#and slowly noticing how there's things she's not telling you and how her and her friend group are all weird about the same things

[izzih22]

Can we have a part two the “your so pretty” where Azzi is still feeling insecure and is crying in the middle night and wakes Paige up and Paige is like “baby are you crying what’s wrong” and Azzi is like really emotional and is worried Paige is gonna leave her and find someone else “prettier “ then her and Paige reassures her that she is the only one she has eyes for then they cuddle back to bed (also I love your writing so much 💗)

The Only One

Note: this isn’t part two but I kinda think it’s better. Also thank you. Means a lot.

The room was quiet, lit only by the soft blue glow from the clock on Paige’s nightstand. 3:27 a.m.

She hadn’t even realized she was awake until she felt it. Azzi’s side of the bed shifting, her breathing unsteady. And then, the soft, shaky sound that split through the silence.

A sniffle. Barely audible. But Paige knew that sound. She’d known it since they were seventeen.

“Az?” Paige whispered, still heavy with sleep but already reaching out instinctively. Her hand found the warm curve of Azzi’s back. “Baby?”

Azzi didn’t answer. She tensed instead, shoulders rising, breath catching. Paige sat up instantly, her heart kicking up in her chest.

“Hey… are you crying?” she asked softly, leaning over her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Azzi mumbled, turning slightly away, wiping at her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Just… go back to sleep.”

“No,” Paige said, already sliding closer, pressing up behind her. “No, you don’t get to cry alone… Not with me here. What’s going on?”

Azzi shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

“Az,” Paige whispered, brushing her curls back gently and kissing the back of her shoulder. “You’ve been saying that since we were kids. And it’s never been stupid. Not once.”

That broke something.

Azzi rolled slowly onto her back, eyes wet, lip trembling. She blinked fast, like she was trying to hold it in—but Paige could already see the tears streaming quietly down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Azzi whispered. “It just… it hit me all of a sudden. I looked at you tonight, when you were laughing with the team, and everyone was around you and smiling at you, and you were glowing, Paige. You were you. And I thought… how long until you realize you could have someone better?”

Paige froze. Her heart cracked clean in half.

“Someone prettier,” Azzi added quietly, her voice barely there. “Someone who’s easier to be with. Someone who doesn’t get in her own head or overthink everything or—”

“Azzi,” Paige said, her voice sharp with heartbreak. “No. Don’t… don’t do that.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t want to feel this way. I know you love me. I do. But sometimes, I just get scared. Like, really scared, that one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m not what you want anymore.”

Paige reached for her, tugging her into her arms without hesitation, like muscle memory. Azzi melted into her immediately, clinging to the front of her hoodie like she used to back in high school when everything felt overwhelming and Paige was the only thing that made her feel steady.

“You’re everything I want,” Paige said, fiercely, hand running up and down her back. “You have always been everything I want. From the second I realized I loved you when we were teenagers I haven’t looked at anyone else. Not once.”

Azzi let out a broken sound, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hoodie.

“I know we’re older now,” Paige whispered, kissing her temple. “And I know people think love fades or changes or whatever bullshit they wanna say. But ours hasn’t. If anything, it’s grown. I’ve watched you become this incredible woman. You still stop me in my tracks, Az. Even after all these years. You think I don’t notice how you tuck your curls behind your ear when you’re nervous, or how you bite your lip when you’re focused? I notice everything. I’m still falling for you.”

Azzi shook her head softly. “You don’t get it.”

“Then tell me.” Paige said softly.

“I see all these people around you who are just… loud and bold and magnetic, and I feel like I shrink next to them. Like I’ll never measure up. I’ve always been the quiet one, the soft one. You walk into a room and everyone turns. Me? I blend in. And I just… I keep wondering if one day you’ll get tired of being the one who shines next to someone who doesn’t.”

Paige pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. Her voice broke with emotion when she spoke next.

“Azzi Fudd,” she whispered, “you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. In my life. Inside and out. And I’m not saying that because I’m supposed to. I mean it. You shine brighter than anyone. I have never wanted loud. I have never wanted flashy. I wanted you. From the beginning. From the first night we stayed up talking about our dreams until 3 a.m. From the first time you laughed at one of my dumb jokes and blushed so hard you buried your face in my chest. I knew it then. You were it.”

Azzi’s tears were silent now, streaming steadily as she stared up at her.

“I know your heart better than I know anything in this world,” Paige continued, her thumb brushing Azzi’s cheek. “You are kind and soft and thoughtful in ways that most people will never be. You make me feel safe. You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like I don’t have to be anything other than me. And that… that is the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me.”

Azzi let out a soft sob, pressing her forehead against Paige’s.

“I get insecure sometimes,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“I know,” Paige murmured. “And I’ll remind you every time you forget. I don’t care if we’re forty years old and you’re still waking me up at three a.m. crying—I’ll hold you just like this and tell you again and again that there is no one else for me. No one I’d even look at.”

Azzi’s fingers curled into her shirt. “You mean that?”

“With every breath I’ve got,” Paige said, kissing her deeply now, slow and firm like a promise. “You are the love of my life. You’re the girl I wrote about in my journal when I was sixteen, the woman I want to grow old with. You are the one I choose. Always.”

Azzi let out a breath, finally sinking fully into her arms.

They lay like that for a long time, wrapped around each other in the quiet, Paige’s hand stroking her back, Azzi’s tears drying against her neck.

Eventually, when their breathing had slowed and the stillness returned, Paige whispered, “You okay?”

Azzi nodded. “Better. Thanks to you.”

“You never have to thank me for loving you,” Paige said softly. “That’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You’ve been mine since we were kids,” Paige said with a sleepy smile, pulling the covers over both of them. “And I’m still completely obsessed with you. So get used to it.”

Azzi nestled closer, her leg sliding between Paige’s, hand resting over her heart.

“I love you,” she whispered, the words sinking deeper than they ever had before.

Paige kissed her hair, the top of her head, and then her shoulder.

“I love you more,” she murmured, and they drifted off like that—wrapped up in each other, hearts quiet, finally at peace.

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Party Exit - Will Smith

Summary: At a team hangout, Will gets clingy and a little too handsy with Y/n, teasing her with kisses and playful touches until she has no choice but to drag him home.

Words: 928

It was a typical night for the team: laughter filled the room, loud chatter buzzing around, and the pulse of music in the background. The team had just wrapped up their game, and the after-party was in full swing. Will and Y/n, were at the hangout, mingling with some of the players and their significant others, but there was a noticeable shift in Will’s energy.

While the rest of the team was getting wilder, laughing, and enjoying the night, Will seemed more tired. He was leaning into Y/n more than usual, his arm casually draped over her shoulder as he took occasional sips from his drink. His eyes, though, were starting to droop, and Y/n could feel his increasing reliance on her for support.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle but concerned, glancing up at him as he rested his head lightly against hers. He hadn’t said much all evening, and his sudden quietness had her on edge.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his words slightly slurred, his smile a little looser than normal. "Just tired… and I’m not sure I want to leave yet." He pressed a kiss to her neck, sending a warm shiver down her spine. The teasing kiss wasn’t out of the ordinary, but tonight it felt like more, a soft, lingering kiss that had her heart skipping a beat.

Y/n chuckled and pulled away slightly, turning her head to look at him. “You’re not usually this clingy, babe.”

Will’s eyes lit up mischievously as he slowly leaned in to kiss her neck again. “I’m not clingy,” he replied playfully, “Just... affectionate.” His lips trailed down the side of her neck together with his hands on her sides, his breath hot against her skin. Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in her chest. But Will had no intention of letting her focus on anything other than him.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Will nipped at her earlobe, just hard enough to send a wave of sensation through her. She bit back a quiet gasp, feeling her body react even though she knew this wasn’t the place for it. His playful, teasing nature was both a blessing and a curse.

"Will," Y/n murmured, trying to regain some composure. "Not here. Not right now."

Will pulled back just a bit, but his grin was all-too-knowing, his hands now sliding down to her waist even lower as he clung to her tighter. "Why not?" he teased, pressing another soft kiss to her neck. "What’s the harm? You can’t tell me you don’t like it." He nuzzled his nose against her skin, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck as he softly bit down again.

Y/n felt a surge of heat flood her cheeks. She wasn’t a stranger to Will’s flirtations, but tonight, his tiredness seemed to amplify his affections. He was a man of great intensity when he wanted to be, and right now, he wanted to be close, too close for comfort, especially in public.

"Will," she said a little more firmly, her voice cracking slightly from the intensity of his teasing. She gently took his hands and pulled them off her waist. “Come on. We need to go.”

He groaned in protest, but there was a softness to the sound - one that only she could hear. Will wasn’t one to complain, but when he did, it was always playful, almost childlike. "No," he pouted, clinging to her even tighter. "I don’t wanna go. I’m having fun."

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked with his pouty face, but she knew better than to let it distract her. The last thing she needed was for things to escalate before they could leave.

"We’re leaving before you get any more... affectionate," she said, her hands gently pushing him away from her body. His arm fell from her shoulders, and he reluctantly stood up, his posture slouched as he followed her toward the exit. “You’ve had enough of the party,” she added, grinning as she led him out the door.

Will leaned into her, wrapping his arm around her waist as they walked. “I’m just saying, you should let me keep you to myself a little longer,” he murmured, kissing the back of her neck once more as they made their way through the crowd.

Y/n rolled her eyes, her smile softening as she looked up at him. “I’d like to make it home tonight without you starting something you’ll regret.”

His response was a low chuckle. “You know me too well,” he said with a smirk. “But I’ll take it easy, I promise.”

As they reached their car, Will pressed one last kiss to her lips, lingering for a second longer than usual. “I just want you all to myself tonight,” he murmured, his words low and sincere now. “That’s not too much to ask, right?”

Y/n smiled, leaning into the kiss. “Not at all,” she whispered back. “But let’s save the rest for when we’re home.”

When they finally arrived at their apartment, Will immediately collapsed onto the couch, still holding onto her as if she might disappear if he let go. His tiredness had caught up to him, and the energy of the hangout seemed to fizzle out. Y/n smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead as he settled into the cushions.

"I’ll always be your favorite," he mumbled, his eyes barely open as he pulled her closer.

“You already are,” she whispered back, running her fingers through his hair.

[arkaiveofurown]

he overheard you saying you love him

Pairings: Sabo x Reader, Ace x Reader, Law x Reader, and Zoro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000 - 2,000 words each character

tags: pre-relationship, fluff, confession

my masterlist here ♡

——-

Sabo

You weren’t sure when it had started.

Maybe during that first mission with Sabo—when he pulled you out of a collapsing tunnel with smoke in his lungs and soot in his hair. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you during meetings, when everyone else spoke over each other and his eyes quietly sought yours like they were the only steady thing in the room.

Regardless, you’d never told him.

Instead, you wrote letters. Quiet, aching, folded-up things in the corners of notebooks and between pages of Revolutionary Army maps. Pages filled with things you could never say aloud. Sometimes it was just a sentence. Sometimes full confessions. But you never gave them to him. You didn’t need to. Writing them was enough.

Tonight, the base was quiet. Outside, a soft breeze shifted through the trees, and the only sound in your room was the scratch of your pen.

You were curled up at your desk, writing again. Candlelight flickered beside you. You didn’t hear the knock. You didn’t notice the door creak open.

“Y/N?”

You jolted. “Koala—!”

She froze in the doorway. Her eyes dropped to the open page on your desk before you could hide it.

“Wait. What is that?”

“Nothing.” You slammed the notebook shut, your voice too sharp.

Koala blinked. Then her eyes narrowed.

“…That’s your handwriting.”

“So?”

She stepped in, shutting the door behind her. “So that was definitely Sabo’s name.”

You groaned. “Koala—please.”

She raised a brow. “Is that a letter to him?”

You turned away. “It’s not for him. I mean—it is, but—I wasn’t gonna give it to him.”

A beat of silence passed.

“…You’ve written more than one, haven’t you.”

You didn’t answer.

She came closer, her voice gentler now. “Y/N.”

Your shoulders dropped.

“It’s just… easier to write it than say it,” you whispered.

Koala sat on the edge of your bed. “You really like him, don’t you?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

Your voice cracked a little when you said it. You didn’t even mean to. You covered your mouth, eyes burning suddenly with tears you hadn’t expected.

You hated this—how hard it was to hold it all in sometimes.

“I like him so much it hurts,” you confessed. “And he doesn’t even know.”

Another voice answered:

“Yes. I do.”

⸻

Your head whipped toward the door.

Sabo stood there, hand still on the knob. He looked as if he’d frozen in place. Behind him, the hall was dark—he’d come alone. No footsteps, no warning. Just his silhouette framed in low light.

You stared. “Sabo—?”

He stepped in slowly. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I came to return Koala’s map notes. I wasn’t—” He cut off, brow furrowed, and looked at you. “You really meant it?”

Your throat felt tight. “I—I didn’t know you were listening.”

“I was,” he said softly. “Every word.”

You turned to Koala, but she was already slipping out the door with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry!” she mouthed before vanishing.

Now it was just the two of you.

“I didn’t plan to say that,” you said, voice trembling. “I just… It’s been a long time. I’ve been trying to keep it in.”

Sabo’s steps were slow. Careful.

“How long?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “Since Baltigo.”

“That long?”

You nodded.

He moved closer. You felt him pause just beside you.

“…Why didn’t you tell me?”

You hesitated. “Because we’re in the middle of a war, Sabo. And you’re important. And brave. And reckless. And always getting yourself into danger—”

“That’s not a reason not to tell me.”

You looked at him then.

His eyes were soft. No teasing, no judgment. Just that same steady, thoughtful Sabo you’d always known—only now closer than he’d ever felt before.

“I was scared it would ruin everything,” you said quietly.

He gave a small, almost broken laugh. “I’ve been scared of that too.”

You blinked. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/N.”

You stared, stunned.

He gave a small, sheepish shrug. “I never wrote letters or anything, but… if I had, I probably would’ve filled a hundred pages by now.”

Your breath caught. “You really mean that?”

He looked away, ears turning red. “Yeah. Every word.”

A laugh broke from your lips—half disbelief, half relief. “You idiot.”

He looked back at you with a faint smirk. “Says the one who actually wrote letters.”

You let out a shaky laugh.

And suddenly it felt all real.

——

A few days later, Sabo knocked on your door. When you opened it, he was holding something out.

Your notebook.

“The one with the letters,” he said with a grin.

Your eyes widened. “Where did you—?!”

“I didn’t read them,” he promised. “I swear. But… if you want me to, I will.”

You stared.

Then you reached out—and flipped to the last page. Your handwriting was still there. The ink fresh. The one you’d been writing the night he overheard.

You tore it out, folded it neatly, and handed it to him.

He blinked. “Just this one?”

“For now.”

He looked at it like it was something precious. “Can I read it in front of you?”

You nodded.

He opened it slowly.

You watched his eyes move across the page—watched the flicker of a smile, the subtle shift of his expression. By the time he finished, he was quiet.

Then, carefully, he looked at you.

“Do you want a letter too?”

You blinked. “You’d write one?”

He leaned in, closer than ever before. “I’d write one every day.”

And when he kissed you, it felt like the answer to every unsent word you’d ever written.

——

Ace

It was a quiet afternoon on the Moby Dick. The sun hung lazily above the sea, casting golden warmth over the deck. Laughter echoed faintly from the other side of the ship, but Ace wasn’t with the others. He sat alone near the back, arms crossed over his knees, a troubled expression clouding his usually bright face.

He’d overheard a few new crewmates whispering—again.

“Roger��s son, huh? No wonder he’s so reckless.”

“I still don’t get why Whitebeard lets him wear the mark.”

Their voices replayed in his head, sharp as knives. No matter how far he came, how hard he fought, those words always lingered. Was he just his father’s shadow? Was he even supposed to exist?

You found yourself talking to Marco later as you leaned against the rail, eyes watching the horizon.

“You think Ace is okay?” you asked softly.

Marco raised a brow. “You’ve been watching him all day.”

You hesitated, then sighed. “He always looks like he’s trying to prove something. Like he doesn’t believe he’s enough. I just wish he’d let himself feel… loved.”

“You’re in love with him, huh?” Marco said with a smirk.

You didn’t even deny it.

“Yes. I love him.” Your voice dropped. You hadn’t noticed Ace was nearby—standing still behind the corner, frozen as the words sank in.

——

Ace kept tossing fire between his fingers like nothing happened, but his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. She loves me? The words played over and over in his head.

He approached casually, as if he hadn’t just overheard something that shook him to his core.

“What are you two whispering about?” he asked, flopping down beside you, a teasing grin on his face.

You jumped a little. “Ace! Uh—nothing really. Just… talking.”

Marco snorted and walked off, giving you two space.

Ace tilted his head, pretending to look bored. “Sounded like something deep.”

You hesitated, then offered him a gentle look. “I just… worry about you sometimes.”

His smile faltered slightly. “You don’t have to.”

“But I do,” you insisted. “You’re always trying to be the strongest, the most reliable… You don’t need to carry it all alone.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped to his hands.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve been born at all,” he said quietly, voice barely audible over the waves.

Your heart clenched. “Ace…”

“I hear the things people say. About my father. About me. It never really stops.”

You touched his arm gently. “You’re not your father.”

He glanced up at you, eyes guarded.

“You’re you, Ace. I care about you because of who you are—not because of your name, and definitely not in spite of it.”

⸻

Ace couldn’t sleep that night. He paced the deck in the dark, wrestling with your words. He’d heard so many lies in his life. So many people who wanted something because of the blood in his veins—or wanted nothing to do with him because of it.

But your voice was different.

He found you in the galley, wrapping up a late-night snack. You turned, surprised.

“Ace? You okay?”

