#anyway just throwing more thoughts into the void

[oldrainfall]

CW: Discussion of/illusions to smut, mostly I just want to yap about Ghost’s mask again, and elements of fluff because I can’t help myself

There’s nothin’ graphic but like, MDNI, 18+

Thanks.

So I just saw a post about someone’s headcannons about Ghost, and I wanted to throw my own two cents about my own HCs out into the void.

A lot of people take a shine to Ghost because of his like, outwardly mysterious vibes and his mask. Which of course means there’s a lot of people with mask kinks just sort of surrounding him.

Resulting in a lot of like, smut (and thirst trap content) about his mask.

Which I mean, is it my thing? No.

And honestly, it’s why I didn’t really like Ghost as a character until I got my hands on the 09 Ghost lore comics— because I like to have a bit more depth to chew on when I’m writing.

But that being said, I understand why he gets characterized that way, and it doesn’t bother me that people do. Well I mean, it does a little, because again there’s so much nuance to play with and pick apart that I wished more people picked at (same with Gaz, but that’s another post).

Anyway— point is, I once again feel like Ghost’s mask could be used as an interesting narrative tool. :>

Picture this folks, mask kink smut, and character growth.

So what spurred this is a post with a HC that Ghost would shag with his mask on upon request. And I feel a resounding ‘ehhhh kinda?’ about this take.

Like I’ve said in the kissing post™️, Ghost uses his mask to distance himself from others, a physical barrier to obscure himself from those around him. With his mask on, people get to know Ghost, the scary bastard who’s very good at doing his job, and not Simon— there’s some overlap of course, same mildly morbid sense of humour, and it’s not like Simon forgets what he’s done once the mask comes off, but even so there is a bit of cognitive dissonance there, keeping the two as separate as possible and all that.

Which can cause some natural friction whenever someone starts to get closer to him.

So— scenario one, they (as in whoever he’s being shipped with, one of the 141, an x reader, an OC, etcetera) know Ghost, and gradually begin to know Simon.

I find that there’s a lot of angles to work with for this kind of premise, especially considering the position of the other person (another solider, a medic, a P.O.W like a captured scientist perhaps, etcetera) but I’ll try my best to simplify my thoughts.

In general I think this would work best as a slow burn, where they have to gradually get to know Ghost enough that he gets comfortable letting them know Simon.

Maybe (in the case of another solider or medic or what have you) it starts as a stress reliever after a particularly gruelling op when Ghost just wants to loose himself in something else for a while to get his mind off of it (but for him to feel comfortable with this, there’d have to be some sort of established relationship, where he trusts them to a certain extent). At first Ghost would always leave his mask on, whether that be the skull mask, or just a painted balaclava, just to maintain some emotional distance even while being intimate (if you could even call it that with how much of a rush they’re both in). Which then could spiral into a semi-regular thing where they start spending more time together and gradually catch feelings. Eventually culminating in Ghost feeling comfortable enough showing his face (whether that be organically, or due to extenuating circumstances like his mask getting wrecked or what have you), and a slower, softer moment.

Or— scenario two, they know Simon first.

If they meet when Simon’s off duty, I don’t think he’d ever wear the mask in bed. He likely associates the skull mask with a lot of horrible shit, and would want to keep all the horrible things he’s done as far away from his partner as he possibly can.

That being said, there is a good chance of him wearing a mask and being intimate, depending on the situation. I personally HC that Simon wears a surgical mask when off duty, just because he’s so used to having his face covered to some extent that he feels more comfortable with one on. (Plus that and because of the 09 lore I feel like he’d have some facial scarring, and he’d rather not be bothered about it when he’s just trying to pick something up from the shops.)

For sure he’d keep it on if he was having a one night stand (which honestly, depending on how you characterize him, there’s a decent chance he doesn’t even bother with casual sort of things, but I also fw how messy those relationships can get, so, y’know, write your vision, lmao), and early on in a relationship. Which, again, can lead to an important milestone when he finally takes it off— picture Simon getting so caught up in the moment that he’s not even fully aware of himself tugging down his mask to kiss his partner, because he needs to so bad it feels like he can’t breathe.

I just—

… Enjoy when Ghost’s mask is used to support the narrative; a totally normal amount.

… Yeah.

Basically, imo, he’s built for slow burns.

Feel free to chime in with your own HCs, I love just seeing how different people interpret the same character, and what little quirks they give them, tbh.

(Also do y’all fw these like, tangent posts, or prefer when I post more structured fic-esc writing? I’m just curious lmao.)

As always feel free to send me asks or writing requests. :>

✨My Masterlist✨

[momentomori24]

You know, for as much as I joke about Grace and Wolfgang having had sex (and it apparently being confirmed by the team too), I'm actually genuinely intrigued if that will be plot relevant later. I've seen some people talk about Grace potentially being pregnant (and side eyeing Wolfgang's corpse too which LMAO). That may sound way out there and a stretch, but it's actually not that unbelievable, surprisingly. The animal that Grace is associated with is the rabbit. Rabbits are known to represent fruitfulness, lust and fertility due to their rapid reproduction. And in Christianity they also represent rebirth and resurrection on top of that (hence why they're so intimately tied to Easter, the celebration of the resurrection of Christ).

Considering how Eden's Garden has a LOT of religious symbolism and parallels to the bible, it wouldn't be too unimaginable if that's going to be how her animal symbolism becomes relevant later on. Her being the character most associated to fertility and reproduction while also being heavily implied to have had sex (probably unprotected) doesn't seem like a complete coincidence, I think. Just food for thought. Love it, hate it-- if nothing else, that'd certainly be one way to put the "dead" in "dead beat", amirite?

[kacievvbbbb]

But like hypothetically if I decided to make a series of YouTube video breaking down and rambling about how I think the first year trio encompass the full gradient scale of what it means to be “morally good” and how by the end of the series they have grown exponentially but their moral inner workings are so entrenched in who they are they never needed to change they just became more of who they already were.

Because initially Yuuji wants to save the world in that abstract way all heroes do, Megumi is only interested in saving those he can save and Nobara is only interested in those she wants to save. And all these are treated as morally valid by the narrative and not really flaws in need of changing but instead philosophies in need of refining and understanding.

Because Jujutsu Society as a whole encourages and thrives off a moral apathy or superiority, they are in the business of killing curses not saving lives and that ultimately raises the question of if you’re going out there everyday killing curses and inadvertently saving lives does it really matter the reason why? Or the morality behind it? Maybe not to you but to the society, maybe.

So anyway, hypothetically ….would you be hypothetically interested👀

[upsidedownsmore]

interesting that all of the cavia are animals from earth

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

One of the little bits I don't think I've ever talked about with the Tideturners is that, like, a big theme with how it handles Commanders is not that 'they're the Main Character' and rather that 'before the Commander was the Commander, they were just someone who wanted to make a difference in the world.' And thus, by extension, 'ANYONE could have been the Commander, they're really just an ordinary person whose greatest strength is in the bonds they forge with others.' Even at their strongest, the Commander is still working together with a full team to accomplish their goals. The only difference between them and any other OC is that they were in the right place at the right time to make a specific difference, and the end result is that they became someone people could look up to and rely on. Ruju is, in many ways, the perfect illustration of that.

He's not the ideal hero. He's not some grand legend. He's kind of a dork, he was BARELY passable in asuran society, he has a hot temper and says stupid things that he'll have to make amends for. He has a whole history of mistakes to live up to and improve from. In a timeline where he zigged when he should've zagged, he just became some guy in the Pact helping with tech support instead. In another, he became a scourge that would burn his own world to the ground. The odds that he would become the Commander were 1 out of 3. And if you broaden that scope even more to include the multiverse as a whole, those odds drop to an absolutely microscopic percentage.

Within their own world, the Commander is someone important. But when you take them out of that world, and place them into a much broader perspective, they're just one of many-- another face in the Mists War, no different from any other. In another timeline, nobody is going to know who they are-- because there, they're not the Commander. Someone else took that role, not because they were better or more important or more qualified in any way, but because they were there when this other Commander wasn't and that's all there is to it. They weren't there, so someone else was instead.

The Commander could've been just about anyone. And because of that, anyone could've been the Commander. One of the big goals I want to explore is the idea that even characters who didn't share the same experiences can still stand side-by-side with those who did, because it's not about what you've done but about what you want to do in the future. None of them can succeed on their own.

But, together, they all just might stand a chance.

[anxietywithasideofexplosions]

alright tumblr, I haven't been able to stop thinking about The Hobbit for the past two weeks and now I'm having Thoughts™️ so ima post them

most of this is under the cut bc it's probably gonna be long but

The Hobbit Bar AU

HEAR ME OUT OKAY

Thorin's family (The Durins) owned a well known bar called The King's Jewel that got bought out by a corporation (Smaug Enterprises, run by a dragon-like man only known as Mr. Smaug who cares more about money than actually running decent bars) after Thror goes bankrupt enjoying his own wares a little too much.

The dwarves all worked at The Kings Jewel before it was bought out, most quit after Smaug took over because they didn't like the way he was running things. Dwalin, Nori, Bombur, and Bifur were security. Bofur, Dori, and Oin were bartenders. Fili and Kili are Thorin's nephews, so they really just hung around the bar for fun. Ori was a cleaner after hours. Balin did things behind the scenes (managing money, etc).

Gandalf is the local town weird old person who really liked a drink you could only get at The King's Jewel that they no longer serve, so he wants Thorin to take back the bar and offers to hire someone to help break into the back room of the bar to try and find evidence that will let them get the bar back.

Bilbo, unfortunately for him, is who Gandalf hires- by that I mean he finds Bilbo at his farmer's market booth and tells him he has a job for him. Bilbo has a... reputation, since lots of people are fairly certain he worked as an undercover thief with the police to get evidence but never actually got caught, and he certainly wouldn't talk about it if it were true.

The Orcs are a competing family that want Smaug to keep The King's Jewel because otherwise they'll go out of business. Their bar is called The Defiler's Hand (named bc the owner lost his hand and they think it sounds badass).

that's kinda all the thoughts I have for now, and some of it i definitely think other people could come up with better ideas for (like the orc’s bar's name or how Gandalf and bilbo get involved) so I am very open to suggestions. also if you think certain dwarves would be more suited to different jobs, I was just kinda spitballing

if people are interested, I might work to make this an actual fic (maybe still written like it's a memoir from bilbo? I'd have to figure out how to throw in the big war (gang fight or smth?) and the ring, which might prove a challenge)

[netflixofficial]

petition that in addition to entirely overhauling americas "medical care is a for profit business" model we also add infrastructure so that people without a local support system can get rides to an approved place to stay after procedures requiring general anesthesia until they're good to drive

[vividxpages]

swimming pool

pairing: John Walker × fem!reader

words: 2.2k

summary: John challenges you to keep quiet while he touches you in the pool. (explicit)

ao3 version

･ﾟ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The edge of the pool melted into the skyline of the city, seamless and tempting.

Black night sky met crystal blue water, illuminated by pretty lights hiding underneath the water surface. And in the middle where the void clashed with the liquid deep, was you, your back pressed against the pool’s safe edge as John devoured your mouth in a bruising kiss, starving and seeking.

You made a small noise against his lips, trying to keep up with him as your hands continued their restless journey. Fingers playing with the blonde hair in his nape, drifting over his strong shoulders and arms, the other hand touching his abs underwater. Your knees were weak and you had to stand on your tiptoes to meet him, a possessive heat radiating from John that was making you feel smaller, awaiting of what was going to happen next.

There was just the two of you outside here, your towels abandoned by the lounge chairs, the sounds of the city at the feet of the tower just a background noise. It was dark and dangerous and when he bit down on your lip, a hungry growl in his throat, you almost felt the need to present your neck to him, willing to be snapped into two by him if that’s what he desired.

But you were his baby. His honey.

John had made himself a promise to never hurt again what was his.

The palms of his hands had left your heated cheeks a while ago, firstly resting on the back of your head while the two of you kissed, then overwhelmed by a primal instinct to feel the whole of your tits in his hand. The pretty bows of your bikini top had become undone, half hanging off your body as he played with you, the coolness of his thumbs on your buds eliciting a small gasp from you.

With difficulty, John broke the kiss and relished the way you tried to chase after it. He allowed himself a moment to take some deep breaths, watching as you did the same with unfocused eyes and kiss-bruised lips he adored so much. “You’ll have to be quiet, okay?”

You blinked at him. “No one’s here.”

He hummed, drawing you closer against his body by a hand over your ass, playing with the straps of your flimsy bikini bottom. Two decorative white bows on each hip. When you had bought it, all you had been able to think about was the moment he was going to take it off you and in excitement, your thighs tried to squeeze together, only to find out his leg had already bullied its way between them.

The pool wall behind you. His leg between yours and his muscular arms caging you in. You were trapped and you wanted to beg for him to throw the keys away.

“I don’t care if someone’s here.” He informed you darkly and your breath hitched as the sudden friction against your core.

Your chin was softly tilted upwards while his strong thigh rubbed over the thin fabric separating your skin from his. His eyes and the water surrounding you were the same color and you got lost in them, hypnotized by what feelings he awakened in you. Unable to keep your pouty mouth closed, a little moan got caught in your throat as his calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

“But I know you can do it anyway, hm?” He cocked his head at you, keeping his voice low. “Can you do that for me, honey? Can you keep quiet and be a good girl for daddy?”

Not even quite processing his words, you nodded eagerly, touching his wrist and feeling your mind slip more and more into the familiar headspace John liked to keep you in when he fucked you. Obedient, sweet and not a single ounce of brattiness in your big, innocent eyes.

You pressed yourself closer against his thigh, slinging your arms around his neck and wanting to be lifted. “Yes, daddy. I can be quiet.”

A slow grin spread over John’s face at that. We’ll see about that, he thought to himself. “Yeah?”

You kissed the pad of his thumb, blinking up at him. “Mhm.”

“Fuck yeah.” John muttered and met you halfway as you were arching forward, your lips colliding once again as he kissed you breathless. Without losing his rhythm, he hoisted you up into his arms, placing your smooth legs around his hips and grinding forward. The tent in his swim shorts rubbed against your clothed pussy and you stifled a whine.

You needed more. It was never enough with him.

Grinding down on him, you pressed your tits against his chest and buried your hand in his wet strands of hair. John groaned, his tongue swirling against yours and setting your body on fire despite the soothing cool of the water. You weighted nothing in his arms, the sweetest temptation and before you could deepen the kiss even more, John lifted you up and out of the water.

Your bum met the heated tiles and you whined at the loss of contact. From beneath you, John’s body was a masterpiece, all hard muscles and naked skin for you on display. You watched breathlessly as he threw your wet bikini bra behind you, his stare predatory as he stepped between your legs.

“What did I tell you, honey?” He asked, his lazy smile making your spine tingle nervously. “I want you to stay quiet or I’ll stop.”

“Stop wh-“

The cool night air hit your pussy as he peeled your bikini bottom to the side and groaned at the sight of you. The little fabric hadn’t hid much before, but now your dripping cunt was fully on display for him, your wetness drooling on the tiles, puffy lips glistening with want. John licked his lips, a droplet of water falling from his hair into his eyes as he looked up at you. “Spread those pretty legs for me, baby girl.”

You bit back another whine, your arousal throbbing just behind your untouched clit as you followed his order. Slowly, you showed him, leaning back on your elbows as he took you in like you were his personal feast.

John didn’t tear his hungry gaze away from you as he leaned in, softly blowing on your heated flesh as a muscle in your thigh twitched in surprise. Goosebumps rose on your arm, the cooling water on your skin doing nothing to hide the violent shiver going through you. “So fucking wet…all for me, huh?”

“All for you…” You whispered, remembering his order. You bit down on your lip to suppress the helpless whimper rising in you as he made himself comfortable in front of you, his hand running down your calf until he could eclose your ankle and lift it out of the water.

Slowly, John tilted your exposed leg to the side and watched your pussy clench around nothing. For a moment, he thought about just diving in and eating you out until you’d scream…but well, there was always going to be dessert, right?

“I’m gonna touch you now and you’ll stay quiet as a little mouse, okay honey?” He explained slowly, your chest heaving now as the weight of his words fully sank in. When you were in bed with John, you usually had to bite down on his forearm or a pillow from the way he made you scream. How were you going to make it out here, with nothing close by to aid you? “If you’re good, I’ll let you come. If you're not…”

John didn’t have to finish the sentence for you. You knew his vicious tendencies to tease the shit out of you, but for some reason, you had a dreading feeling this wasn’t going to be any different with the way you were riled up already.

“Relax…” He soothed, taking his time to bend down and pepper little kisses on your knees and thighs, a part of you instantly loosening up as his gentle care. “I got you. You can do this.”

You breathed out, bracing yourself as he leaned in and softly touched your clit with two fingers. The flat contact was enough to make you twitch, a heavy exhale leaving your chest but -  not a sound. You watched him with big eyes, hoping you’d passed the test.

His heated gaze flickered up at you. John rewarded you with a proud grin and pressed a kiss just under your belly button while his hand on your ankle drew little circles into the skin. “So good for daddy, hm? Let’s make this a little more complicated.”

