila and whiskey didn’t seem to have the desired effect, quite the opposite, everything felt worse, a thousand times worse. Your mother’s words had cut deep, so fucking deep that you were nearly bleeding into your mattress, the phone forgotten somewhere over the carpet as you had throwing it against the floor, your hands grabbing your hair and pulling hard as if that could make the pain lessen. You could not hear anything but you own sobs, breaths hurried to the point that you were sure you would hyperventilate in a moment if you didn’t control it soon, but how could you with how the world was crushing down around you once more.

You had spent your entire life telling everyone around you the things that people had done to you, of the abuse, of the lies, the deceit, the injuries, everything, and they all had had one thing in common; oh, your poor mother must have felt awful, they said. What a fucking bunch of assholes you had thought. No one had ever asked how YOU were doing, if you were over it, if it still hurt, if it caused you problems. No on cared about you and you just couldn’t handle it, not anymore. You had been labelled a liar for as long as you could remember, everything was your fault; when that boy had smashed a rock on your head, it had been your fault, when you had been pushed down the stairs, you had been at fault as well, when your teachers had pulled you out of your classroom and had yelled at you that you were crazy and that you would become a criminal by the time you were eighteen, blowing up cars and such, you had cried and you yourself had thought, this is my fault as well. Lilia could not bring herself to say anything, she turned your phone to see that the screen was cracked, but the call had ended, thankfully, and she simply picked it up and placed it on the nightstand before turning her attention to you, her shawl and purse resting on the carpet.

She moved her hands slowly up to your arms, but the instant her fingers rested on your wrists you moved away quickly, crawling hurriedly to the edge of the bed until your hands were on the floor, rushing the nearest corner. She knew you were scared, that you were in pain, she wasn’t a stranger to all those feelings, but she had never known that you were experiencing them so strongly. She sighed and stood, rounding the bed and making her way to you, sitting in front of your shaky form. All those bottles she had seen couldn’t be from today, you had gone back to drinking, but why? Was it all your mother, was it something else, a mix of circumstances that you could not have prevented? There were so many questions that she needed answers to, but you were in no position to give them to her, and her priority wasn’t getting them, but making sure that you were alright. She sat a bit closer, her knees nearly touching yours, but she remained at a certain distance to give you space should you need it.

-May I… May I touch you Y/N? – you lifted your head from where it was hidden in your arms, tears running down your cheeks, face puffed and red. Why was she still here? Did she like seeing you run down? Others had thrived in seeing you crying, destroyed on the floor, they had loved to see you as a shell of yourself. Your eyes locked with hers, but you didn’t see any of that happiness and power the others had had, she was looking at you with worry, with a caring aura about her that took you by surprise.

-Why are you here?

-I was worried about you. Actually, I was angry thinking you had forgotten about me and our date.

-I… I did. I’m sorry, I messed everything up. – you crawled back into yourself a little, breaking her gaze and looking down at the floor, ashamed.

-You did not.

-You don’t have to lie to me, I know I did. You probably had something awesome prepared, and I did not go because I was too busy fucking up my life again.

-If you say that you’ve been clean for a year, why did you go back to all this?

-Because she called. – she barely heard the words you had whispered, your head practically tucked into your chest and arms. With careful movements Lilia tried her luck once more, placing her hand on your wrist, smiling a bit as you didn’t pull away, the warmth of her skin over yours a contrast with the coolness of your room. Why was she being so nice to you? Did she pity you? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had taken advantage of you because they made you believe they cared only to pity you and your disaster of a life. Your body did not fight her when tenderly she took you in her arms, sitting with her back against the wall and you on her lap. She smelled so nice, so much like home, and you held onto the straps of her dress as if they were lifelines, saving you from a deep abyss that was calling out your name.

-When was the first time she called?

-A couple of weeks ago.

-Do you want to tell me why?

-Money. She only ever calls for money. – Lilia cradled your head closer to her chest, and though she knew it wouldn’t take away your pain perhaps she could dimmish it as best she could, but to get to that point she knew you both had to cross a very dangerous bridge. – She’s always been like that, taking it all as soon as I started working when I was sixteen just so she could spoil her stupid boyfriends. I couldn’t even pay for college. I had been saving for like three years to go to community college and she took it. She took it all, didn’t even leave a cent because her fucking boyfriend wanted to go to Hawaii!

-But this time you didn’t give in and she’s mad, right?

-I didn’t give in to her but… I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

-Darling, I know it hurts; I know you feel ashamed, but things won’t get better unless you share this with me. You know I love you and I won’t ever judge you for what you might have done, for how you learnt to cope with it all. – tears were still running down your cheeks, but she did not care, she tilted your head until your puffy red eyes were staring back at her brown deep ones, her voice quiet and loving as she spoke to you. - Talk to me Y/N.

-You will think me a stupid kid, like the rest of them. You will side with my mum and when I’m done you will say that I overreacted and that I let myself fall into this because I didn’t grow up. I don’t want to see that from you Lilia. – you had begun to slip from her arms to try and gain as much distance from her as possible knowing that your heart couldn’t take it if she dumped you. She had meant so much to you, she still did, and you honestly thought that she would always be the most important person that had ever entered your life, but her touch was hard and yet tender, and she didn’t let you move more than just a few inches from her grasp.

-Hey, have I ever left you alone when you were down, when you were having a bad day at work or when you were just simply feeling bad about yourself?

-No.

-Then what makes you think that I will now? I’m not like other people, I know how it feels to be abandoned, to not know what to do with yourself when the pain is all consuming. I’m not going anywhere.

-I don’t think I can do this Lilia. I don’t have the strength.

-Then let me be strong for you. You need to let it out before you can begin to heal, as painful as it may be.

There was truth is every word she spoke, in the way her eyes glinted under the light that was coming from her fingers, the yellow glow reflecting on her peppery curls and olive kissed skin as she caressed your cheeks. You had been to therapist after therapist since the age of eight, and yeah, they had heard you but they had never listened, they had never ever done shit for you, and yet, looking up at Lilia in the darkness of your room, protected and safe in her embrace, somehow you felt as if she could solve all the problems in the universe, as if she was your before and after that could heal and pull you out of this horrible mess you had found yourself in. Your mouth opened several times, but nothing came out. You just didn’t know where to start, how much to tell her, what might be too much, it had been years since you had shared your darkest thoughts with anyone. Looking down at your hands as they rubbed the skin of Lilia’s fingers you saw the ring you had gifted her on her birthday. It wasn’t expensive or exclusive, it was a very simple thing you had found in a small shop with a beautiful deep yellow stone mounted on a thin golden ring. She had never taken it off in all that time, not even once, and as your fingertips brushed over it you made the jump, praying that this was the right thing to do.

-It all stared when I was really young. She wasn’t a good mother; she would always leave me to fend for myself while she went out or to work. The first time was when I was two and it’s a miracle I didn’t die, but I suppose I was a smart kid, and the neighbours knew just how shitty she was and how she behaved, so they helped out. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t have what others did, why my mum didn’t seem to love me. I never had Christmas gifts or birthdays; the party you threw for me was the first one I had ever had. – Lilia could not believe what she was hearing. You had never celebrated your birthday, you had never ever been celebrated in your entire life? She could understand that for herself, she was well past four hundred years old, but you? You were barely in your twenties, you were a baby compared to her, you deserved to have someone show you just how much you meant to them, to party and be happy with useless gifts being given to you and cake and kisses, but she had been the only one to show you? It made sense now why you had looked at her unsure of what you were supposed to do. – I was a confused child that didn’t understand why I was always pushed to a corner and forgotten there. Things only got worse when I began school. They hated me, they didn’t even bother to get to know me before they started insulting me and bullying me. I remember one time, when I was four, how I was sitting on the playground and a boy crossed the whole thing, and it was like maybe fifteen or twenty feet, until he stood before me with a big piece of concrete in his hand and smashed it on the side of my head. I remember seeing partially black with my left eye and just how like in movies, when you see this circle that starts getting smaller and smaller until everything’s black? – you felt Lilia nod her head from where it rested on top of your messy hair, her hands rubbing soothing patterns on your legs. - I got knocked out and I know I was bleeding like a pig, but the school told my mother that it had been just a scratch, and that blood was always just so scandalous, but she didn’t even care. I could have bleed to my death, and she would have been perfectly alright with it. I was always being thrown out of class and the school was always calling her for every little fuck up I did. She was always so pissed when I got home, sometimes she would leave me in the laundry room, locked away so she wouldn’t have to hear me crying when I came home with bruises, trying to find comfort in her. Things never got easier or better.