He looked… unsure. And for someone like Ace, that was rare.

“I heard what you said to Marco earlier,” he admitted, leaning against the doorway.

You froze, eyes wide. “You… you did?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, but it was hollow. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just… kinda happened.”

You shifted awkwardly. “Well… I meant it.”

He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“I’m not my father, Y/N. But sometimes I think people only ever see him when they look at me. Like I’m just waiting to become him.”

You walked up to him, eyes soft.

“You’re not him. You never will be.”

Ace stared at you, caught in the sincerity of your gaze.

“I love you,” you said, voice steady. “Not because you’re Gol D. Roger’s son. Not because you’re Whitebeard’s commander. But because you’re Ace. And that’s enough.”

Ace stared at you, his eyes flickering with something raw and real. Then he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you, Y/N,” he breathed. “Not just because you see me… but because when you do, I finally feel like I deserve to be here.”

Your heart swelled as you wrapped your arms around him.

“You do, Ace. You always have.”

And for once, he let himself believe it.

——

Law

The Polar Tang was unusually quiet that evening, save for the hum of the ocean against the hull. You sat in the galley with Shachi and Penguin, half-listening to them banter while organizing mission notes. A familiar name drifted into the conversation.

“I’m just saying,” Shachi smirked, “if Captain has a secret admirer, it’s gotta be someone on board. Who else could handle that grump 24/7?”

“Yeah, right. Can you imagine anyone confessing to Law?” Penguin snorted.

Your hand froze over the page, heart thudding. You gave a weak chuckle, trying to stay casual.

“…I think he’s different than people think,” you said quietly.

The two fell silent, glancing at each other before looking back at you. “Different how?” Shachi asked.

You stared down at your notes, unsure why you were still speaking. “He’s cold sometimes, yeah, but there’s a reason. He’s… carrying a lot. But underneath that, he’s kind. Steady. I admire him. I love him, actually.”

You didn’t notice the door slightly ajar—or the shadow that had paused just outside. Law, on his way to the infirmary, heard every word. He didn’t move. Just stood there, stunned, your voice echoing quietly in his chest like a scalpel carving into old scar tissue.

——

Later that night, you found yourself sitting near the back of the ship, watching the stars shimmer through the porthole. You didn’t expect company—until his footsteps neared.

“Working late?” Law asked, standing behind you.

You turned, startled. “Oh. Hey. Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

He didn’t sit. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and added, “Neither could I.”

You nodded slowly. There was something unusual in his gaze—measured, intense. Like he was holding back words with every breath.

“I heard you,” he said bluntly. “In the galley.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

He didn’t look away. “You said you loved me.”

The silence stretched long between you. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I didn’t mean for you to—”

“You meant it though,” Law interrupted. “Didn’t you?”

“…Yeah,” you whispered. “I did.”

He stepped forward. Just one step, but it felt like a line being crossed. His voice softened. “Why?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Why me?” His tone was flat, but his eyes betrayed the storm behind them. “Why would anyone… love me?”

You swallowed hard. “You’re strong. Not just in power—emotionally. You always show up. You carry so much but never drop any of it. And you… you protect people. You saved me more than once, Law. You care, even when you act like you don’t.”

He looked away sharply.

“You don’t have to earn it,” you added quietly. “Love doesn’t work like that.”

His breath hitched.

Law didn’t answer for a long time. Then, quietly:

“You sound like him.”

You blinked. “Who?”

He sat down at last, elbows on his knees, eyes far away. “Corazon. He told me once, I didn’t need a reason to be loved. That someone could love me just because.”

“…He was right.”

Law’s hand twitched. “I hated hearing it back then. Thought it was a lie. After he died… I convinced myself I wasn’t meant for that kind of thing. Not after what I did to survive.”

You looked at him—truly looked. His jaw was tense, but his shoulders were slumped like someone carrying too many ghosts.

“Sengoku told me, after everything… that Corazon loved me like family. And I kept asking myself why. Why me? Why would he care so much? I’ve been so bad to him. Even now, I still don’t know.”

Law leaned back against the wall, head tilted up toward the ceiling.

“You know,” he said, “I used to think if I kept everything locked up, it wouldn’t hurt. That if no one knew what I felt, no one could use it against me.”

“That’s a lonely way to live,” you whispered.

“It was.” His voice was quieter now. “Until you.”

You inhaled sharply, heart catching in your throat.

“I’ve been watching you too, Y/N. I always noticed when you sat closer during meals. Or brought coffee when I was holed up for hours. You always knew when to say something—and when not to.”

He looked over at you now, eyes unreadable but softer than you’d ever seen.

“You’re not a secret I want to keep locked away anymore.”

The words hit you like a wave. “Law…”

He stood slowly, stepped in front of you, and reached out—hesitating just for a breath—before his fingers gently cupped your face.

“I’m not good at this,” he said. “But I want to try. With you.”

Your eyes stung with tears you hadn’t realized were forming. “You’re already doing just fine.”

His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, then fuller, deeper. You melted into him, and he kissed you like someone who finally let the gates fall. When he pulled away, he stayed close, forehead resting against yours.

“No more secrets,” he whispered.

——

Zoro

The fight had been brutal. Zoro, despite his immense strength and endurance, had taken a hit he couldn’t recover from quickly. Blood stained his clothes, and the crew had rushed to stabilize him, quickly patching him up as best they could on the ship.

You were a wreck. Despite being part of the crew for so long, despite the battles, seeing him hurt like this… it was too much for you to handle. You were pacing back and forth near the medical room, your heart in your throat as your mind raced with worst-case scenarios. Nami and Robin stood nearby, trying to comfort you, but nothing could settle the growing panic inside.

“I—I can’t do this,” you muttered, wiping away the fresh tears that had formed. “What if—what if he doesn’t make it?”

Robin placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her voice soothing, but there was an undercurrent of concern there too. “Zoro’s strong. He’s not going anywhere.”

But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop worrying, couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Your chest ached at the thought of him not making it through this.

Nami’s voice, usually so steady, was now quieter, though there was still a reassuring edge. “You need to calm down. He’s tough. Zoro will pull through.”

But no matter how much they tried to comfort you, the fear was too overwhelming. You couldn’t stop thinking about the worst outcome—what it would be like to lose him. How he was always so strong, always so dependable, and yet, this time, you weren’t sure it would be enough.

“Please,” you whispered through your sobs, barely audible but full of pain. “Please don’t leave me, Zoro. I love you… I love you so much. I can’t lose you.”

You didn’t realize how loudly you’d said it. You were too caught up in the panic, in the fear of losing him, that the words just spilled out without thinking.

In the shadows of the hallway, hidden from your view, Zoro had heard everything. He had been leaning against the doorframe, trying to muster the strength to stand up on his own after the injury, when your words reached him. At first, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you correctly. But when you repeated it, in that broken, desperate tone, he felt the weight of your confession hit him like a freight train.

He stood there, frozen for a long moment, a strange mix of emotions swirling within him. His heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, everything felt overwhelming—more so than the injury itself.

——

Zoro had managed to make his way to the deck quietly, not wanting to disturb you. He needed a moment to process what he’d heard. But it wasn’t just the words that had shaken him—it was how much they revealed. How deeply you cared, how much you were hurting, how afraid you were for him.

He’d always known you cared for him. You had always been there for him, quietly supporting him, and he’d grown fond of your presence more than he ever intended. But hearing it like this, in a moment of vulnerability, brought something to the surface that he had spent so long suppressing.

The wound on his side throbbed painfully, but it wasn’t the physical pain that weighed him down. It was your words. The quiet admission that you loved him. Zoro leaned against the railing, trying to clear his head, but the ache in his chest wasn’t going away.

Meanwhile, you had secluded yourself in your room. The crew had calmed down enough to leave you some space, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Zoro. You kept replaying the words over and over in your head, cursing yourself for letting them slip. You didn’t want to burden him.

But what if he didn’t feel the same? The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you hugged your knees to your chest, your face buried in your arms.

——

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at your door. You didn’t want to face anyone, but the soft voice that called your name made you hesitate.

“Y/N? It’s me. Can I come in?”

Your heart jumped in your chest. You didn’t have to ask who it was. You stood and opened the door to find Zoro standing there, looking tired but determined. His clothes were stained with blood, and his usual carefree posture was slightly off, but there was something in his eyes that made you freeze.

“You shouldn’t be up yet,” you said, voice cracking. “You’re injured. You need rest.”

Zoro smirked, but there was no usual arrogance in it—just a tired, soft kind of affection. “I’m fine. I’m not the type to stay in bed when I’m still breathing.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Zoro cut you off before you could speak.

“Listen,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, “you don’t need to apologize for what you said earlier.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Zoro, I didn’t—”

“Don’t deny it.” Zoro took a step closer, his hand reaching out and gently lifting your chin so that your eyes met. “I heard you.”

You swallowed, heart racing. His gaze was intense, but it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t distant. It was something more—something you hadn’t dared to hope for. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to make you feel awkward.”

Zoro’s fingers brushed lightly against your skin, his touch warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to apologize. I just—” he hesitated, his usual tough exterior faltering for just a moment, “I need to say it too.”

You blinked, your heart thumping painfully in your chest. “Say what?”

Zoro’s eyes softened, his usual guarded nature slipping just slightly. “I’ve known for a while now. I’ve just been too stubborn to admit it to myself. But I care about you too. I think… I think I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You were both standing there, both finally facing what had always been there but had remained unsaid.

“I—I love you too, Zoro,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I was just too scared to say it.”

Zoro’s lips tugged into a faint, almost shy smile. Then, without another word, he closed the distance between you and kissed you softly, his hand still gently holding your face. The kiss was slow, tender, filled with everything that had been left unspoken for so long.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. “I’m not going anywhere. Not if you’ll have me.”

And at that moment, everything fell into place.

——

a/n: my first ever multi-character fic phew that’s challenging! haha hope you guys like it ♡ feedbacks are greatly appreciated xoxo

[tqlepatia]

— ULTRAVIOLENCE.

( ⌗ warnings' : emotional manipulation, parental alienation, gaslighting, emotional abuse, and toxic power dynamics, dark themes)

You didn’t leave her.

No matter how the story gets twisted, how the words get reshaped in your daughter's young mind — you didn’t leave.

She made you go.

It was Ambessa who ended it.

Ambessa who packed your bags, shoved you toward the door, told you in that cold voice, "I need something more than you can give."

It was Ambessa who stared down at you while you crumbled at her feet, who barely flinched when you begged.

Four months, Four long, brutal months you fought for her, Fought for Mel, Fought for the family you built from the ruins she left you to clean up.

You argued, You pleaded, You slept in your car outside the house just to be close to them.

You screamed yourself raw trying to remind her of everything you survived together, all the promises whispered in bedsheets and battlefields.

And when none of it mattered, when she turned her back like you were nothing, you clung to the only thing you had left:

Your daughter, Mel Medarda.

Your heart walking outside your body, You thought — at least she will know I fought for her. But Ambessa, cruel and patient, had different plans.

She didn’t just take your house, She didn’t just take your marriage, She took your daughter’s love too —

slowly, strategically, like pulling petals off a delicate flower.

Telling Mel that you were weak, Telling how boring and dumb you think that Mel is, Telling her that you left because you didn’t care enough to stay, that you didn't love them anymore, Telling her that real strength doesn’t beg.

She fed Mel half-truths and pretty lies, and you — you were just a voice on the other side of a door she wouldn’t open anymore.

Every visit became shorter, Every phone call, colder.

Until one day, when you called, Mel said, flat and empty, "I don't wanna talk to you.", And then she hung up.

No warning, No goodbye—Just silence.

You stared at the dead line like it might come back to life if you begged it hard enough, You sat there for hours, phone clutched to your chest, shaking and helpless and hating yourself for being so powerless.

Weeks kind of blended together. Nights turned into mornings without any sleep. You hardly ate, and you felt like you were just getting by.

You kept telling yourself, "I'm tough enough to let her reach out first." But with each day that went by without hearing her voice, it felt like another piece of you was breaking apart.

Until finally, you caved, You broke. And you called the one person you swore you never would again.

Ambessa answered on the second ring, She sounded bored, Amused.

Like she knew you’d come crawling back eventually — "Well," she drawled, voice low and smug. "Look who finally remembered where home is."

Your voice shook so badly you had to grip the counter to stay standing.

"I just want to see her," you whispered. You heard her sigh, long and theatrical, as if you were asking so, so much of her.

"And what," she purred, "makes you think you deserve that?". You bit your tongue until you tasted blood, Swallowed your pride like poison, "Please."

A beat of silence then — a soft laugh, Victory. "You know the price, little dove."

You went back, Of course, you did—What choice did you have?

You walked up the steps of the house that once smelled like home and now reeked of loss. Ambessa opened the door herself, leaning against the frame with a smirk that made you want to scream and sob all at once.

You stepped inside, You pretended you didn’t notice how her gaze roamed your body, cataloguing every broken part of you.

You pretended you didn’t feel her hands brush your waist — casual, possessive, as if nothing had changed.

You found Mel sitting on the couch, legs swinging, drawing something in her lap, You knelt in front of her—Your hands trembled when you reached out.

She looked up at you with big, wary eyes — so different from the little girl who once used to run to you, arms open wide.

"Hi, baby," you breathed.

She gave a quick nod, didn’t smile, but didn’t pull away either. It was enough to break you inside. You wrapped your arms around her gently, trying to hold back the sob that was trying to escape your throat.

You wrapped your arms around her, gently. Desperate not to scare her. Trying to hold back the sob rising in your throat—Trying not to scream at the thought of what Ambessa had done.

What she'd turned you into. A ghost. A villain. A stranger in your own daughter’s life.

“She missed you, you know.” Ambessa’s voice slid into the room like smoke, You looked up. She stood with arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

Watching. Smiling, That slow–cruel smile.

The kind she only wore when she knew she had you beaten.

“You should’ve seen her crying for you. The first few weeks? Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t sleep. Just kept asking why her mom didn’t love her anymore.” You flinched.

“But I told her the truth.” Ambessa’s voice dipped, poisonous honey. “That you left. That you gave up. That weakness always folds in on itself.”

Your stomach turned. You wanted to scream.

To tell her that she was the one who filed for divorce. That you fought for four fucking months to stay with your daughter. You begged, pleaded, and bled for your family.

But she’d already written the narrative.

And Mel had believed it.

Ambessa crouched beside her daughter — your daughter — and gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I was wrong about your mother,” she said, like casting a spell. “She’s not so bad. Tell her how much you missed her, Mel.”

Mel blinked. And then, Her eyes welled with tears. Her arms shot forward, “Mommy!” she wailed, clinging to your neck like she’d never let go.

“I missed you. I missed you so bad.” You held her, sobbing quietly, your body shaking with something too broken to name.

You should’ve been happy. But all you could feel was the chill of Ambessa’s shadow pressing on your back. She rose slowly. Crossed her arms again.

“See?” she said, to no one in particular. “When you're soft like her… you always come back.”

Over her shoulder, you saw Ambessa watching you, Arms crossed. A slow, satisfied grin curving her mouth.

She had you exactly where she wanted you: Crawling, Begging, Broken And she wasn’t going to let you forget it.

Later that night, after Mel had gone to bed, you locked yourself in the guest bathroom — the one Ambessa so graciously offered you because, of course, you didn't belong in the master bedroom anymore.

You slid down the wall, crumpled into yourself, and cried into the fabric of your sleeves until you couldn't breathe.

You hated yourself, Hated that you were here, Hated that you let her win. But you loved your daughter more than you hated your own humiliation.

And Ambessa knew it—That’s why she dangled Mel like a carrot on a stick. Because she knew you’d chase until your legs gave out.

Because she knew you would endure anything — anything — if it meant Mel would still know you loved her.

Even if it killed you inside, In the dead silence of the night, when you finally pulled yourself off the bathroom floor, you caught your reflection in the mirror.

You barely recognized yourself, Eyes hollow, Face pale, Mouth pressed into a thin, trembling line.

You pressed a hand against the glass, desperate for something solid. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

Not to Ambessa, Not even to yourself.

To Mel.

To the part of her that still loved you, somewhere under the web of lies. "I'm sorry."

Because you knew you would stay, Knew you would take whatever Ambessa dished out. Knew you would endure being treated like a ghost in your own life—Just for a few stolen moments with the only piece of your heart you had left.

Ambessa would savor every second of your suffering, Because you were no longer her wife.

You were her possession, Her puppet. Her favorite toy to break, over and over again.

And you would let her.

Because you had no other choice.

She fucks you like she’s furious.

She is absolutely furious that you walked away. Furious because she pushed you to leave. Furious that you still have the power to haunt her when she closes her eyes at night.

She set you free. Signed the papers with a hand that didn’t shake.

But four months later, she’s still chasing the ghost of your warmth through cold sheets and colder silences.

So when you came back—tail tucked, heart aching—for Mel, just for Mel.

She made sure you paid for it.

The bed groaned under the force of her anger. Your breath came in ragged gasps, teeth clenched, tears hot.

And she grinned at every sound you made. “Still so good at taking it, little kamb,” she muttered against your throat, breath hot, words thick with something bitter. “Still mine.”

You didn’t answer.

You just let her take what she needed. Because maybe you needed it too.

The pain. The control. The weight of her body grounding you, even if it was only to the ruins of what you used to be.

And God—She knew it, she always knew it.

“I missed you,” she confessed in a voice that trembled with the effort not to be soft. “Missed the way you scream for me." Her thrusts were brutal. Deliberate. Like she wanted to carve herself into you again.

“I hate how much I love you,” she muttered. And you wanted to scream me too.

Wanted to spit you left me first.

Wanted to say this isn’t love.

But all that came out was a choked sob as she broke you open.