When his fingers began to rub, your back arched and you nearly choked on a sharp inhale. Your whole body was tensing, nerves travelling down between your legs until all you could feel was the spot where his and your body touched.

“Doing so good…” John muttered, watching your every reaction as he kept the slow pace, knowing it’d work you up more than just drawing fast figures on your clit. He was nothing if not thorough, knowing exactly how to get you to the edge and just how hard it was for you to keep your moans and little precious sounds in.

You bit down hard on your lip again, your hands trembling as you held yourself up, not willing to tear your eyes away from John as he touched you. His steady rubs and the way you could feel his hot breath bounce back on your pussy

“You getting there yet, honey?” He prodded softly and you nodded, tilting your head back in ecstasy before his dark voice brought you back to him. “Stay quiet and I’ll let you come, I’m gonna count down and then I wanna see you fall apart.”

You nodded, swallowing hard at the challenge. Just a little more. You could do this.

“Three…” John began and you did it with him in his head, anticipating the next number like it was a gulp of fresh water in the desert. But the two didn’t follow, not immediately, and John stayed silent and continued his torturous caress over your folds, drawing out his assault on you.

Fuck.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you fought against yourself, trying to keep the moans in your chest down. You were floating, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t John and you silently begged to quit playing with you, knowing you were nearing your limits…

“Two…” His hand shot out and let go of your leg just as you were about to clamp your hand down on your mouth. He fixated it against your own belly and pushed it down just slightly, the pressure in your lower stomach heightening and becoming deliciously overwhelming.

John panted at the sinful image you made, naked and wet and writhing and completely silent as he rubbed your sweet little pussy. As much as he enjoyed making you hoarse from screaming on his cock, the sight of you struggling to keep your pleasure inside was getting him off just as good. His cock was pulsing in his shorts and he wanted nothing more than bury himself balls deep into you soon. So soon…

“Perfect…almost there.” He praised and let a third finger briefly dip down and into your wetness, barely even breaching the soft, sensitive entrance he knew so well.

But just like that, a shock went through you at it and in the next moment, a high-pitched moan left your pretty lips and echoed betrayingly across the empty terrace.

Your eyes met his. “No, no, no.”

“Aww, honey.” John cooed and moved away, his touch leaving you completely as your hips tried to buck against him. You whined, nearly sobbing at the loss of contact and his touch, but John was there in an instant and cradled you against his chest. He laid your head on his shoulder and stroked your back to soothe you down.

You were shaking in his arms, trying to calm down from the denied orgasm you had anticipated so much. If you had been in any other mindset, you would’ve cursed him out for counting so slow, but his warm body around yours felt too good to put up a fight.

“That was so good, honey.” He praised you lowly, brushing back your wet hair as he kissed your temple. “You just couldn’t help yourself, hm? I understand.”

“Thank you…” You breathed, your senses tingling as your body slowly climbed down from the edge. “’just wanna be good for you…”

“Oh you are. So, so good for me. We’re gonna try again, hm?” John’s hand ran over your thighs as he slowly tilted you back again, this time allowing you to lay comfortably on your back and watch the faint glow of the night above you.

He rested his hand between your boobs, keeping it there to feel your pounding heartbeat. With a kiss to your neck, he dragged your lower half closer to the edge and to his hungry, awaiting mouth. “Maybe you’ll do better with my mouth on you? We got all night to find out.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

[rebelliousstories]

Different Time

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Blood and Violence, Strong Language, Happy Endings

Word Count: 2,358

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Being dragged into the Void by your good buddy Wade was not how you imagined to be spending your days after your lover had died.

A single card was fixed between her fingers as she walked behind the other two people on their journey. There was silence all around the trio as they walked through the field. She did not pay attention to what was being said, nor did she care very much. If it was of any importance to her, they would let her know.

Before she knew what was going on, a dog was running straight for them. But the man with long, flowing locks that was running behind made her finger tingle with energy. After Deadpool and the Wolverine ahead of her did not move to attack the man, she let that energy fizzle out. Not that it would have done much damage anyways. It was getting harder and harder to remember what it was like. And yet, she could see it so clearly in her mind; the first time he had shown her what he could do.

“So what can you do exactly? You just throw cards at people?”

“Nah, cher,” his hands came up to hold a card between his fingers, “is much more den dat. I charge da playin’ cards wit energy. And den dey go boom.” His chuckle followed shortly afterwards.

“Is that so huh?” She chuckled as well. But the man just smiled, and wrapped his arms around her anyways.

“See is like dis, cher. Watch and learn.”

With his arms around her, he held an ace of hearts. Flicking it in the air caused a pink glow to encompass it. She giggled as he swiped the card from the sky, and touched it to her skin. The resulting kinetic energy made her entire body jolt, but the man kept her grounded as it flowed through each and every muscle.

“Feel dat, cher?” His breath fanned across her cheek as she rested against his chest. Once she had recovered, she held her hand and felt the card laid in her palm. Flipping it over through her fingers, she managed to produce a glow and a light crackling energy field around the object.

“Atta girl, cher.” A kiss was laid upon her cheek, and she felt the day old scruff rub against the crook of her neck.

“You comin’, bub?” A gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Snapping into reality, the three men in front of her were looking like they were off to go somewhere.

“Apologies,” came her reply.

“Did we just miss some exposition about you? I feel like we just missed a vital flashback into your tragic backstory. Besides, I would like to find out what you do exactly. We’ve never gotten a clear answer. You just sort of do everything, like Taylor Swift.” Wade was having none of her dismissal.

“What are you talking about?” She was utterly confused, but Logan waved the red menace of off.

“Don’t pay him any mind. Come on, let’s go.” They all made the trek out to the dense corn that housed an old Honda Odyssey, which made the merc in red pitch a hissy fit.

“Get in the fucking car.” Logan snapped at Wade, utterly feed up with his antics. Before being prompted, she threw open the side door and climbed n the back. She watched as Deadpool tried to run off with the sweet little pup that had found them, but Wolverine put a very fast stop to that. Defeated, Wade climbed in the passenger seat, while Logan went in the driver’s, and they were off.

Somewhere along the way, she must have dozed off. That was the only explanation for the memory she was experiencing right now. Except, she was not exactly experiencing it as t had happened. No, she was watching it from an outsider’s perspective.

The first thing she saw, was a dingy old motel room floor. And the next, was laughing. Looking up, she saw them. It was her, and her beau play fighting on the bed of the motel room.

“Now, you know bettah den to play dirty, cher. Ain’t no coyon, ya know?” Her lover had trapped her arms to her body, and was smiling as big as ever. Plush lips stretched across his face. Hazel eyes twinkled brightly.

“Didn’t hear you complaining about me playing dirty last night,” she teased. Turning in his arms, she looked up at her lover with nothing but adoration.

“Well, Gambit seems to remember you not complainin’ neither.” His lips came down onto hers.

Watching from her spot near the dresser, the future her could still feel the wonderful pressure of their kiss. Tracing her fingers over her own, melancholy filled her heart. He looked so alive in this moment. A moment that she cherished with her whole being.

“Ahh!”

Something far less pleasant awoke her this time from her thoughts. One of Wade’s knives had lodged itself in her shin. Blood steadily poured itself from the wound. And the world fell still for a moment. Raising her eyes, she felt herself shaking in anger and pain as Deadpool met her gaze.

“Oh no. Oh, I am so sorry.” He wheezed. But it was too late.

Her other leg raised and kicked him hard in the head. While he was disoriented, her mind contorted the blade that was in his hands; even the hand that was holding the knife began to bend and break. Holding her knee, she made herself fall through the car and onto the ground below.

“Where’d she go? Magic woman.” She heard Deadpool exclaim loudly. It was followed by a growl and a squeak. And the car started to rock with the force that they were going at each other.

Rolling to her right, she got out from underneath the vehicle before someone sent a blade through to her again. Releasing her leg, she crawled on her belly over to a tree that was still facing the car. Her forearms were covered in dirt and leaves now, as were the entire lower half of her body. While keeping an eye on the Odyssey, she worked to remove her boots and rolled up the pants from her injured leg. She could see the wound eventually and worked to clear her mind.

Regenerating always took a lot from her. It took a lot physically and mentally from her, but she could get it done. Groans slipped from her lips as she could feel her skin, muscles, and even veins being to stitch themselves together. A scar was all that was left in the place of the stab wound. The woman rested against the large piece of wood behind her and watched through blackening vision as both men were thrown through the car, and jumped back in with fervor.

That was the image that she passed out to. That was the last thing in the real world that she saw. She was not sure how much time had passed between her passing out, and when she woke up. But she immediately recognized that she was not where she was before. There were stone walls all around her, and she was lying down on a bed. Before sitting up, she looked and could see Logan with a bottle of liquor to her right.

Voices were muffled all around her. She could not pin point a specific one, but something felt off. Like someone or something was there, and how that was supposed to make her feel, she did not know. Groaning, she sat up and caught the attention of everyone else that was talking. One person much more than anyone else. A familiar drawl called out her name, and her body filled with dread. Footsteps came closer, and the muffs came off from her ear.

“Cher, that you?” Her heart sped up and it felt like it was beating out of her chest. A hand came to her shoulder, but she was not having whatever weird illusion this was. Grabbing whoever’s wrist this was, she used her body weight and center of gravity to pivot the person onto their back on the floor beside the bed she was on.

Staring down, her heart stopped. This was her beau. Remy was staring up at her with wide eyes. Letting out a shaking breath, her hands let go of the man as if he had burned her and stood upon shaking legs. The man on the ground was not doing much better than her. He stood just as quickly, and looked at the woman just the same.

“Oh, thank you Lord. It is you.” He whispered, taking a step closer. But her hand shot up to stop him from getting closer.

“Don’t. Who the hell are you? And what are you doing with that suit on?” She demanded, and watched the confusion sink in.

“Cher, it’s me. It’s your Gambit. I’m jus’ wonderin’ how in da hell you here now.” Remy breathed.

“Oh my god!” Everyone’s attention was brought to Deadpool who was wide eyed in his mask. “This is your tragic backstory. You and him…”

“I need some air.” She turned on her heels, and phased through her wall till she was outside in the forest. Outside, she tried to draw in a deep breath, but found her body starting to seize. Everything got too much. Shaky limbs and sweaty palms found themselves crashing onto the forest floor. She tried to breathe in again but only managed half a breath. Her heart was beating out of her chest. The world began to spin.

“Ay, ay, you alright, cher. Come ‘ere. Let’s settle on down now, ya.” Thick arms encompassed her. They grounded her back to reality. As Remy kept whispering soothing words, she felt her world come back into focus. Her heart slowed down and was now moving at a steady rhythm. She was following Remy’s lead on her breaths; in through the nose for four, hold for four, out for four. Her arms and legs were soothing themselves out and she was able to wipe off her palms onto the legs of her suit.

“Dat’s a good girl, now. Ain’t no reason to be like dat. Just a little frightenin’ is all. Didn’ mean to.” He was apologizing for scaring her? After she had thrown him to the ground and walked out on everyone? Those arms felt so familiar and comforting; she did not want to move rom them. But she had to face this man. She had to know. Turning, her eyes finally came up close and personal with the man that had introduced himself as Gambit, Remy LeBeau.

“You good now, cher? Feelin’ a little bettah?” Even after all of this, he was still so caring.

“Yeah. How are you alive?” She whispered, tracing her eyes over every inch of his face like this was the last time she was going to see it. Because it just might.

“I been wonderin’ da same thing. Don’t know how long I been in dis here Void, but you was gone long before I got here.” One of his hands came up and pet her head so very softly.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Her attempt at a joke made the Cajun chuckle as well. Sure, both of their laughs were tinged with sadness, but they were laughing together again.

“Well, I uh-” he stammered, trying to find the right words, “was out playin’ cards. Got a feelin’ dat somethin’ was wrong. Went back to the apartment we was stayin’ in. And you… you were gone when I got there. Tracked down who had killed ya, and it turned out to be my ol’ thievin’ ring. Didn’ like da fact dat we was ‘bout to get outta da game apparently. Da hardest thing Remy ever done was buryin’ you. Easiest was killin’ da sons o’ bitches dat took you from me.”

Silence enveloped them as the weight of his words sunk in.

“Something very similar happened in my timeline.” She replied, watching as he seemed to going through the same emotions she was.

“We were on our way back from a mission for Xavier. You and I were with Jean, Scott, and Storm. God, she was making so many jokes about how she was the fifth wheel on that mission and we were making it worse for her. Anyways, we got ambushed by the Brotherhood. We were actually taking out a good chunk of them, but Sabertooth got the drop on you. You bled out in my arms on the way back to the mansion. You had me promise not to do anything rash in the aftermath, but it was difficult.”

Tears welled in both of their eyes. Both of them mourning a love and life lost in tragic fashion. Remy pulled her in close, and she breathed in deeply. That familiar leather and musk scent blended with the fresh air outside. She just wanted that scent bottled up and kept with her at all times.

“So it seems to ol’ Gambit dat we both lost our other half. Maybe you was supposed to be the one that completed my deck, cher.” Her head raised and her eyebrow as she turned to look at the man in confusion.

“You’ve got an incomplete deck,” came her question. She began feeling around for a pocket in her jacket that was directly over her heart.

“Jus’ missin’ one card. Whatchu lookin’ for?” He questioned, letting her move around freely.

“Get your deck out,” his eyebrows raised. “Your card deck, Gambit. Humor me.”

“Whatevea you say, cher.”

The duo shifted until their respective items were grabbed. Remy produced a deck of cards and quickly rearranged them to be in card order. Her card was in between her first two fingers. As Gambit sifted through his deck, he stopped right where a card was missing. And as she revealed what was in her hands, the two suddenly looked at each other with love and tears. Her ace of hearts was missing from his deck, but he had finally found it again. It was a different time, different place, even a different person, but it was the same love that spanned the multiverse.

[abbotmohann]

closed doors

pairing: jack abbot x attending!reader

summary: you don’t mean to let jack abbot into your heart but when you realise you did, the only logical response is to push him away and pretend like you can go back to being a cold hearted bitch

a/n: i love reading angst idk what that says about me but anyways this was meant to be just a little drabble but it turned out longer than i imagined but the ending is kinda meh. also not proofread, hope you like it!

jack abbot is a widowed former trauma medic amputee not that he let it define him at least not anymore, the man has been through it and even though he occasionally hangs out on the roof he goes to therapy he makes an active effort to work through his ptsd and improve his mental health. so when jack meets you he feels a sense of kinship just as morbid as he was possibly even more so but he enjoys your deadpan humour.

you don’t realise how or when it happened but over the course of the months working together he worms his way into your life, he gets you coffee most nights and half the time when you’re in the doctors lounge trying to take a moment and eat a protein bar he comes in and offers you half his packed lunch which you insist you can’t take but he never takes no for an answer and when he offers rides home you don’t even fight it.

you come to the realisation the first time he’s off in months and you feel the lack of his presence the whole shift, your mind wandering what he was doing - you miss him and you hate it. you’re anxious throughout the next shift you feel tense and awkward around him, trying to process. you try to distance yourself from him but he makes it so goddamn hard, you couldn’t exactly turn down the free coffee so you find other ways like not eating in the doctors lounge, you keep small talk to a minimum where you used to banter with him you don’t - you’re not mean about it at least you don’t think so and when your shift ends you hang back a good 15minutes. eventually he seems to get the picture, he still gets you coffee and searches your eyes every time likely trying to figure what’s changed but you smile and say thanks like normal every single time leaving him confused but that’s really the only that’s stuck, there’s no back and forth anymore it’s strictly professional and you don’t have to hang back anymore, he doesn’t offer you ride anymore. you hate it you miss him, him still buying you a coffee makes it worse sometimes you want to say something spark it all back up again and every once in awhile he sees it and hesitates but you chicken out. eventually even the coffee stops and that really breaks your heart, he never treats you differently on a professional level which at the very least you’re thankful for not that you doubted him but a sick part of you almost wishes he did, there’s an aching void where he used to occupy that you keep trying to ignore - an impossible task when you see him almost daily.

one night you’re running into work early deciding to buy a coffee from the local spot that jack used to get it for the two of you, you make the impulsive decision to also grab one for jack immediately regretting as you’re walking in. you thought about all the ways this was a bad idea so close to throwing it away but just as you were getting to the entrance with both cups in hand so was jack - this was the moment.

“hi jack! i got you coffee”

he furrowed his brows perplexed, she doesn’t speak to him in months but now she brings him a coffee from their spot - she obviously needed a favour he assumed. “thanks” he gave a tight lipped smile as he took the cup and walked away. the rest of the shift went by as normal and there was no favour to be asked so what was that? he wondered, something to discuss with the therapist he figured.

now at the end of your shift there’s a downpour, the kind of torrential rain that soaks you through to the bone. you’re standing at the exit cursing at yourself for not having an umbrella or anything protective dreading getting onto public transport. jack walking out spots you, he sighs his chest tightening nervous for what he’s about to say dreading your reaction.