-You… you said something before, that you were chased? Was that in that same school?

-Yeah, she wouldn’t even consider sending me to a different district, it would have been to much of a hassle for her. It happened… I… This one’s hard, Lilia.

-Take your time, darling, I promise I’m not going anywhere. – you took a deep breath, sensing how the terror you had felt back then was returning. Every time you thought about it, whenever you let the memories plague you and overrun your mind you felt the fear taking over, your grasp on Lilia’s hand harder, nails nearly digging onto her skin.

-I was like nine, I think. I had just finished lunch, and I was leaving my tray when I saw three boys from my classroom following me outside. I didn’t think anything at first but when I turned left, and they followed I began to get nervous. It wouldn’t have been the first time they had followed me until I started running, leaving me to look like an idiot around the playground but… this time they started running as well. My legs burnt and my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to explode but I couldn’t stop running, I felt it in my bones that I was going to get hurt, if not killed, if I stopped. I was beyond terrified, running all over school grounds screaming for help, but no one came. They never did. It wasn’t until the bell rang and they rushed to get to class that I could finally stop, kneeling on the hard ground, crying in terror. I truly believed I would go home in a black bag that day, and the worst thing was that I knew my mother would never shed a tear. When I got to class, shaking like a leaf I was reprimanded by the teacher for being late, and when I tried to explain what had happened, she yelled at me for talking back and threw me out. If the teacher didn’t believe me, how was I supposed to tell my mother? But I did anyway, and she laughed. I thought I was going to fucking die and she laughed.

-Oh, Y/N.

-Don’t pity me, please. – you hid your face in her chest, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, you just knew she was looking at you as if you were a broken thing, and that coming from her would kill you. Your tears soaked the neckline of her dress, the hand that was still holding onto her gown pulling her closer, making yourself as small as you could in her arms, knees pressed against your chest. - I can’t take it, it’s been two decades, and I still can’t take it, I can’t move on.

-I know, darling, I know. It’s hard when you’ve been on your own for so long.

-I nearly killed myself. I was so ashamed when I failed, thinking that perhaps I deserved all the horrible things that were happening. Everyone just kept telling me that it was my fault, on a loop, over and over and over, and in the end, I believed it. But I was a coward, I couldn’t end it all, I couldn’t go through with it and the only way I found that I could numb the pain was with drugs and alcohol.

-When was the first time you did it?

-The drugs or the alcohol?

-Either of them? Both?

-I had weed first. It was harmless, I felt good but then things would crush around me when I got down, and I hated the feeling, so I started drinking. It was easier, cheaper as well, and I could do it at home, in school, it didn’t matter, I would not remember what had happened and that made feel as if my life was normal, as if there was no abuse, no pain, no broken bones or screams ringing in my ears. I was sixteen when I was able to buy with a fake ID as much bottles as I wanted, and it was also the first time I got so drunk that I passed out on the street until the next morning, when the police took me home. My mother did the performance of her life showing herself as a worried perfect mother, but as soon as the door closed, she beat the shit out of me. I had spent her money, that’s all she fucking said.

-You could have died Y/N.

-Don’t you think I knew? Sometimes I think that I was trying to kill myself this way, so I wouldn’t have to face the shame of actually having to shoot myself or jump out of a window. It was stupid, but I couldn’t stop. Drinks helped move everything along, until they felt passive, as if they weren’t cutting for me anymore so I started with the drugs. Whatever I could do, cocaine, heroin, weed again. I took things that I didn’t even knew the name of, getting so high that the world seemed bearable again, like a walk in the park, but my grades were slipping, and the teachers were beyond cruel, making sure I knew I was failure. So, I tried to get clean when I was eighteen, started saving for college and all that, but the relapses just kept happening, over and over and then mum threw me out. I didn’t have a penny to my name, I almost lost my job, all I had was the drinks and the drugs, so I gave up. I went down the rabbit hole and I couldn’t get out; I didn’t want to get out. She would show up all the fucking time though, it didn’t matter if I changed my number or if I moved apartments, she would call me and find me and every little thing I had improved on she would just destroy it. When I set foot in your shop, I was looking for a reason to overdose again, I was hoping you would say something that would make think that I was done, but you didn’t.

-I could see your pain, I could see that you were lost, I wanted to help you. I wanted to guide you in the right direction, and so did the cards. I could see your kind soul, no matter what you have done.

-You say that now, but I have done things that you wouldn’t like, at all. I tried to steal phones, I tried to steal money, I tried to hurt people to make them feel the same pain they were inflicting on me.

-Didn’t you notice the key word, dear?

-Key word? – had you ever got to tell anyone so much about yourself? You couldn’t recall when it had been the last time someone had actually actively listened to your every word without judging, without telling you that you had been weak. You were unused to this. Lilia was still cradling you in her arms, only releasing you when you turned around to face her, silent tears still falling down your cheeks, but her eyes didn’t look at you with the pity you had expected, there was only love and comfort in those deep chocolate windows from which you could see her soul, her thoughts almost.

-Tried, which means that you never truly did all those things. You felt like you needed to, but something stopped you. What?

-If I did it, I would have been blamed, found out because it did not matter what was going on, I was always the first one to be blamed for everything. It would not hurt them, it would be slightly inconveniences that they would move on from while I would still be there, getting high to deal with their abuse. I was already suffering, why add more?

-That says something about you.

-That I’m dumb?

-That you are still kind. You saw that that it would only hurt yourself and instead of doing something worse you took a step back to protect yourself, to not add more pain to your life. You still cared enough to not let them turn you into something that you are not.

-But what am I? Who am I? – there was this pressure on your chest, this heaviness in the words you were both speaking that made a lump form on your throat, a brand-new batch of tears clouding your vision, the hot crystal drops burning your skin as they fell, but they didn’t get past your nose before Lilia’s thumbs were wiping them.

-You are Y/N, a kind, gentle woman that loves to sneak into my kitchen and take my cookies when they’ve come out right out of the oven, who loves to walk with me down at the park, who kisses me when my visions get really bad and cuddles me when I’m feeling down. You are the most remarkable person I have ever met, and nothing that those people have ever said it’s true, not a single word.

-How do you know?

-Because in all this time that you’ve been with me, you were clean.

She had looked at you that night as if she had held every answer to questions you hadn’t even thought about, things that would crush you under their truth and you hadn’t been able to move past what she had said to you. When you had entered her shop you had wanted to die more than anything in the world, your life was going nowhere and you had no reason why you should get clean, but she had changed it all when she had taken your hands and sat you down at her little table. Lilia had taken your broken pieces and had started glueing them together, with gold showing from your cracks because you past didn’t define you, but it helped you become the person you were supposed to be. It had shaped you; it had pushed you to the ground and had placed a foot on your throat until the right person had come into your life, someone who with her tender hands had steadied you, had shown you the way and had pulled out from the dark tunnel you had been thrown in. Falling in love with her had been so easy, so right and comfortable and it had happened without either of you noticing. You couldn’t even remember when something that had been nothing had become something until it meant everything.