Afterward, when you were limp and ruined, she cleaned you gently. As if her gentleness could erase the bruises she left behind, She cradled you against her chest, stroked your hair, wrapped you in warm sheets and colder promises.

“I love you,” she whispered into your scalp. And then, like venom behind sugar: “You ruin me.” You didn’t respond, Couldn’t.

Because the worst part was—you still loved her, Still needed her even if she made you sick with it. Even if her love was a knife you kept pulling deeper.

“You looked so pretty begging for me,” she said with a soft laugh, fingers drawing lazy circles on your back. “So fucking pretty when you cry.” You flinched and she noticed.

Her voice dipped lower, her lips brushing your ear like a curse: “You make me sick,” she said, too sweetly. “But if I ever see you with someone else—if Mel ever calls another woman ‘mama’—”

Her hand paused. “I’ll take it all away.”

You stopped breathing.

Because you knew she meant it. Mel. The only piece of light you had left.

She’d use her too. Just to keep you here, just to keep you hers.

When you woke hours later, bruised and aching, the scent of her still clinging to your skin, you heard soft footsteps.

Mel’s voice. Laughing, You stepped out into the hallway, heart in your throat.

She saw you—and her little face lit up. “Mama!” she squealed.

And your knees buckled. Because it hadn’t been that way in months, Ambessa had twisted her against you. Had made you the villain. Had poisoned your baby girl’s heart. And now—now it was undone.

All it took was one night.

One fuck, One surrender.

You looked up and met Ambessa’s eyes across the hall. She was smiling. Victory looked good on her. It always did.

She whispered, “See?" Like This is what love is... like this is what kindness feels like. You nodded, feeling the weight of it all.

Because what else could you do? You’d already let her back in, Already handed her the knife.

☯ - 𝓣ag list.' : @princess-ish-shit , @marieeeluvsyou , @caitviana , @abbysdollie , @watermelonshine , @diouna , @boomhellokitty3141 , @zombieeepup

[nineteenninety-six]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Big Sister

Pairings: Dennis Whitaker x Sister!Reader

AN: Y'all I'm starting my new job on Thursday :( So that means I'll post even less but I'll be getting money so ;) Also this is short so I apologise

Synopsis: (I somehow deleted the request but here you go) You visit your brother Dennis for lunch during his first day working at PTMC.

You and Dennis had always been close. Ever since it became obvious that neither of you wanted to stay at home and continue your family's work at the farm that has been passed through generations of Whitakers as both of you had bigger plans.

You wanted to leave Nebraska, travel and explore places that you would never get to do if you remained at home and Dennis had even bigger dreams. He wanted to become a doctor and help people but for your parents, it was the biggest betrayal despite having four other sons who were more than willing to work at the farm and so the two of you were cut off and separated from your family.

Despite all of that, the two of you prevailed. You mostly survived off of your measly teachers salary and it definitely made things tight but you survived. You managed to secure a tiny two bedroom department but it was more than enough for the both of you.

Currently you were wandering into the bustling emergency department, looking for the familiar face with your floral patterned lunch bag in your hand. You knew Dennis felt a lot of guilt about not contributing to the household so he skipped meals despite your many reminders not to considering his line of work and so you decided to take advantage of your extended lunch break with all the kids skipping school for PittFest and surprise him with lunch so he didn't have an excuse to skip it.

"Hey Hon" A kind older woman with blonde hair calls you over, "Are you looking for something? Can I help you?"

You approach the nurse station where she was with a polite smile, "Hi, I'm looking for Dennis Whitaker. He's a med student."

"Whitaker? "The woman looks around before she clocks him. "He's just approaching now. Good timing."

You looked over your shoulder and sure enough Dennis was approaching the nurses charge station sandwiched in between two women. One of them was blonde with her hair pulled back into a simple braid wearing glasses and the other was brunette with her hair pulled into a ponytail.

"Whitaker! You've got a visitor."

Dennis' eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you, calling your name out in surprise, "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"Lunch." You hold up the lunch bag in answer before noticing what Dennis was wearing, "Those are not the scrubs you left home with."

The brunette's lips quirk into a smirk. "Did your girlfriend bring you your lunch Huckleberry? How cute."

"Girlfriend?!" Dennis sputtered, "No, she's my older sister."

"... oh" The woman's smirk falters, slightly embarrassed.

The blonde with glasses clears her throat interrupting the awkward silence that encompassed the group and stepped forward her hand outstretched, "Hi, I'm Dr Melissa King, but can just call me Mel"

"It's nice to meet you Mel" You shake her hand and introduce yourself.

Dennis drags you away before the other woman could introduce herself. telling them that he's going on his lunch break before you disappeared into the staff lounge.

"Huckleberry?" You softly question as you unpack the lunch bag, "What's that all about? You're not getting bullied are you?"

"It's just a joke she makes... because of the farm" Dennis explains before he digs into the lunch, ravenous from his long day.

You slowly nod, not totally convinced but brushing it aside. Sitting opposite Dennis, you watched as he stuffed himself and you worried about him.

"So..." You say before you take a bite of your sandwich. "How has your day been? You look like a sad mouse right now. What's with the new scrubs?"

Dennis heaved a sign as he began to recount his day, "Well, I lost my first patient."

"Oh, Den!" You murmur sympathetically at your brother

"Then I spilled Mylanta on my first set of scrubs. Then someone bled all over at me, then a kid barfed blood on me and then... someone peed on me."

You blinked owlishly at your brother, surprised at the sheer amount of bodily fluids that he came into contact with during his first day.

"Oh my God..." You mutter in shock.

"There's also rats on the loose"

" ... Is the ED even allowed to be open? Surely that's a health and safety violation?"

Dennis merely shrugs as he takes amounts of coffee, not caring of its scalding temperature.

"Well, considering the type of day you've had so far, I guess we can splurge on take out tonight. How's that sound?" You ask as you pack up your lunch mess.

"You sure? "Dennis looked excited at the prospect but hesitant considering your current financial situation.

"Yes Den. One take out isn't going to ruin us." You laugh.

Dennis smiles as a weight is lifted off of his shoulders. Living with you and honestly just surviving off of you had made his life a whole lot easier and he couldn't thank or repay you enough and he couldn't wait until he had a solid stable income and pay you back for all of the takeout, days out and just general support you had given him since you both left Nebraska. "I'II walk you out"

You nod and follow him out of the ED, through the waiting room until you finally step outside. You pull him into a tight hug and press a kiss to his cheek before you step back.

"I love you. Have a good rest of the shift and I'll see you afterwards okay?"

Dennis nods, a brightness in eyes after having lunch with you, "Okay. I love you too."

You wave as you walk away, "Stay safe Den!'

Dennis waves back, "I will!"

[eeuni]

what was i made for? ❀ b.e

fluff, depression, relapses, ed, sh, childhood memories

billie came home; the sixth time she'd come home this late. it was almost 4 a.m. and she assumed you'd be asleep in bed, waiting for her. her steps were vague, trying to see through the darkness of the house where she was walking. she noticed the television on, the large couch with its back to her.

when billie approached to turn it off while yawning, she noticed a figure lying right there. her heart nearly leaped out of her chest, but she soon realized it was you. wait—what were you doing here?

"baby?" your girlfriend's voice reached your ears, yet you didn't move.

maybe you were too sad to react to anything anyone said, or your mind no longer knew it was real. you had recently visited your childhood home, yes, the one that still haunted your dreams. you went alone, without billie, you hadn't dared to ask her to accompany you because she seemed too busy, going back and forth to the studio or to meetings.

the only thing that came to mind and stuck like a stake were those letters that were in a box under your bed, names of relatives on each one. they were the kind of letters you only write when you slowly put hundreds and hundreds of pills in your mouth to end your misery.

it seemed unreal until today the way you had treated yourself, cutting your skin, stopping eating to become lighter than a feather like in your childhood. maybe that was the whole point of what you did in the past, to feel like a little girl again. hurt, fragile, maybe, just maybe someone seeing you like this would take care of you.

but not even the ghost of your mother appeared there to hold you, and that was something you would always carry with you.

billie noticed your open eyes, you weren't asleep, you were motionless, your eyes dry with no tears left to cry. her heart ached, the few times she had seen you after you had returned from your childhood home she had seen you discouraged, and every time she tried to ask the alarm went off to go to the studio. she felt a guilt weighing on her soul, even more so when she noticed a plate of food on the coffee table.

the same plate of food she served you before leaving without warning. the food was in its place, you hadn't even taken a bite. but how would you do it? how could you eat with such profound sadness occupying every space in your body, including your stomach?

"baby, please talk to me." your girlfriend sat next to you, right where your legs were. "i know you're not asleep."

you were a little more hurt by the way billie spoke, you could tell she was tired with her yawns.

her hand rested on your waist, caressing it gently. that was the action that made you burst into tears, so simple but so full of love that you couldn't believe it. you trembled slightly, hiding your sobs in your hoodie. you didn't want her to see you cry, you didn't want to agree with her that you were so bad that you couldn't be alone.

"can you stop pretending for a moment?" she asked, not firmly or harshly, but gently, wanting to help you open up to her. "come give me a big hug, sweet girl."

with that you got up from your place, loud whimpers coming out of your mouth you were able to approach billie hiding your head in her neck. it's been so long since she hugged you like this.

she did nothing but stroke your back, humming a soft song to help calm you down.

you couldn't be mad at her, not when you were the one who had kept everything to yourself. it was like blaming a baby for crying. you stay there, on her neck, your lower lip constantly trembling. you felt weak; you hadn't eaten anything in a few days, which only made you feel worse. you wanted to talk...to tell billie everything that was bothering you, but now you couldn't, even looking at her was difficult.

"baby, you're shaking too much," she whispered, very worried. she slowly pulled you away, noticing how you looked.

you looked over at the piece of furniture where the television was. pictures of yourself as a child were there. you were dying to show them to billie, but she'd been very busy.

"did you eat, angel?" that question made you look at her. you could tell billie the truth or lie. your heart sank and you denied it. "nothing? why, love?"

"i wasn't hungry." was the first thing you said. she looked at you as if you were lying. "it's true, i'm not hungry, billie."

she remained silent for a few seconds, stood up slowly —not before giving you a kiss on the forehead and making you comfortable on the couch— and grabbed the untouched plate of food.

your girlfriend came into the kitchen, serving some food you two had in the fridge after giving the other to shark, she heated it up quickly and brought it to you. you looked at her as if she had placed a very heavy weight in front of your eyes. she sat back down, grabbing the fork and with little food on it she brought it up to your mouth.

you didn't open your mouth.

"billie, i don't—" billie interrupted you.

"please." she begged you, her eyes slightly covered by some hairs from her bangs. "i know you don't want to, my baby, but you have to eat, okay?" she tried again to bring the fork closer.

it took you a while to open your mouth but you did it anyway, the food invaded your palate and you let out a sigh as you chewed. you closed your eyes for a moment, convincing yourself that you were doing this for billie and for yourself.

"there you go, my sweet angel." she took your hands, caressing them. "i'm so proud of you for trying."

you wanted to cry again, but this time you didn't. Instead, you threw yourself into your girlfriend's arms again, closing your eyes tightly, as if what you were experiencing was a bad dream. she placed her hands on your waist, placing you on her lap, rocking you gently like a baby. you could feel her breath on your forehead.

"it's all right, i got you."

you felt a little better, but that feeling was mild. you still felt a deep wound in your soul, a desire to ask billie why she didn't stay a little longer before going to the studio. you looked up, conflicted with your own thoughts.

"why did you leave without warning?" you whispered.

billie seemed to tense for a moment, her mind filling with guilt. maybe if she had paid more attention to you, you wouldn't be like this.

"finneas called me, told me i had to come quickly to hear something new he had." she replied, caressing your left cheek. "but anyway, sorry for leaving so quickly. i missed you."

the last thing she said made you feel a little —just a little— better, you couldn't stay mad at this woman, not when the look on her face looked so real, so guilt-ridden.

you got up from her arms without saying anything else, she became a little desperate at losing the physical contact she had with you a few seconds ago.

"where are you going, babe?—" you didn't answer her question.

your barefoot steps echoed in the large house you two shared. you reached the furniture where the television was and grabbed a couple of photos of yourself. not just any kind of photos, but photos from when you were just a baby. the same ones you brought from your childhood home. you sat back down, now next to billie, and passed her the photos.

the first photo was on your 5th birthday, you were sitting in a chair in the kitchen of your house, your hair in a simple ponytail, the cake in front of you, you blowing out the candles. the second was you in the park, your little hands trying to catch a pink balloon, your expression full of life. the third photo was one of your right eye, next to a dandelion flower, your favorites, the brightness of your eyes in the sun only stood out more, a vivid color. the fourth photo was where you were lying face down on the floor, a dollhouse decorated with recycled things, your hands holding a barbie. you were looking straight into the camera, laughing.

each photo stayed stuck in billie's soul, her eyes stung, she wanted to cry. the tips of her fingers traced your small figure in each photo; the world in her mind had stopped. you remained silent, nervously playing with your hands.

"i see myself there and isee myself today. i don't really know what to do with myself, billie." you started. she looked up, her eyes watery. "i didn't want to worry you. i feel like you're not made for this, so i didn't say anything. i didn't want to burden you with this. you have a whole life out there waiting for you."

you started crying again, this time billie did too. she pulled you into her arms, desperate, making you want to feel her love for you.

"don't say that. you'd never be a burden in my life, but rather the person who helps me bear the full weight of what the world expects of me." billie sobbed. "you don't know how good it feels to have you around, you're the only thing i look for when the world stops seeing me through a screen."

tears remained impregnated in billie's chest.

"i don't know how to feel, billie." you confessed.

"you don't have to solve this now, okay baby?" she stroke your hair, she was trying to convince herself that she was okay so she could hold you.

but the truth is that you two felt the same, so you decided to hug each other and cry together.

"sorry i wasn't there." your girlfriend grabbed your face, asking you—or rather, begging you—to forgive her.

"it's okay, bils, i love you. i'm sorry for keeping all this to myself." you let out a slightly bitter laugh, wiping away your tears.

she held you tighter, shark jumped onto the couch with one of his toys to play, but the dog quickly noticed something was wrong. "oh, shark." you whispered, calling him to lie on top of you.

the dog came quickly, lying on your lap, his expression sad now. you petted him, letting him know everything was okay.

that one day you would remember how to be happy.

"do you want to watch a movie?" your girlfriend asked softly, noticing that you were calmer, your breathing soft against her neck, tears now dry on your cheeks.

you nodded slightly, she stood up so she could look for the remote, but not before putting that photo of you playing with a barbie next to one of her photos when she was little. in her photo, she was playing with another barbie, the photos were so similar.

you smiled softly at that, billie sat down next to you again, pulling you closer. she put on any barbie movie, the first one that came out.

billie, you and shark were lying on the couch, hugging each other, watching the movie. everyone felt less heavy for you, even for your girlfriend. after a few minutes you both started laughing like little girls watching the movie scenes. you looked at the beautiful woman at your side, stealing a kiss on her cheek.

"thanks, bils." you whispered.

her eyes connected with yours, she looked at you full of love, so much that it touched your soul.

"you don't have to thank me for loving you, baby girl."

you two moved closer, joining your lips in a sweet kiss, leaving aside your problems, even your uncertainties. being like this with billie made you feel more than good, she was perhaps your only medicine.

forever.

"finch, i think i have the idea." billie smiled.

despite all the pain she suffered and not only her but also you, she was now in the studio, the hairs of her bangs all over her face, it was night, but she had already thought about the idea.

"about the barbie song?" he asked, turning around and stopping playing the piano.

she nodded, showing him the whole idea. the song, the reflection of barbie's life, the uncertainty. and she wrote everything from barbie's point of view, but also from yours.

"...something i'm made for." your girlfriend's smile was evident, her —now— red roots decorating the small pink baby tee she wore.

it had been a while since you'd disconnected from yourself. billie made it clear to finneas that even though she had all the inspiration in the world, she needed to take care of you. he quickly understood. she stopped disappearing in the morning, she started singing to you every night so you could sleep, helping you face your fears or questions, she truly accompanied you.

you were able to feel better, you started accompanying billie to the studio which only made her more inspired. she showed you her lyrics, the ideas she had and she asked you if it was okay to be inspired by you.

you felt honored, happy to be that bridge that connected billie to the peak of her creativity. when she finished the song, you were the first to hear it. you cried a lot, feeling something inside you healing.

your childhood.

they had given it back to you. billie had given it back to you.

you stood up, clapping proudly, your eyes filling with tears. everyone behind you stood up, causing a standing ovation.

(...)

"of course, you know...i've had a lot of inspiration from barbie, not just her, for sure." billie explained to the interviewer, moving her hands.

staring at you.

"i couldn't have made this song without...you know, my girlfriend— i don't know, it's all easier if i write from someone else's perspective."

applause was heard, you smiled, remembering the photos of you and billie when you were little girls playing with barbies.

that song honestly saved your life.

billie saved you too.

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

a/n: part 2. idk

summary: natasha romanoff x married!reader; nat and you used to be in love. now, years later, you're married to a wealthy man and have a daughter with him. will running into natasha change everything?

warnings: none

word count: 6.4k

part 1, part 2, part 3, …

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

— COOKIES AND CONVERSATIONS —

"Natasha?"

Her eyes lock with yours as she slowly straightens up, making Nina let go of her sleeve in the process. You pull your daughter closer, staring at Natasha incredulously.

"Y/N", she finally says, a tad too coolly for your liking.

"What are you doing here?", you ask, still wary. Nina has grabbed your hand, a bit confused by how icy and distant the interaction between you two seems. You both said you're friends, after all. She's too young to grasp just how complex your relationship actually is.