“i’ll give you a lift”

“oh no jack it’s fine, it’s not too bad”

he rolled his eyes huffing. “it wasn’t a question” you open and close your mouth not knowing how to respond and jack simply pops open his umbrella waiting so you get under it and walk to his car.

the silence is deafening, you feel sick to your stomach. you feel this wave of anger coming off jack you can’t tell if it’s all in your head your if it’s just own guilt projecting. it silent the whole journey and when you reach yours.

“thanks for the ride”

“here take the umbrella”

“thanks but i can survive a few feet”

you unbuckle your seat but you can’t move, you feel the overwhelming urge to fix this now but unsure of how to approach this you say probably the most ridiculous thing you could.

“i know you live far so if you want you can wait at mines for the rain to calm down” you lived a 15 minute drive away from the hospital but tonight he had taken 30 minutes and you knew he lived a 45 minute drive away. you were being logical in a situation that was incredibly illogical. “please for my sake”

he’s thrown off, irritated at the offer. he wants to be mad at you but your voice soft and shaky just makes him want to grab you into his arms and comfort you, you were maddening he thought.

when he walks into your apartment he’s struck by how clinical it feels, you have the barebones it seems there’s no warmth like it’s not lived in. “do you want something to drink like a cup of tea or coffee?” at ease now in your own domain the guilt temporarily forgotten.

“uh, a coffee would be nice” he stands there awkwardly not sure what to do watching you fuss about around your studio flat seemingly switching the heating on opening the curtain halfway (what was that about?).

“you can go ahead and sit on the sofa jack” and so he does, he mind swirling with a million questions, he decided this was it this was the best time to get his answers once and for all.

you come to sit beside him with two cups of coffee, the awkward tension stronger than ever you know you should say something or else what was the point of inviting him to your place at the very least for the sake of being a good host.

“it was lucky you brought an umbrella i don’t remember seeing it as going rain when i check the weather”

“seriously!? you wanna talk about the weather? not about how you’ve been treating me the past couple months?”

“i haven’t been rude”

“seriously!?”

“what!?” you running your fingers through your hair frustrated this isn’t going how you wanted, not that you had a plan but anything is better than this.

“you’re too smart to be playing dumb right now, you’ve been avoiding me” his voice is harsh now, exasperated with you and you’re inability to be honest. he knew you had walls, he knew you weren’t an open book if anything you reminded him a little bit of him and he liked it cos he understood it.

“no i haven’t” you know it’s stilly to so balantly lie but you’re still too scared to be real.

“you’re never in the doctors lounge, you never wanna speak about anything that isn’t medical anymore and don’t think i don’t know you purposely hang in the locker room so i can’t offer you ride home. i thought you were going through something personal and pushing everyone away but then i soon realised you had no problem with any of our coworkers just me, so if ive done something to hurt you just tell me how i can fix it?”

“jack, i’m sorry i wasn’t clear but our relationship was becoming unprofessional you’re my senior, i was just trying to establish boundaries again and keep it strictly professional”

“you think it’s professional to invite me into your home?” he rolls his eyes, he feels defeated now maybe tonight wouldn’t be the night this would be fixed.

“i’m not a total monster, i can’t have you getting into an accident on my conscious”

jack sighs and you both sit there silent for a beat, jack bumping his legs against yours willing you to look at him and you do.

“god you drive me insane” he lets out a chuckle rubbing his face.

you’re pouting now. “do you hate me now?”

“no! i wouldn’t be here trying to fix this, asking my therapist for advice”

“there’s nothing to fix” it’s out before you even think, wincing at the harshness but you don’t let jack speak. “wait i’m sorry that was mean”

he rolls his eyes “normally i like that about you so i’ll it slide” you chew on your lips at his casual confession, like in what way is the first thought and the second thought is ‘you’re insane’

“you spoke about me to your therapist?” a giggle escapes, it seemed absurd that you’d be brought up, that you had any significant meaning to his life. “i’m sorry it’s not funny, i’m just surprised”

“i know i said this already but god you’re drive me insane, what’s so surprising about that?”

“idk the fact that there’s anything significant about me or us to discuss”

“maybe throwing away our friendship was easy for you but it meant a lot to me, you mean a lot to me. i can’t stop caring about you even if i wanted to and if you really did think the professional lines were blurring and it was making you uncomfortable you could’ve just said so, i don’t wanna ever make you feel uncomfortable.”

“i’m sorry” you look down at your fidgeting hands breaking the eye contact.

“stop apologising”

“i don’t actually care about professional boundaries, i know you wouldn’t let any personal beef getting into the way of work. i just you’re better off without me”

“what’s that supposed to mean? you don’t think you’re good enough for me?”

“jack i’m incredibly fucked up and i don’t go to therapy even though i probably should, i don’t let people into my life but all of a sudden you weaseled your way into my heart and so i pushed you away for my sake and yours. i didn’t wanna go through the mortifying experience of you realising my feelings and rejecting them but here we are”.

“please look at me when i say this.” you oblige considering it’s the least you could do. “did i bring anyone else coffee? did i share my food with anyone else? am i giving rides out to everyone? you think you didn’t weasel your way into my heart? you’re the only thing i look forward to coming into work even when it hurt”

he strokes your cheek as he brushes a few unruly pieces away, “i’ve wanted to do this for so long” he pulls you in to a passionate kiss and you oblige melting into his touch, he’s soon pulling you into his lap the kiss frantic and desperate.

he pulls away to catch ch his breath and remark on the facts. “you know we could’ve been doing this for months instead”

pressing soft kisses along his neck, you let out a frustrated sigh “i know i’m an idiot, i’m sorry”

“what did i say about apologising, you can you make it up to me instead” he winked

“oh i’m not sorry then” you smirk running your hands through his salt and pepper curls.

“you’re gonna be the death of me” his lips are back on you again in a frantic mess, your arms wrapped around him tightly rolling your hips deciding this morning was going to end with both of you naked.

[goldenempyrean]

With The Lights On

〚 Notes - *floating down from the heavens* I have returned…. Real note, I had to finish up my last exam but now I’m all done and should be getting back to writing! Yay :D this is more whump with a side of sickfic so lil bit of a heavy one here - TW for implied child death 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - A mission doesn’t go well and you find yourself in a late night encounter with one particular redhead. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2340 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Today had been a rough day for everyone. The whole team had been on the last leg of a week long mission, trying to track down an international trafficking link - one which according to Fury’s intel had been trading a serum similar to the one Steve had taken. Only it was botched, horrifically, and had been causing quite graphic mutations to the subjects which it had been unwillingly tested upon. While the team had managed to take out those in charge of the ring - completing the mission in the eyes of Shield - most of the subjects, primarily the younger ones, couldn’t be saved. And the ones that were left… well the only right thing to do was to end their suffering.

It was late by the time an aircraft was ready to pick the team up. Usually the ride home would be full of cheers and laughter, the team relishing in the job. The jet was silent. While, yes, the mission had been completed, nobody saw this as a victory.

Natasha had been looking especially worse for wear. When you glanced over you caught her at the tail end of what must’ve been a perfectly stifled sneeze as she raised her head from her elbow. You thought nothing of it but couldn’t help but notice how her eyes clouded over as she went back to staring unfocused at the floor.

“You doing okay over there Red?” You asked quietly, not wanting to break the thick silence which had settled in the aircraft. Nat didn’t seem to register your words but after a few seconds she nodded, barely lifting her head enough to look you in the eye. Something was off.

The jet landed just before sunrise. Everyone went their separate ways, mumbling quiet goodnights or skipping them entirely. Nobody was in the mood to stick around and chat - you couldn’t blame them. All you wanted to do yourself was to crawl under your covers and forget the whole situation but you weren’t fond of the dreams you knew would follow you there.

Lying in bed, you could do nothing more than stare at the ceiling, unwillingly to close your eyes longer than a minute. Doomscrolling on your phone didn’t seem to help either, neither did any of the crappy games you had installed on it too.

You sigh and throw the phone onto the nightstand with a dull thud, scrubbing your hands over your face. Your skin feels sticky with sweat and grime and exhaustion, but the thought of showering feels like a task better suited for tomorrow. A small gurgle from your stomach caught your attention, reminding you that you hadn’t really had much to eat all day - not that you had much of an appetite anyway - but the small action of getting up and making something to eat seemed like a better idea than just staring up into the looming dark void above that you called a ceiling.

With a small groan, you dragged yourself out of bed and pulled on the closest hoodie before shuffling down towards the kitchen. The compound was eerily quiet this time of night, the dark hallways barely illuminated by moonlight seeping in through the wide windows.

You padded into the kitchen, the hallway carpet turning to cool tiles beneath your feet as you reached for the light switch. The room flashed with that harsh white LED brightness. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the brightness - and nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden figure which appeared in your eyeline.

Leaning over the island countertop, silent and still, like a damn ghost in the dark. Natasha blinked slowly at you, barely reacting to your startled yelp. Her usual immaculate posture was gone; she was hunched over slightly - not sitting - one elbow propped on the counter, fingers loosely curled around the drink she’d been nursing.

“Christ!” You fought back a yelp, taking a breath to steady your racing heartbeat back to a regular rhythm as you lowered your tone, “Bloody hell Romanoff, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing lurking down here in the dark?”

“I could ask you the same.” She mumbled, her voice thick as she spoke slowly. Her eyes were glassy and cold, failing to hide the heavy bags beneath them. She looked exhausted and not just in the simple post-mission fatigue. Now that you looked closer, it was like she hadn’t slept properly in days.

It was then you noticed the tissue box sitting close by. In other any situation you wouldn’t have thought twice but you had specifically cleaned the kitchen just before leaving so you knew those hadn’t been there earlier. Had she been crying?

You took the seat to her left, noting the distinct smell of whiskey on her breath as you sat down. The half empty bottle gave away more than she’d have preferred. She’d been down here for a while.

Natasha sniffled, the tip of her nose twitching ever so slightly as she subtly rubbed the one of her knuckles beneath it. It seemed as if she almost debated reaching for a tissue but thought against the action.

But the battle with her body hadn’t quite been won. Whatever had been bothering her seemed to return with vengeance only mere moments later forcing her to stifle two restrained sounding sneezes against the back of her palm.

Those flushed cheeks weren’t just from the alcohol then…

You were half sure you’d heard her mutter the smallest “dammit” under her breath. It was the tiniest whisper. Like she hadn’t meant for anyone to hear it. Like she was annoyed with herself for… sneezing, maybe. Or shivering. It was almost as if she was fighting with her own body for simply being human. She had been taking another sip of her drink when you finally asked, “Have you taken anything for this cold yet?”

“What cold?”

Ah. So this was how it was going to go. You see, Natasha had two ways of dealing with being ill - none of which led to her getting any sort of rest.

Nat would either retreat entirely from the team, hardly being seen for days as she hid in some far corner of the compound, refusing to be acknowledged by anyone. Or, as it seems she was doing now, she would deny any and all accusations of her being even the slightest bit under the weather and simply carry on her day as if nothing was wrong - because the black widow could never catch the sniffles.

“You sound like shit Romanoff.” You said simply, raising an eyebrow when she reached for the almost-empty whiskey bottle again.

She paused for a moment, but continued nonetheless as she refilled her glass and took a long sip. Natasha wasn’t a clumsy person by any means but as she set the bottle back down on the counter, her hand fumbled and before either of you could react a harsh shatter ripped through the quiet, echoing through the empty kitchen. Natasha flinched hard like the sound itself cut her as the glass bottle smashed against the floor, sending shards flying everywhere.

“Fuck.” She hissed, her face shifting into an embarrassed, almost shameful expression.

“Don’t move or you’ll cut yourself. Let me go grab a brush.” You decided quickly, quickly jogging to the supply closet to grab something to clean up the mess with. When you returned back to the kitchen, Nat was somehow already cleaning up the mess with a small dustpan and brush, her balance looking wobbly as she balanced in a squat.

“What happened to staying put?” You sighed, coming to her side as she stood up to empty the shard-filled pan into the trash.

“It’s my mess to clean.” The redhead stated before taking a step back as she brought her elbow to her face to muffle a cough into. You caught her eyes as they glanced back to the counter and quickly swiped the remainder of drink before she could get to it.

“You’ve had enough.” Your voice held a stern tone. Nat opened her mouth but no words came out. You were sure she was about to argue but stopped, instead she turned away from you to cough again - an unpleasant sounding rattle. “If you still want something to drink then I’ll make you some tea instead. How does that sound?”

She gave you a look but there was the tiniest crack in her tough exterior as her gaze softened just the slightest bit, “I don’t really get a choice here, do I?”

“Not really. Sit down.” You instructed gently, pulling a stool up beside her. She did as told, sitting down dizzily which made the stool wobble uneasily for a second before steadying.

“You never answered my question.” You continued as you filled up the kettle and set it to boil, “What are you doing down here at this hour?”

She shifted in her seat a little, wrapping her arms around herself in a poor attempt at hiding a shiver - one which you pretended not to notice to give her at least the satisfaction of thinking she could hide it. “Same reason as you I suppose.” Natasha answered finally.

“That being?” You tried to lead her on but it was clear she wasn’t going to be the one to audibly admit anything so you took the step, “Couldn’t sleep? Didn’t wanna lay in your room by yourself?”

There was a small second of silence and she cleared her throat quietly, “Something like that.”Nat mumbled, evading eye contact as her words being chased by a damp cough.

The boiling kettle saved her from saying anything more and you poured out the hot liquid into two cups, adding a generous helping of honey to the redhead’s cup. “This’ll help.” You said simply, carefully placing her cup in the centre of the island, “Let it cool down for a few minutes first.”

For the first time that evening, her eyes met your own, “Thank you.”

A small smile formed on your lips and you slowly reached up, holding your hand just in front of her forehead, silently asking for permission before touching her. To your surprise, Nat leaned forwards, unconsciously gravitating towards your touch. To nobody’s surprise you were met with warm skin, heating radiating from her and you figured she definitely had a low-grade fever at minimum.

“You really didn’t take anything for this yet?” You asked again, hoping to get a straight answer this time. Nat shook her head and reached forwards to finally take the cup of tea into her hands, breathing in the steam for a minute before taking a long sip.

“Tastes sweet… honey?”

“Thought it would be best for your throat, you’re already starting to sound hoarse.”

Natasha shrugged, sniffling as the hot steam began to make her nose run a little, “Suppose it’s karma.” Your face shifted into a look of confusion and she continued, “For earlier. What we did to those-“

“Hey.” You cut her off with a stern voice, perhaps a little too loud for this time of night but you didn’t care, “You can’t blame yourself for that. There was nothing we could do, nothing anyone could do. What we did was mercy. I know it’s hard but we did the right thing.”

You could see the way her eyes were threatening to tear up, hell yours already were and you came to her side, pulling your arms around her in a comforting embrace, “It was the right thing to do Nat.” You repeated quietly and her body leaned into yours.

“I know.” She sniffled hard and you loosened your hold on her to grab the tissue box and handed her a couple. She blew her nose, the action making her cough roughly as it irritated her throat. Whether it was the tea taking an effect or simply all the alcohol catching up to her, Nat slumped sluggishly forward and couldn’t fight back a yawn.

Your hand came to rest on her back, slowly rubbing circles to keep her awake, “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You’re gonna feel even rougher in the morning when this hangover hits.”

Natasha shook her head but stood up nonetheless, wobbling uneasily as she did, murmuring “‘M Russian.” You reached forwards to steady her, unable to hold back a small laugh.

“And what’s that meant to mean?”

“Don’t get hangovers.”

You gave her a look. “You also said you didn’t get colds…” The harsh look she tried to give would’ve had its intended effect if only she could keep her eyes open properly. A tired, runny nosed Black Widow really wasn’t the greatest image for intimidation.

Luckily she complied in your efforts to get her to bed, the two of you managing to get to her room without any unnecessary falls. A few close calls and stumbles yes, but you still made it in one piece. Natasha took to her bed instantly, nestling down in the gray sheets. You took the chance to quickly gather some supplies, taking a glass of water and leaving it on her nightstand along with a packet of cough drops you’d swiped from her otherwise empty medicine cabinet.

“If you need me, just call me, okay? I’ll probably be awake for a while yet.” You murmured softly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her fevered forehead before turning to leave.

But something stopped you, a loose hand around your wrist. “Stay…?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

You didn’t need to think twice. She patted the space beside her on the mattress and you slid on, sitting up when Nat let her head rest in your lap, “Do you need anything else?” You asked quietly, hand reaching over to flick off the small lamp on her desk.

She looked up, “Can we sleep with the lights on?”

“Whatever you need.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Taglist!

@truelysapphic @nayarianna1302 @scrambled-brain-eggs @itsarandomblog @loveshineslikethesky @danveration @swaqcenix @observeowl @lovelyy-moonlight @nuianced-tick-envy @asianmrchk13 @bgrace27 @lexasaurus634

[joelsprettyprincess]

Deja Vu

Summary: Joel is so, so lonely after his divorce. Luckily (or not), you look just like his ex-wife. Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x f!reader Wordcount: 7.3k Tags: Dubcon, stalking, drugging, somnophilia, age gap (mid 50s/early 20s), no outbreak, misogyny, delusions, obsessive behavior, Joel has an unnamed daughter (NOT SARAH), smut-adjacent (imagined and real-ish), non-consensual touching, slight daddy kink, use of a sex toy, piv in aforementioned sex toy, lots of creepiness from Joel. DDDNE. A/N: Whoo boy. Finally done. I really really apologize for just dropping off the face of the earth, idk what happened. But anyway here ya go, I think this is my darkest fic yet 😅I absolutely loved writing it. And a small warning, when I say lots of creepiness, I mean lots. I might have overdone it at some points tbh. And to better explain what "smut-adjacent" means, Joel never undresses the reader, just touches her a lot. I had to look up some crazy things for this fic so you're welcome, haha. Okay, enjoy and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! DON'T THINK I FORGOT. @thoughts-of-bear here ya go babes 💗 Thanks to @enchanthings for the divider 🙏💞

Joel knew you were at work right now.