She had become your world, and this witch that sometimes had this gaps and visions, that loved to have a midnight snack while watching reruns of Murder She Wrote and who held your hand whenever she could, deserved more than the you that had been back then. The first night you had met her you had stayed away from your apartment, sleeping on her couch, wondering the next morning when it had been the last time you had woken up remembering what had happened the night before, thinking that watching her smile as she busied herself with some tea and toasts, that kind smile gracing her lips whenever she looked at you over her shoulder, would be a lovely sight to wake up to. When you had returned home, she had plagued your mind, her words echoing in your brain, but you hadn’t had the strength to let go of all the things you had become so accustomed to. The alcohol remined in your cupboard for three days, and the bags of heroin and cocaine in your nightstand for a week before you built the courage to start afresh. Lilia deserved a person who could enjoy life beside her, who would remember her the next day, who would not go missing for days to get drunk and high under a bridge or in the middle of a park, and it was clear that she wanted that person to be you. It was harder than ever before, the temptation to fall back into it all came from every corner, but you would not give in, you had made up your mind about it, and you would never let Lilia know that you had this problem, you couldn’t risk losing her if she found out about it all. And yet here you two were, back at the beginning and at the same time feeling like you had come so far.

-But I lied to you. I kept all this hidden away and now it has exploded in my face. I’m weak Lilia.

-No, you are not. – her hands took hold of your head gently, forcing you to look at her square in the face, determination written all over her lovely features. – You are the strongest person I’ve ever known, you are a fighter, a survivor. The things you have gone through I cannot imagine them, but the fact that you are still here speaks volumes. I won’t lie to you, knowing that you’ve kept this from me hurts, it makes me think that you didn’t trust me enough, but I understand now why you felt like you couldn’t tell me. You’ve been deceived far too many times, but I promise you, love, never again. You and I will get through this, together.

-I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.

-Don’t apologise, there’s no need. You’ve been apologising for existing your entire life, and it is about time that the world apologised to you. I’m sorry Y/N, for not seeing that your pain was far greater than what I thought. I’m sorry that you didn’t have someone to lean on, to cry to, to find comfort in. I’m sorry that all those adults that were supposed to protect you, failed you and drove you to the edge.

-But you didn’t do it, why are you sorry?

-Because you need to hear it. You need to know that it was never you, it was everybody else. You were a kid, and they didn’t let you be one, and then you were a teenager, and you weren’t allowed that either, but now you are an adult, and you are not alone. You can be whoever you want, and I will be here until the very end.

-I want to be who you deserve. I want to go out on dates with you, I want to watch films and make you laugh and not worry about my mother or anybody else except for you. I want to go out and look at the sky and remember it, I want to feel love and hurt and pain and happiness and not numb it all, because that’s life and I want to experience it to the best of my abilities. I want to recover, Lilia.

-Then we will start by blocking your mother’s number and deleting it. – the phone was perhaps a foot from you, but you could not bring yourself to reach for it, the first doubts already filling your head, but Lilia was there, and she bent her body over the floor to grab it, moving you along with her, unblocking it and tapping on the three dots that showed up on the right, a popup showing the dreading words “Block” and a bin saying “Delete”. Your arms felt like lead as you tried to lift them. You had done this more than twenty times before, why couldn’t you now?! It was frustrating to feel like this. Lilia could see the fight happening through your eyes, only a few silent tears still falling down your cheeks every once in a while, and since you seemed unable to take the step, she made the decision for you, grabbing you hand and placing your index finger hovering over the bright screen, her touch leaving you until it was your own hand alone a few inches from your future. – I can’t do it for you, Y/N, better yet, I won’t. If you really want to recover you must make these decisions of your own free will. And sometimes we need to cut ties so we can cross the bridge.

So you could cross the bridge. Yeah, you had been swaying over a broken-down bridge all your life, and behind you was all the things that you were so desperate to get away from, before you Lilia awaited with a bright light, no, with blue skies and sunlight all around her. The pad of you fingers tapped on the block, accepting the next step before deleting all her calls from your log. A weight had lifted from your chest, and even though you felt a slight sadness you knew that the happiness that you were going to build with your own two hands would be the most rewarding thing you had ever done in your life. Lifting your head you felt your heart leap in your chest at her smile, the way it shone with pride, her eyes glowing with love as she pulled your face closer to hers, her lips pecking yours. Parting, she wrapped her arms around your frame, not bothered by your messy hair or stained clothes.

-A step in the right direction. I’m so proud of you. Why don’t we go home and enjoy a celebratory dinner? We can clean this up tomorrow.

-Can we… can we stay like this for one more minute?

-We can stay like this all night.

#lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #patti lupone x reader #agatha all along #we thank miss lupone simply for existing

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women-in-ssports · 2 days ago

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DRAFT NIGHT

“Paige Madison! You look HOT twin” Nika yelled walking into the door catching a glimpse of Paige getting her final touches done for draft night. “TWIN” Paige squeals as she tries to move toward Nika, before Brittney’s arm shoots out to hold her in place. “Hold on, just a second” Brittney says eyes rolling over Paige to make sure everything looks perfect

Nika now pouting in the corner turns slightly “Well if she won’t give me a hug, can I get one from you? I did come all the way from Croatia to be here tonight” Laughter breaks out in the room as Azzi moved from her seat with open arms toward Nika. “Of course Nika! Come here! We missed you” “I missed you all too!” Nika gets out before Azzi swallows her up in a hug.

Azzi feels a hand on her shoulder “Hey you’re going to hurt my twin” Paige says laughing moving to hug Nika as Azzi steps aside laughing. “So where is everyone?” Nika says looking around the hotel room

Looking over at Paige, Azzi raises her eyebrows with a small smirk. “What happened to everyone Paige” Paige turns to face Azzi with disbelief visible on her face “way to sell me out” turning to Nika, Paige adds “I might of had a mini meltdown and needed some space. They all went grab some food. We don’t have pictures for an hour and then have to be at the carpet”

Time Jump

Now that pictures were done Paige found a quiet corner to the side to gather herself before the carpet. Her whole world was about to change in one night. After tonight she was no longer going to be a UConn Basketball player she was going to be living her dream.. the WNBA. It was to surreal to take all in right now. “Hey P, are you ready to go down” Azzi says softly reaching out a hand to take Paige’s in hers. “As long as you’re there to catch me if I trip on this carpet” “Promise” Azzi replies places a small kiss to the hand she was holding in hers

Paige walked down the carpet alone, at first but was soon joined by her sibling. Azzi stood to the side admiring Paige and how radiant she was. Tonight was her night and Azzi wanted to let her shine. However just because Azzi was okay standing off to the side, didn’t mean that’s where Paige wanted her. As if on cue Paige was waiving Azzi over to take a few pictures with her. “Have I told you how stunning you look Az” Paige whispers as she fixes a stray string on Azzis outfit. “Only once maybe twice in the last 10 minutes” Azzi replied through a dimpled smile aimed at the cameras.

Draft Time

[Paiges draft table: Mom, Dad, Sibling, Azzi]

The intro to the draft is background to Paige at this point. Are white noise to her as she twirled her fingers around a loose string on her napkin She goes to the in a breath, then another, same as she does when she is on the freed throw line to calm her nerves, but it isnt working. She feels a hand slip between her own. When she looks over she sees Azzi smirking not taking her eyes off the presenter. “Paigy, this is so cool. I’m so glad you’re my sister, I am so proud of you.” Drew loudly whispers from across the table. Causing a few head turns and small soft smiles at her little brothers words. “Thanks Drew” Paige replied with a soft smile

“And with the first pick in the first round of the 2025 WNBA College Draft, the Dallas Wings select Paige Buckers from the University of Connecticut”

Paige’s heart caught. She could hear the crowd, picking out her teammates voices cheering for her. This was it. She stands almost robotically turning to hug her family going to her parents first, then her siblings. Each saying how proud they were of her. Lastly she turns to hug Azzi, placing a small kiss on her cheek before turning to go on the stage.