'Friends' is far from the truth.

Natasha looks around the lobby, noticing the stares she's getting from strangers.

Yes, she specifically. You're a familiar face around here, probably visiting every week with your daughter in tow. She, however? She's unfamiliar. A face that stands out, someone who doesn't fit in. Her traitorous brain remarks that she should be used to that feeling by now. But she isn't.

"Can we maybe move this outside?", she asks quietly, her eyes flitting back to meet yours. You frown, unsure whether you should agree to her request.

But then again, Natasha is safe. Despite the breakup, despite the years of distance — you trust her. Part of you also realizes that your conversation is being overheard, which you don't like. Too many people know too much about you already, so there's no need to give them more stuff to talk about.

"Fine." You reluctantly follow her, making sure you're holding on to your daughter. No way is she running off again. That'd be the second time within less than a week.

You look at her as soon as you're outside, standing by your car. Natasha pushes her hands into the pockets of her coat, observing you out of the corner of her eye. She still can't shake that habit, it seems — always on the lookout, always studying you. It's as endearing as it is frustrating.

"So?", you eventually say, your thumb rubbing Nina's fingers. You're trying to calm yourself down. Or keep yourself calm. Either of those. "Answer me."

Natasha's gaze briefly sweeps over your surroundings. Traffic, an empty sidewalk, that gigantic building you just exited. Nobody in vicinity, which is a relief.

"I wanted to see you", she says. A half-lie. She did want to see you, in some way at least, but that's not what she's here for. She came her to find evidence, to gather intel about your precious husband.

Can she tell you that, though?

No. Not yet.

Your expression falters for a moment, the mask of indifference crumbling and vanishing. A variety of emotions flickers across your face, unreadable yet obvious. Natasha can see every single one, making her chest feel tight with guilt.

"You've got great timing", you say weakly, feeling the early autumn breeze brush over your cheeks. "It's been seven years."

"It's been a little more than five days", Natasha corrects you, still stoic.

"You know what I mean", you say sharply. "That thing at the art gallery? Doesn't count. Besides: if you wanted to see me, why'd you come to my husband's office?"

"I didn't know this was his office", she immediately replies, which — to you — is even more ridiculous than her claiming she wanted to see you. She's a spy, for god's sake. She doesn't do anything without a purpose, especially not something like this.

"So this is a coincidence?" You let out a hollow laugh. "Natasha-"

"Okay", she says, stepping closer. You quickly look at her, feeling the urge to take a step back. You can't get close to her again. "Maybe I did know he works here. But how else was I supposed to find you?"

"Not at all would've been a start."

"Charming", she says drily, her attempt at concealing the hurt in her voice failing. "Nice to see you too."

"Oh, come on." You sigh. "I'm sorry, but this...it's odd. I didn't think you'd be the one to seek me out first after, you know...", you trail off. She smiles bitterly, averting her eyes.

"Not all of us hold grudges", she says, softer this time. "I guess you're just harder to forget than I thought."

There's a teasing lilt to her voice, something that's meant to protect you both. It doesn't work, but you appreciate the effort. Plus, it manages to elicit a small smile from you. That's more than enough for Natasha.

Nina, ever the restless one, lets go of you to grab Natasha's hand again. The woman looks down at her, a smile appearing on her lips. The child is staring at her as if she's some kind of superhero, which is pretty much spot on.

"Looks like I've been replaced", you comment, the smile on your face turning more genuine now.

Nina is sociable. She loves people of pretty much all ages and is guaranteed to talk their ears off. Still, this kind of immediate fascination is something you haven't seen before. Like mother like daughter, it seems. When you first met Natasha, you felt this kind of enchantment as well. It's a spell that's hard to break.

"I am very likable", Natasha boasts playfully, grinning at your daughter. The little one turns to look at you, pleased that she made the pretty lady smile at her.

"Mommy, she's nice", she pipes up. "Can we get cookies? You promised."

"I did promise cookies", you sigh, shooting her an affectionate look. Then you glance at Natasha. "We were supposed to pick up a snack on our way home", you say sheepishly. "Care to join us?"

"Change of heart?", the redhead teases.

"Yeah, well..." You crack a smile. You're aware you went from pissed off to mildly flustered, all within the span of mere minutes. It'd throw her off guard if she wasn't still familiar with it. "It's always been difficult to stay mad at you."

Natasha hums, looking at Nina again. The girl smiles as if on cue, bouncing on the spot.

"Please?"

"Will I get a cookie, too?", Natasha asks, raising her eyebrows.

Nina nods. "You can have one", she says, her tone generous yet slightly self-important. You and Natasha exchange an amused look — it's a kind and genuine offer, but the way she's saying it makes it sound like the cookies are hers to give away. You're starting to see why your parents have called your daughter spoiled before.

"Looks like the boss has spoken. So, you're joining us?"

"I can't say no to Miss Nina here", Natasha confirms, squeezing Nina's hand.

"Nobody can", you huff, smiling, and take Nina's free hand. "There's a café down the block. We can walk there."

To say that this is weird would be more than just an understatement.

You haven't seen her in years. Haven't talked to her, haven't texted her, nothing. Refusal to reach out from both sides resulted in complete radio silence. And now?

Now you're walking down the street together, both of you holding onto Nina as she walks between you. You're not talking — thankfully, your daughter has decided to do that for you. She's chattering nonstop, her little voice ringing through the air.

It's warm inside the café, with the scent of pumpkin spice wafting right into your faces. Nina instantly lets go of you both, running up to the counter to inspect the pastries. She clasps her hands together in front of her, as if to prevent herself from touching the glass that's separating her from the sweet treats.

"She's a good kid", Natasha says quietly as you catch up to the girl. "She must get that from you."

You smile slightly, glancing at the woman next to you. Your gaze gets stuck, lingers, traces her features. You never could've forgotten what she looks like — not in a million years — but she's even more beautiful than you remembered.

Natasha notices you staring. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, subtly tilting her head. "What?", she asks softly.

"Nothing", you respond in a low murmur, quickly digging through your purse. "It's just weird seeing you here."

She manages a faint smile, silently agreeing with your words. Her eyes zero in on your wallet as you reach for a few dollar bills and her hand comes up to gently stop you.

"I got this", she says, reaching for her own money.

"No, hey-"

"Hush", she says firmly, then gives the barista a polite smile. She lets Nina order her own cookie (the rainbow one, of course), then she lists off everything else. Chocolate chip cookies — a classic —, an espresso and your favorite beverage.

You hide your smile, trying to get over the fact that she still remembers.

You find a quiet, secluded corner of the café, and sit down there. The sky is littered with clouds, covering the sun and allowing the soft lights of the café to be the star of the show.

Nina is tucked into the corner seat between you, her little hands breaking the cookie in two. Her excitement over something so mundane is serving as a buffer between you and Natasha, helping you through initial awkward silences.

"It's a nice place", Natasha comments, taking a sip of her espresso. "Much better than that place in D.C. with the squeaky chairs."

"And the bitter coffee", you add, looking at her. You reach out, tapping the frame of the glasses she's wearing. Those are definitely new. "Didn't know you need glasses now."

"I don't", Natasha says, quickly sliding the glasses off her face. Her eyes meet yours, deep green and softened. "They just help me be recognized less, believe it or not."

"I recognized you", you counter, stirring the hot drink in front of you before taking a tentative sip.

"Yes, you did", she says pointedly, glancing at Nina as she holds out a piece of her cookie. The girl has her head tilted sweetly.

"Trade?"

"Sure, honey", Natasha says, handing her a piece of her own cookie in exchange. Then she focuses on you again. "Now let's hope the rest of Manhattan isn't as sharp-eyed as you."

You roll your eyes, an amused sound escaping you. "Well, don't look at me. I don't think a pair of glasses could ever make you blend in." You pause, a thought crossing your mind. "What are you hiding from, anyways?"

Natasha looks at you, her brain — again — settling on a half-truth. "You know me. From the rest of Manhattan, pretty much."

"Right", you say, smiling faintly. "Always on the run."

"Old habits die hard", she says wryly, leaning back with her arms crossed. Irony — her very own way of suppressing the guilt that's starting to rear its head. She's lying to you pretty much constantly, keeping secrets and finding excuses.

Natasha has reasons for that. She can't just tell you what's going on, not until she knows for sure. Until then, you might be of use.

Telling herself that is easier than admitting why she's actually sitting here with you.

"Funny. I thought you'd have found some peace by now." You tilt your head pointedly. "Or at least a better disguise."

"Me and peace in the same sentence? Never thought I'd see the day", she says, finishing her espresso. "And the disguise? It's low-maintenance."

You let out a sound that's between a laugh and a scoff, wiping a few cookie crumbs off Nina's face absently. She rubs her eyes tiredly and you place a soothing hand on her back. "You were never low-maintenance."

"I thought I was charmingly uncomplicated", she smiles, briefly glancing at Nina to check on her. The girl looks sleepy, so it must be nap time for her soon.

"Yes, sure. If that's what you'd call having three passports in the glove compartment whenever you drove me anywhere."

The sole purpose of the smirk on Natasha's face is to hide a wince. It wasn't just the passports — it was everything that came with being with her. Switching cars while driving in the middle of the night, being prepared to run at any given moment. Making sure she could up and go whenever she wanted. Never entirely grounded, one foot always in the shadows.

Her existence was unpredictable, untethered. A stark contrast to the safe but stifling life you lead now, filled with monotony and routines.

Being with her allowed you to soar, even if it sometimes meant crashing down.

"Touché", Natasha says, watching you smooth down Nina's hair. Yet another new mannerism you've picked up — an endearing one at that. "Makes me wonder why you didn't run."

"Maybe I liked the thrill", you reply, looking at her again. Nina's head droops onto your arm for a moment. She's definitely ready for her nap. "Or maybe I liked the person behind the passports."

"That person hasn't changed as much as you may think."

"I think we've both changed."

Natasha watches you scoop the yawning child into your lap. Nina nestles against you, her eyes closing.

She never thought she'd see you like this: all motherly and nurturing, quietly soothing a child — your child. So maybe you have a point. Maybe you did change.

"Maybe", she admits, giving a small smile. "Some things don't, though."

"Like what?", you ask quietly, a hint of challenge in your voice.

Natasha leans forward, her gaze holding yours. The café, the people around you, the noises and smells — it all disappears. At least for a moment, it does.

"Like the way I recognized you, too."

. . .

— THE WEB UNFOLDS —

Her office is small but efficient, filled with the tools of her trade. Screens glowing with data, paperwork and open files scattered across her desk, a steaming mug of tea. She toys with a pen as she scans the financial documents she retrieved once more, one name standing out: Durant Enterprises.

Multiple transfers to and from said company, the amounts large and the descriptions vague. It's the frequency that makes her pause. This isn't just routine business — it's deliberate.

Natasha feels on edge as she puts her pen aside, now pulling up a secondary window on her screen. She cross-references the company with known entities in her database and starts to dig.

At first, Durant Enterprises doesn't raise alarms. Everything seems ordinary until more troubling details surface.

Natasha pauses, her hands stilling. She stares at the screen, feeling a chill run down her spine.

Ties to overseas operations, suspiciously under-the-radar accounts — and, most notably, an association with human trafficking syndicates.

She swallows, her fingers continuing to move over the keyboard in a rapid pace. A list of contacts connected to Ethan catches her eye, several names matching aliases from SHIELD's database of traffickers and corrupt officials. A few of the numbers that are listed appear to be burner phones, heightening her suspicions.

Natasha plugs in the USB stick and runs a deep scan of the files on Ethan's computer. A dense folder of corporate documents, mostly financial data — endless spreadsheets, balance sheets, transaction records. But, nestled among them, an invoice marked for 'freight services' from a shipping company she's never heard of.

It's not an innocent transaction — the total is unsettlingly large.

She pulls up the details, her eyes narrowing as she connects the dots to previous intel. And there it is again: an obscure company, linked to the same shadowy network she's seen before.

Dammit, Bailey, she thinks, taking a hasty sip of tea. What are you dragging them into?

As expected, her thoughts have drifted back to you. To you and Nina, completely oblivious to what Ethan — the man who's supposed to protect you and care for you — is doing.

And then there's Natasha — about to tear this entire network down, about to expose him to his family and countless others. She knows you'll have to find out eventually; it's only fair, after all. You deserve to know the full truth, even if it'll add yet another weight to your shoulders.

Part of her wonders whether you'll forgive her. She's been lying to you ever since that night at the art gallery, and she continues lying to you constantly. It's what she has to do to protect you and Nina.

Lingering affection wars with duty. Shield you from all of this or tell you the truth, let you live in this little bubble you've created for yourself or make it burst. Natasha shouldn't let her feelings get in the way, especially not when this entire mess concerns you and your daughter as well.

Every part of her being is trying to stop her from getting you involved in this. You don't deserve to be a part of this — but here you are.

And she's certain she'll do everything in her power to protect you, even if it means losing you once and for all.

Natasha sets the tea aside and grabs her phone. Her finger hovers above the call button for an excruciatingly long moment, then she decides against it. She leans back in her chair, starting to massage her temples. A dull ache has started to form behind her eyes.

It's a realization, a resolve, that hurts.

She'll have to use you somehow.

. . .

— MOMENTS IN FOCUS —

The sunlight filtering through the windows has a richness to it, making everything appear softer and more vibrant. Leaves dance in front of the floor to ceiling windows, shades of amber and russet that make the scenery outside look like the perfect October morning.

You look up from the ingredients in front of you — bananas, berries, a handful of spinach, all ready to be thrown into the blender — when you hear footsteps approach. Ethan pauses at your side, briefly glancing up from his phone to press a short kiss to your cheek. 

"Good morning", he says, looking like the epitome of effortlessness. Hair wet and slicked back, a crisp white robe tied loosely around his waist. Nina doesn't even notice him; she's too engrossed in the picture in front of her, her tongue sticking out as she focuses on coloring within the lines of the butterfly. "What's on the menu?"

"Smoothies, scrambled eggs, yogurt with granola", you list off, turning on the blender. It hums softly as the colors swirl together, creating a nice pinkish shade.

"Hear that, Nina?", he asks, leaning against the counter next to you. She barely looks at him before going back to coloring, now choosing a purple crayon. "Jesus. We've really got to make sure she pays more attention. This is rude behavior."

"She's tired", you defend her, pouring the smoothie into two glasses and one plastic cup. "Also, it's 7 in the morning. You can't expect her to function properly at this hour, Ethan."

"Why not?", he counters, reaching around you to grab one of the smoothies. He takes a few big gulps, already sitting down at the breakfast table and reaching for the newspaper. "She's almost four. It's time she learns some manners."

"She has manners", you retort, crouching down in front of your daughter. She stops coloring, her eyes meeting yours expectantly as she waits for you to say something. "Breakfast is ready, sweetheart. Are you hungry?"

"No", Nina says, but gets up anyway. You smile and swiftly lift her into the air, then sit her down on the chair with her booster seat. She reaches for her cup, holding it with both hands as she takes a sip. "That's yummy."

"Thank you, baby." A kiss is planted on the top of her head, then you join them at the table.

Ethan looks up from the newspaper, casually drumming his fingers on the surface of the table. "Do you have anything planned for today?"

"Not that I know, no", you say, glancing at him. "Why? Did something come up?"

"Oh, yeah. This magazine — Art & Culture Monthly, you probably know them — called this morning. They want to feature the gallery's grand opening in their upcoming issue. It's a pretty big deal, you know? Anyway, they'll interview me and also feature our family."

You can hear the excitement in his voice, causing you to smile faintly. Of course — another thing he can add to his long list of achievements. You can't believe you thought he'd ask if you wanted to do something normal. Go to a pumpkin patch, maybe visit a park. Simple, ordinary things.

"Whatever. They want to take a few pictures of us later today — you, me, the kid. It'll be great for the gallery's reputation, and it'll really solidify our place in the art scene."

Your smile fades a bit. A photo shoot. You've done a couple of those before, but they were always for private usage. You don't want Nina's face to be printed in some magazine everyone can buy, even if basically no one would recognize her anyway.

"I don't know", you say hesitantly, handing Nina a napkin. She has some of the smoothie smeared across her chin and cheeks. "It's a bit unexpected. Plus, Nina is too young for that. She won't be able to sit still for that long."

"Hey, it's okay", he says, brushing off your concerns. "You'll be fine, Nina. Won't you? Anyways-" He turns to you without waiting for an answer, "it's a huge opportunity for us — for me, really. They want to showcase the perfect family, and we're pretty much spot on."

The perfect family — husband, wife, cute little daughter. Well-off but still relatable, at least in a way. Always happy, always fitting society's expectations. You're tired of being pushed into this mold.

You sigh, glancing at your daughter. She looks at you, not understanding too much. "Photos?", she asks curiously.

"Yeah, photos. A photo shoot", you say, feeling uneasy. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Come on", your husband pushes impatiently. "It won't take too long. Besides — it's not like you have anything to do, do you? You'd spend the entire day sitting around. At least you'll make yourself useful."

You roll your eyes. Yes, that's definitely the case. It's not like you have a toddler to take care of, right? And even if you do — it can't be as hard as what Ethan does, obviously.

"When do we have to be there?"

"Two hours", he says happily, eating a bite of his scrambled eggs. "By the way, did you put chives in this? You know I don't like chives."

. . .

It's an upscale studio, bustling with assistants, lights and backdrops. Ethan is just as polished as the space you're in, immediately stepping up to the photographer — an older man, balding, with tiny glasses and a sweater vest — and staff to charm them. You keep your daughter close, feeling out of place.

As much as you hate this — you have to admit that Nina looks impossibly cute in her outfit. A white cabled fisherman sweater, matching yours, paired with denim jeans in a light wash. A pastel yellow headband is keeping her hair out of her face, making her cheeks look even rosier than usually.