Would be, until 10:30 at least. He had time. Plenty of time to set things up. 

Today hadn’t been easy. Tommy had brought on some new workers, straight out of high school practically, to help retile a roof. Instead, they’d horsed around in their hard hats and high-vis vests, doing fuck-all. Joel had given them a stern talking to, but it hadn’t done much. And now he just looked like a bitter old man.

Well, maybe that was who he was. A bitter old man, pushing 60, with no wife or meaningful friends. One who spent a little too much time scrolling on Instagram, touching himself to videos of barely-dressed models dancing to pop songs. But that was just a way to fill the void. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Joel arrived home a couple hours before sunset, which, this late in April, wasn’t till nearly 8pm. That bitch Melanie had taken their two-bed house in the divorce, forcing him to take up residence in this cramped apartment a full half hour from the city. It was fine though. He took it all in stride. He was not bothered at all. Joel quite liked the place, really. Even if the walls were tinted beige after so many owners and voices whispered to him on his loneliest nights.

The faded light blue couch in the middle of the room welcomed him home. He laid down, feeling pangs of hunger but not yet possessing the strength to get up and throw Stouffer’s in the oven.

Joel propped his feet up on the armrest, and stretched, sighing. Pulling out his phone, he opened Spotify and put on the playlist that…well, never mind. He didn’t like to think about who made it for him. It was a good playlist, plenty of rock songs that somehow soothed him. 

Joel let the music play for a bit while he closed his tired eyes. Everyday he swore he wouldn’t do any more construction jobs lest he throw his back out, but he wouldn’t know what to do without it. Building made sense to him; it was solid, and made him comfortable. Plus it paid his rent.

It also gave him less time to indulge in his…vices.

He laid down for about 15 minutes before forcing himself off the couch with a low groan. Falling asleep on the couch when it was still light outside was a little too pathetic. 

Joel ventured into the tiny kitchen, flipping on the bright white overhead light. His beige-ish fridge greeted him. An old pink sticky note, covered in his small handwriting (an attempt to be more organized with grocery shopping), was peeling off. He watched it flutter to the ground in morose silence.

He opened the freezer compartment. It was filled with frozen meals and Ben and Jerry’s; not particularly healthy, but something was better than nothing, right? Joel did know how to cook for himself, but he found it hard to do so after Melanie left.

The Red Baron Fully Loaded pepperoni pizza looked good. He pulled it out and quickly turned the oven on while he pulled the pizza from the box.

Once the pizza was in the oven, Joel wandered to his bedroom. It was quite small, no surprise there. It just barely fit his mattress and dresser. That was all he really needed, anyway.

He was looking for his comfy sweatpants, the gray ones with the blue stripes going up the sides. He pawed through his pants compartment, but couldn’t find them. No matter how hard he tried, Joel just couldn’t be neat about his clothes.

Joel looked under the bed and grimaced when he saw what was under there— a purchase he was still embarrassed about, even six months later.

His fleshlight.

It was like a symbol of his fall into degeneracy after Melanie had left. Sometimes Joel felt as if he’d been marked as “undesirable” after the divorce— he couldn’t get laid to save his life. It didn’t help that he was fairly depressed and self-medicating with sleeping pills.

After about six months of countless failed one-night stands, Joel had ordered the toy in a moment of self-pity. It had taken some time getting used to it, but after he swallowed his pride he found that it was actually quite enjoyable.

Now he used it regularly, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine it was a certain woman’s pussy.

It had been Melanie that he imagined, for a while, up until January. That was when he met you. 

It had started when he’d entered the CJ Midd a few months ago, looking for a present for his sister-in-law, Maria. Tommy had told him women loved going there, so Joel had gone to the huge, disorganized department store.  It was quite packed full of people with Christmas money.

Joel felt a bit out of place, but he browsed the aisles, looking for something Maria might like. Eventually after sifting through the piles of vaguely-related items (and resisting the urge to just get another mug), he selected a pretty jewelry box with plenty of compartments and space.

Joel trooped up to the register in triumph, only to be abruptly stopped by the mile-long line. There were at least 10 people in front of him, and…

He looked ahead to the registers, and his mouth briefly fell open. A bolt of surprise and anxiety coursed through his body from head to toe. That was…but it wasn’t…

The cashier looked exactly like his ex-wife. Same facial features, same hair texture, similar body shape, just maybe 30 years younger. It was accurate down to the curve of her lips. It was almost uncanny. She could almost be her—

Joel’s thoughts were interrupted by a monotone, robotic female voice coming from the register. “Next. Customer. On. Register Three.”

They’d opened another lane, finally. But…he had to get a closer look at the cashier. Would the universe line up correctly?

Joel waited nervously as the line inched forward, now going slightly faster thanks to the additional cashier. His feet and back started aching, but he held out till there were two people ahead of him.

If his timing was accurate, then…he actually might have to go to the other cashier. Cmon, God, karma, something, he silently prayed, hoping maybe someone would be very quick or very slow.

But his luck wasn’t up to par today. The elderly couple in front of him went to her register, and the young man at the other lane was gathering his bags as they did this.

“Next. Customer. On. Register Three,” the robot spoke, though it wasn’t needed— Joel was already there, albeit unwillingly. He tried to surreptitiously steal glances at the girl while the male cashier in front of him scanned the jewelry box.

She had a pretty smile. He could see a hint of teeth, and watched in awe as her tongue darted out to dampen her lower lip. Suddenly, he needed to get out of here, fast. His palms felt warm and dry at the same time.

Joel hurriedly tapped his card on the reader. After the cashier handed him his receipt, he tried to be as suave as possible and make it seem like he wasn’t ogling her. But the resemblance to Melanie was seriously insane. He took note of the name on her uniform, filing it away. He wondered how he’d never seen her before. Was she new to town? A student at the university 10 minutes from here?

He swallowed hard as he passed her— “Do you need a bag, ma’am?”—And something in him stirred. Not in his pants but in his heart; he had to…see you closer. To know you.

Joel carefully indulged in a controlled interest in you. That was what he repeated to himself a dozen times a day, when he thought about you over his morning coffee, while Tommy gave him the rundown of their latest job, while he drove home listening to Nickelback, while he desperately fucked his fleshlight in the dark. It would not get out of hand like he was known to do. He compartmentalized you into neat packages and only took you out at certain times of the day.

But his mind, his thoughts, they couldn’t stay normal for very long. Your face inevitably bled into his imagination after hours. He returned to CJ Midd the week after that initial meeting, only this time you were stocking the floors. Joel wandered around for a couple hours, carefully stealing glances at your back while you worked, lurking in the next aisle over. When a 30-something year old woman asked where the pots and pans were, Joel closed his eyes and soaked up the sweet honey that was your voice. Then you said, “Well, I’ll show you-” and his eyes flew open as footsteps approached the aisle where he was standing.

Joel very quickly turned around and walked away, heart pounding, just as you and the woman rounded the corner. He darted into the next aisle, then walked further to the back of the store, opposite of the direction you were heading.

He wrung his hands nervously. Shit. If you’d seen the way he was lurking near you, he would have looked very suspicious indeed.

This close call forced Joel to evaluate his actions while he caught his breath in what was apparently the toy section. He was stal— No, no. No need to describe it so harshly. He was simply observing you, that was all. Just trying to find out more about you. People did that all the time when they had a crush.

But this wasn’t a crush in the traditional sense. For one, he knew basically nothing about you besides your name. He didn’t know if you were a student, what your personality was like, not even your last name. Also, it was more than likely he was simply hung up on the fact that you looked so much like Melanie. Some quasi-projection shit, no doubt.

The biggest issue was your age. Joel almost felt predatory, staring at your face that hadn’t been sullied by stress or loss yet. He guessed you were around 23, give or take a few years.

In fact, you seemed so young you could probably pass as his—

He didn’t finish that thought.

Joel spent the next few months learning your schedule at CJ Midd, as well as gleaning as much information as he could. He learned that you worked nights on the weekdays plus Saturday mornings. You wore a lot of band shirts, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that they included some artists he was a big fan of. Occasionally while spying on watching you stock, he would watch you close your eyes for 10 seconds or so and rub your eyes, like you were incredibly tired.

You had a pretty smile. Not the customer service plaster, but the real deal. One that lit up your whole face with dimples and smile lines. It was beautiful and he wanted to see more, more, more of it. More of you. He couldn’t help but imagine your relationship together: lazy Sunday mornings eating bagels, a quick kiss on the cheek before he left for work during the week, cuddling in bed and getting you to massage his back.

“I’m home, baby,” Joel announced, closing the door of his quaint little house. The TV was playing an old sitcom and he could smell good food cooking…pasta?

“Hey. Dinner’s pretty much ready, g’on ahead and wash up,” you called out.

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered, and went to change out of his yard clothes. It had been a hard day of fixing an old, falling-apart deck.

When he got to the dinner table, you were fixing his plate. Today you had made the spaghetti he loves so much, plus garlic bread on the side.

“Perfect, as usual,” Joel told you. He came up to stand behind you at the counter and squeezed your butt, chuckling when you squeaked.

“Sit down, sir,” you mockingly ordered him. “Brewed up some sweet tea too, know how you like that.”

“You know me so well, honey.” Joel poured himself a glass of sweet tea, then sat at the table while you got your plates together.

He glanced at his phone, then groaned. “”S fuckin’ Melanie again,” he sighed.

You looked over. “Really? What does she want now?” You brought over his plate, placing it in front of him.

“Apparently she left some of her hair tools here. She wants to come and grab ‘em tomorrow.”

You sighed, sitting down with your plate and tea. “That annoying bitch. She’s so obsessed with you.”

He smiled and tried to hide it, sipping his tea. “Is my babygirl jealous?”

You scoffed. “Not jealous of that snobby woman, I promise you. I bet there ain’t even anything for her to grab, she just wants to see you. I wish you’d block her.” You twirled a few noodles around your fork and stabbed a bit of meat.

“I consider it a charitable act. She’s clearly lonely, had to move out so far,” Joel said. “I helped her move to that apartment— tiny as hell.” He chuckled.

“Well, I still don’t want her over here,” you insisted. “From all the things you’ve told me about her, it’s a wonder you’re not in serious therapy.” Your eyes narrowed. “That selfish, manipulative bitch doesn’t know how good she had it. You were the best thing that ever happened to her and she threw it away for nothing.” Your eyes softened and you smiled. “But at least you’ve got me now.”

Joel snapped out of his fantasizing and realized that, one, his pizza was still in the oven, and two, he was partially hard. At some point during this walk down memory lane, he’d climbed onto his bed and was gripping the fleshlight. He let it fall from his hand onto the dark green bedspread, then picked it back up and placed it on his dresser. (“It’s a surprise tool, that’ll help us later,” chirped his darkly humorous mind.) As it turned out, his sweatpants were on the floor by his closet, initially hidden by the dresser. Joel picked them up and pulled them on, careful not to excite his growing erection.

He’d be back for that fleshlight.

He went back to the kitchen. Less time had passed than he thought; the pizza wasn’t nearly done. Well, while he waited, he would double check the preparations for tonight.

There was a brown wooden side table by the front door that acted as Joel’s catch-all, where he put his keys and bag. He had a satchel sitting there now, already full. He opened it up. 

Inside there was several items:

A lockpick. A baseball cap. Napkins. Gloves. A small camera. And finally, his other “surprise tool”. The critical item for everything going smoothly. He closed the bag.

Joel sat on the couch, flipping through Hulu till he finally settled on a random movie. Most TV was just noise to him now. He was deaf except when your lips graced his ears with speech.

He ate his pizza in silence. It was about 6:45 now, and the sun’s rays were still shining through Joel’s windows. It would be unwise to leave before sunset, considering what he’d be doing would require some…finesse and privacy. So, he would wait at least until the sun went down before leaving.

At 8:30, while you dreamt of closing early and going home, Joel left his apartment to drive 20 minutes to yours. The sun was setting and the air was humid and muggy, making him uncomfortably warm as he drove his beat up dark blue truck. His satchel was in the passenger’s seat beside him. Traffic in Austin was always heavy, but you lived far enough from the urban area that he managed to avoid it for the most part.

He went over his plan for the thousandth time. Let himself into your apartment, look around a bit, set up a camera to keep an eye on you.

And drop off a gift.

You were still at work— Joel knew this not just because he knew your schedule, but because it had only taken a month and a half of “observation” before he camped outside in his car around closing time and waited for you to come out. He’d identified your car, an old black Toyota Corolla. Then he’d stuck an AirTag on there one night, allowing him to very easily track your trips in real time. If for some reason you left work early, his handy phone app would inform him. Maybe cell phones weren’t all bad, Joel thought, scoffing.

The AirTag had allowed Joel to pinpoint your neighborhood, which he visited a few times. And after a bit of driving around and watching from his car, he learned which collection of buildings you lived in.

He’d gotten lucky, really. If the door required some sort of keycard to get in, he’d have to sweet talk some resident into letting him in. But when he tried the door during a “test run” of sorts back in March, it swung right open. The lock was broken.

Joel could almost laugh at the stupidity, but he just smiled and shook his head. It was like you were asking to be followed.

He’d wanted to explore your apartment, but chickened out at the last moment. One day, he thought.

And that day was today.

Joel ground his teeth, jaw clenched with anticipation while he thought about you. So beautiful and vulnerable and real it physically hurt him. He felt like running around, just to express his emotions. He felt very strongly that if he got the opportunity to talk to you, the two of you would just click. He bet you were so friendly, so understanding, so empathetic. Although he’d only seen you interact with customers and occasionally your coworkers, Joel could tell there was something special inside of you. He’d gotten that same feeling when he met Melanie for the first time. Something that made you stick out from the crowd, something that said you were destined for more. 

Well, he would give you more.

Joel arrived in front of your apartment complex just before 9. It was dark outside, and there were  just a couple teenagers walking down the sidewalk in front of the parking lot. He pulled on the gloves, put on the baseball cap, grabbed his satchel, and exited the car, heart thrumming. He approached the door coolly, praying it was still as broken as it was 2 months ago.

And sure enough, the door came open. He was in, easy as that. Good.

There was no one in the tiny, dirty lobby, lit by a single flickering light. The elevator was out of order. Dammit.

Joel jogged up the stairs, but quickly had to slow to a walk. Old age was getting to him for damn sure. 

Finding out your exact address had probably been the easiest part. After he identified your car, Joel simply used a handy online tool that told him exactly who was registered to your license plate, and where you lived. Honestly, he was starting to like technology more and more.

You lived on the fourth floor. The hallway was quite narrow, and dotted with dark brown doors displaying apartment numbers in shiny black metal.

Your room number was 403. Near the front. Not great, but oh well.

Joel checked the tracker app once more, then walked quietly up to your door, even though it really wasn't necessary. There was no one out here. He could hear faint voices laughing and talking behind the other doors.

His heart was pounding, not just from the stairs but from anticipation and anxiety. His cardiologist, whom he hadn’t seen in years, would say he needed to “lay off the strenuous activity.”

Though he knew it was fruitless, Joel tried your front door. Locked, obviously. That was okay. No biggie. That’s what the lockpick was for.

He brought it out, hands trembling and sweaty in the gloves. This was it- no turning back after this.

Joel had watched a few videos in preparation, and carefully inserted the lockpick. He quickly looked up to see if anyone was watching. Nope. It was just him.

He wiggled it around, but it did nothing. He wiggled it some more, growing more nervous by the second. Okay. Calm. Easy does it. He slowed his efforts and re-inserted the lockpick. After just a couple seconds of finagling, the lock clicked. Joel tried the door and it came open. No fuckin’ way. 

Joel grinned in disbelief, then quickly slipped inside and closed the door behind him, re-locking it. He couldn’t believe it had been that easy. He almost felt sorry for you, living in such a poorly secured area. Well, it was good for him, at least. And it absolved some of his guilt. If it was so easy to find out all this information about you, surely the universe wanted him to get closer?

He flipped on the light switch and looked around at your living quarters. It was around the same size as his apartment, maybe even a bit smaller. A gray loveseat was pushed against the wall, with quite a few clothes thrown over it. A wooden coffee table housed a small TV plus some stacked books. In the corner was a table with random things on it; mail, pencils, a couple business cards. At the back of the room was a kitchenette; just an oven, a tinted beige fridge, and counter space. Most of the counter was taken up by a dirty microwave and a sink.

Joel took this all in, then went to where he knew the real prize would lay. To the right was a door that led to your bedroom. He hesitated only a second before entering.