It’s not until Paige is back at the table seated, listening to the 3rd pick of the draft that it kind of all hits her. She’s officially in the WNBA. Her dream. As if she could read her mind, Azzi scotches her chair alittle closer reaching out to grab her hand she whispers “Your dream Paige, it’s real. Relax” Under Azzis touch she takes in a deep breath and for the first time that night her heart calms. Looking around the table at her family first and then turning to look at where her teammates sat in the crowd she couldn’t help but smile.

Later that night

“Let me carry you” Paige slurred moving to pick Azzi up as she opened the door “that for when you get married P” Azzi snorts squirming away from Paige worried they might both end up on the floor if she picks her up. “Put I got drafted” Paige says turning toward Azzi with puppy eyes and a pouted lip. “Then shouldn’t I be carrying you” Azzi reply’s raising an eyebrow “come on” she says as she grabs Paige’s hand and walks toward the bed.

Slipping on the shirt Paige was wearing earlier and throwing another at Paige herself to put on she slipped into bed. Azzi anticipating the warmth of her gf looked up confused when she didn’t feel her after a few moments. Turning over she looked toward Paige staring out the window. Sliding to the opposite side of the bed she positioned the pillows where she could easily lean back and reached forward to guide Paige’s hips to sit between her legs. Pulling Paige back on her she wrapped her arm tightly. Neither girl spoke as they watched the sunrise and slowly fell asleep in each others arms.

A peaceful silence in the air.

#azzi and paige #pazzi

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yourlocalsmutwriter · 18 hours ago

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Unsurvivable ride - Fernando Alonso x reader

Summary: Old man loves his car, and you, once again, written on a train, author loves old men and old men know

Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of person who loved to boast. Sure, when he was young, he was cocky. Impressing female reporters with his card tricks or the fact that he could crack a walnut with his neck. A line that didn't make it to air was him saying, "So you don't need to worry about sitting on my face, I'm strong, I can take it, see?" right after. And even with "Fernando is faster than you," even with the "villain" comments in drive to survive, he wasn't prideful. He was just honest. You wouldn't see him flaunting his wealth or doing noveau rich stuff. Yacht aside, luxury cars aside. Yes, he had those things but didn't ever mention them or use them as props, the way some of the other drivers did. Fernando Alonso was the king of quiet luxury, old money. But, with every job came its little quirks. And in Nando's was the new car.

Don't get him wrong he loved the Valkyrie. It was truly a beautiful car. Fast, too. Perfect for him. But having to prep your shared Monaco living room for it was not fun. Fernando loved having pictures of you two around, the framed memories were a must-have. Whether it was in the tax paradise where most F1 drivers lived, in Spain, to even his garage. Everyone was seeing that Fernando was with you. It was almost funny to see new people guess the nature of your relationship. With you being closer in age to your 20s than your thirties, people assumed you were his relative, a cousin, or perhaps a sister. Some even thought you were his daughter. Then he pulled out the vacation pictures of himself, taking down your swimsuit with his teeth. That cleared up the fact that you were his girlfriend. All the pictures were gone for the day. Any magazines or books that didn't seem like they fit him. Your clothes that hung on the hooks, everything. Truth be told, now the living room looked white and sterile and, thus, perfect for a video. Fernando had to film, and it was fun. Driving around the streets of Monaco in this custom beast didn't suit him still. But he had to do it again and again. That was in his contract.

Despite him having to take it around all the time, you didn't get a chance to ride in it for a long time. Truth is, you avoided it. The two seater was way too fancy for your taste. You couldn't shake the sinking feeling that you'd scratch it just by opening the door or something. So you didn't even come near it. Took public transport or walked. Used the excuse of "I know it's Monaco, and people don't film you as much, but in this, they definitely will.". And that was literally the point. The Aston Martin marketing person called it a mere exposure theory. Show something to people enough, and they will remember it. Then something about the car creating organic word of mouth and this driving sales. Nando thought it was a little ridiculous that all he drove week in and week out was an Aston Martin. Especially after Brazil.

But duty called. And the word of Lawrence Stroll and co was law. So Nando took the Valkyrie out, again and again. Finally, he managed to get you in it. Seeing you in the Valkyrie did something to him. Maybe it was the triple header. Maybe it was you in a mini dress pressed up against him. With the seat belt between your perfect tits, he was a goner. Lord knows how he made it to the restaurant without slipping his fingers inside of you while driving with his left hand. It was a miracle. The fancy restaurant he had picked out had no vallet. Only an exclusive underground parking. Fernando got out of the car with a plan in mind. By the end of the night, your first ride in the Valkyrie was going to be a memorable one.

Everything went smoothly. Then it was time to go. Fernando put on an Oscar worthy performance of looking for his car keys. A pat down of his jeans, a scrunched up face, a low swear in Spanish. All the while, they sat snugley in his jacket pocket.

"I must have left them on the dash. The car, it has this app that lets you do certain functions remotely. Can you look after I've rolled down the window, doll." He asks. Sometimes, he loves how serviceable you are. Others would call you ditzy, but he knew that all you ever wanted was to be a good girl for him. So you didn't question why the Valkyrie's windows could be opened remotely. You assumed it had something to do with its confusing butterfly doors. Fernando rolls it down, and you twist your body inside. At his plea to "really look, make sure the keys aren't somewhere on the floor," your entire upper body is pretzled in. Leaving your ass to stick out. And that's when Nando strikes like a viper. The window moves up. Not enough to hurt you, but it is definitely enough to make you stuck. He unlocks and locks the car again to taunt you, to show you that he wants you there.

"Can I touch you, pretty girl?" He asks, but you can already feel his fingers near your bare legs. He's flipped up your skirt, completely exposing your underwear. As soon as you say yes, he traces the seams of it, enjoying how you get excited over that.

"Look at you, already getting wet for me. We'll have to be quick here, princess. Is that okay with you?" He asks, and he's happy when you practically beg for that. Truth is, he can't stand to tease you right now. He needs you like a fish needs water. Fernando wasted no time in taking off your panties and putting two fingers inside of you. He curls them and tries to get them to hit that spot inside of you. When he uses his other hand to rub your clit, you're a goner, clenching against him. But he doesn't stop.

"You got yours, doll. It's time for me to get mine." He says. Fernando's belt clangs on the concrete, his pants pooled against his ankles. He takes his fingers out of you, and you can hear a loud suck as you guess he puts them in his mouth. The same fingers wrap around his shaft as he guides himself inside of you. The position is driving you both crazy. You can feel his deeper than usual, and you can't squirm away from him. You're at his mercy, and he has none. He thrusts inside of you, almost bottoming out and then slides almost all the way out. He squeezes your ass and hips. Watches himself wreck your pretty weeping pussy with his cock. Feels you get tighter against him. Sees you cum and then clench against nothing as he pulls out. Wonders whether his cum might somehow damage the paint as he watches it on your thighs.

"There goes one incentive to keep driving this thing. Now I'll think of this every time I get in it." Fernando says, to see you squirm and tell him to shut up. Yep, he was gonna make you warm up to the Valkyrie, one way or another.

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 imagine #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso smut #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso drabble

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the-writerwoman · 2 days ago

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I bring the gift of a brainrot I forgot I had in my notes! Everyone has @z0m3r-blud to thank for this, for reminding me about it 😂

Beauty and the beast AU LETS GOOOOO! 🥳🥳

It’s Origins Wade btw. So he has his hair and everything. Just Origins Poolverine because I wanna imagine Logan with the fluffy hair when he’s human again 😂

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Wade’s quiet sobs echoed in the large, unfamiliar bedroom. The storm outside roared against the stone walls, but the sound barely registered. His face was buried in the soft pillow, and the warm fire felt distant, like a comfort meant for someone else.

“You poor thing,” a voice said softly, startling Wade.