"Mommy, this is itchy", she whispers, tugging at the front of her sweater. You grimace, quietly sympathizing with your daughter. The fabric doesn't exactly feel nice on your skin.

"I know, honey", you reply in a hushed voice, making sure the assistants and photographer don't hear you.

"And it's bright", she adds, squinting as she accidentally looks at one of the lights. You snort in amusement, gently making her turn away so she doesn't let the brightness fry her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. It'll be over soon, alright?"

"You ready?", one of the assistants says, waving you over. You nod and gently nudge Nina along.

The photographer positions you in various poses — Nina perched on Ethan's knee, Ethan with his arm around you, you holding Nina. It feels rehearsed, like they know exactly what they want to sell. Which, realistically speaking, is probably the case here.

Picture after picture, pose after pose. You're not the only one who starts to get restless. You spot Nina fidgeting more than once, subtly reaching into her pockets to make sure her crayons are still there — crayons she brought along secretly.

"Stop that, please", the photographer's voice cuts through the air. You don't like the irritated tone with which he's speaking one bit, but you decide to ignore him.

Nina stops, quickly pulling her hand out of her pocket.

"Yes, perfect. Ideal!", he gushes, continuing to snap pictures of you. You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You silently wonder whether anyone will look at the pictures and realize that you'd rather be anywhere else. Ethan won't, that's for sure — he's beaming, oblivious to your discomfort.

"Mommy?", Nina whispers as you pick her up, already clutching her crayons in her smaller hand. You're finally done after what feels like an eternity of posing and smiling stiffly. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, sweetheart, we're going home", you nod, letting her nestle into you. "Let's just finish up here, okay?"

"Okay", she mumbles, her crayons pressed against the clean fabric of your sweater. They'll most likely leave stains, but you couldn't care less about that. You're just relieved you're done with this.

The drive home isn't silent, to your dismay. Ethan keeps going on and on and on about how great the photos are and how important this is and how it'll certainly elevate his public image. He's talking so much you're surprised Nina managed to doze off in her seat, her chin resting on her chest.

You don't bother responding — instead, you just stare out the window, your mind drifting. You wonder whether Natasha would've laughed at how absurd this whole thing is. You wonder what's she's doing, whether she's thinking about you.

In that moment, you get a text message.

Natasha: Hey, Y/N. This is a bit random, but does Ethan know a few guys in the whole arts world?

I'm looking into something for Tony. — 2.17 pm

You: Hey! I can ask him for a few of his

contacts and send you a list, maybe? — 2.17 pm

Natasha: That's perfect, thank you. — 2.18 pm

You look to your left when Nina stirs. She looks at your phone, rubbing one of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Who is that?"

"That's Natasha", you say. Ethan doesn't even notice. He's now telling your chauffeur about the feature, again rambling about the interview and the art gallery. Part of you is thankful for that.

"Natasha?" Nina suddenly doesn't seem so sleepy anymore as her eyes light up. "Say hi!"

You smile at your daughter's enthusiasm. Seems like she's really starting to adore the redhead.

You: By the way, Nina says hi. She's all smiley. — 2.19pm

Natasha: Right back at her :) — 2.20pm

Natasha: Are you guys in town next week? There's this park near

the old tower, I think she'd love it. (I promise I won't hog the cookies

this time.) — 2.21pm

You glance at Nina. She looks at you, wide-eyed and practically buzzing with excitement.

"Natasha's asking if we want to go to a park with her", you say, reaching out to adjust her seatbelt. "What do you say, NeeNee?"

Your daughter immediately nods. "Yes, I want to go! Can we go?"

You smile faintly. "Sure, we'll go."

You text Natasha back, confirming the day and time. Then you slip your phone into your pocket.

You let out a small breath, your lips curving into a smile before you even realize it. The weight of your lousy day lingers, but it seems lighter now.

The idea of seeing Natasha tugs at your chest in a way you weren't prepared to unpack. It's almost absurd, how a simple text exchange could bring you such warmth. There's a faint flutter beneath your ribs, caused by a mix of excitement and a wary kind of anticipation.

It's been years, yet you still don't know what it is about Natasha Romanoff that can do this to you with such little effort.

. . .

It's a nice day — the October sun is warm but not overbearing, the chatter of children is echoing through the open space. You get out of the car and scoop the squirming child out of her booster seat, her hand tightly clutching her favorite stuffed bear. You set her on the ground, making sure she doesn't just run off.

"Mommy, can we go there first?", she asks, pointing at the swings. You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Let's find Natasha first, sweetheart. Then maybe she can push you."

Your suggestion earns a gleeful nod. With her hand clasped in yours, you start making your way down the winding path leading into the park. The late-afternoon light dapples the ground through the trees, creating a peaceful but slightly surreal atmosphere — though maybe that's just your nerves.

You spot Natasha near a quiet corner of the park, leaning casually against the wooden fence by the playground. Her pose is relaxed, but her sharp eyes are scanning the area around her.

Once she sees you, her face softens.

"Natasha!", Nina yells, voice bubbling with excitement, and frees herself from your gentle grip to dart forward.

Natasha crouches down just in time to catch the girl in a gentle hug, her expression warm. "Hey, Tiny!"

You ignore the nickname and the way it sends butterflies through your stomach. Instead you approach her, your steps hesitant but steady. She straightens up, her eyes meeting yours, and the park fades into the background.

You feel a small rush of warmth — one that leaves you confused.

"Hi", you say, your voice quieter than intended.

"Hi", she responds, her tone equally soft. But her gaze lingers, taking you in, and the curve of her lips hints at something deeper. "Should we sit? Or does Nina have a playground mission I should know about?"

Nina tugs at Natasha's hand, a grin on her face. "Swings first!"

The little girl manages to slightly break the tension. You let out a laugh, shooting your daughter a fond look. "Looks like you've got your orders."

"Please", Nina adds, remembering the magic word. She keeps pulling at Natasha's hand, who plays along easily. She follows Nina to the playground, all while exchanging a brief look with you — a silent 'Is this okay?'

"Go ahead", you say, nodding, and follow them to the swings.

Leaves crunch beneath the soles of your shoes, the air having a slight bite to it already. A boy, slightly older than Nina, runs past with his father chasing after him. Laughter and voices carry through the air, allowing you to relax a little.

Natasha makes sure Nina's holding on tight before she takes the lead in pushing her. You stand next to them, arms loosely crossed over your chest to preserve some warmth.

"Higher!", Nina promptly demands, trying to glance at Natasha over the thick fabric of her scarf.

"Higher? What are you, a little daredevil in training? You're going to give your mom a heart attack!"

"She's already started", you say, mildly exasperated. "You should've seen her last week, when she tried to climb the bookshelf."

"Huh." Natasha smiles, her eyes briefly meeting yours. There it is again, that annoying tug of warmth. "Sounds like someone I used to know."

You huff, but you can't deny the truth behind her words. You shrug, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat.

"You never complained."

"I didn't", she agrees, gently stopping the swing when Nina starts to talk about the merry-go-round. "Doesn't mean you didn't make my nerves fray, though."

"Please." You start walking to the merry-go-round, watching Nina speed ahead. "If anyone's nerves were frayed, it's mine. I watched you leave for missions on a weekly basis. I can't even count how many times I stitched you up afterwards."

"You make it sound like I was some kind of wrecking ball", she smirks.

"You didn't need to be." You let out an amused chuckle, your eyes glued to Nina as she sits down on the circular bench of the merry-go-round. "You were a force of nature, and I spent most of my time just trying to hold it together while you ran off into the chaos."

"You always did", she agrees, her voice quieter now. You stop when you reach the merry-go-round, watching Nina as she starts to spin around. "You were good at it, though. At stitching me up, I mean. Better than I deserved most days."

"Very true", you say, trying to keep it light. "I think I deserved a medal for keeping up with you."

"You mean for putting up with me?", Natasha corrects you, her hand briefly touching the handle of the merry-go-round to make sure it doesn't spin too fast.

A faint smile forms on your face. She's not entirely wrong — some of the time, it really was 'putting up with her'. Rolling with it, with her lifestyle, with the way every day seemed to be pure chaos.

You know it's not her fault. It's who she is, it's the life she ended up choosing for herself after never getting to have a choice. You were patient, too — you understood why she had to do all those things. Why she could never just rest.

"I'm just saying: most people would've thrown their hands up after the third emergency stitch job", you say mock seriously, earning a quiet laugh.

"Good thing you're not most people", she says, her smirk letting some tenderness shimmer through.

"Yeah", you agree, watching her. She's looking at Nina again, making sure she isn't spinning too fast or getting dizzy. Again and again you realize the same thing: only days later, Natasha fits in perfectly. Maybe that's what scares you the most. "Real good."

. . .

With Nina playing in a sandbox, you and Natasha get to be alone for a moment. You never take your eyes off your daughter to make sure she stays right where she is, but most of your attention is on the woman sitting next to you.

"I never knew how fast things could change", you speak softly, your words lingering in the chilly air. "I mean — one moment, I was making all these big plans. And now?"

"...now, you're a mom", Natasha says, smiling faintly as Nina smushes down her sandcastle.

"Yeah, exactly."

"You found a calmer life", she says, half to herself. It's bittersweet — she's glad you made it to a place where you don't have to worry about her or the dangers that come with the territory anymore. Now, your days are filled with cartoons and picture books and colorful bandaids. No more midnight missions, no more bloodies bandages. "A safer one."

"Calm and safe, sure", you mumble absently. "But I'm not so sure about...better."

Natasha turns to look at you, frowning slightly. What you said is odd enough, but the way you said it really threw her off. She scoots closer, her voice lowered.

"What are you talking about?"

You open your mouth to answer, but before you can say anything, Nina calls out to you. She's running, one hand clutching her teddybear. "I'm thirsty, mommy."

"Come here, honey." You grab a juice box from your backpack and hand it to her. She struggles with the straw for a moment, then she manages to poke it through the hole. The straw is now covered in grains of sand, making you grimace — but, of course, your daughter doesn't care about that.

She empties the juice box in record time, then she tosses it into the trash can. Off she goes again, her eyes locking onto the pony spring-rider. Natasha watches her with increasing fondness, silently wondering whether, in some other, faraway universe, this is what her life looks like.

"Always on the go", you say quietly, watching her. "So full of energy, I swear."

"I guess that's why I like her so much", Natasha says, glancing at you. You smile.

"She reminds you of yourself, huh?"

Natasha laughs under her breath, shrugging. "Maybe. Though I hope not too much."

You look down at your lap, at your hands that are resting there, and subtly toy with the ring on your finger. Your gaze shifts back to Natasha, a small, wistful smile on your face.

"I disagree. I wouldn't mind if she was a bit...wilder." You bite your lip, then add: "Like you. I mean, you were the one always pushing me out of my comfort zone. It was part of the deal: I tried to rein you in — unsuccessfully —, and you kept pushing."

Natasha smiles, her hand briefly reaching out to squeeze yours. You exhale softly at the simple touch — you haven't felt her skin against yours in years, but it's still the same.

"Did I ever do it right?", she ponders. "Push you the way you needed?"

"Maybe not always", you admit. "But you made me feel alive. Even when it was complicated."

. . .

"For you!", Nina says, handing a flower — a chrysanthemum — to Natasha. The redhead smiles, taking the small plant and twirling it between her fingers.

"A flower? For me? I'm honored!" Natasha turns to look at you, a teasing look on her face. "See? She already likes me better than most people."

You chuckle, lifting Nina into your arms. "I wouldn't be so sure", you say, smiling back just as teasingly. "She gave the mailman a flower last week, too."

"Oh really? And here I thought I was special."

You hum, adjusting your hold on your daughter. "You are special", you say, this time completely sincerely. You can't remember the last time Ethan spent the whole day with you like this — simply existing, doing things that aren't work-related, making sure Nina has fun. This was Natasha's idea, too — not yours. For the first time in a while, you don't feel isolated.

You clear your throat, giving a quick nod. "Well, uhm...thank you. For this. She really had fun."

Natasha hesitates, her gaze flickering from the flower to your face. "I didn't just come for her", she eventually speaks, the words hanging in the air as you exchange a look. You swallow, managing a faint smile.

"Let's not get too sentimental", you say, trying to sound lighthearted. You nudge Nina to distract yourself. "Say bye, honey."

Nina waves at Natasha. A few hours of playing outside in the fresh air have turned her cheeks rosy. "Bye, Natasha!"

"Bye, Tiny."

Another quick glance at each other, then you part ways. Natasha goes in one direction, you go in the other. Years linger between you, years that were spent together and that keep you close. There's a pull that's close to magnetic, and you're not sure how you managed to resist it for such a long time.

Both of you wonder whether you were ever able to truly leave your past behind — or if, somehow, you're still tangled in it, just waiting for the right moment to unravel.

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

🌙 tagged (as per request): @fxckmiup

[lilangelbud]

Hi! I love your writing! Could you do a (faux) little sis going to her older brother bc she wants to impress her boyfriend and wants “practice?”

She stood at his bedroom door, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it from the other side. Her fingers hovered over the knob, trembling slightly, before she finally mustered the courage to knock. What if he says no? She swallowed hard, her throat dry. What if he thinks I’m stupid for even asking?

The door creaked open, and there he was, her older brother, his face a mix of confusion and mild irritation. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice groggy. It was late, and he’d clearly been asleep.

She took a deep breath, her cheeks burning. “I… I need your help.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “With what?”

She looked down at her feet, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “I want to impress my boyfriend. I want to… practice. Before I do it with him.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and she winced, waiting for the inevitable judgment.

He blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

She shook her head, her eyes still glued to the floor. “I’m serious. I don’t want to mess it up. I just… I need to know what I’m doing.”

He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. “This is insane. You know that, right?”

She finally looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “Please. I don’t know who else to ask.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Finally, he stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. “Close the door behind you.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she stepped inside, the air thick with tension. She closed the door softly, feeling the weight of what she was about to do settle heavily on her shoulders.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, watching her with an unreadable expression. “You’re sure about this?”

She nodded, though her hands were trembling. “Yes.”

He sighed again, shaking his head. “Alright. But if you change your mind at any point, you tell me. Understood?”

She nodded again, unable to speak. Her throat felt like it was closing up, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

He patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Come here.”

She hesitated for a moment before crossing the room, her legs feeling like they were made of lead. She sat down beside him, her body tense, her heart racing.

He turned to face her, his eyes searching hers. “Relax,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s not going to work if you’re all wound up.”

She tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in her throat. “I don’t know how.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “Just breathe. Like this.” He inhaled slowly, exaggerating the movement so she could follow along.

She mimicked him, her chest rising and falling as she tried to match his rhythm. Gradually, she felt some of the tension ease from her body.

“Better?” he asked, his hand still resting lightly against her cheek.

She nodded, though her heart was still pounding. “Yeah.”

He smiled faintly, his thumb brushing against her skin. “Good. Now, the first thing you need to understand is that it’s not just about the physical stuff. It’s about connection, trust. You need to be present, in the moment.”

She looked into his eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling inside her—nervousness, uncertainty, but also a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name. “Okay.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Close your eyes.”

She hesitated for a moment before doing as he said, her eyelids fluttering shut. The darkness only amplified her other senses, making her hyper-aware of his proximity, of the warmth radiating from his body.

“Focus on how your body feels,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Notice the way your breath moves through you, the way your skin tingles where I’m touching you.”

She did as he said, her mind quieting as she focused on the sensations. His touch was soft, almost tentative, as if he was afraid of scaring her off.

“Good,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. “Now, tell me what you’re feeling.”

Her breath hitched as his words sent a shiver down her spine. “I… I feel warm. Safe.”

He nodded, his fingers trailing down her neck, sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin. “That’s a good start. What else?”

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “I feel… excited. Nervous.”

He smiled against her ear, his hand continuing its slow descent. “That’s normal. It’s okay to feel that way. Just remember to keep breathing.”

She nodded, though her mind was spinning. His touch was intoxicating, making it hard to think straight. “Okay.”

His hand came to rest on her shoulder, his fingers gently kneading the tense muscles there. “You’re doing great. Just keep focusing on how it feels.”

She let out a soft sigh as his touch began to loosen the knots in her shoulders. “It feels… nice.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against her skin. “Nice is good. But let’s see if we can make it feel even better.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring into his, her breath catching in her throat. There was something in his gaze, something intense and unreadable, that sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

His hand slipped lower, his fingers tracing a path down her arm until they reached her hand. He entwined his fingers with hers, his grip firm but gentle. “Trust me,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers.

She nodded, her heart racing as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a whisper of a kiss. It was soft, almost tentative, but it sent a shockwave of pleasure through her body, leaving her breathless.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “How was that?”

She blinked, her mind struggling to form words. “Good,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Really good.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. “Good. Remember, it’s not just about the physical stuff. It’s about how it makes you feel.”

She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “Okay.”

He leaned in again, his lips capturing hers in a deeper, more intense kiss. This time, there was no hesitation, no tentativeness. His kiss was demanding, passionate, and it left her reeling.

She felt his hand slide up her thigh, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through her body. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against her lips.

She shook her head, her fingers tangling in his hair. “It’s not,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips to explore her mouth. She moaned softly, the sound muffled by the kiss, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

His hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against the edge of her panties. “Still okay?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

She nodded, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Yes.”

He slipped his fingers under the fabric, his touch eliciting a sharp gasp from her. “Relax,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck. “Just let yourself feel.”

She closed her eyes, her body arching into his touch as he began to explore her, his fingers moving with a confidence that left her breathless. “Oh, God,” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders for support.

He smiled against her skin, his touch becoming more deliberate, more intense. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Just let go.”