The first thing Joel noticed was that it was messy. Clothes were strewn everywhere; draped over a rolling chair that sat in front of a narrow desk, spilling out from a dresser, and just on the floor. Your bed was unmade, with a dark blue blanket and an excessive amount of stuffed animals. A laptop, covered completely in stickers, lay on the bed, charging. On the desk was a couple plates and a cup; no doubt you kept forgetting to bring them to the sink.

He checked the app again. Still at work. It was a few minutes after 9 now. Plenty of time, no need to worry. 

Joel wanted to explore your dresser, but reminded himself of the reason he was here so early. Exiting your bedroom, he went back to the living room. Looking around, he identified a small shelf Command-stripped to the wall with a few character figures. That could work.

He brought out the camera. It was pretty small, so hopefully it would go unnoticed for a while. He carefully positioned it in the corner, partially hiding it behind a figure.

This camera had an app, too. Joel chuckled. You were teaching him so much about modern technology. He opened it up; he’d already set it up beforehand to test it. It was still working perfectly; he had a clear view of the living area and kitchenette.

Good. Now that the camera was out of the way, there was just one more thing to do before he could explore further.

Joel walked over to the fridge and opened it. He was looking for any opened drinks, and found them: An open can of Pepsi, and a Corona beer. He took them both out and placed them on the counter.

He reached inside his satchel and brought out one of the “surprise tools” he’d packed: A bottle of Rohypnol. He had spent a lot of time, money, and energy obtaining this, but he’d gotten it in the end. This was the key ingredient.

Joel dropped one tablet in each of the drinks, swishing them around to be sure they dissolved. Then he put the drinks back where they were.

Well. That was both tasks done, and it was barely 9:15. He still had time.

Joel decided to go back to your bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he made a beeline for the dresser, where he hurriedly searched through the drawers for a specific item. And at the bottom left compartment, he found it; your panties. 

There were quite a few pairs. He pawed through them, hardly knowing which one to grab. He took off his gloves and finally grabbed two pairs; one was a light blue pair in the thong style, with a little white bow at the front. The other was a pair of plain gray boyshorts.

He hesitated, then lifted them to his nose. He nearly reeled from the scent- it smelled, well, it smelled like a woman. A natural pussy. He sat stiffly on the bed and laid on his back, bunching your panties up in his fist and placing his nose just above the gusset. Fuck, they smelled crazy good. There was a day that Melanie had come home to Joel jerking off in her panties, and he’d incorrectly assumed she’d be into it. Instead she yelled at him for “ruining a good pair of panties with his degeneracy.” He’d been so embarrassed he couldn’t even point out she could just wash it.

He hoped you were into it.

Joel’s cock was stiff in his pants, but he didn’t want to relieve it. Not yet. He put the blue thong in his pocket and returned the boyshorts to their drawer. He ought to leave now, and wait.

He double checked that he hadn’t moved anything out of his place, then carefully crept out of the apartment. His heart jumped when he saw movement in the hallway, but it was just a kid. Nothing to get worked up about.

Joel made sure your door was locked, then went back down and exited the building. He strode back to his truck, exuberant and excited now.

Now all there was to do was wait.

It was 9:50, but it felt like the seconds were crawling by.

Today actually hadn’t been an awful shift, but you had been stuck on the register for most of the day. Your feet ached horribly. 

Just ten more minutes, you told yourself. 10 minutes, and then hopefully all the customers would be out the door and you could quickly close down your register.

Sometimes people liked to stick around right up until closing time, and obliviously annoyed everyone working.

However, luckily, today no one was in the mood for those shenanigans. You checked out the last customer at 9:59, right on schedule. Garrett, the assistant manager, locked the doors exactly at 10.

From then it was just a waiting game while he counted up your register. You finally were able to sit down, checking all your notifications from the last couple hours. 

One of your friends had posted about her date with her boyfriend, and you felt a tinge of jealousy. It was apparently so easy for everyone to find a partner, except for you. You didn’t know if you stunk or were secretly disfigured or what. 

You scrolled past her post, deciding not to give in to your envious feelings. Romance would come for you one day.

“You’re good to go,” Garrett called out to you from the office. You sighed, then got up to grab your bag. No reason to stick around. 

After clocking out, you promptly left the store and got in your car. It was always a bit scary getting in when it was so dark. You really ought to start parking closer to the doors, but the parking lot was usually pretty full when you arrived.

You started the car and began driving, eager to eat and go to sleep.

The alarm Joel had set jerked him awake from his nap at 10. He quickly checked the tracker. Still at CJ Midd. Hopefully you would be home in 15 or 20 minutes.

He continued to monitor the tracker for about 10 minutes till it finally moved, then started crawling towards your apartment. Finally. His heart skipped a beat.

More waiting in the dark of his truck, then he looked up to see you were actually pulling up beside him. Jesus. Joel ducked down, suddenly nervous you might see him and recognize him. You were so close, too close. He could hardly breathe.

He kept his eyes tightly shut and his head down, listening to you turn off your car and get out. Joel counted to five, then dared to look up.

You were walking towards the building, and soon disappeared inside. Joel swallowed thickly, then opened up the camera feed. A couple minutes passed before you appeared on the right side of the screen. His mouth hung open and he stared, transfixed, as you threw down your bag, kicked off your shoes, and ran your hand through your hair.

Joel watched you immediately crash onto the couch, laying down for a good couple minutes before shifting into a sitting position. You put your feet up on the table and rested there.

He observed with bated breath. Joel didn’t really know what he would do if you didn’t drink either of the things he’d spiked.

But then, oh happy days, you got up and went to the kitchen, opening the fridge. Blood roared in Joel’s ears as he watched you take out the Pepsi and take a big swig of it.

Good. It was inevitable now. Just a matter of time. He’d be in there in less than half an hour.

You took another sip and put the can down on the counter. Then you opened up a cabinet and came out with a chocolate bar, which you ate on the couch. Joel watched in awe as your movements got slower and slower. You got up, then, apparently changing your mind, laid back down on the couch, stretching lazily. The chocolate fell from your hand and your body sagged, finally succumbing to the rohypnol. 

Joel smiled goofily. He couldn’t believe that had actually worked. It had worked beautifully. He wasted no time grabbing his satchel again and hustling to the building. Honestly he probably should have waited a few minutes to be sure. But his cock was painfully hard in his jeans. He needed release, now. 

He climbed up to the fourth floor again, double-checking that no one was around to watch him slip into a young woman’s apartment. Then he glided up to your door, then nervously lock picked it again. The door came open even easier this time. Seriously, it was like you were begging for this.

Carefully cracking the door open a bit, Joel peeked inside. You were still on the couch, passed out. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, locking it securely.

He was in.

Joel walked over and examined your unconscious body. You snored softly, eyes delicately closed. Heavens above, you were so pretty. Just like Melanie. 

He’d forgotten to bring rope to bind your hands with, but that was okay. Joel lifted your body and carried you bridal-style to the bedroom, depositing you on the bed on your stomach. Then he climbed on and knelt on all fours above you.

He was acutely aware of his heavy breathing. His cock was straining at his jeans, probably already leaking pre-cum.

Joel pulled out his phone and flipped you onto your side. He aimed the camera at your face and snapped a few photos, licking his lips. Those would come in handy in the future.

Then he examined your body some more. His hungry eyes ran over your hair, the curve of your lips, your breasts, and your legs. It was all beautiful to him.

He stroked your cheek and let out a sharp, quiet whine. Your skin was so soft.

He tried to control his breathing, but it was no use. Your faint scent was heady, and he was glad you hadn’t showered- he wanted to indulge in your natural smell.

Joel put his nose to your collarbone and sniffed. Fuck, that smelled good as hell. His lips were parted and he couldn’t help but quickly lick your neck. His cock twitched.

At this point he was just edging himself, so he quickly unzipped his pants and stepped out of them, keeping his boxers on.

He’d already made this promise to himself: he would not take you without your permission. He was a gentleman.

However, as long as he didn’t directly touch your naked body, the only crime committed here, really, was breaking and entering. Oh, and drugging you.

Melanie’s face floated through his mind. She’d called Joel “controlling” and “suffocating” and even “abusive” when she’d demanded a divorce. That bitch. She didn’t know how controlling he could really be. Didn’t know how fucking ridiculous it was to get a restraining order, how it destroyed his world, when all he wanted was to see was his daughter. Their daughter. 24 years old now, was graduating from college next month, and he couldn’t even be at her graduation. The light of his life, taken away by the manipulative liar he once called his wife.

Joel grit his teeth. He looked at you, at your face, that was so like his ex-wife’s. And his feelings were warped. He loved you, for who you could be, and he hated you, for who you were like. It was like he was getting a do-over, a second chance…not at redemption, but at revenge. 

He looked down at your shirt to see that a bit of spit had dripped from his mouth and made a puddle. He was drooling, lost in a dark fantasy. He closed his mouth.

Joel got up and pulled off his black t-shirt, then opened his satchel for the final thing he needed tonight.

The fleshlight.

If Joel couldn’t actually touch you, then he would replicate it as closely as possible. He brought out a small bottle of lube as well. Then he stepped out of his boxers, allowing his thick, throbbing cock to finally spring free and stand at attention. He spread some lube on his shaft, inhaling slightly as he finally felt some respite. He then climbed back on the bed and balanced the fleshlight on your butt and back, aligning it so the hole lined up with where he imagined yours was.

Taking a deep breath, Joel laid on top of you with his cock pressing on the fleshlight. His legs were on either side of your body, slightly squeezing into your butt. He paused, then closed his eyes. Imagined you were fully conscious and panting underneath him, spreading your legs wide to accommodate his fat shaft. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you whined, using one hand to keep your asscheek spread. You looked back at him with teary eyes, driven insane by his edging and teasing.

“You want it?” he demanded, slapping your other asscheek, giving it a reddish tinge. “You want my cock, you needy little bitch?”

“Yes, please please please,” you cried, moving your butt back and forth, rubbing it against his weeping tip.

“You’re so fuckin’-” He licked his lips. “Tell me who your Daddy is.”

You whined. “You are, Daddy, you are.” 

Then you looked back at him again, and your face had morphed to Melanie’s. Joel briefly faltered, then his eyes narrowed. “You greedy whore.”

His ex-wife pouted. “I want it, Daddy. I miss you.”

He dragged in a ragged breath. “You do?”

You nodded.

Joel looked down at the fleshlight and growled, “This is what you get for leaving me.” He gripped the black casing of the toy and slid inside, whining loudly. Panting, he leaned over your unmoving body, one hand gripping the case and the other in your hair. 

Then he started moving, in and out of the fleshlight. A low growl sounded in his throat and he thrusted faster, channeling all the anger and hopelessness he’d felt for the past year. Your body bounced along with his movements.

Joel sunk his teeth into your shoulder, biting softly. Then he licked your face all over; your neck, your cheek, even a bit of your nose. Though he’d swore to himself he wouldn’t touch you…this wasn’t touching, really. It was basically foreplay. Nothing serious.

He was faintly aware of how he was growling and breathing heavily in your ear. If you were conscious, you probably would be terrified. Good thing you weren’t. He humped your body, fucking the fleshlight with all his might, pretending it was you or Melanie or both, he guessed. Pretending, or perhaps halfway believing, that this was his opportunity to work out his rage.

“Is this too controlling, baby?” Joel whispered, squeezing your asscheek. “I’m the- only one- who dicks you down like this.” He punctuated each phrase with a hard thrust into the fleshlight. “Ungrateful bitch. You’re the controlling one, not letting me see my own daughter. My baby girl.” 

Joel continued to fuck the fleshlight wildly, muttering angry words all the while and occasionally drooling when he got too lost in a violent fantasy. His fingers gripped your shoulder harshly- it would probably leave marks you wouldn’t be able to explain in the morning. No matter. It was still fine- you were still fully clothed. He was not doing anything wrong. 

“Ah! Joel, fuck, please, it’s so big-” you gasped, eyes rolling from the overstimulation.

“You regret leaving me now, don’t you?” Joel demanded.

You nodded desperately. “Yes, please, fuck, I never should have left, I’m so fuckin’ stupid-”

“Damn right,” he muttered, continuing to fuck you. “You’re lucky you’ve got a tight pretty pussy. Fuckin’ falling apart on my cock, ain’t you?”

Whining loudly, you cried, “C-Can I come back, Daddy? Please, I’m nothing without you, so useless, so stupid, pleaseplease Daddy I wanna c-comee-”

With a shout, Joel’s balls tightened and, mouth hanging open, he emptied his load in the fleshlight. His thrusts got sloppier, and his cock slipped out, slotting neatly between your asscheeks. He didn’t falter, just jerked himself off on your butt and shot thick, white bursts of cum. Joel buried his face in your neck and humped you wildly, riding out his orgasm without a second thought.

When he’d finally drained his balls, Joel collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. It was a minute or two before he realized the gravity of the situation. He’d ruined your clothes, and probably left bruises on your arms as well. Shit. He’d gotten too into it.

He examined the damage. There were a few fairly thick lines of cum on your pants and shirt, and some more had leaked out of the fleshlight onto your blanket. Joel first picked up the fleshlight, then took it to your bathroom to wash it. He let the sink run through it while he grabbed some paper towels and came back to where you lay. Miraculously, you were still sound asleep. He looked at his phone. Nearly 11. You would stay unconscious for another six hours, at the very least. 

Joel wiped the cum off your body as best as he could, and luckily it didn’t smear too bad. You might question the random stain on your clothes, if you even saw them before washing them, but you’d have no idea what caused it. 

He dabbed at the marks in your skin as well, but there wasn’t much he could do about them. At least he hadn’t drawn blood.

Once he’d cleaned you up, Joel pulled his clothes back on, then went back to the bathroom and switched off the water. He shook the excess out of the fleshlight, then dried it off a little with some paper towels. He’d probably have to clean it again later just to be sure.

Then he came back to the bedroom and carried you to the living room again. Since you’d passed out on the sofa, it was best if you woke up there as well. Joel arranged you in what he was pretty sure was your original position, then gently kissed you. You were so beautiful. He felt a little embarrassed that he’d projected his anger onto you like that.

At least he felt much better now, having practically beat up the fleshlight.

Joel reminded himself again that he’d done nothing wrong, besides maybe breaking and entering. And even then, security had been so flimsy you’d basically asked for it.

He was owed this, really. 

And since the universe had clearly aligned to let Joel into your life, maybe he’d visit again sometime.

Giving you one final kiss on the forehead, Joel shouldered his satchel and left you on the couch, his own little Sleeping Beauty.

His pretty darling.

Maybe even his future wife.

The world was blurry and dark as you slowly opened your eyes. You were disoriented and dizzy.

What…happened?

You looked around. You were still in your work clothes, laying over the sofa. What time was it? Why were you still in your day clothes? And what was that smell?

You struggled to sit up, and your head pulsed, sounding like a train whistle. It was difficult to make anything out in the shadows.

After laying down for a bit longer, you finally managed to hobble your way to the light switch, bumping into furniture and holding your head the whole way there. The lights were flicked on and you quickly closed your eyes.

The light took some getting used to, but you slowly reopened your eyes and eventually were able to look around, albeit with the headache remaining. Your shoulders ached too, you guess because you’d slept in an awkward position.

The room looked…the same. Everything seemed to be in place, nothing was missing or moved. 

You tried to locate the source of the faint smell, but it was like it was following you. Eventually you gave up and figured you’d fallen asleep right after eating something. You couldn’t identify it though. But it smelled…heavy. And wet.

Now, where was your phone?

You looked around for it, and it turned out to be still in your bag. You squinted against the harsh blue light.

It was 5:52AM. What a strange, random time to wake up.

You thought hard about last night. The last thing you remembered was getting home from work and grabbing a snack. That was it. You hadn’t fallen, hadn’t drank, weren’t even particularly tired.

It was a mystery. Maybe you were more exhausted than you thought.

Eventually you made your way to your bedroom, still feeling sick. To your surprise, the smell got a little stronger when you entered.

It was unclear why. The room looked the same, nothing out of order or obviously missing. 

You followed your nose, and it led you to the bed. It still wasn’t strong, but it was definitely there.

You put your nose to the bedspread and smelled, and nearly gagged. Ugh. Did you spill something there and forget about it?

In any case, you clearly needed to wash your sheets. You didn’t do that often enough anyway.

However, that could wait until later. You had work again later today, but it was way too early to be awake…plus you were still sleepy…

Crawling onto your bed, you shimmied out of your pants, then laid down, too tired to even get under the blanket.

You tried to fall asleep, but after a couple minutes shifted position and felt something touch your right foot. You jerked, then reached down to grab whatever it was.

You brought it out and held it up to the slowly advancing twilight.

It was a glove.

[endofthelinegang]

falling together

authors note: if you're new here welcome, if not you know what's going to happen, spoilers sort of for the bolts of thunder. comfort fic, and just know that if you ever need to talk to anyone about anything even if its just to nerd out and make a friend please know my messages are always open and that i see all of you and i love all of you unconditionally. anyway, proceed with the bob fic.

If you heard one more bit of bickering, you were going to snap.