He shot up, wiping his tear-streaked face. “What? Who’s there?”

“It’s just me, dear,” the voice replied, warm and gentle. Wade turned toward the sound and froze.

A large wardrobe stood near the corner of the room, carved with elegant patterns. One of its doors creaked open slightly, revealing a faint shimmer of gold light.

“Whoa, okay,” Wade said, blinking. “I’m either losing my mind, or the furniture here talks.”

“You’re not losing your mind, at least, not yet,” the wardrobe quipped, the faintest edge of sarcasm in her soothing tone. “It’s just me. My name’s Althea. And, if I may say so, your crying was giving me a headache.”

“Sorry to disturb your…wardrobe-ing,” Wade said, his tears forgotten as curiosity took over. “Wait, you can talk? You can hear me?”

Althea chuckled, the sound like a creak of old wood. “Of course I can hear you, sweetie. And see you! Or, well…” There was a loud thunk as she bumped into the edge of the fireplace. “Maybe not see, exactly. Let’s say I sense things. Blind as a bat, but my hearing is impeccable.”

Wade stared at her, mouth slightly agape. Then, despite himself, he snorted. “So you’re a sarcastic, clumsy wardrobe. This place just gets weirder.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Althea said, her tone mockingly prim. She bumped into the bed, jolting Wade slightly. “Oops. There it is.”

Before Wade could respond, a sharp ticking sound echoed across the room.

“Althea, for heaven’s sake, let the poor boy rest,” a new voice chided, this one kinder and more patient. Wade turned to see a small, ornate clock waddling across the floor on tiny legs.

The clock stopped beside the bed and tilted slightly, as though looking up at Wade. “Hello, young man. I’m Jimmy. Welcome to the castle. I’m sorry your arrival wasn’t under better circumstances.”

Jimmy’s soothing voice and calm demeanor felt like a balm to Wade’s frayed nerves. He blinked down at the clock, unsure whether to laugh or cry again. “You’re a clock,” Wade said simply.

“Yes,” Jimmy replied gently.

Before Wade could respond, another voice rang out, this one sharper and more direct.

“Jimmy, don’t coddle him. The boy’s fine,” a tall candelabra with a flickering flame stepped into the room. He had an air of authority, his golden body polished to a gleam.

Wade blinked. “And you are…?”

“Vic,” the candelabra said brusquely. “Victor Creed. I run the place—or I did, before all this nonsense. Now I’m stuck lighting fires and being dragged into whatever disaster happens next.”

“Vic,” Jimmy scolded, his tone exasperated. “Show some compassion, would you? The boy’s been through enough.”

“Compassion?” Vic barked, his flame flaring slightly. “What about us, huh? It’s not like we had a choice in this curse.”

Wade held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—curse? What curse? Is that why you’re all…” He gestured vaguely at the enchanted objects. “Alive-ish?”

Althea sighed, the sound heavy and dramatic. “It’s a long story, sweetie. And honestly, not my favorite bedtime tale.”

Jimmy spoke up, his voice calm and steady. “The master, that is, Logan, brought this on us years ago. But it’s not your burden to bear. Right now, what matters is that you’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” Wade echoed, incredulous. “I’m trapped in a castle with a growly murder-beast and talking furniture. But sure, Jimmy, I’m great.”

Vic’s flame flickered, almost like he was laughing. “Well, you’ve got some spirit, I’ll give you that.”

Jimmy shot Vic a stern look before turning back to Wade. “I know this is overwhelming, but I promise you, you’ll be safe here. Logan can be…intense, but he’s not a monster. Not really.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Wade muttered.

Althea nudged the bed with her frame. “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just all claws and grumbles. Deep down, there’s a heart in there somewhere. Buried under about twenty feet of anger and bad decisions.”

Wade let out a small, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, that’s comforting. Thanks for the pep talk, gang.”

Jimmy stepped closer, his voice soft. “Get some rest, Wade. It’s been a long day. We’ll be here if you need anything.”

Wade hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks, Jimmy. And…uh, Althea. And Vic, I guess.”

Vic grumbled something under his breath, but Althea’s cheerful voice broke in. “You’re welcome, darling. Just don’t expect me to fold your clothes. Blind, remember?”

As the enchanted objects, besides Althea who went back to her corner, left the room, Wade lay back on the bed, staring up at the canopy. The fire crackled softly, and for the first time since he’d arrived, the tightness in his chest began to ease.

But as his eyes drifted closed, one thought lingered in his mind.

What have I gotten myself into?

In the west wing, Logan sat slouched in a massive chair, staring into the fireplace. His claws tapped absentmindedly on the armrest as his mind wandered back to the night before.

Why would someone do that? he thought for the hundredth time, picturing Wade’s tear-filled eyes as he offered himself in his father’s place. The courage, the selflessness, it unsettled him. Logan couldn’t understand it, and it gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

“I don’t trust it,” he muttered to himself. “People like that don’t exist.”

A polite knock at the door interrupted his brooding. Logan growled softly. “What?”

The door creaked open, and Jimmy the clock stepped inside, followed closely by Mrs Potts, the castle’s housekeeper, who had been cursed into the form of a teapot. Her porcelain frame gleamed in the morning light, and her voice, though kind, carried a note of determination.

“Good evening, Master,” Mrs Potts said, her tone brisk.

Logan grunted.

Jimmy waddled closer, his face, painted neatly onto the clock’s surface, tilting slightly upward to look at Logan. “We need to talk about the boy.”

“What about him?” Logan said, leaning back in his chair, feigning disinterest.

Mrs Potts exchanged a knowing glance with Jimmy. “We think he could be the one to break the spell.”

Logan stiffened, his claws scraping lightly against the chair. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all,” Jimmy said gently. “He’s brave, selfless, and kind enough to trade his freedom for his father’s. That kind of heart doesn’t come along every day.”

Logan scoffed. “Yeah, well, I’m sure he’d love to spend the rest of his life with someone like me.”

Mrs Potts spout tilted toward Logan, her version of a stern look. “Someone like you? What does that mean?”

Logan gestured to himself, his claws flexing. “Look at me. I’m a monster. You think someone like him, someone that…beautiful, would ever care about someone like me?”

Jimmy’s voice softened. “Master, you’re not a monster. Not deep down. You’ve made mistakes, sure, but there’s still good in you. We see it every day.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to the floor, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve built these walls around yourself,” Jimmy continued, “but walls can come down. It might just take a little coaxing for the boy to see what we see in you.”

“Coaxing?” Logan grunted, unconvinced.

“Why not start small?” Mrs Potts suggested. “Invite him to dinner. Show him a bit of hospitality.”

“Dinner?” Logan asked, his tone flat. “You think that’s going to make him forget he’s a prisoner here?”

“No,” Jimmy admitted, “but it’s a start. If you want him to see the man beneath the claws, you have to let him.”

Logan frowned, his claws tapping on the chair again as he considered their words. The idea felt ridiculous, inviting someone like Wade, who seemed so out of place in the castle, to dinner with him. But…

The memory of Wade’s tear-filled eyes surfaced again, along with the determination in his voice when he said, “If it means my father is safe, yes.”

“Fine,” Logan said gruffly, rising to his full, towering height. “I’ll ask him.”

Mrs Potts and Jimmy exchanged a quick, triumphant look.

“But don’t expect much,” Logan added, brushing past them toward the door. “I’m not exactly charming dinner company.”

Jimmy chuckled softly. “Baby steps, Master. Baby steps.”

As Logan stalked off, his thoughts were still swirling. He didn’t believe for a second that Wade could ever look past what he was. But a small, treacherous part of him, hidden deep beneath the anger and self-loathing, hoped that Jimmy might be right.

Logan paced the length of the dining hall, his claws clicking against the wooden table as he ran them over the edge. The massive room, usually dark and foreboding, had been prepared with care. The chandelier sparkled, candles burned brightly, and the long dining table was set with gleaming silverware and warm, inviting food.