She felt her body respond to his touch, a wave of pleasure building inside her. “I… I think I’m going to—”

“Let it happen,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Don’t fight it.”

She nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as the wave of pleasure crested, crashing over her and leaving her trembling in his arms.

He held her close, his touch softening as he let her ride out the aftershocks. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

She nodded, her body still trembling. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Good. That’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

She looked into his eyes, her heart still racing. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his expression soft. "Want to keep going?"

"Yes."

[silens-oro]

Hold on to the Thread (Well Enough Alone Companion Piece)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V Part VI Slowly We Unfurl (companion piece)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

Title Credit: Oceans by Pearl Jam

General Synopsis: Hawk and Pope have a discussion regarding kids of their own. Word Count: 1.4k Content Warning: talks of having kids & pregnancy. Spoilers for A Cure for Wellness? AN: I am child-free to the bone, but Pope does something to me, man. I'D CONSIDER IT FOR A BRIEF SECOND IS ALL I'M SAYING 🫢 please comment & reblog :)

“She’s seven. You put her in front of a TV all day. Maybe she’s trying to get your attention.” Pope pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Got any other parenting tips for me, man?” Baz asked rhetorically, but Pope -in Pope fashion- still answered him.

“Yeah, I know kids don’t like it when you scream at them.”

“You know what, Pope? Why don’t you figure out your own shit before telling me how to raise my kid?” Baz snapped.

“Her mother left and you’re banging some woman she’s never seen before in her mother’s bedroom. It’s not Lena’s fault that your girlfriend doesn’t like your kid, Baz.” It was harsh, but it needed to be said.

“You don’t know shit and you never will.” Baz said defensively. “Do you get that? No one's ever gonna have a kid with you. You think Hawk wants that? Give me a break, man. She already raised Julia’s kid. You think she wants to raise yours too?” She’s raising yours, Pope wanted to say, but knew it wouldn’t help anything. If anything, Baz would cut his time with Lena out of spite, so he kept his mouth shut. 

“Come on, Lena. Let’s go.” Was the only thing Pope ground out in response before escorting his niece out to his truck.

Pope would never outright express it to anyone, but what Baz said earlier in the day really bothered him. The thought lingered, burrowing itself in him like a parasite that couldn’t be removed. Hawk could tell Pope was stuck in his head as they lounged on the couch, watching some horror movie where a young stockbroker went to a wellness facility in the Swiss Alps to bring his company’s CEO back to New York. There were eels involved. It was…a lot. 

When he came back to the house with Lena earlier in the afternoon, he was off. He brushed off any of Hawk’s attempts to get him to talk, so she gave him his space. He’d talk to her when he was ready. Now that Lena had been put to bed for the night, they decided to throw a movie on and relax, but Pope was doing the opposite of relaxing and that in itself was not letting Hawk relax.

Pope’s hand had been absentmindedly rubbing Hawk’s waist, then moving over to her stomach where he’d lay his palm flat against it for a while, moving up or down ever so slightly just below her belly button, before going back to her waist. The more she noticed it, the weirder it felt because he kept doing it as the movie went on when that wasn’t something he did previously. 

“You alright?” Hawk tilted her head up from her spot notched in his side as he brought his hand to her stomach once again. This time she raised a brow at him. 

“Fine,” Pope’s voice was clipped and he cleared his throat, breaking free of whatever was going on in his head. He looked down at Hawk then back to the movie. His other hand tapped on the sofa’s armrest, a tick Hawk picked up on that he had when something wasn’t quite right. “Is that an eel?” Pope asked, his face scrunching at the screen.

“There’s been eels, Andy. They’ve been in the water and now they’re growing inside of the patients. Where have you been for the last hour?” She asked with a laugh, not wanting to stir the pot, but definitely wanting to know what was going on with him. He got a pained look on his face and Hawk knew right then that something was bothering him. Hawk grasped the hand on her stomach in hers and held it up to her chest, tenderly kissing his forearm. “Something’s up with you. You can talk to me.” She encouraged softly.

“I don’t want to scare you off.” Hawk wanted to laugh so badly at that, but she knew that if she did -not with the intention of being mean about it- he’d close up like a goddamn clamshell. So she kept it in, biting her lip to ground herself so it didn’t slip out accidentally. 

“You won’t. I promise.” He analyzed Hawk for a moment before nodding to himself. She gave him all the time and patience to gather his thoughts so he could say what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. 

“Have you ever thought of…having kids of your own?” He intentionally left the ‘with me’ out of the equation. He didn’t look at Hawk when he asked it, feeling much too vulnerable at the question even leaving the confines of his mind. Hawk blinked, not expecting that to be what was bothering him, but the question combined with his handsy mannerisms that night suddenly made total sense to Hawk. 

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, her fingers playing with Pope’s. “I think at one point maybe I had the urge, ya know? Right after J started going to school. I missed having him with me all the time and the thought did cross my mind, but I was nowhere near a stable enough relationship with anyone to even consider it. But it’s been a long time since I felt that way.” 

“Would you ever reconsider it?” His voice was so quiet, like he was afraid if it was any louder, it would shatter the confines of the conversation. He tried to sound blasé, like her answer wouldn’t bother him one way or the other, but he had to know. Baz’s voice rang over and over in his head and it was eating him alive from the inside out. 

Hawk felt Pope’s stomach clench and the arm he had around her twitched in her hold. She only held onto him tighter to let him know she wasn’t running from the conversation. 

“I feel like I’m a little late in life for that now,” Hawk answered honestly. “-but I’m not completely closed off to it. There are some aspects to pregnancy that scare the shit out of me though. I was there when Julia had J and both pregnancy and childbirth are…traumatizing.” 

“Women your age have kids all the time.” Hawk shifts on the sofa, looking up at Pope with curiosity in her eyes. “You’re not old by any means.” He pushed and winced again when he realized how that sounded. Hawk squeezed his hand to let him know that he was fine.  

“What’s got you so worked up about kids? Do you want them?” She didn’t ask him in a judgmental way, merely out of genuine curiosity. They’ve never broached the subject, but his shift with Lena, and J in more recent times, was noticeable to her. Very much so. 

“I used to think a kid didn’t deserve a father like me and the fucked up life I would give them. They didn’t deserve what I would pass on to them, this shit I have in my head. I don’t wish that on anyone, much less someone who didn’t ask to be here.” Pope spoke from experience, Hawk knew.

“Both of my parents had no business having a kid, not with what they had going on, but maybe…if the kid was only half of me," Half of the crazy, is what he implied, and Hawk didn't care for that one bit. "-then they’d have a better chance, you know? If their mom was normal, then they’d be able to have a normal life.” Hawk felt her heart break at Pope’s admission. She brought his hand up to kiss the back of it affectionately. “I’ve thought about all the things I missed with Lena when I was locked up.” The baby years, Hawk said mentally. “And I think about what it would be like to hold something so small that was a part of me. Something good I’ve given to the world.” And a part of you, he wanted to say. “To love them so much and to watch them grow. Do things with ‘em that my dad never did with me. Give them a life that I never had. Being with you and Lena, it’s opened my eyes to what we could have -what we could’ve had this whole time. If that’s something you’d even want.” We, Hawk’s heart skipped when he finally said it. He tacked on that last bit when the vulnerability became too much and the self consciousness set back in. 

“We’ll, I’ll tell you this -I’m not against it, but we are still in the early stages of this relationship. Let this thing grow some roots, focus on Lena and J for the time being, and then we’ll revisit this conversation, alright?” Pope looked down at her, his eyes a little glassier and his cheeks flushed just enough for Hawk to notice in the dim living room, and he nodded. “Come here,” She pulled him down gently by the front of his shirt so her lips could meet his.

please comment & reblog :)

[sturnsblogs]

can we get more teacher!matt & elianna🙏🏼 maybe matt realising she still isn’t taking it very well so making sure to spend a lot more one of one time with her before the babies are born?

You are the reason.

Teacher!Matt X Milf!Reader

—

Matt noticed it more and more lately—Eliana’s shoulders shrinking when people talked about the babies, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes when strangers asked if she was excited to be a big sister. She was doing her best to be brave, to be happy, but Matt knew her. And he could tell.

So he decided to do something about it.

One morning, while you were still in bed rubbing your aching back and fighting off morning nausea, Matt crouched down next to Eliana, who was quietly coloring at the kitchen table in her pajamas.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said gently. “What do you think about skipping school today?”

She looked up slowly, suspicious. “Why?”

“Because I want to steal you,” he smiled. “Just me and you. No babies, no mom, no distractions. We can do whatever you want. Ice cream for breakfast? Park? Arcade? Target? I’m yours today.”

Eliana blinked at him for a second, her eyes slowly widening. “Just us?”

“Just us,” he promised, bumping her nose. “You and me. Deal?”

She nodded slowly. “Deal.”

—

They started at the breakfast diner down the street where Matt let her order chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate milk. They played tic-tac-toe on the napkin and she won every round (mostly because he let her, but she didn’t need to know that). Afterward, they went to the little local park with the carousel she liked, and Matt pushed her on the swings so high she laughed so loud it echoed.

At the arcade, he let her win in air hockey and get 5 things from the prize wall. And at Target, she got to pick a new Barbie and a matching mini purse—one she picked out “for the babies” just so she could still feel helpful.

Later that day, after getting milkshakes to go, they sat on a picnic bench just outside the park, Matt watching her kick her feet beneath her as she sipped her strawberry shake.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging her with his elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

Eliana looked up, her lips a little pink from the shake. “Yeah?”

“Are you still feeling kinda… sad? About the babies coming?”

Her face fell a little. She shrugged. “Sometimes.”

Matt nodded slowly, keeping his tone calm and easy. “You can tell me stuff like that, you know. I’m not gonna get mad.”

“I just…” she sighed. “I don’t want everything to change.”

“It will a little,” he admitted. “Babies are a lot. They cry, they poop, they steal a lot of attention.”

She frowned.

“But,” he added, “nothing’s gonna change how much I love you. Or how important you are. You were my first. You made me a dad, you know that? Even if we aren’t blood.”

“I thought Mom made you a dad,” she mumbled.

Matt chuckled. “Okay, fair. But you’re the reason I like being one.”

Eliana looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m always gonna make time for you, El,” he said honestly. “Even if I’m holding one baby in one arm and the other’s screaming, if you need me, I’m there. I promise.”

“You swear?” she asked, holding out her pinky.

He looped his with hers. “I swear.”

And then, after a quiet second, Eliana leaned in and rested her head on his side, snuggling against him without saying anything else.

And that’s how they sat for a while. Strawberry shakes in hand. Just them.

Just as it should be.

—

A/N- K guys be super duper ready for the next fic. Grab tissues and wrap yourself in a blanket preparing to cry.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[trainer-from-unova]

after dark

english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ 𝄞

ship: the void x afab!reader

summary: porn without plot- yup that's it

au: idk, it doesn't really matter

c/w: piv sex, rough sex, cuni, spit as lube, fingerfucking, rough kissing, multiple orgasms, unsafe sex, creampie, open to interpretation

a/n: inspired by Nosferatu (2024) and After Dark by Seraphim Shock, also I wrote this before watching the movie and English isn't my first language so sorry if something's weird expressed, and even if you read it here please leave kudos on ao3

word count: 915

She knew her dreams were strange and repetitive, always dreaming of a dark, male silhouette slowly emerging from the darkest corner of her bedroom at night to make her his, but she wouldn't complain about such a thing. It felt good, and sometimes it felt so real that she thought succubi existed and that one visited her at night. The only lights in the place were the red button of an extension cord and the light of the laptop indicating that it was being charged, but it was enough to see him appear, approaching her to climb up her bed.

She didn't remember how her clothes had disappeared, but it didn't matter and was even appreciated — at that moment it only mattered to merge their bodies into one. She spread her legs, giving him space and permission to make way for him. He reached between them, bringing his hands to her breasts to squeeze them hard, making her whimper and then sliding them down her belly. Then he put them on her thighs, spreading them even wider and kissing her belly all the way down to her crotch, putting his right hand on her thigh to keep it open all the way and using the other to put her other leg over his shoulder.

As soon as he got down to work she began to moan, embarrassed as ever at the sounds escaping from all her lips as she clutched at his head, feeling his long hair between her fingers as he dragged his tongue from her wet hole to her clit, and as always both she and he knew for certain that she wouldn't last long. She was so easy to please.

Unconsciously her hips bucked against his mouth and nose, and her body began to tremble as he thrust his tongue into her. She found it hard not to writhe in pleasure, and he could tell he was about to make her climax by her increasingly high-pitched, uncontrollable moans, which grew louder as she clung even tighter to him. Still he continued to plunge his tongue into her hole, flicking it in and out a couple of times before moving up to sucking on her clit. She was already more moan than person, whimpering stretching his long hair as she felt herself on the verge.

She couldn't help but let out a moan as she suddenly noticed him pull away, rising up as he inserted his index and middle finger where his tongue used to be. He didn't have to do much to make her cum, just move his fingers back and forth rapidly for a few seconds. When the moment came she held tightly to the pillow behind her neck as she screamed.

After that she noticed him pulling his fingers out from her and the mattress sinking to her sides as he put his hands to climb on top of her. She also noticed him settling back down to stand between her legs again, and she cooperated by wrapping her legs around his back as she caught her breath.

There was never a sound from him, and she could tell that not even his chest was uneasy from any possible labored breathing as she put her hands on his shoulders or wrapped her arms around his back, feeling his bare chest against her. She chalked it up to missing that detail because her brain was too busy realistically imagining other things.

And she thought the same of his physical appearance — totally dark, with only a few small white dots like eyes that watched her without blinking. She felt he could even see her soul, but she didn't care and even dared to put her hands on his cheeks to pull him closer to her and kiss him with tongue, trying to appease her need to feel him inside her while he brought his dominant hand to his member to rub his wet tip against her entrance in the same state.

As she felt him make his way inside her unceremoniously she moaned, the pleasure palpable in the sounds escaping her mouth as she clamped down on him as she felt him enter her fully. She was used to him going straight to the point when it came to penetrating her with his cock. He grabbed her too, wrapping his muscular arms around her and ramming his hips into her, thrusting back and forth endlessly and making the sound of their skins colliding, as well as her wetness and the moaning nonsense she said, begging for more between cries as she felt her second orgasm forming in her lower abdomen, wanting it to come all the way down to her crotch again.

She wept and writhed uncontrollably as her second orgasm hit her, tensing and arching her back, but he held her tightly to keep her from slipping out of him, feeling her throbbing insides clinging to his member. At the same time he gave one last thrust, rougher than the previous ones, to stop short and fill her with his seed as she caught her breath again, her mind now even more clouded by the sum of the orgasms. What made that mental fog lift a little was to feel him grab her cheeks with one hand to kiss her again as he pulled his member out of her.

"Dream of me, only me," he said, his voice wrapped in an eerie echo before he pulled away from her and disappeared.

[bcacstuff]

Diana Gabaldon (news Book 10 incl. title)

GOOD OMENS

Well, first things first—

A Very (slightly ex post facto…) Happy Birthday to Sam Heughan! When he was first cast to play Jamie Fraser, I noted that he was born on April 30th, while Jamie’s birthday is May 1st—one on either side of the Beltane fire.

Beltane is the Celtic fire festival that marks the beginning of summer, so plainly a time of good omens. As it turned out, it was indeed a time of good omens for All Things Outlander, so it seems an appropriate time to offer up two bits of (what I assume will be) further Good News. One on either side of the fire, as it were…

The newly recorded audiobook of OUTLANDER, recorded by Kristin Atherton (the lovely actress who played the “mature” version of Jenny Murray in Season Seven), was released just yesterday, and I’m pleased to see that so many people already are excited about it and delighted with the quality.

(This in no way denigrates the wonderful Davina Porter, who has read all the Outlander novels, through GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE. Davina has retired, but all of her recordings will remain available, alongside the new ones.)

[Should you want to check out Kristin’s new audio version, here’s a link:

https://rbmediaglobal.com/audiobook/9798895949726/... ]

And on the _other_ side of the fire (aka May 1st)…I thought I’d let you know what the title of Book Ten is (so we can stop calling it Book Ten, which is slightly boring…).

First, A Word of Warning: THE BOOK IS NOT FINISHED. IT HAS NO PUB DATE (because the publishers wisely won’t set one until they have the full manuscript in their eager hands).

I AM STILL WRITING IT.

YES, I DO KNOW HOW IT ENDS.

NO, I’M NOT TELLING YOU.

NO, YOU CAN’T ORDER IT YET, BECAUSE THE PUBLISHERS DON’T HAVE PAGES SET UP FOR ORDERS BECAUSE THERE IS NO PUB DATE AND BECAUSE I HAVEN’T TOLD THEM WHAT THE BOOK IS CALLED.

Until now. <ahem>

The title of Book Ten of the OUTLANDER series (and yes, this is the final book of the main series, though there may be other companion books and side stories, depending on how long I live…) is

[🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 Spoilers ahead 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨]

A BLESSING FOR A WARRIOR GOING OUT

(NO, that doesn’t mean Jamie’s going to die. It’s not a death blessing, it’s the Blessing of St. Michael, said for a warrior about to go and do something important and possibly dangerous. There are quite a few people in this book who qualify for that blessing, believe me…)

It seems only reasonable to append a small sample from near the beginning of the book, but I know that not everyone wants to read bits and pieces, preferring to wait for The Whole Thing. Ergo, here’s another chunk of spoiler space:

[Excerpt from A BLESSING FOR A WARRIOR GOING OUT, Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

Only a few people had noticed William’s arrival. The post-wedding revelry was well underway, and most of the guests were gathered in clumps near the food tables, talk and laughter rising and falling in volume as the wind shifted in the trees.