Between the phone calls between Sam and Bucky arguing with each other under the table away from their legal guidance, the girls and Walker fighting over stupid little comments he just had to make for no discernable reason, and Alexei walking around screaming instead of just talking about everything, you were practically picking at your skin to get out of the general living spaces.

It wasn't even that they were at each other's head that the tension was too much, it was actually more the noise of it all. Most annoying was the way that everyone thought they could talk to you about all of their issues all day every day and of course you cared and of course you wanted to listen. But my god it was practically useless, any and all advice you gave was just thrown away in an instant. Once that gratification of having a solution was there, it was like the issue never existed to them at all.

So there you sat on your comforter, bed still perfectly made with earbuds in as loud as you could get them with the noise cancellation on and the Do Not Disturb function on—even if no one texted you, your phone would be certain to tell you your volume was absurdly loud and ruining your ears.

You would have rather had the TV on as some mindless noise and to play on the phone, but then there was a chance one of them would happen to hear you sitting there and invade your space some more. Worse, they might try to watch TV with you and then that would lead to everyone eventually being in your room and possibly bickering.

With your phone thrown to the foot of your bed, you laid your head on your pillow. It felt odd to lay there without a blanket or source of warmth, in fact the thought gave you cold chills despite the perfect temperature being in the room. Not usually choosing to lay on your back for comfort, your arms and hands were unsure of what to do. So they laid gently in your lap and all you could hear was music, and all you could feel eventually turned into basically nothing.

Peace was overwhelming, so much so that it made you succumb to one of the most simple things peace could grant you. A fucking nap.

Headphones laid silently in your ears, your phone was somewhere not bugging you, until all of a sudden your body was made aware that it existed again. Unsure quite yet, you remained in a sleepy haze, until your body connected all of the dots: you were being very gently shaken.

Ordinarily, the correct response would be to sit up and see what was needed, maybe even smile and stretch out while listening. Instead, grabbing the hand and pushing backwards was the choice made without your eyelids even opening to see who or what was going on.

"I-I'm sorry, I just... I thought."

Fuck.

You could hear the voice past the noise cancellation, though it was muffled it made you sit up and rip the earbuds out, throwing them haphazardly around the bed and look to the space nearest your bed that was now entirely void of anyone.

Making your hands into fists, you shook them as you got out of bed and rushed down the hall to catch up.

"Wait, wait, wait," you were whispering-yelling, seeing that the day had come to be dark and you knew that the older folk did in fact prefer their sleep to start around then.

Chasing him made you think: when was the last time you saw him? You had been noticing everything else and focusing on everything at once, but when was the last time you had seen Robert?

You tried to count back the days, but it blurred together. Had it been two? Three? More?

That realization hit like a gut punch. You had been so wrapped up in managing everyone else’s meltdowns that you hadn’t noticed your own world—the one person who mattered most—slipping into the background.

Your bare feet padded against the cool floor as you turned the corner. “Robert!” you hissed, still trying not to shout.

He was already at the far end of the hallway, just about to turn the corner. His shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller, like disappearing would be easier than confronting… you.

You hated that. You hated that he thought he needed to hide from you.

“Hey,” you said, softer this time, voice catching up to your feet as you got closer. “Baby. Stop.”

And he did.

He didn’t turn around right away, but he stopped, head tilted like he was deciding if facing you would make everything worse. You reached out, your hand brushing his arm gently, and only then did he finally look at you.

His eyes were red. Not glowing with power, not burning with rage. Just… tired. So very tired.

“Oh, Rob…” you whispered, stepping in closer and wrapping your arms around his waist before he could say anything else.

He stood stiffly for a second, frozen in place like a man not used to comfort—but then he melted into you, arms coming up around your shoulders like he needed you to hold him together.

You buried your face against his chest and just held him. Not as Sentry. Not as some all-powerful being barely containing a force of destruction inside him. Just Robert. Your Robert.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbled into your hair. “You looked so peaceful. I just—I didn’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Your heart shattered in slow motion. You leaned back just enough to see his face, cupping it in your hands.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve felt it.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been dealing with so much. I didn’t wanna add to it.”

“You don’t add to anything, Rob,” you said fiercely. “You’re not a burden. You’re not too much. You’re mine. And I want to be here for you the way you are for me.”

The silence between you was heavy but tender, like neither of you needed to speak to be understood. You guided him gently back toward the bedroom, fingers entwined with his, thumb brushing against his knuckles with each step.

Once there, you sat him down and climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling a blanket off the top of the bed frame over both of you. Your hands never left him—one stroking up and down his arm, the other resting on his chest where you could feel the steady, if somewhat erratic, beat of his heart.

He laid his head in your lap without asking. You threaded your fingers through his hair, soothing in slow, rhythmic movements.

He didn’t say anything after that. Not for a while.

You could feel him trying to breathe slowly—trying to make it look effortless, like nothing was wrong. But you knew him. You knew the way his body carried pain. You could feel it beneath your fingertips in the tension of his shoulders, in the way he held his jaw like it might fall apart if he let it go slack.

He wasn’t okay. And he hadn’t been for a while.

You let your fingers trail gently over his scalp, his hair soft and curling around your knuckles as you combed through it again and again. That kind of touch didn’t fix things. But it reminded him—hopefully—that he was here. That someone saw him. That he mattered.

The room was dark except for the soft golden spill of a bedside lamp, and the music had long since stopped. But it was quiet now. Finally, quiet. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, you weren’t dreading the silence. It was giving him room to breathe.

You felt his voice before you heard it—a small tremble in his chest.

“I don’t know who I am sometimes,” he whispered. “I wake up and there’s this fog, and I try to remember what it felt like to be… human. But it’s like the edges are gone. I keep reaching for myself and finding nothing.”

Your hand stilled for a moment. You let his words settle before you spoke.

“I see you,” you said softly. “Even when you can’t. I see Robert. I don’t love you because you’re strong. Or because you’re the Sentry. I love you because… when you talk to plants, you whisper. Because you always wait for people to catch up, even though you could fly ahead. Because you care, so much, it hurts you. And I know that doesn’t feel like enough to you right now. But it’s still you.”

His fingers curled in your blanket, gripping tight. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you admitted. “It’s not easy to hold on when you’re falling apart. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. Even when it’s dark. Especially when it’s dark.”

He blinked up at you slowly, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. There wasn’t drama in his crying—no shaking sobs or heaving breaths. Just quiet tears that he didn’t bother to wipe away.

Maybe that was worse. He was always so quiet when he was slipping.

You reached down and brushed one away with your thumb, as gently as you could. Like you were afraid you’d break him by accident.

“I’m scared of being loved,” he confessed. “Because if you really knew how broken I am, you wouldn’t love me anymore. And then I’d lose the only thing keeping the Void from swallowing me.”

Your chest ached in that deep, marrow-level way only grief and love and helplessness can cause.

“I have seen it,” you said. “I’ve seen the cracks. I’ve seen the days you can’t talk. I’ve seen you stare at walls like they’re screaming at you. And I still love you. Not because I’m delusional. Because I chose to love all of you. Even the parts that hurt.”

He closed his eyes, and you felt the air go out of him in a slow, trembling exhale.

“Okay,” he said.

It was a small word. Quiet. Shaky.

But it meant he believed you. Maybe not all the way. Maybe not forever. But right now.

He believed you.

You hesitated for a moment, then gently tugged the sleeve of your hoodie down past your wrist. Quietly, without saying anything, you wrapped it around his hand—his left wrist, the one he always rubbed raw when he was struggling but trying not to show it. The fabric hung a little loose, warm from your skin. You placed your hand over his, like sealing a promise.

“Hold onto this,” you whispered. “If you ever forget, just look at it. Or touch it. Or... just know I gave it to you because I love you. Not the powerful part. Not the superhero. Just you.”

His breath hitched again, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something closer to relief. He didn’t say anything. He just curled his fingers around the cuff and nodded like he’d just been handed a lifeline.

So you stayed like that. One hand in his hair, the other wrapped around him. Guarding him not from the world, but from that part of himself he kept caged and silent and hurting.

You didn’t need to save him. He wasn’t a problem to solve.

He just needed you to stay.

And you would. For as long as he needed.

[bigassmoonchild]

Lost

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: It's not the first time you've plummeted into another timeline. It is the first time in years that you've met a Deadpool still doing the anti-hero (vigilante?) thing. And unfortunately for you, you're stuck with him.

Content Tags: DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS! I'm being so serious, this entire series is going to be stock-full of spoilers for that movie. Some mentions of blood, lots of cursing (as expected). No use of Y/N

A/N: I promise I'm working on stuff, work just has had me super busy the last few weeks (months if I'm being more honest) and school is coming up soon for me :(. Anyways. I wanna lick Logans abs. This is hopefully gonna be a slow burn ;)

(p.s. lmk if you wanna be added to a tag list in the future)

(p.p.s. this is mostly story building with a tad bit of plot)

(p.p.p.s. i'm trying to write in a less past tense style, forgive if that changes throughout the story, im so fuckin delirious)

It’s jarring. Every single time it happens is so jarring. It’s almost like getting whiplashed with how hard you are pulled backwards and then your stomach drops; it feels as though you’re falling. The same sensation you get right before you fall asleep, like your body can’t tell if you’re still alive.  

You’ve never been thrown so forcefully out of it. Usually you land, stumbling on your feet. This time, though, you’re thrown onto your back. Your skull cracks against the pavement underneath you and it feels like all the air has been forced out of your body.  

“Fuuuuck,” it feels pushed out of your body, your chest heaving in short gasps. Rolling onto your side, all you can see in front of you is the street. Whatever Earth you’ve landed on, it doesn’t seem like it’s good.  

There’s blood splattered everywhere, cars and buses are on their sides or flipped over. Glass is scattered on the streets. Maybe you just arrived right after the battle of New York, maybe this world has been abandoned.  

You struggle to your feet, stumbling and catching yourself before standing fully upright. You can feel the warmth of some blood on your back before the skin reconnects, leaving behind the burn of cement rash.  

Behind you, there’s panting. It’s heavy and sounds almost wet. Turning, you look at two men who were behind you. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,”  

... 

You tried walking away. Removing yourself from the situation like the adult you were, but no. It wasn’t working. You never got more than a few feet away from the two before being teleported back within their range.  

The two men, Deadpool and the poor Wolverine stuck with him, just watched for some time. Deadpool was oddly quiet through most of it, although you can almost hear the monologue in his thoughts, his head following as you walked in different directions before snapping to where you appeared. Dogpool, the ugly thing, sat in the arms of its alternate person just panting heavily. It never stopped panting.  

You huff angrily, throwing your back against the wall right next to Wade. Crossing your arms, you look down at Mary Puppins sitting in his arms. She went cross eyed while looking up at you, staring blankly at the wall next to you and yourself.  

“Who shit in your biscuit this morning?” Wade asks you, head tilting slightly. You have to brace yourself and breathe deeply to make sure you don’t roll your eyes. You never realized how thankful you were that your home Earths Deadpool ended up in the void before you even knew what abilities you had.  

Glancing down at him with just your eyes, you find that he still hasn’t looked away. “Whoever the hell sent me here, that’s who,” you respond. There’s pain in your voice, you can hear up, but also the utter annoyance that most Deadpool's just bring. “Didn’t know the Wolverine on this world was still alive,” you nod your head towards Logan like you’re gesturing to him.  

It’s quiet. You’ve somehow silenced Wade Wilson, the merc with a mouth. You watch his chest expand in a deep inhale and it caves back in as he exhales deeply.  

“He isn’t,” and your brows furrow. Other than the TVA, you don’t know any other casual dimension jumper. Even they were a stretch, you know, they didn’t deserve to be able to do that.  Somehow, they were able to master it. You think he can see the confusion on your face as your eyes flit back and forth between them. Logan’s still eating whatever it is he had in his hand. “The TVA,” he takes a breath, and you have to interrupt. 

“Why did they bring him here?” You shake your head, brows furrowing further.  

Wade shifts his head side to side. “They didn’t bring him here, sunshine,” his voice perks up. “I did,” and he has the widest smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“I don’t,” you pause and rub your face, looking down at the ground. “I don’t even wanna know why or how,”  

“’Cause I'm Marvel Jesus,” is his quick quip back. He stands suddenly, his back popping and cracking as he stretches himself. “Alrighty, Peanut, let’s get going home,” he says to Logan (maybe it was to Mary Puppins, you’ve got no idea), and there’s a little pep in his step. “C’mon puppy!” Wade calls and you get yanked again and appear just a few feet ahead of him.  

With a roll of his eyes, Logan stands and tosses his food off to the side. “I’m going to go figure things out on my own,” he says. Turning away, you watch as Logan walks off from the two of you and you hope to whatever being is out there that you get pulled along with him, but he isn’t able to make it more than a few steps before Wade starts talking again. 

“Oh no you don’t! I’ve waited far too long for this meetup!” Wade calls out, and you see Logan stop in his tracks. His shoulders slump, almost like he’s struggling with a decision he’s about to make. “Blind Al isn’t all she’s cocained up to be, we need a third in our little house of horrors,” he snickers a little. 

You’re really hoping it doesn’t last forever, but when you finally make the trek to Wades apartment that feeling almost vanishes (almost). It’s homey, although the apartment itself is small and cramped with two people already there. You’ve met a few Als before, but only a small number of them weren’t blind. 

It was only in passing though. You could recognize that woman anywhere. Her eyes were always a striking feature, and the few who weren’t blind always carried this sort of knowledge within them as they followed you when you walked by them.  

This Al seemed sweet, although listening to Wade tell you about her was a little odd. You couldn’t fully tell if he was joking about her being able to see cocaine, but there’s been worse you’ve interacted with.  

Speaking of worse, Logan would not let you out of his sight at all thus far. You could feel his eyes boring down on your back the entire walk to the apartment, and even when you got inside and completely ignored everything Wade was saying (a lot of it was just telling you and Logan about the apartment and what to not touch, oddly enough) he would not let you leave his sight.  

Even just checking out what type of T.V this world had to offer left you with his stare. You begin to browse their small selection of DVD’s when you finally speak up. 

“Might wanna take a picture,” it was quiet, but you knew he could hear you. “It’ll last you longer,” but there was no response. Usually, it was the Bucky Barnes of the Earth that had the staring problem, it had never been the Wolverines.  

They always made their problems with you obvious. They’d never pulled this type of behavior, and it was strange. For the first time in years, you had someone act strange and you couldn’t figure out how to go about confronting it.  

“Who’re you?” Logan finally spoke up, quieting Wade in the middle of his rant.  

You swallow thickly. “I’m not the person you think I am,” and you cringe internally. It always sounded dumb when you said it, but you never knew what else to say. Who knows if there’s another you in this world, or maybe even Logans. “Whoever I am, or was, to you? That’s not who I am,” but you’d never met another one of you.  

There’s the thud of glass on wood, it's thick and there’s no way that it isn’t a beer bottle.  “I’ve never met you in my life. Have you?” Assuming he was talking to Wade, you turn as best as you can while still crouched in front of the TV to look at him.  

He’s shrugging, opening his mouth for a response before Logan beats him to it. “What the hell is it that you can do, anyways? Are you a mutant? Or just another fucked up creation by a government?” You bark a laugh.  

“I’m just one of God’s fucked up mistakes, that’s what,” and you look down with a sigh, shaking your head. “I really don’t know. My world didn’t have mutants, not like others do. It was always some botched work done by doctors in basements,” Wade looks appalled.  

His eyes find some spot on the wall, and he smiles at it. “It’s like looking into a mirror. Although a lot less ballsackey and not as interesting,” you have to shake your head.  

Logan clears his throat. “What do you mean, your world didn’t have mutants,” you smile at him.  

“My timeline doesn’t exist anymore,”  

[theleavesofwesteros]

cookie run - Bob Reynolds x GN!Reader

A/N: Even though I wanted to come back with a Loki fic, I finally managed to watch thunderbolts (twice in the past week) and the brain worms made me write this. Sorry, I'm obsessed with him (with all of them). I hope I've managed to do him justice and that this isn't awful as it's midnight where I am and I'm dead tired lolll. I'm very hopeful that I'll write more about these losers (affectionate). please enjoy <333

tw: one mention of vomit, one mention of meth (sign twirling chicken), two idiots in love (deserves a warning), ava's takeout box (it's gnarly ;) ), like one sentence mention of the void, talk of loneliness

words: 2017

ps: thanks for the divider!!! @cafekitsune

You’d never really thought you’d get to do this. Well, you’d already done it once or twice, but still. You were going up the elevator of the newly repurposed Avengers Tower. A novel, unexpected perk of having randomly met Yelena in a drugstore about a year ago. She’d been in New York for some odd job at the time, and had been in the drugstore by your apartment, buying gauze and painkillers. You’d gone in on a whim on your way home from work, needing some vitamin supplements, which happened to be in the same aisle she’d been in. You remember complimenting her on her hair, and how it had started up a conversation, which had led to an exchange of numbers and lots of subsequent texting. Her job didn’t allow for much time to see one another in person, but it allowed for texts and facetimes paired with nightly drinks and debriefs.