He didn’t get nervous. Ever. But this? This was new.

“You need to calm down, Master,” Mrs Potts said gently from her perch on a side table. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

“I am calm,” Logan growled, the tension in his shoulders betraying him.

Vic, standing nearby with his flames flickering, smirked. “You’re about as calm as a rabid dog.”

Jimmy, ever the mediator, cleared his throat. “Master, I’m sure the boy will come. Just give him time.”

Logan grunted, folding his arms as he leaned back against the table. “I sent the message, didn’t I? What’s taking him so long?”

As if on cue, the door creaked open. Logan straightened, his ears twitching slightly.

But it wasn’t Wade.

A small footstool shuffled in awkwardly, its top cushion bouncing as it came to a stop. “Message from the boy, Master,” it squeaked.

Logan’s chest tightened. “What did he say?”

The footstool hesitated, shuffling nervously. Finally, it blurted, “He said…he’s not coming.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Logan’s growl rumbled through the air.

“He’s what?” Logan snarled, pushing off the table.

“Master, wait—” Jimmy started, but Logan was already stomping toward the staircase.

Logan stormed up the grand staircase, his heavy footsteps echoing through the halls. Jimmy, Vic, and Mrs Potts scrambled to keep up with him, their smaller forms barely able to match his furious pace.

“Master, please think this through,” Jimmy pleaded, panting slightly as he waddled after him.

“He’s being difficult!” Logan snapped over his shoulder.

Vic was laughing, his flames flickering in amusement. “This is priceless. I wish I had popcorn for this.”

“Vic, hush,” Mrs Potts scolded. “Master, you must try to remain composed. He’s not a servant. He’s a guest. You need to be gentle.”

“I am gentle!” Logan growled, reaching Wade’s door. Without hesitation, he banged on it with his claws, the sound reverberating through the corridor.

“Wade!” Logan barked, his voice rough. “I thought I told you to come down for dinner!”

There was a pause, and then Wade’s voice shouted back from the other side of the door. “I’m not hungry!”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his claws leaving faint scratches on the wood. “You come down to dinner, or…or…I’ll break down this door!”

Jimmy stepped forward cautiously. “Master, I’m not so sure this is the best way to win the boy’s affections…”

Logan turned to glare at him. “But he’s being so difficult!”

Vic leaned against the wall, laughing openly now. “Oh, this is gold. Keep going, Master. You’re really nailing it.”

Mrs Potts, ever the voice of reason, interjected. “Master, you need to calm down. Try to be a gentleman. Be…gentle.”

Logan scowled, he took a deep breath. Turning back to the door, he forced his voice into something resembling calm.

“Would you…please…join me for dinner?” he said, his tone stiff and deadpan.

“No, thank you!” Wade shouted back.

Logan’s eye twitched, and he jabbed a finger at the door, looking back at his servants as though to say, You see what I’m dealing with?

Jimmy stepped forward again. “Master, try again. But…nicer this time.”

Logan sighed heavily, clearly losing patience. “It would please me if you would join me for dinner.”

“Still not hungry!” Wade shouted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And not in the mood to please other people either!”

Logan’s restraint finally snapped. “FINE! Go ahead and starve!” he roared, pounding the door once more for emphasis.

He turned on his heel, his cape billowing behind him as he stormed back down the hallway. “If he won’t join me for dinner,” he growled over his shoulder, “then he doesn’t eat.”

Jimmy and Mrs Potts exchanged worried glances as they followed him.

“That…didn’t go quite as planned,” Jimmy muttered.

Mrs Potts sighed, shaking her porcelain head. “The boy may be difficult, but the master is impossible.”

Vic, trailing behind them, chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. That was the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”

The three enchanted objects watched as Logan stomped away, his frustration evident in every step. Somewhere behind them, in the quiet of his room, Wade leaned against the door and sighed.

#poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool 3 #peanutbub #logan howlett #wade wilson

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thelov3lybookworm · 3 days ago

Text

Weeping Heart (Part 6- Cardan)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: new revelations

•○●⛦●○•

Warnings: none, i think.

Word Count: 1163

A/n: WITH THIS PART, THIS SERIES HAS COME TO AN END ASLDJSKFH I CANT BELIEVE IT OML 🥹🥹🥹 THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING THIS JOURNEY WITH ME IM SO HAPPY 😭

this is part 6 for those who wanted yn to end up with cardan. for those who wated yn to end up with herb, you can read that part here.

anyways, enjoy🥹❣️

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Cardan’s pov.

It was almost too easy to follow Y/n, especially when it was all he could think of.

Cardan could see Y/n’s second in command catching up to Cardan on his horse from his peripheral vision, and he pulled his reins taut, turning towards the fae.

"My lord," He rasped, his eyes wide, "I'm afraid I can't let you-"

Despite it being very unlikely of Cardan, he almost snarled. "I am your king, and you are no one to let me do things."

The second in command winced, swallowing. "Forgive me, your highness-"

Cardan turned his horse around, his mind again set on what was more important. "Will consider it."

And then Cardan rode away, chasing his love.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n’s pov.

The air was quiet, peaceful. So at odds with what was going on inside Y/n’s mind.

Inside, it was chaos, a chaos Y/n didn’t want to look into.

She had always been very good at hiding away her thoughts, the chaos. It had always been easy. Push the thought to the back of her mind, and she would be fine. But not now. It wasn’t working.

No matter how many deep breaths she took, the uncountable number of steps she took, her mind kept returning to how she had lost her cool just a mere hour ago.

It wasn’t one of her finer moments, to be sure.

Sighing, she settled down on a fallen tree, nibbling on her nails before she forced herself to stop. Instead, she began biting her lips, knowing they’d be bruised before she would stop.

It wasn’t long before she heard the horse hooves beating the soft, pristine white snow, crunching softly.

Y/n straightened, refusing to turn to look. She knew who it was.

Cardan.

The horse stopped, and then Y/n heard the unmistakable thud of him landing on the ground. She counted the steps he took towards her in her head, eyes focused on the bug crawling maybe ten feet away.

He didn’t say anything. Not a word as he appeared in her vision, then quietly settled down next to her on the tree. She didn’t either, trying to ignore his presence. He heeded her wishes, staying silent for long enough that Y/n saw the overhead sun move down, towards the horizon, its resting place.

Only after it felt like it had been too long since Y/n had settled on the tree, did she sigh and glance at him. His eyes were already trained on her.

"What." She mumbled, tired. "Why did you come? Was my speech not enough?"

He exhaled, looking away. "Y/n. You did not let me speak."

Y/n turned her head back to the front. "What was there to be heard?"

She felt his gaze on her again. "A lot. A lot."

She didn’t speak, not sure what to say anyway. And so he continued.

"Jude and I. We only married for show. You know that, no? She helps me out with the kingdom, I help her stay safe and make sure no one in Elfhame dares to harm her."

"You liked her. You told me everything you ever did with her."

"That is not true. We’ve become friends, now, yes. But it does not mean I like her in any way. Not in the way that matters." He paused. "Not in the way I like you."

Y/n stiffened. "What?"

He sighed. "Y/n, surely, being the general of the army, you could not be that oblivious?"

She glanced at him hesitantly, jaw clenching. "Get to the darned point, your highness."

Cardan stared back at Y/n, his distaste for the title she used for him evident. "I love you, general."

Y/n’s jaw ticked. "You… what?"

He rolled his eyes, grabbing her jaw. "It is you I love. You I live for. It was only because you never gave me any indication that you liked me too that I started pursuing Jude."

Y/n watched him, dumbfounded. But what was the point anymore? He was married. And she did not want to be a mistress.

"That’s… great to know. After you’re with someone else already." She muttered, sarcasm dripping from every word.