One of those who _had_ noticed was Fanny, standing at my elbow.

“_A Dhia_,” she said faintly. Oh, God.

I couldn’t have put it better myself.

Jamie rose slowly from his chair on the porch—not using his stick, I saw—and drew himself up, eyes fixed on William.

William himself was still on his horse, the two of them mud-spattered, windblown and breathing hard. I saw his throat move as he swallowed, evidently preparing to repeat what he’d said a moment before.

_Sir—I need your help_.

But Jamie was moving, going down the steps. I could hear his left knee crack with each step, but he didn’t flinch or limp. He reached William and put a hand on his arm.

“You have it,” he said simply. “Come in.”

[end section]

William came up the steps after Jamie, his hat tucked under his arm. His face was still set in lines of anxious determination, but this relaxed for a moment when he saw me. He paused, and a tinge of warmth touched his eyes.

“Mother Claire,” he said. “I hadn’t—though clearly I should have-- expected you.” His glance flicked past me, taking in the open doorway behind me, the fine, heavy door and the long, broad hallway beyond, lined with Brianna’s sketches and paintings.

“I know,” I said, smiling. “It gives you a bit of a turn, when you see someone out of place, so to speak.”

The corner of his mouth twitched briefly.

“So to speak,” he said, at once acknowledging and dismissing the circumstances in which he had been accustomed to seeing me: As Lord John’s wife. And as quickly as it had come, the warmth disappeared and his jaw set again. Jamie was waiting at the door of his study.

William had just set foot on the threshold when Fanny spoke behind him.

“Will-yum?” she said, her voice clear but uncertain.

He turned to look back, surprised, but then smiled and stepped back on the porch, reaching to take her hands.

“Frances,” he said softly, looking down at her. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” she said, smiling up. She’d blushed when he turned to her, but her brown eyes sparkled. “Shall I take care of your horse for you?”

“Oh.” He glanced down the steps; the horse, a big, muscular bay, was munching grass beside the path, his reins carelessly looped over the hitching rail. William glanced at me, and I made a tiny nod in Fanny’s direction.

“That’s most kind of you, Frances,” he said, and squeezed her hands briefly before letting go. “His name is Trajan and I’m sure he will be as grateful for your welcome as I am.”

She turned at once and skipped down the steps, glowing. William looked after her, the smile still on his face.

“I nearly said, ‘How you’ve grown, Frances!’,” he remarked, _sotto voce_, to me. “But that wouldn’t have done, would it? I always hated it when Papa’s friends would say that to me.”

“It would have gone over like a lead balloon,” I assured him. “She has, though. And her speech is nearly perfect now. “ I glanced over my shoulder; Jamie had gone into the study. “And—er—how _is_ Lord John these days?”

“I wish I knew,” he said, face and voice both suddenly bleak. He took a deep breath and walked past me down the hall.

I didn’t know whether I ought to be present at whatever conversation he was about to have with Jamie, but neither of them had shut the door, so I walked quietly in and went at once to the cupboard where the visitor’s tray was kept, a plain pewter object, but equipped with several shot glasses, a bottle of fairly good whisky and a jug of water.

Jamie met my eyes but didn’t say anything as I set the tray down. He put a glass in front of William, poured a dram and said casually, “Aye, so?”

“It’s concerning my f-- It’s Lord John, sir.”

“_A Dhia_,” Jamie said, with somewhat more force than Fanny had used. He drew a deep breath through his nose. “Where is he? And sit down, my lord,” he added, nodding to a chair.

“I don’t know.” William sat down, adding, “Don’t call me that,” then adding a hasty “if you please, sir,” as an afterthought.

Jamie raised one brow.

“Do ye ken where his lordship may be, Mr. Ransom?” he asked politely.

“No! Goddamn it, if I knew where he was, I would have got him back by now!”

The outburst startled us all, including William, who pressed his lips together.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said stiffly. “I—have been searching for…his lordship…for some time—for months. I am somewhat…” he made a brief gesture indicating emotional disturbance, lack of sleep and/or deep fear, and Jamie nodded.

“_Dèrangè_,” he said, in good French. “I expect so. I suppose it wouldna be helpful to ask where ye saw him last?”

“No,” William said dryly. He’d nearly got himself back under control, though, and helped the process along with a slug of whisky. “Though for what it’s worth, I last saw him in the drawing-room of his house in Savannah, on [date]. Later in the day, after I’d left, he received a written message, and whatever it said, it apparently caused him to go immediately to the docks. The cook told me. She was present when he got the message,” he added, “but she didn’t see what it said or whom it was from.”

“Did he tell the cook he was going to the docks?” I asked, and he shook his head.

“No. But he did go there. A whelk-seller on one of the quays said she’d seen a fair-haired man in a good coat, with a soldier’s queue, who’d asked her if there was a ship called “Palace” in the harbor.”

“But if you didn’t know he was going to the docks, why did you look for him there?” I took the bottle and poured a bit more whisky all round; this was clearly going to take some time.

Willie gave me a slightly odd look, as though he might ask me to leave the room, but instead took another mouthful and swallowed it.

“Are either of you familiar with a man named Percival Wainwright? Or, for that matter, the Chevalier St. Honorè?”

Jamie looked blank, but I felt a light, cold touch on the back of my neck, like the caress of a ghost.

“Yes,” I said. “Lord John mentioned him once or twice. He was John’s…step-brother, I think he said. His name isn’t Percival, though; it’s Perseverance. And—”

“Perseverance?” Jamie leaned forward, interested. “A Quaker, is he?”

William cleared his throat and looked down.

“Definitely not,” he said.

“He’s dead, though,” I told Jamie, and William looked up at me.

“He is _now_,” he said.

[end section]

[Photograph is licensed for use through Wikimedia Commons, and was taken at a Beltane celebration by Stub Mandrel, May 4th, 2015.]

[copinghex]

Being tied up by Tommy

Tommy killed the engine after parking in front of black, fancy iron gates, the walls circling the property were tall and intimidating, it was the first time you visited the place and you already weren't fond of it.

"Are you sure it's here?" you asked, caressing your pregnant belly.

"It'll be good for her to grow up near nature, don't you think?" he rhetorically asked, regardless of your opinion, you knew Tommy would have more say in your child's life than you, after all, he was paying for everything.

Despite the unbalanced power dynamic between you and him, you were happy to have Tommy in your life. If he was entirely yours, you'd dare to say you love him.

He was sweet, affectionate and protective of you, the only downside was the ring in his finger, but according to him, his marriage was a sham, so what was the harm?

Mr. Thomas Shelby, a respectable member of the parliament, took you as his mistress around eight months ago. Considering the age gap, you got pregnant quite soon and when your belly started to show, he bought you this house in the countryside.

"How can you be so certain it'll be a girl?" you questioned while he helped you climb out the car.

"I can see the future." he answered and you giggled, he didn't seem to be joking though.

To be honest, you were glad Tommy was accepting of the pregnancy, he even wanted it to be a girl, the reason for that, however, Tommy won't tell you, he didn't want any possible bastard boy to get in Charlie's way in the future.

He guided you inside with a hand on your lower back, walking through the garden, you noticed the grass was recently cut, you wondered if there would be any servants to help you.

Tommy unlocked the front door and let you walk in first. The living room had a simple, but tasteful decoration, the bedroom was cozy and perfectly sized for you and Tommy, but your favourite part was the library, three walls full of books for you to devour.

"The maid, Betty, will bring more condiments tomorrow evening, she'll come three times a week to clean and cook." Tommy explained at the end of the house tour.

"Does she know about us?" You sat down at the living room's sofa.

"She's related to my house's head maid, so I guess they're alike, if she asks too much, just give her a bribe and she'll shut up."

"I see," you nodded, "I won't need to do anything then."

"You're carrying my child, you need rest," Tommy sat beside you, "what do you think of the house?"

"Well, I-" you gulped, not wanting to sound ungrateful, "it's beautiful, but I think- I think I still prefer the flat I showed you in London."

"Y/N-"

"I know, Tom, I'm not complaining, I know you've got a reputation and be seen with me…" You pouted, showing your disappointment.

"You know things aren't like I want them to be," he took an affectionate hand to your belly, "if it depended on me you'd move to my house so I'd be able to see you- both my girls every day."

"What about when she grows up?" You weekly smiled, "I doubt there's a good school around."

"She'll be homeschooled."

"My child won't be homeschooled, Tommy," you quickly disagreed, "you can afford a good private school."

"People will talk if some girl called Shelby suddenly show up."

"She won't take your name then, only mine." You argued and he scoffed.

"She's my fucking child, of course she'll take my name."

"If she's your child, give her a decent future then!"

"Let's discuss her future after she's born, eh?" Tommy slowly said, by his tone you could tell he was angry.

He lit a cigarette while you looked around the room, getting some courage, you confessed, "I don't like this place."

"You don't like the house."

"I like the house, but not the place, it's isolated from the world."

"I told you I'd get something discreet."

"Yeah, I imagined it'd be something near Birmingham or London, not something like this!"

"You'll get used to it, you grew up in big cities, that's why you don't like it."

"No," you teared up, there'd be no way you'd live in a place like that, "please, for my and the baby's sake, Tommy, don't make us live here."

"It's already arranged."

"But how will you visit us? You barely have time and it's so far-"

"Enough, Y/N."

He never had spoken to you in such a manner. You tried to fight the tears threatening to run down your face and lost, Tommy softly squeezed your arm, pulling you to his lap.

"There," he brushed your tears away, "didn't mean to make you cry."

You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. He patted your back almost in a childish consolation. Slowly, frustration went away. You felt safe and relaxed in Tommy's arms, his smell, his touch, everything about him worked like morphine every time you were nervous.

"Better?" he asked, taking off his tie.

"Yeah."

"Good." Tommy held your wrists behind your back.

"What are you doing?" you peeked at him.

"Gonna make you feel good now." Kissing your shoulder, he tied you up with his tie.

"Here?"

"So you'll get used to it." with that being said, Tommy laid you on the sofa. He took your shoes and stockings off, leaning in, he pressed a trail of kisses from your jaw to your chest.

Breathing heavily, you tried to wrap your arms around him like you always do, but the knot around your wrists made it impossible.

"Tommy," you moaned, "untie me."

"'I'm afraid I can't do that." he drawled, looking into your eyes.

"What?" you nervously giggled, "C'mon, Tommy, untie me up."

"If you weren't so stubborn, we could have spent the night here."

Tommy stood up and took the keys of his car, you immediately sat up, "What-"

"Betty will bring the rest of your baggage tomorrow morning."

"Tommy, stop playing, this isn't funny."

"It really isn't, love," he kissed your forehead while you tried to set yourself free, "see you next week."

"Tommy! Tommy!" you called while he headed to the door.

You stood up and tried to run after him, but as soon as you got close, he pushed you so hard you fell on the floor.

"Don't do that again, it's not good for the baby." he ordered.

As he walked out and locked the door, you knew there was no escape. You'd be there for a long, long time.

[mandaloriankait]

Beautiful Pleasure, Part 1

A/N: So I watched Freaky Tales. Couldn't choose between Clint or his wife, Grace, so decided to write a threesome fic instead of choosing. This has no spoilers for Freaky Tales, and is written before Grace becomes pregnant.

Warnings: unprotected pinv, oral(f!receiving), grinding, face-sitting, squirting

Taglist: @gothcsz @clubsoft @nonbinairyboi @the-only-din-i-want @greenwitchfromthewoods

“Grace, I'm here!”, you called out as you walked inside the small apartment. Your best friend had called you to come over after you got off work, and you immediately agreed, using the spare key they kept hidden outside the door to let yourself in. You looked around, not seeing her or her husband Clint anywhere in the small space. “Grace? You in here?”, you called out again, stepping into the kitchen. You heard noises coming from the bedroom, small giggles; curious, you walked over to the door, which was half open. “Grace, are you- oh god, I'm so sorry!”, you cried out, shielding your eyes from her and Clint on the bed, Clint fucking into her slowly, her arms around his neck. You heard her giggle, and then the shifting of bodies as they got up, Clint moving to lean against the headboard, hand fisting his cock as you turned and walked back out of the room. Grace followed you, robe billowing out behind her as she reached out and grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Come back in, it's okay.”, she murmured, gently stroking your back as you turned to look at her. Her dark curly hair was a mess and her lips were kiss swollen, but somehow she was even more beautiful than normal. To say you had a crush on your best friend was an understatement; you had been in love with her for years, even after she married Clint. He was also attractive in your eyes, which made it hard to be around both of them for long, especially if you were drinking. 

You let Grace pull you back into the bedroom, steadfastly refusing to look in Clint's direction. To his credit, he had pulled a pillow over his lap, but the way he was looking at you made you feel some type of way. Instead, you stared at Grace as she looked teasingly in your direction. “So, we were thinking, Clint and I. About how we'd like to try something new in the bedroom.”, she said, inching closer to you. “Okay, and what does that have to do with me and walking in on you?”, you asked softly, almost mesmerized by her movements. “We'd like to try adding someone else into our sex life. And I thought that you'd be perfect, since you're my best friend and you've been in love with both of us for ages.”, she responded, laughing when your eyes widened. “What- I'm not- I'm not in love with you guys, you're married. To each other.”, you sputtered, shaking your head. You had been so focused on Grace that you hadn't noticed Clint come up behind you until you felt hands on your hips. You flinched at the sudden contact, turning your head to look up at him over your shoulder. “We know who we're married to baby.”, he murmured into your ear, hands pulling you back into his body, Grace following as she held onto your hand. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, listening to the deep rumble of his voice as he continued. “You can't tell me you don't at least have a crush on us, it's very obvious.” Your eyes found Grace again, her own eyes sparkling with warmth. “I…okay, fine. I have a crush on you both. I didn't think I was that obvious.”, you whispered the last part, eyes downcast as Clint wrapped his arms around your waist. 

Grace came closer, your bodies almost touching. “So what do you think? We all get what we want, and it doesn't have to be a one time thing.”, she asked, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. Instead of answering, you leaned forward and kissed her softly. Clint groaned behind you, the feeling reverberating through your body as you lost yourself in Grace’s lips. Her other hand came up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head the way she wanted to deepen the kiss. You felt Clint's mouth on your neck and you gasped, Grace using that moment to slide her tongue against your own. One hand reached up to tangle in Clint's hair, the other grabbed onto her shoulder as you broke the kiss, both of you panting softly. Clint continued to press kisses to your neck, drawing a moan from your mouth as his scruff rubbed against your sensitive skin. Grace pushed even closer, her body pressing yours into Clint's as she kissed you again, this time with urgency and hunger. You felt yourself being moved backwards, but honestly didn't care what they were doing as long as they didn't stop touching you. Clint moved from behind you, pushing both you and Grace onto the bed gently. She broke the kiss with a giggle before moving to straddle you, pulling her robe off quickly. Completely naked above you, she reached down and pulled at the hem of your shirt, pouting gently. You were so mesmerized by her beautiful brown skin that you almost didn't register what she wanted you to do. “She's beautiful isn't she?”, Clint murmured, reaching in front of her and palming her breasts. She leaned back into him, mewling as he teased her nipples into peaks. You nodded slowly, pulling your shirt up over your head, sliding your hands up to her hips. She was slowly rocking her hips against yours as Clint continued his ministrations and just the hint of pressure had you going insane. 

Clint reached between you and pulled at your shorts, pulling them halfway down before Grace moved out of his way. She straddled you again, leaning down to capture a nipple in her mouth, sucking on it harshly. You keened, your back arching off the bed as she slowly began to grind against your pussy, switching to your other tit as she did so. Her moans reverberated through you, causing you to tangle your hand in her hair and pull her up for another kiss. Clint's hands cover her hips, pushing her down against you and grinding faster. You both moaned at his actions and your hips jerked, trying to keep up with the pace he'd set. Her lips trailed down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as she did so. You rutted up against her as his hands guided her, your clits and folds rubbing against each other. “Fuck, Grace, god you feel so good.”, you were babbling but you didn't care, hands reached up to tweak her nipples as she bounced against you. Finally, she came hard, her slick gushing out and onto you, making her movements against you feel even better. Clint pulled her off you, placing her at your side before sliding down to his knees. He reached out and pulled at your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You squeaked in surprise, but then his mouth was on you and the squeak turned into a whimper of his name. 

Grace giggled as she watched her husband fuck you with his tongue, savoring the taste of both of you together. Your hand latched onto his hair and pulled, causing him to groan into you as he fucked his tongue in and out of your dripping hole. You had already been close before, and now you were even closer, grinding your hips against his face. “That's right baby, use his face. He loves when you do that.”, Grace said, reaching out to grab your other hand and bring it to her mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. Another slide of his tongue all the way up to your clit had your back arching again as he swirled around the sensitive bud. “Clint, I'm gonna- fuck- I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that.”, you moaned, grip tightening on both his hair and Grace's hand. He grunted in response, sucking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard; you came with a cry, gushing all over his face. He worked you through it until you were oversensitive and trying to get him to stop. “Fuck, baby, please, I can't- oh my god.”, you whined, hands scrubbing at your face in a vain attempt to keep it together.  