You were happier now that Yelena’s permanent home seemed to have become New York, because it meant way more chances to actually hang out. But she loved to leech off of your apartment’s proximity to a really nice bakery with high quality bakes. Even worse, she’d brought a box of brownies back to the Tower once and the one leech had turned into six.

The ‘New Avengers’, as they were now known, had even added you to some new group chat with a primary function to beg you for more desserts from the bakery. At this point, you felt like you should be getting paid at least a little something for delivery of goods to a bunch of superhumans.

The group chat had lit up with messages at around noon today with Alexei, Yelena and John asking for yet another box of chocolate chip cookies. Ava had followed by sending a prayer emoji, and Bucky had sent a thumbs up, which was his way of signalling that he agreed with the request. You’d decided to take pity on them, because they’d been on a rough mission a mere few days ago and you hadn’t seen them since their return. 

When the elevator finally opened on the right floor, you were surprised by the serene silence that greeted you. Maybe they’d all finally managed to broker some sort of ‘silent time’ deal, which you were sure Bucky in particular would enjoy. You looked around as you walked further into the open room.

“… Hello?”

A head popped out from behind a wall.

“Hey!” Bob replies, shooting you a sort of hesitant and confused smile.

“Oh, Bob! Hi… are the others.. here…? I got the cookies they begged for.”

He frowns slightly.

“Did you not check your phone…? I texted in the group chat a while ago. They sort of left on an urgent mission two hours ago.”

Your face falls.

“Oh. I didn’t check… I just went right after work.” You groan slightly, throwing your head back to look up at the ceiling in annoyance.

“Hey, hey… it’s fine, you know. They should be back tomorrow, anyways. The cookies will still be fresh.” He reassures you with a bashful smile, standing up from the armchair he’d grown fond of reading in.

You nod in response, moving over to the kitchen to set the box of cookies on the marble counter right as Bob approaches.

“You could stay.” He offers furtively.

You chance a glance at him.

“No. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose. I’m sure it’s peaceful here without them-”

“It’s actually pretty lonely… Quiet has always made me antsy. I don’t know how you live alone and stuff.” He admits.

“Yeah… I get you. Sometimes I freak out by how quiet my place is, too. Makes it real easy for thoughts to spiral.”

Your gazes meet and you share a small smile.

“… How are you feeling? Not… joining them yet?” You ask cautiously.

He shakes his head.

“I’ve been doing better lately…” He spares a glance to you. “But… yeah, some days are harder. Just… don’t wanna risk…” He clears his throat as he trails off.

You nod and move to gently pat his shoulder, but stop short, catching yourself. You knew Bob could be a bit hesitant with physical touch with people he didn’t really know. You didn’t want to assume the amount of space you took up in his life, and so you retracted your hand slowly, acting as if you’d gone to pick some lint off his clothing.

He smiles as he sees what you were wanting to do, his cheeks warming just slightly.

He clears his throat.

“Really. Please stay for dinner. Or a movie, or something. I was dreading having another dinner alone anyway. I can cook for us.”

You smile at his generous offer.

Out of all of them, you found that besides Yelena, Bob had been the easiest for you to befriend. He didn’t open up very easily. Well, none of them did, really, but he was more particular about how he went about it. And obviously, he’d have bad days where no one could really get as much of a word out of him, so the friendship between the two of you took patience more than anything else. However, it was evident that you both wanted it to work, and when it worked, it was great.

“Yeah? You’re becoming the Tower’s very own housewife, huh?” You tease, looking over to the empty sink and the loaded drying rack.

“Hey, superheroes never talk about their house cleaner, but their asses would be toast without one.” He boasts, opening the fridge to look at the ingredients.

He tilts his head, his shaggy brown hair bouncing slightly with the motion.

“Uhh…” He pauses, assessing his options. “Do you feel like chicken?”

You snort.

“Is that all you guys have in that massive fridge?”

He shuffles some things around in the fridge, checking for more dinner possibilities.

“…Um, okay, yeah. There’s also a box of takeout from Ava that is slowly going bad. Might’ve grown legs by now.” He says, popping his head out from behind the fridge door to shoot you a playful grin.

You make a face.

“Chicken, please.”

He gives you that sort of endearing side smirk he tends to do as he pulls the chicken out of the fridge. You, on the other hand, move to dispose of Ava’s takeout. From the smell of it, it really could have grown legs. And ran a marathon with them, too.

You chat amicably as he cooks, making amicable small talk.

“Did you learn to make this dish from your time as a sign slinging chicken?” You ask as you set the table for the two of you.

He groans and throws his head back while stirring the chicken as it cooks in a pan.

“Why did I ever let Yelena spread that part of my CV around?”

“Spread it around? It’s only me, Bob.” You laugh.

He raises a brow. “Dangerous enough, if you ask me.”

“I’m not a secret agent or something. So don’t worry, I won’t spread that sensitive information around.”

He huffs.

“Not why it worries me that you know about that.”

“Why then?” You tilt your head. “Oh, is it because you’re scared I’ll want to see pictures? Wait. Do you still have the costume? Because if that’s the case-”

“Oh, nah. The original one had to be burned because I threw up while wearing it. Meth. And stuff.”

You burst into laughter, and he turns his head to look at you as you do, a smile making it onto his face, too.

“Okay, just the pics, then.”

“Uh huh. I’ll try to scrounge some footage up for you. But only if you swear a blood oath not to spread it around to the fellow sign slingers here. They can’t learn my technique, y’know.”

The banter flows easily, and it all feels comfortable. It’s like the minimalistic décor of this floor of the Tower turns colourful and bright and grows wings and the whole room gets warmer. Being here, with Bob, feels like getting hugged by the very air you two breathe in.

Just as you’ve started to dig in, you ask something that’s come to mind while sitting at the dinner table.

“How does your dynamic even work? All of you, I mean. Is it more… family like now? Awkward family dinner? What are we talking?”

He snorts, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Awkward family dinner…” He mulls it over. “Yeah, I guess. I mean… we try. There’s usually at least someone missing from the table, but I think… yeah, I think we all try in our own way to make something of this place, to make it more ours. Not just like… for each individual, y’know? Think we’ve all been alone for too long to keep that up.”

You don’t even know why you asked him that, but it relieves you to hear that they all try for each other. That they, that Bob, isn’t alone anymore. You nod your head, smiling softly.

“… Is it ever lonely for you to live alone? I mean… I dunno if you have friends coming over often or something…” He says, taking a bite of food right as he finishes speaking, as if to keep himself busy.

“I mean, I have some friends coming over, sure. ‘Lena when she’s feeling particularly annoyed by you guys. No offense. Or other friends, yeah. But it’s not constant or too often. So yeah, I guess it gets lonely sometimes. Winter is worst, I find. The shadows feel longer somehow. Creepy.”

He nods, seeming perturbed by something.

“So… like no… no… permanent visitors to your apartment lately?” He asks casually, though he doesn’t seem quite as nonchalant as he might be trying to be.

You purse your lips.

“Well, nah… I’ve been busy with work, so I haven’t really had time for any sort of hangouts or anything. Is that what you meant?”

He nods quickly, quickly eating another forkful. His shoulders seemed lighter all of a sudden.

“Cool. Cool, yeah. Not the work adding up, I mean. But just the… yeah.” He shuts up after that.

You smirk down at your plate in confused amusement, and you two finish off your dinner in pleasant, if not somewhat awkward, silence.

You settle in on the couch after washing up post-dinner. You sit in the middle of the couch, with lots of space to spare on either side, but Bob seems content to sit pretty close to you. You find that you don’t mind. You let Bob pick the movie, and he ends up settling on some sort of slasher film from the 90s.

As the movie starts building up the scares, you feel him shuffle closer to you just slightly.

“… S’okay if you’re scared.” He says softly, moving his hand over the back of the couch in a slightly laggy move, as if pushing through resistance.

You look over at him.

“I’m okay for now.” You reassure him with a small smile. “Is this you saying you’re scared?”

“Wha- No. Nah.” He says with a little huff. “I mean… I’ve seen this before, so it’s fine.” He admits sheepishly, the bravado dropping slightly.

Your laughter makes the back of your head hit his arm softly. You pause, and look over at him, only to find him watching you with a small smile on his face, making his smile lines show.

You feel warm all over again and move to pull away.

“No… stay. Please.” He whispers, not moving at all.

“Are you sure?”

He nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, I want you to. I want- yeah.”

You nod and sit up slightly, just so you can sit more comfortably, letting his forearm cushion the back of your neck. You make a point of putting all your effort into going back to watching the movie afterwards. Bob returns his focus to it, too, but when he adds commentary to it now, you can sort of feel more of a confidence, maybe even some smugness, coming from him. You think it suits him.

[27spoons]

Dizzy on the Comedown | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: Denial is a river in Egypt.

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

based on: pretty girls - reneé rapp

warnings: smut (afab!reader), internalized homophobia (nat), period typical homophobia (if you squint), ambiguously queer!reader, angst in my pants, I know nothing about soccer

a/n: technically you can read this part without reading part one but you should read part one anyway <3

wc: 5540

part one / ao3

The chair next to you is empty. 

Again.

It's been empty all week, and despite your best efforts at convincing yourself that it's fine, you can't stop the void from weighing on your conscience. Sure, missing one day was fine. Normal, even. It isn't Natalie if she doesn't miss at least one class a week. 

But there's something about how she's been dodging your calls, the fact that this is the second day in a row she's conveniently missed the one class you two share, and the nagging pit in your stomach that says this absence feels different. 

You try to focus on the lecture—something about the economic structures of ancient civilizations—but the professor’s voice fades into the background.

You knew this would happen. You knew it would end up hurting one or both of you. For once, you're grateful your seat is in the back of the lecture hall because it lets you close your eyes and press your head into your palms in frustration.

The remainder of the lecture is spent in thought, wondering how the hell you're supposed to repair a relationship when the other person doesn't even talk to you.

Ugh.

By the time the lecture ends, your head is far too busy, wondering why the hell she's avoiding you instead of just talking about whatever—

Nope. Actually, that's perfectly in character, now that you think about it. Why talk about things when you could just wall yourself off and refuse to converse over what you deem problematic?

With a roll of your eyes, you stand up from your seat and throw on your backpack, making record time back to your dorm. 

Your first order of business? The soccer schedule Nat gave you at the start of the season.

She has a game tonight. 

Perfect.

If she won't talk like adults, you'll ambush her after her soccer game ends. Either way, you two will talk about this, whether she likes it or not.

You glance down at your watch as you arrive at the soccer field.

4:50, the analog clock flashes back at you—ten minutes to match start.

Truthfully, you've never been that big of a soccer fan. Despite attending most of Nat's soccer games since high school, you don't understand the game. You just know she kicks a ball around a field over the course of an hour and a half. Should you have learned a thing or two by now? Probably. Oh, well. That's a thought for another night. You don't need to understand the game's dynamics to understand that more goals equals win, and winning is good.

Rather than sitting in your usual spot, right behind Nat's bench, you sit in the middle of the bleachers, right in a mess of people, out of view unless you're actively searching the stands for someone. 

When the teams come out onto the field, your eyes find Nat immediately jogging out behind some girl with black hair and tan skin. Instinctively, you shrink further into the crowd as if she would even end up looking your way—because why would she? You know the areas that her friends usually sit in—and you're far from any of them. Regardless, you tug your hood up all the same and hunch over slightly in your seat. 

Right after halftime passes, you make the mistake of stretching your arms above your head in an attempt to relieve the tension that's started building in your back since you began hunching your back. And, of course, that just so happens to be the exact point of time Natalie looks up into the stands as she sets her water bottle down.

Good going. Your one goal was to be stealthy.

You tense slightly, and you honestly don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't her just… glancing away and heading back out to the field. Or… maybe you should have expected it. She has a game to win, after all. What was she supposed to do? Ditch the game and start talking to you?

Either way, you notice she doesn't play nearly as well as she did in the first half. A part of you wonders if you're partially at fault for that.

By the time the game ends, the team manages to come out on top, one to nothing. You're not that big of an asshole that you'd interrupt a post-game celebration, but the second you see the team part and head to the changing rooms, you try and make a beeline for the familiar mop of bleach blonde hair mingling in the mess of soccer players. Yet, she's gone before you can grab her shoulder and talk.

Goddammit.

You suppose she doesn't play soccer because she's slow. 

But you'll be damned if she manages to slip past you again tonight.

You spend a good thirty minutes pacing outside one of the entrances to the locker rooms, already knowing that you could have very well missed her by now if she slipped out the opposite exit, but that's a chance you're willing to take.

She usually takes a shower after a game, anyway. It's not odd for her to spend a little longer in the showers, but thirty minutes is a little excessive. 

Still, in all your wisdom, you decide you'll wait an hour at the most. Not like you have anything better to do tonight, anyway.

By the forty-five-minute mark, you start debating your sanity.

By the fifty-minute mark, you start debating leaving—

The door opens. "Natalie!" You say immediately, pushing off the wall and walking in quick strides towards her, "Nat! Hold on!"

The girl scoffs and keeps walking away, shaking her head in annoyance. "Oh my God. I knew you were gonna try something when I saw you in the stands today."

"You've been avoiding me!" You yell back, "What the fuck was I supposed to do? You haven't been showing up to class, you've been avoiding my calls… I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" She calls back, not bothering to stop and look at you, "I think that maybe you should have waited until I came to you!"

"We both know you wouldn't have, Natalie! You would—" You quicken your stride again, "Fuck! Would you slow down for two seconds?! Or at least look at me when I'm talking to you?"

"If you can't say what you need to say while I'm walking, then it probably isn't even worth saying!" She responds with a humourless chuckle, "Not like I'm running away! Just walking!"

You huff at that, forcing out air through your nose. "Natalie." She keeps walking, "Natalie!" You finally snap, reaching out to grab at her wrist, "Stop fucking walking for a minute!" A beat, "Please." The last comment comes out slightly more desperate than you intend it to, but you don't know what you'll do if she doesn't talk about this with you, "Please, Nat." You breathe out, fully leaning into the desperation at this point, "Fuck, I… I can't lose you over something like this."

That makes her pause despite her initial struggle when you grabbed her wrist. She still doesn't face you, but she does stop walking. 

"You…" You can see the way her face contorts in an expression similar to pain, "You aren't gonna lose me over this."

"Then just…" A shaky sigh, "God, Nat. Just talk to me. Please. Stop… running—literally—just… just talk to me." You release her wrist after a moment longer, drawing your hand back to your side. 

"I can't." She whispers, "God… I just… I can't, okay?"

"Why not, Natalie?!" You can't help how your voice breaks on her name, "Why not?? We used to tell each other everything! When did that change?"

"It hasn't, okay?!" Nat snaps, turning around to look at you. "It hasn't changed! I'm just not ready to talk about this right now! Why can't you accept that?!"

"Because I know you! And I know that you'll just keep fucking avoiding this until it kills us!"

"Oh, wow." She scoffs, immediately throwing up those barriers you've become so accustomed to. "Y'sure think real highly of yourself, huh? That us not talking would kill me? Wow."

"You know that's not what I meant!" You hiss out as you take a step forward, "You know damn well I meant "killing our relationship," not… literally killing us!" You throw your hands up in equal parts frustration and confusion as to why she's acting like this, "Natalie, you have to know I'm not about to force you into a role or something—"

She slaps a hand over your mouth, "Would you lower your voice?!" She hisses at you, glancing around the area to see if anyone overheard, "Fuck! And, no, you aren't forcing me into a "role" because I'm straight!"

You yank her hand off of your mouth, "Natalie, you—!" You two enter a whisper-yelling competition, "Natalie. In case you fucking forgot, you were—" You glance around the area briefly, still focusing on watching your voice, "—tongue-fucking-deep in my fucking vagina the other night!"

Nat blushes furiously at the comment, jaw-dropping, and her entire body freezes. 

But, hey, you're already on a roll. "And, as far as I'm fucking concerned, straight chicks don't spend hours fucking her "best friend"—who is a woman—and fucking enjoy it!"

Her jaw remains on the floor as you finish speaking, and you really don't know what to do from here, but you really don't want her to walk off yet, so you do the reasonable thing.

You grab her face and draw her in for a kiss.

The kiss lasts about five seconds, in which she doesn't kiss you back at all, so you release her face and take a step back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "I—"

Her hand connects with your face with a loud THWACK, causing your head to flick to the side in shock, despite it not being that hard or hurtful.

Your hand moves to the cheek she hit, and it's your turn to drop your jaw. "Did you just… hit me?" You ask in equal parts, shock and reluctant arousal. 

Nat's mouth opens and closes a few times—as if she can't believe what she did either. "I… yes?"

A beat, an exasperated huff, "You don't even know if you hit me??"

"No! I mean… I know I hit you! I just…" She presses a hand to her head, just as confused as you are, apparently. "I didn't expect to hit you!"

"Well… you did??" You blink a few times as you try to recollect yourself, "Why??"

"I don't know?!" She yells back, "I don't know, okay?! I just—!" She groans in frustration, throwing her hands in the air. "Fuck, you piss me off!" And you think that she's about to storm off or hit you again, but she does something very unexpected and very appreciated— 

She grabs your face and kisses you. Properly this time. You hesitate only a moment before you return the kiss, hands immediately wrapping around her waist to draw her closer to your body.