He reached out, grabbing her hand. "Jude and I are not married anymore."

Y/n almost heard her neck crack as she whipped her head to look at him. "What?"

He grinned lazily. "Why does it feel like you’ve forgotten your vocabulary? You keep saying what, what, what?"

Y/n scowled. "I swear, Cardan-"

He squeezed Y/n’s hand before she could say anything more, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Jude never liked me, obviously. She only did what she did to be in power. The reason I came here in the first place was to tell you about our new plan. She and I will no longer be married, and as much has been announced in the palace two days ago. I wanted me to tell you about it before the news reached you, so I came here."

Y/n stared at him for a long moment, trying to process and understand the near atrocities escaping his mouth. For a moment, she wondered if he was lying. But he was fae, and so was she, and she knew very well he couldn’t lie.

She huffed, looking away from him. "Well, it would have been nice to know that earlier before I made a fool out of myself."

She could practically feel him raising his brow. "Yes, my darling, loving daydream, you gave me so many chances to do so, yes?"

She rolled her eyes, standing and dusting off her pants. "You must return to the camp, or something is bound to come get you. And I won’t be here to protect your royal… butt. I have to go out to look at jewelleries for Herb’s childhood sweetheart. Apparently, he is going to ask her to marry him."

It was true. Herb had always had his sights set on a pretty fairy with iridescent butterfly wings. Only recently had Herb requested Y/n help him out.

He followed her, grabbing her wrist before she could even take a step away. "And you must return to Insmear, or my guards are bound to get you."

His voice was light, playful even. butY/n heard the hope, the insecurity, the question in it.

And she, for the first time in months, glanced at him and offered him a small smile.

"Of course. Can’t ignore his highness’ orders."

He blinked, his smile making an appearance, one she loved so much. It made her cheeks turn warm. He led her to her horse, waiting for her to be seated before climbing on his own and snapping the reins.

And maybe they had a lot to unpack and talk about, think about how they were going to move forward, but for now, it was enough.

He was enough.

Her love was enough.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

permanent taglist: @berryzxx @serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686

Cruel Prince Taglist: @dahliawarner @yucanbmylxdy @lilachaelnut @sheisntyou @kitkatlover015

Cardan Greenbriar Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

@123345566 @mp-littlebit @tele86 @fauxraven

@fuzzycupcakebeliever @bay7let @yourmomsushi @evanthelibra @dnfhascorruptedme

Taglist: @dreamsarenicer @kennedy-brooke @123345566 @batboygirlie

@btrxbllck @love-bookprincess @kitsunetori @northstar-legolas3

@evanthelibra @lxsis @nana7nana777 @blueberrygeniejam

@selenescribes @jasmineee05 @biscuit-sa @hat3yo0

@duckyyyx @4v3lin3

#cardan greenbriar #cardan x reader #cardan greenbriar x reader #cardan x y/n #cardan x you #jude x cardan #prince cardan #high king cardan #the cruel prince #the wicked king #reader insert #x reader #character x reader #angst

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katyarn · 13 hours ago

Note

I love the way you write can you do Kenma. Kinda toxic Kenma, reader and him had an argument but it’s mainly just him being awful to her. So reader is sad and then he gets worried she’ll do some stuff to herself and then he comforts her yeaaaa emphasis on the him getting worried and guilty part.☺️

sorry this is kinda detailed

ECHOES OF SILENCE

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre: Angst with Comfort

A/N: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I BROKE MY COMPUTER. also change of writing style I literally physically couldn't go back to my old one LMAO

The door shut behind you with a hollow thud, the kind that echoed through your chest long after the sound had died away. The air inside the apartment felt heavier than usual, weighted down with the aftermath of your latest argument with Kenma. Your hands trembled as you reached for the back of a chair, grounding yourself before your legs gave out entirely.

He’d been harsh tonight. Harsher than ever before.

His words—cold, cutting, and merciless—had pierced through every defense you had built. They circled in your mind like vultures, picking apart the fragile pieces of your heart.

“Why do you always need my attention? It’s suffocating, honestly.”

“It’s not my job to make you feel okay all the time.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so insecure, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you bit down on your lip hard enough to taste copper, refusing to let them fall. You felt small—so unbearably small—and so unbearably alone.

Kenma hadn’t even looked at you when he delivered the final blow, his amber eyes fixed on the glow of his game screen as if you were nothing more than a background noise he could turn off.

And maybe he was right. Maybe you were too much.

The ache in your chest grew sharper, blooming into a storm of hurt that wrapped around your ribs like a vice. You rubbed at your arms, seeking warmth where there was none, your breaths shallow and shaky. The spiral was familiar, dark thoughts gnawing at the edges of your mind, whispering that you weren’t enough, that no one would miss you if you disappeared for a while.

Or for longer.

You blinked slowly, your gaze drifting to the window. The city lights outside twinkled, cold and distant. There was a numbness creeping up your spine, spreading through your limbs until you felt disconnected from yourself, like you were watching someone else exist inside your body.

Kenma leaned back in his gaming chair, the controller still in his hands. The room was quiet now—too quiet. He could hear his own breathing, uneven and shallow. The last thing you’d said before you left replayed in his mind.

“I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”

There was no fire in your voice, no anger. Just sadness. Defeat.

Kenma swallowed hard, his heart thudding unevenly against his ribs. The glow of the screen in front of him felt blinding now, the sound effects grating in his ears. He turned it off with a sharp click, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint light seeping in from the hallway.

Guilt clawed at his throat, a thick, suffocating weight that made it hard to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers like sand. He knew he was cruel tonight. He’d known even as the words left his mouth that they were too sharp, too unfair. But he’d been so frustrated, so overwhelmed, that he lashed out the only way he knew how—by pushing away the person who mattered most.

And now you were gone.

What if you didn’t come back?

A cold shiver ran down his spine. What if—

No.

No, he couldn’t think like that.

Kenma stood abruptly, his feet carrying him out of his gaming room before he even registered he was moving. He opened the door to your shared bedroom, half expecting you to be sitting on the bed, waiting for him like you always did after a fight. But the room was empty, and the silence was deafening.

His heart dropped.

You didn’t hear the door creak open behind you. You were too lost in the storm of your own thoughts, too far gone to notice the way Kenma hesitated on the threshold, his eyes wide and full of something you hadn’t seen in him before—fear.

“Y/N.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it cut through the haze in your mind like a blade.

You flinched, your head snapping up to meet his gaze. He looked pale, his hands trembling as they gripped the doorframe.

“What do you want?” Your voice cracked, raw and brittle.

“I…” Kenma swallowed, stepping into the room. “I was worried about you.”

You laughed, a bitter sound that didn’t reach your eyes. “Worried about me? Since when?”

“Don’t say that.” His voice broke, and the sound of it made your heart stutter. “Please… don’t say that.”

You looked away, your shoulders curling in on themselves as if you could shrink away from the weight of his guilt. “You don’t have to pretend to care now. You made it pretty clear where I stand with you.”

“I’m an idiot,” he blurted out, his voice cracking with desperation. “I’m… I’m so stupid, Y/N. I don’t know why I say those things. I don’t mean them—I never mean them.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me?”

Kenma felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to stop. But I want to. I swear I do.”

The silence between you stretched thin, fragile as glass. Kenma took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I thought… I thought I was losing you tonight. And it scared me. It terrified me.”

You blinked, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. “You are losing me, Kenma. Every time you say those things… it chips away at me. And I’m tired of feeling like I’m not enough.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, the words trembling on his lips. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. Please… don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something inside you, the walls you’d built around your heart crumbling as he reached out to cup your face with trembling hands. His touch was warm, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into him.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. “Together.”