Clint kissed his way up your body until he finally, for the first time, met your lips with his. He slipped his tongue into your mouth easily, allowing you to taste both yourself and Grace on his tongue. You could feel him hard and girthy against your lower stomach and you whimpered into his mouth, shifting your hips against him. “Now, I think you should fuck her and I'll sit on her face. Deal?”, Grace asked, a bright smile on her face as she stared at the two of you. You both moaned at her statement, you nodding almost frantically as you reached for her. Clint pulled back, reaching down to guide his cock to your entrance. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he pushed into you, a whine leaving your lips. Before you could say anything, Grace's legs came to rest around your head, and you immediately leaned up, licking a stripe through her dripping folds. She threw her head back, moaning sweetly as Clint pulled out and thrust back into you, setting a slow, thorough pace. Each glide in and out of you had you moaning uncontrollably as Grace started grinding against your face, leaning forward slightly to kiss her husband as he pounded into you. Your hands came up to grasp her hips as she continued to grind down on your mouth and face, you lapping up all of her slick you could reach. She leaned over you, coming up off your mouth for a minute as she lapped at your clit, and the moan you let out was obscene. Clint groaned as you tightened around him, and you pulled Grace's hips back down to suck her clit into your mouth. She moaned against you and that was all it took for you to cum again, your cunt gushing and tightening around Clint's cock. 

Grace sat up, grinding against your face again as Clint pulled out of you, motioning for her to come to him as he laid back against the headboard. She straddled him, sinking down onto his cock with ease. You turned to the side, watching the pair of them as he fucked her. You got up on your knees, sliding up behind her and kissing her neck, sucking a bruise into her neck. Grace moaned softly, gliding up and down Clint's cock. Your hands traveled her body, one sliding down to her clit, rubbing quick, tight circles; the other came up to encircle her throat gently. You could feel her breath hitch, and you watched as Clint's eyes darkened slightly. “Choke her a little bit baby girl, c'mon.”, he said, holding her hips in place to fuck up into her harshly. Your hand tightened around her throat, and one of her hands came up to grab your wrist, not pulling away, just for stability. Your fingers continued to circle her clit, and her moans got breathier and higher the more you squeezed the sides of her throat. She  almost lifted off of Clint as she came, squirting all over his lap and your hand and crying out both of your names. Clint followed suit, painting her walls with his spend, groaning her name over and over. After a few minutes, he lifted her off of him, rolling her to the side before grabbing you and pulling you into a soft kiss. “Holy shit, I've never done that before!”, she panted, grinning tiredly as the two of you made out. Clint gently pushed you into Grace's waiting arms before getting up to clean himself off. He came back with wet rags for the both of you, cleaning you both off gently before pulling the sheets down on one side of the bed. Grace turned your head, pulling you into a gentle kiss as her husband cleaned up around you. “You good?”, she asked, looking into your eyes. You looked back at her before turning your head to Clint, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “I'm good, that was amazing.”, you responded, reaching out a hand for Clint, bringing him to rest on your left side. Grace tucked into your other side, meeting her husband's hand on your hip. In about an hour, you'd be woken up by Clint fucking into you and Grace nipping at your throat, but for now, it was good to just enjoy them in the softness. 

[callingitquits]

How Johan Handles Family, Friends, and Rivals—[requested]

How Johan interacts with different people in your life. Whether they’re loving, toxic, or competitive. I usually keep things gender-neutral where I can, but in a few moments, using she/her just carried the weight and clarity I needed for certain scenes. Hope that’s okay.

If Your Family and Friends Are Kind, Supportive, and Loving:

He Watches Closely Before Moving

At first, he says nothing. Just observes. Watches how you light up around them. How they ground you. He notes every laugh, every name, every shared memory. And beneath his silence, something starts to tighten.

He Never Says ‘I’m Jealous’

Instead, he lingers just a moment too long after you mention them. Asks questions that sound casual.

“You see them often?”

“They matter to you?”

The smile stays soft, but the pause after your answer speaks volumes.

He Finds Subtle Ways to Separate You

He’ll never tell you not to go. Instead, he invites you somewhere else the same day. Offers to help with something that just happens to fall during family plans. You might not even realize you’re drifting….until the distance is there.

He’s Perfectly Polite When He Meets Them

He’s charming. Polite. Just vulnerable enough to disarm. They’ll say he’s lovely. Thoughtful. A little quiet, maybe, but kind. But behind his eyes, he’s measuring every one of them. Deciding which ones matter. Which ones are threats.

He Plants Doubts Without Seeming To

“They mean well.”

“They just don’t know what you’ve really been through.”

“You seem tired after you see them.”

His tone is always gentle. Supportive. Like concern. But he’s shifting the lens. Making you question what’s always felt like home.

He Tries to Become Home Instead

He learns your rituals. Brings you the tea your mother makes. Remembers the traditions. He doesn’t erase them. He absorbs them. So slowly, so gently, that one day you look around and realize: he’s your only constant now.

If Your Family or Friends Are Toxic, Controlling, or Hurtful:

He Notices Before You Admit It

He sees it in the way you shrink when their name shows up on your phone. In the forced laugh. The too-long pauses. The subtle jitter. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. He already knows.

He Offers Quiet Validation

“It’s remarkable. After all this time, they still own your silence.”

“You don’t speak like yourself after talking to them.”

Not judgment. Just observation. Precise. Unnervingly accurate. Like someone holding up a mirror you weren’t ready to look into.

He Never Tells You to Leave. He Makes You Want To

He lets you come to the conclusion.

“You deserve better than that.”

“They don’t see you.”

He never pushes, never demands. But every word drives a wedge between you and them with surgical intent.

He Can Be Vicious Without Raising His Voice

If they confront him he stays calm. Smiles. But his words hit like knives.

“She told me how you speak to her.”

“You taught her to be afraid of love.”

And when they flinch, he leans in softer.

“But I suppose you did your best.”

He Eliminates Quietly, Permanently

If someone is truly harming you, he won’t let it continue. But you won’t see the moment it ends. A lost job. A sudden crisis. A permanent move. He’ll never admit involvement. He’ll just hold you afterward and say, “It’s over now.”

He Becomes the Safe Place You Were Denied

Not loudly. Not tenderly. Just by being there. The way they weren’t. The way they never could be. You’ll cry and he won’t flinch. He won’t comfort correctly, but he won’t leave. And in his stillness, you’ll start to feel safe in the wrong ways.

He Doesn’t Forgive Them, Even If You Do

Even if you reconcile, make peace, move on….he doesn’t. He never forgets who hurt you. He watches them with quiet loathing. And if they ever cross the line again, he will act. Not for justice. For you.

If Someone Thinks Something Is ‘Off’ About Him and Tries to Warn You:

He Knows Immediately

He can sense it the moment they look at him too long. The moment their tone changes around you. He registers the hesitation, the guarded glances. They’ve already decided. They’re going to try to ‘save’ you.

He Doesn’t Confront. He Performs

He becomes exactly what they think he’s not. Warm. Open. Vulnerable. He smiles at the right moments, helps clean up, toasts the hosts.

“I’m so grateful she has people who care about her.”

And just like that, they begin to doubt themselves.

He Makes Them Feel Like the Problem

Without saying a cruel word, he reflects their suspicion back at them.

“I hope I didn’t make them uncomfortable.”

“Do you think they’re okay?”

He plants concern instead of defensiveness. Now you start wondering why they’re being so aggressive.

He Twists the Narrative Just Enough

“They seem protective of you. That’s sweet.”

“But it feels like they don’t really trust you to make your own decisions.”

Just like that, it’s no longer about him being off. It’s about them not believing in you.

He Weaponizes His Gentleness

If they push harder, warn you directly—he steps back. Withdraws, just a little. Not with anger. With hurt.

“I don’t want to come between you and your family.”

“Maybe I should go.”

Now you’re defending him. Now he’s the one who’s being mistreated.

He Makes Them Out to Be the Threat

He never accuses, but he lets you feel it. That they’re judgmental. Controlling. Overstepping.

“You don’t have to choose, I promise. But I won’t fight for space in your life where I’m not wanted.”

He sounds calm. Mature. You feel torn.

If They Keep Pushing, He Dismantles Them

If they won’t let go….he finds their pressure points. The fight they had with you two years ago. The secret they thought no one knew. The addiction. The affair. The hypocrisy. He doesn’t expose it directly. Just leaves it where it’ll be found. Quiet sabotage.

Eventually, They Leave or You Drift

Maybe they say one last thing. Maybe they just fade. But Johan makes sure of one thing: you don’t believe them anymore. You trust him. Even if a part of you still wonders, he’s woven doubt so delicately into the dynamic that you’ll never untangle it fully.

If You Have a Jealous Rival Trying to Sabotage You (Including Your Relationship with Johan)

He Recognizes the Threat Immediately

He doesn’t need to be told. He watches. Quietly. The way this person interrupts you, subtly undermines you in front of others, offers ‘friendly advice’ that always ends in doubt. He’s seen envy before. He knows it by scent.

He Lets It Happen. At First

He doesn’t intervene right away. He wants to watch. Wants to see how you handle it. Wants to see what you believe you deserve. He stores every slight. Every look. Every lie. Every attempt at character assassination. He’s building a blueprint.

He Is Impeccably Polite to the Rival

Charm turned up to just the right level. Nothing overt. Just enough to make the rival feel small in comparison. Johan gives them the kind of attention that feels like being dissected under a smile. A single compliment from him feels like mockery. They hate it. They feel it.

He Begins the Isolation Subtly

He doesn’t need to ‘ban’ them. He just makes you unavailable. Plans things when the rival can’t come. Shifts dynamics so they’re always one step removed. Slowly, the rival finds themselves outside the circle they thought they controlled.

He Sows Seeds in the Right Places

“Were they always like that with you?” he asks someone else, casually. “It’s strange—they seemed so kind when I met them.” He never accuses. He simply whispers doubt into the ears that matter. The rival begins losing social ground and doesn’t even know why.

He Turns the Mirror

One day—just once—he gives the rival the look. That Johan look. The calm, blank, full-eyed gaze that sees everything. And says, in perfect composure:

“You don’t have to compete. There’s nothing here you could take.”

They know, in that moment, he means it. He doesn’t say it to you. He says it for you. In defense. Without raising his voice or changing his tone. That’s the worst part.

He Makes the Rival Implode

Eventually, they get sloppy. The frustration builds. They say something too harsh. Act out in front of the wrong person. Try to humiliate you one last time, and look a mess. Johan doesn’t even flinch. He just watches. He lets them destroy themselves.

And He Holds You Afterward, Like Nothing Touched Him

He reassures you without ever calling it a ‘victory’. He wraps you in something warm.

“They never saw you clearly. But I do.”

That’s all. His quiet presence becomes your shield, your comfort, and your quiet realization that no one—not even envy—can reach you when he’s there.

If You Have Fair Rivals Who Compete with You Honestly:

He Observes Quietly. Not to Eliminate, But to Understand

Johan watches the dynamic. This rival isn’t cruel or manipulative. They push you to be better. They make you sharper. Stronger. They might frustrate you, even outpace you sometimes, but it’s mutual respect. That interests him.

He Rarely Interferes

Johan doesn’t disrupt something that’s genuinely good for you. If the rivalry challenges you in a way that doesn’t diminish you…if it builds your confidence, makes you more determined—he lets it unfold. He might even subtly encourage it.

He’s Unbothered by Their Presence

He’s never threatened. That’s key. In fact, his demeanor toward them is neutral, even cordial. He might speak well of them to you in his own way:

“They know your worth. That’s why they try so hard to keep up.”

He Pays Attention to What the Rival Brings Out in Her

If they make you laugh—really laugh—he notices. If they bring out your competitive fire, your focused silence….he watches with quiet admiration. There’s a part of him that likes watching you fight for something you want. It reminds him you’re still alive in there, not swallowed by fear or doubt.

He Learns From Them, Too

A fair rival can expose parts of you Johan hasn’t seen yet. Your resilience. Your pride. Your stubbornness. He tucks it all away. It helps him understand you more deeply.

He May Even Respect Them, Quietly

Johan doesn’t respect many people. But someone who challenges you without cruelty, and makes you stronger, gets a silent pass. He may never say it aloud, but he doesn’t view them as obstacles. If anything, he considers them—occasionally—useful.

But He Will Step In If They Overstep

If the rivalry ever shifts from fair to cruel, or if they say something that genuinely hurts you….he will know. And he will make it known, very gently, that he noticed.

“I thought they were better than that. You deserved more grace.”

That’s all it takes.

He Doesn’t Compete with Them. Because He’s Already Won

Johan never stoops to one-upmanship. He doesn’t need to prove himself. He simply remains your constant. Unshakeable, watchful, eerily composed. While the rival runs their race, he’s the one standing at the finish line, hands in his pockets, smiling faintly when you reach him.

[takingmyair]

— dom!yeji x fem!reader, fingering, overstimulation, disgusting amount of grinding and cum, praise kink, no men/minors interact

—

“ oh baby.. “ yeji breathes out against your lips as you’re sat pretty in her lap, making out with her. yes you just got back from a date, yes she just fucked the life out of you last night, yes you still need her. again. she was just so handsome and sweet to you today, it really gets you going everytime.

“ you’re all over me lately… “ she’s definitely not complaining, especially with the way she chuckles lovingly as your tongue fights hers for dominance. you know damn well she wins everytime, but it’s worth the fight.

“ yeji… “ you moan softly when your clothed core grinds softly against her. her hands grip your hips and guide you while your short skirt rides up your thighs, revealing your panties underneath. yeji pulls away for a moment to look down at the sight. the shy laugh she lets out when she notices the faint wet patch on your panties only makes you more soaked.

“ what is it, tell me what you need, baby. ill give you whatever you need. “ she knows exactly what you need, but she wants to hear you say it. she’s trained you to be such a good girl for her and never ever disregard your needs, even if you sound pathetic. “ fuck me, please. “ your words come out a little muffled as you’ve began to nuzzle your face into her neck.

she hums softly as your hips begin to rock against her more while her hands rub up and down your sides. the overwhelming urge to slip her fingers right into your aching cunt take over yeji’s mind, she can’t pretend like your outfit today hasn’t been driving her up the walls. she thanks god for the nice weather today.

after a lot of sloppy and needy grinding against her, with her lips leaving little kisses and bites along your jawline, she finally removes your shirt and tosses it onto the bed behind her. her hands explore your whole body, massaging and groping every inch. she dips her head down to the curve of your tits and kisses the soft skin.

you’re growing more and more needy as the seconds go by and you can’t bare anymore of yeji not fucking your cunt, but you’ll be good, you’ll wait patiently, for her.

“ i like this skirt. “ the skirt is fairly short and she’s just being a perv when she says this, she knows it shows too much of your thighs and ass if you bend over. “ and the panties… but they have to come off. “

next thing you know, your panties are also thrown onto the bed beside her. your arousal is coating her fingers as they finally begin to rub your throbbing clit. “ shit, yeji… “ you say breathlessly. “ n-need you inside, please. “

and within a few seconds she’s granting your wish, slowly slipping two fingers into your entrance. you welcome her warmly with a clench onto her fingers and a long, sweet moan from your lips. a satisfied smile plasters on her face as she gently tugs on your hair with her free hand so she can angle your head and kiss you while she does this.

“ better? “ yeji replies contently, “ yes… so much better… “ at this point, little whines are slipping from your lips when she begins to pump them in and out slowly and yeji can’t help but hum in response. she’s so in awe at how much you fall apart for her so easily. she doesn’t think she’s really that good at this whole sex thing, but she is, and you really love her. it makes it feel so much better.

“ deeper, baby… please… “ you beg softly for her to fully bury her fingers in you to her knuckles. she fills you up so nicely as her fingers plunge deeper and deeper, curling at the perfect spot that will have you cumming in her lap in no time now. it’s at this point when she decides that kissing you is the best way to keep you close to her and grounded while she has her way with you. her lips are soft and she’s such a great kisser, it somehow has you getting wetter and wetter if that’s even possible. “ so pretty for me. “ she whispers against your lips.

her praise sends a chill down your spine, you love your girlfriend so much. your hips attempt to rock against her still, trying so desperately to engulf more and more of her fingers into your cunt. she’s sped up her pace just a little now, enough to make you feel close to the edge already. the way her palm slaps against your clit each time she thrusts her fingers back into you has you a whimpering mess on top of her.

“ fuck, im close! “ a filthy moan escapes from your lips and it causes yeji to let one out herself too. she can tell you’re close by how you’re tightly clenching around her fingers now. your breathing is all over the place and uncontrollable as you ache for release.

“ deep breathes for me, honey. just cum for me, let it go. “ she tries to ease you, knowing you get really caught up when the pleasures too much.

you take a few deep breathes and somehow, it allows you to feel her even more, your orgasm hitting you intensely. yeji muffled each of your cries and moans against her lips. your juices begin to gush out of you and onto her hand and lap, but she doesn’t stop. she slows down only a little to check in with you and help you ride it out before immediately fucking your hole just as she was before.

your body goes limp already, collapsing your head onto her shoulder as she fucks you into orgasm number two. her hand still threads into your hair and holds you close against her.

“ i love you. so much. “ she finally slows down for good, but you still need more. after she plants a soft kiss to your forehead and brushes your hair from your face, you start to grind against her fingers again. she chuckles, in awe of how needy you are for her. as you’re riding her fingers, she’s still slowly fucking them into you.

“ i love you too— fuck! “ one more orgasm washes over you, it’s the weakest of the three, but you’re still satisfied enough. her hand is soaked in your cum, all sticky and messy. she brings her fingers to your mouth, prying open your jaw with her thumb and signaling you to suck them clean. you do as instructed, as she watches you with loving eyes.

“ good? “ she asks with a smile on her face, clearly proud of herself. you nod and close your eyes as you snuggle into her again. your core is throbbing after being used so much, you’ll definitely feel it for the rest of the day. “ thank you for today, baby… “ you finally speak coherently again.

“ for what? “ yeji asks, a little confused what you thanked her for. “ just, for the date and being so perfect. “ you begin to get sappy and your girlfriend tends to get a little shy when this happens, so she just smiles and kisses the top of your head and settles down for a mid-day nap with you instead.

yeji is truly the best girlfriend you could ever ask for.