The kiss is short-lived but intense, tongues pressing against each other in a flurry of want, Nat pressing up onto her toes to deepen it further, body pressing flush to yours as her arms wrap themself around your neck in a tight hold.

When the kiss breaks, her face remains close to yours. "Take me back to your dorm." She murmurs against your lips, warm breath fanning over your face. 

You hesitate for a moment, shaking your head minutely. "Nat, we… we need to talk about this—"

"Later." She cuts you off, "Please, later. I promise I'll talk about it with you." A beat, and she looks up at you with wide eyes, "You know I'm good on my word."

And, for all Nat is, she is good on her word. If she says she'll do something, she'll do it.

Another moment of hesitation, a quiet breath leaving your lips, "Y-yeah. Yes. Rachel is always at her boyfriend's place, anyway. We'll have the place to ourselves."

A small grin quirks on Natalie's lips, "Oh, boy. A twin-sized bed in a dorm with walls thinner than paper, all to ourselves. I can't wait."

You scoff and roll your eyes, detaching yourself from her hold, "You're the one that suggested my dorm room, asshole. We could have gone to yours."

She gives an exasperated pout, "But my dormmate is always home. And she snores."

You nudge your head in the general direction of your dorm, "Whatever. C'mon, before I change my mind."

"We both know you won't do that, though." She hums alongside you.

The second you two are in your dorm room, your backpacks are on the floor, and clothes are being quickly discarded.

"For the record," Nat murmurs as she throws her shirt off over her head, "I'm not—"

"Nope!" You cut her off as your hands move to your belt, "Don't wanna hear you say some shit like "I'm not gay" again after the conversation we just had."

The blonde scoffs and rolls her eyes, "I wasn't gonna say that." She falls back onto your bed and wiggles out of her pants, "I was gonna say "I'm not sure how much fun doing this in a twin-size is gonna be" if you would have let me finish."

A grin crosses your face, "Oh, trust me. I fully plan on having you finish multiple times tonight." You shoot her an overexaggerated wink, which earns you a (barely restrained) giggle and eye roll, with her pants being thrown at you. "Hey!" You catch her pants as they hit your chest, "You walked into that one. Only person you can blame is yourself."

"You talk so much, you know that?" She props herself up on her elbows and looks over you, "And you still have far too many clothes on. That needs to change."

"Yeah, I would have been more naked if someone hadn't thrown her pants at me." To tease her a little more, you spend your time folding her pants and delicately placing them on a chair, then do the same with her shirt that was discarded on the floor.

"Dude." Nat groans, "Seriously?" You see her kick her leg out at you through the corner of your eye, and a smirk twitches its way onto your lips as you continue the methodical process of folding clothes. And, much to the dismay of the half-naked girl on your bed, when you start stripping, you give your clothes the same treatment.

"You're fucking with me." She deadpans, eyes narrowed. "You have to be." 

You hum, "I'm just ensuring our clothes don't get wrinkled." 

Nat looks at the unfolded, clean laundry sitting in a heap at the foot of your bed, then back to you. "You have to be fucking with me."

"What can I say? I've decided I should start changing my habits. Starting now."

You get the sense she wants to give you a smart comment but then decides that if she did that, it would likely result in more of your teasing, so she opts for a frustrated huff instead. "Asshole." She grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms petulantly as she collapses back onto the mattress.

You grin as you pad back over to the bed, now in nothing but your underwear, "Yeah. But you knew that before you came back with me." You clamber onto the bed so that you're hovering over her, caging her to the bed. "So, once again, only yourself to blame."

"Yeah, I know." She murmurs, reaching up to wrap her arms loosely around your shoulders, "I seem to be making a lot of interesting choices lately."

"Interesting, but not bad?" You begin to press kisses to the side of her neck, slow and exploratory. 

"Mmm…" She moves her hands, one tangling in your hair, the other coming to rest on your shoulder, "No. Not bad. I make a lot of bad choices, but…" She hesitates, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she bares her neck for you. "No. I don't think this is one of them."

The grin that crosses your face is inevitable, and you pause your actions briefly as you reflect on the comment. "Good." After a long moment, you whisper against her skin, "That's…" You smile wider, pressing your forehead to her shoulder. "Good. That's good. I'm happy you think that."

"You're so cheesy." She pushes your shoulder back slightly so she can see your face, and a smirk appears when she sees your soft, warm smile. "And you're grinning like a dork."

"Can I be happy for thirty seconds? Is that allowed?" You run your hands up and down her sides, which immediately turns into her giggling and trying to get away from you, swatting at your hands. "Oh? Ticklish, Scatorccio?" 

"Asshole!" She laughs, trying to grab your hands. "S-stop! You know I'm ticklish!"

You shake your head, the grin now becoming more unhinged, "Nope! This is what you get for not letting me have a moment! I was trying to be cute!"

"N-no!" She laughs louder, eyes squeezing shut as her attempts remain futile. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I t-take it back!"

You laugh at that, enjoying the way she's squirming under you. And… it's nice. It's really nice, actually. Because this feels more like how a situation with your best friend should be, not… whatever happened at that party.

In your slight haze of thought, you pause long enough for Nat to shove you off of her, pinning you down instead. "Yes!" She laughs triumphantly, grabbing your wrists and holding them to the bed as she straddles your waist, "My turn!"

"Not ticklish, Scatorccio!" You laugh, shifting your hips up under her, both trying to get her off of you and trying to grind yourself against her. "But you're welcome to try!"

"Everyone is ticklish!" She lets go of one of your wrists, moving her hand to your waist and beginning her assault, "I'll prove it!" She laughs, warm and happy.

Admittedly, it's a sound you've missed. You've missed hearing her laugh.

But you still aren't ticklish.

You lay there and let her try, to no avail. "You're so fucking boring." Nat murmurs once she realises she won't be getting you to crack, and she collapses back onto the bed beside you. 

You turn to face her, propping yourself up on an elbow, your free hand trailing to rest on her stomach, "No, I'm just not ticklish. Hell, I touch you the wrong way right now, and you're gonna be giggling." You almost prove your point, but Nat glares at you and grabs the hand you have on her stomach, her expression telling you No.

"Mmmmm… but I'm feeling nice right now. So I won't. Because I'm nice." You grin down at her, and she rolls her eyes and releases her hold.

"Good. Because I'll kick your ass, I still have my cleats in my bag, don't make me use them." A quick glance at her soccer bag, and you briefly consider how long it would take Nat to push you off of her and grab her cleats, holding up her end of the promise.

Until she grabs your face with one of her hands, making you face her. "I'm joking." She murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheekbones. "Didn't I say you think too much?" And she pulls you in for a kiss, far more tender than you would have imagined it to be. 

"Also said I talk too much—" You mumble against her lips, which earns you a harsh pinch on your hip, a clear sign to shut up and kiss me, if you've ever seen one. 

So, you do. What can you say? You're a people pleaser at heart. 

Her lips part to make way for your tongue, and the kiss quickly escalates from there.

Natalie’s hands slide from your shoulders to your back, pulling you closer to her as her lips move against yours with increasing urgency. Her nails dig lightly into your shoulder blades, seeking a path downwards to the clasp of your bra. The second she gets it off, her hands shift to your front, squeezing your breasts greedily.

You smirk into her lips as your tongue presses against hers, saliva mixing together as your right hand flattens against the smooth expanse of her stomach, index gently tracing a small scar just below her rib cage.

She tenses slightly when you brush against the scar and immediately grabs your wrist and guides it lower, down to the waistband of her panties. You hesitate somewhat, but when she squeezes your wrist, you take that as encouragement and dip your fingers below the waistband, fingers quickly beginning to circle the area around her clit, but not quite touching it.

Blunt nails dig into your wrist, but she never breaks the kiss, despite the apparent frustration with your teasing in the way she grabs at you. A smirk makes its way onto your face as you detach your lips from her mouth, attaching them to her jaw, then slowly trailing them down her neck, savouring how she tilts her head to give you better access.

The second you bite down on her neck, attempting to suck a mark into the pale skin, you feel her tug your head back, "N-no. No marks." Nat mutters breathlessly, "Please. Just… nowhere visible." 

"Nowhere visible?" You parrot, considering that for a moment, "I can work with that." Continuing to press kisses to her neck, you agree to her terms and don't leave any marks, but you can't find it in yourself to remove your lips from the smooth expanse.

She seems pleased with the fact you're being so agreeable about that and lets out a quiet sigh, "Good. Now stop teasing."

A laugh is pulled from your throat, "Remember what I said last time? Gotta build that tension. Makes the release ten times as good." But, once again, you are a people pleaser. Specifically, a Natalie pleaser, and you let your fingers brush against her clit once, twice, then you start properly playing with the bundle of nerves.

Nat lets out a hum of appreciation as her fingers come to tangle in your hair, encouraging the way you press your face into the side of her neck as your fingers move, attempting to find a suitable rhythm. Once you do, you let out an appreciative groan at the way her hips grind down into your hand, trying to chase whatever you can give her. 

"Fuck," You murmur against the side of her neck, "God, you're so fucking wet." A shiver makes its way down your spine at the wet sounds you're pulling from the region, coupled with the short, sharp breaths Nat is taking. 

The breathless moan that parts from Nat's lips has you closing your eyes and focusing on your movements, brows furrowing in concentration. Your fingers leave her clit, sliding down through her wetness, then you're sliding two fingers into the warm opening, "Oh, God." You breathe out as your fingers sink down to the knuckle, "You feel so good."

"Not so bad yourself." Nat tries to quip back, but it comes out far too breathless to land the way she intends it to. "You're, ah, good at this." She murmurs out, almost like an afterthought, and you scoff and roll your eyes at the comment.

"Thanks." You mumble back, "I aim to please." 

And, well, you sure as hell aim for that goal.

Two fingers turn into three, Nat's breathless gasps and small whimpers pull from her throat at an increased rate, and it's not long until her nails are digging into your wrist hard enough to sting. 

You get the message pretty quickly. 

"Yeah—" You exhale, mouth trailing back up to her lips, "Wanna feel you come on my fingers." A kiss to the corner of her lips, "Wanna fucking feel you come on my fingers."

A small whimper leaves her lips, and her back arches, "F-fuck, keep doing that, and I will—"

You press your lips against hers, all teeth and tongue and oh god she's whimpering against your lips and—

You feel the way she clenches around your fingers in pulsations, the way her entire body tenses, then slowly relaxes as the pulses subside.

Before you can stop yourself, you retract your fingers from her and immediately press them into your own mouth, making a show of cleaning off the digits, pulling them back with a thin string of saliva connecting them to your lips.

Natalie, for the record, seems to find this very attractive. If the way her jaw goes slack and her eyes darken in hunger is any indication, "Jesus Christ." She stares at you, chest heaving with exertion (despite not doing anything other than lying there), and she's dragging your head back down to lock your lips together, desperate and eager. 

One of her hands curls around the nape of your neck, fingers tugging gently on the strands of hair at the base of your head. Her tongue presses itself past your lips, seeking yours, tasting the remnants of her release on your tongue. A gentle groan parts from her, and after a moment, she draws your tongue into her mouth, sucking on it, and whether she's chasing the taste on your tongue or just doing it because she can, you really don't care. It's hot.

She moves to turn onto her side, facing you, and one of her hands moves to rest on your hip, the other remaining at the base of your skull. Nat slowly rocks her hips into yours, "My turn." She breathes out against your lips, the hand on your hip beginning to trace itself lower with clear intent. 

The blonde hesitates slightly when she pulls back, eyes wide and pale cheeks flushed a shade of red. Her tongue peaks out to lick at her lower lip before she speaks, "I… I want you so bad…"

That comment makes you hesitate momentarily; even Natalie senses it wasn't entirely her to drop something like that. You give her a slight look of confusion at her attempt at being sultry but choose not to comment on the out-of-character line.

"Yeah," You breathe out after a moment, deciding just to move on, "Yeah." And you're kissing her again.

Nat moves her fingers under the waistband of your underwear, moving with purpose to find your warm heat, only slowing for half a second when she feels the wetness at the tips of her fingers. She hums into your mouth, seemingly in approval of her findings.

Unlike you, Natalie doesn't tease. Maybe it's because she already knows you're worked up from getting her off, or perhaps she just prefers getting right into the action, but either way? You're not complaining.

No, it's hard to complain when her fingers play with your clit like it's the most fascinating thing in the world to her, flicking the bud and rolling it between her pointer and middle finger with a satisfied grin on her face.

You push at her shoulder when you feel the grin against your lips, "Stop acting all smug." Comes out in a petulant huff, earning you a small giggle and a few quick circles of your clit.

"What? Am I not allowed to be happy I'm making you feel good?" She teases, voice laced with faux sadness.

"You just started, ass." Your hand moves from her shoulder to the back of her neck, "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Hardly ahead of myself," she muses, fingers starting to move in smaller, controlled circles. "Just remembering what you did last time we did this. You seemed…" She hums to herself, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, "pretty into it."

A scoff, followed by a squeeze of her nape, "Yeah, hard not to be into it when you have a hot chick's hand between your thighs."

That earns you another giggle, and Nat lets her fingers leave your clit in favour of seeking your entrance. "And, for the record?" She moves her lips to your ear, "It's gonna be a long night."

"That a promise?" You gasp as one of her fingers begins to tease, slowly sliding down, "Or just… a thinly veiled threat?" "Oh, baby." Nat purrs, finger sinking into its destination, "It's a guarantee."

And it sure as hell was.

It's well past noon when you wake up if the light streaming through your curtains is proof enough.

Most notably, there's a warm weight on your chest, and that weight you quickly realise belongs to none other than Natalie Scatorccio.

One hand draped over your waist, head resting on right above your heart. Bleach blonde hair is splayed out across your chest, and a soft smile makes its way onto your face at the sight.

She stayed the night.

The sense of relief that immediately crashes over you is palpable, and you let out a breath that you feel like you've been holding since that night at the party.

You aren't quite sure how long you lay there before you realise she's wearing your shirt like it's the most casual thing in the world, and, specifically, it's the shirt you wore last night. Usually, you're not one for cheesy romantic moments, but that? Oh, that makes you feel real good about yourself. Sure, it could have just been a "this is available" type of thing, but you like to imagine it's something a little deeper than that, even if you are being a little delusional. 

Like all good things, the moment of peace and reflection in the afternoon light comes to an end when Natalie begins to stir on your chest, slowly opening her eyes and coming alive to the world.

"Hey." You murmur out, one of your hands coming up to start playing with her hair, "Good sleep?"

She grunts at that, closing her eyes again and pressing her face back into your chest, "'m still sleepy." 

A warm laugh leaves your chest, and you can see Nat's small smile at your reaction to her mumbled comment, and it makes that fuzzy feeling in your chest return at full force. "Doesn't answer my question, though. Was it a good sleep?"

"Mm." She hums, the hand around your waist tightening slightly. "Yeah, actually. It was." The words come out in a sleepy mumble, and you can't help but feel… content, at least for right now. 

And, honestly? You'd be comfortable letting the silence fester. This is a good silence, not the type of silence that has you begging for an out.

Natalie, however, stirs after a few minutes in silence, giving your waist a soft squeeze. "I…" She sighs, opening her eyes and looking up at you from where her head is perched on your chest,  "Look. I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't…" She removes her hand from your hip and gestures to nothing, "I don't know what I am, alright? I mean…" A humourless chuckle, "I get that I'm not straight. Yeah, I've put the pieces together, but I don't, like, know what I am."

You shake your head, shifting slightly to look at her better, "Hey," you shake your head a few times, "that's okay. You don't need to know right now. It's not like I'm about to make you take a pop quiz on what your assumed sexuality is." The words are light, attempting to convey a joke, but there's also this underlying concern buried underneath. "I'm not about to… force you to label yourself, or anything." A sigh, "I mean… it's… complicated. I dunno. Figuring out who you are." Your fingers continue to run through her hair in a soothing motion, "I'm hardly someone who can, like, guide you down a path of self-discovery, but I'll be here if you need someone to talk to, Nat."

Some of the tension leaves Nat's shoulders at your words, but it's obviously still weighing heavily on her mind. Regardless, she gives you a slight nod and rests her head back on your chest, "Can we just… figure it out later?"

"Yeah." You reply softly, "We can figure it out later, Nat. No rush."

"No rush." She parrots, curling into your side again.

a/n: crush act 2 chapter 1 next trust

You snore when you sleep, by the way." Nat comments after a long few moments in silence.

"What??" You sit up, glancing down at her, "No, I do not." 

She gives you an exasperated huff when you sit up, therefore moving her from her (very comfortable) position on your chest. "Yeah, you do. Now lay back down, asshole. I was enjoying that."

"Not a single person has ever complained about my snoring before."

Nat shrugs, "Then they must not have been paying attention. Because you do." A beat, "And it's loud."

Your jaw drops in shock, and you can hardly believe what she's saying, "I genuinely cannot tell if you're fucking with me or not."

The blonde just shrugs as you lay back down, "Guess you'll have to wait and see, huh?"

"You're an asshole, Natalie Scatorccio."

"And here we are, anyways." She hums, "Here we are."