And for now, that was enough.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #kenma #kenma angst #kenma comfort #kenma x reader #haikyuu comfort #haikyu

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what-have-i-unleashed · 2 days ago

Text

of freedom and of pleasure 4/4

guess how the title finally comes into place here 😁😁😁 i'm going to kill all of you with this 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂 most of all, @qin-qin16 for jumpstarting this train of a fic 💖💖💖

part 4/4, finished :3 (part 1, part 2, and part 3)

(cw: war crimes, injuries, implied torture and unethical experiments)

the dim fluorescent lights above flicker, casting shadows on the white sterile walls. killer lies crumbled on the ground in a pool of his own dark fluids, his body curling into a fetal position, still unconsciously trying to shield his broken, wobbling soul from the world. his eyelights are gone, covered in the thick tar that obscures his vision and flow down from his sockets. his arms are still littered with needle marks, some areas almost worn down by repeated punctures. killer doesn’t hear the door opening and closing at first, his mind going in and out of consciousness, but the approaching sounds of footsteps on the tiled floor make him tense up, squaring his shoulders uselessly.

dust watches the pathetic sight in front of him, his own soul panging. “petal,” he tells the little scout perching on his shoulders. “secure the perimeter. make sure there’s no one here, and no bugs listening in.”

“roger that, commander.” petal gives a salute, then burrows himself into the walls, disappearing into the shadows.

for a moment, there’s nothing. then killer jolts back into the land of the awake when he feels a hand brushing the back of his shoulder. he flinches instinctively, a hoarse sound escaping his throat.

“get back…”

“easy,” dust murmurs. “it’s me.”

killer goes silent, then his head perks up, his lips twitching into a faint, humorless smile. “dusty…” he rasps. “is this a dream? didn’t think… you’d visit…”

“hold still,” dust says, ignoring the comment. killer feels his head being positioned on something soft, and a cool damp cloth pressed against his frame, wiping away all the fluids on his body. the touch is careful and gentle, making killer’s soul pang at the uncharacteristic kindness.

“must be a dream…” he mutters. “dust wouldn’t be like this… not with… eyes all around…”

“it doesn’t matter now,” dust says, a slight tremble in his voice. there is something to it that killer couldn’t place in his current disoriented state – something he’s missed. “here. take this.”

killer feels something pressed against his teeth and he swallows instinctively. the taste of warm nectar bursts in his mouth as relief floods through his body, dulling the senses of pain and suffering he’s in.

“you’re full of surprises…” killer says, his speech slurred as the medications take effect immediately. he leans further into dust’s lap, basking in the rare warmth of another body.

“you’d feel better in a minute,” dust murmurs. he continues to tend to killer’s battered body, his movements careful and methodical. the silence blankets over them, heavy but not uncomfortable. killer feels he can fall asleep like this, with dust taking care of him – it’d be a rest he hasn’t been afforded since so long ago. his head lolls to the side as he feels the caress of his ex-beloved, lulling him to slumberland.

then, unexpectedly, dust breaks the fragile silence.

“you know,” he says, his voice distant as if speaking to himself. “there’s this place i saw on one of my expeditions. a meadow, under the stars. the grass was soft, the air was clean. there was a river running across it. it was so peaceful… so quiet.”

killer furrows his eyes. “sounds… nice? what about it?”

“i’ve been thinking…” dust continues, his voice softening into a melodic cadence. “if this war ever ends, i’d like to return there again and build a house. for us. me, you, and horror. it’d be the perfect place. somewhere to get away from all of this… somewhere we can just… be.”

killer’s mouth quirks into a smile. “you think… we can survive each other under the same roof?”

dust huffs a quiet laugh. “maybe not. but… i’d still like to try.”

killer responds with a breathy laugh, though he winces a bit when his ribs ache. “alright then,” he says, his voice quiet. “what would this house look like? giant kitchen? tiny porch? two bedrooms? you better not put me in the attic.”

dust chuckles, a suspiciously wet sound. “no attic. we’d have a decent bedroom for all of us. decent kitchen. giant porch for you to sunbath whenever you like.”

killer smiles, entertained by dust’s little fantasy. despite his tiredness, he continues. “so, in this house of ours… who would do what chores? who would be doing the cooking? because i’m not doing it. you’d be eating burnt pancakes every day.”

“i’d do it, no worries.” dust laughs with much amusement, a nice sound that killer wouldn’t mind hearing again. “i’d make sure both of you get well-fed.”

“heh, so i assume horror would be the man of the house… being the breadwinner. bringing home the dough. and i’d be the clown in this household. the fun one, obviously.”

“obviously,” dust repeats, a smile in his voice. “and here i thought you want to challenge traditional relationship dynamics.”

killer’s laugh comes easier this time, though there’s still a twinge of pain on his face. “i mean, who’s to say? maybe i’d look good in a dress, or an apron. and i know you’d look good in a suit too, dusty. i’d clean the house waiting for you and horror to come home to eat my terrible pancakes.”

dust chuckles back. “you wouldn’t have to do anything. none of us would.”

“sounds unrealistic…”

“it does. but that’s the point, isn’t it? we’d just… exist. no war. no pain. nothing. just us. free.”

“free…” killer chews the word over, a foreign yet comforting taste on his tongue. he tilts his head, as if looking at dust even though his eyes are all messed up. “that’s a nice dream you have. almost make me believe you’re serious about it.”

“i am,” dust replies softly, his hands, bare without gloves, caress the side of killer’s face. “even if it’s far-fetched, even if it’s impossible… someone has to be a dreamer to your nihilist.”

“didn’t take you for an optimist.”

“well, i’m working on it.”

killer doesn’t say anything. he closes his eyes and imagines it – dust’s dream. a small house in the middle of a meadow, illuminated by the stars. the three of them – him, horror, and dust – crowd the tiny living room as they squeeze together on the single couch, lounging in each other’s company. dust reading a book, horror starting on his crocheting project, and killer snuggling with their cat. or cats. there would be so many cats, because killer would like there to be. killer would repeat a joke he’s read somewhere, and horror would groan at him while dust would laugh, because he’s just corny like that. would there be guests allowed? maybe. maybe color – the guy’s nice enough to killer. red… killer’s not very familiar with him, but dust is comfortable enough around the guy so he must be good. horror is tight-lipped about his network, but he must have some friends he hangs out around with, and they can be welcome to their secret home on the condition that they won’t rat them out of course. maybe all of them could have a party out in the fields, under the stars that dust likes so much. killer’s not sure about it, but he could adjust to it for his sake. horror would love it too.

killer doesn’t know how long he’s been drifting off, but he startles when dust’s hand cover his eyes, tilting his head just slightly backwards.

“dust…?” killer asks, tentative. “you okay there…?”

dust doesn’t answer right away. his other hand brings another dose of medication to killer’s mouth, and once again killer swallows it without question. the silence lingers, filling the air with uncertainty.

finally, dust speaks. “killer… i’m sorry…” his voice is small, a rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks in it. killer can feel something wet falling on his face, and his arms are too heavy to reach up to dust.

“for what?” he says instead, a soft smile gracing his face. “i’m… happy…” his voice trails off as he feels his tongue getting heavier and heavier, the medication bringing him closer to sleep.

he can hear, strangely distantly, dust humming a lullaby, a familiar one that scratches at the underlayers of his buried memories but refuses to surface. a faint light briefly illuminates the room. a popping sound of an attack manifesting is barely audible over the quiet humming sounds of the machinery in the room. killer’s breathing slows, his body relaxing under the effects of the medication and his own exhaustion. he doesn’t see the way dust’s hands tremble, the way he grips on the bone attack poised just over killer neck, the way his tears fall and fall despite the grin on his face.

he doesn’t get to see any of it at all.

#i will not say anything 🙂🙂🙂#i write #multiversal war au #dust sans #murder sans #killer sans #mtt poly #polymurderous #but more specifically here #kist #undertale au #utmv #sanshipping #sanscest #if you guys ask REALLY nicely i MIGHT write an epilogue to this 😁😁😁😁😁

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