#blame the sound engineering!!!!!!! or whatever

[heaveniowa]

headfirst slide joecals you're EVERYTHING to me and more (x)

[hederasgarden]

Like Oil and Water

Summary: Your office power struggle with Scott comes to a head. Paring: Scott (Twisters) x F!Scientist!Reader Word Count: 2.1K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Enemies to lovers trope, PIV sex, fingering, and dirty talk. Slight angst.  A/N: The story is based on this ask I received. I know there are like…five Scott fans out there besides me so I hope y’all like this. I have no explanation for this fic except I’m horny for Scott. I had an alternative ending to this story but whoops feelings crept in. Thank you to @ryebecca, @whatblogisthis216 and @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking this over. The snazzy summary is courtesy of @writercole.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day. 

David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“I’m never picking up your coffee order again,” Javi swears, handing the Starbucks cup to you. “Whatever happened to coffee with a little bit of cream?”

“Capitalism,” you reply, taking a sip. It wasn’t exactly how you liked it, missing that deep caramel flavor, but you appreciate Javi’s effort. “Thanks again.”

He nods, drinking from his cup as you make your way down to the labs, discussing the results from the latest test. 

“We will need to adjust the relays, but other than that, I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “I’ll let the techs know we need those changes made this week.”

“Sounds good. I gotta make a quick call, but I’ll join you after,” Javi promises, disappearing into his office while you make your way down the hall.

You hear the low timber of Scott's voice before you spot him in conversation with one of the female techs. You loathe to admit it but he looks good, his tanned forearms on display with the sleeves of his white company shirt rolled up. The baseball cap tucked into his back pocket and dusty boots let you know he probably came straight from the field. 

"We need to fix the relays. They failed the test. Again. That's unacceptable," he begins, gearing up for another one of his infamous lectures. "Back when I was at MIT, this type of calibration was the first thing we were taught."

Scott may have been one of the smartest guys on Javi’s team but he was also a smug asshole. From the moment you met him, he irritated you, reminding you of every man who thought he was smarter and better than you just because of his gender. Everyone expected engineers to be difficult to work with, but Scott took it to another level. Who could blame you for taking him down a peg or two when you had the chance?

"So you went to MIT. Big whoop," you begin, delighted to see Scott tense up at the sound of your voice. When he turns to face you, the tech is quick to scurry away. "Call me when you have a PhD from a real school, like Caltech, Scotty."

He hates it when you call him that but today it's your jab about MIT that strikes a nerve. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he exhales harshly. God, that angry look in his eye really did something for you. Too bad his looks couldn’t make up for how much of a dick he could be. 

Scott practically spits your first name out, stepping into your space to loom over you. His broad shoulders and muscular build block your view of the lab. You tilt your head to look at him, fighting the urge to smile. "You really should address me as ‘doctor,’" you calmly remind him, tapping your name badge. 

You arch a brow, waiting for his response but his mouth snaps shut, attention moving to something behind you. 

It’s Javi.

"Come on guys," he sighs. "Play nice."

You glance over your shoulder, smiling sweetly. "I'm always nice.”

"Why are you even in the labs today?" Scott questions, glancing down at your heels. 

You smooth a hand down your dress and smile. "I'm the Vice President of R&D for Storm Par. These are my labs. I belong here.”

"Dressed like that?" He scoffs. 

"What, you don't like it?" You ask, turning in a slow circle. 

"We had a meeting with some new investors," Javi supplies, trying to cut off the start of another fight between the two of you. 

Scott turns away and you can practically hear his teeth grinding together. He still hasn’t forgiven you for talking Javi out of letting his uncle invest in the company. It would have been easy money but you never liked the business plan. It was best to stick with government grants and investors without any personal connections. 

Javi touches your arm. “Come on, we gotta finish that grant.”

You hum in agreement, trailing behind him to the doorway. Pausing, you glance back and catch Scott watching you, his lips pressed into a thin line. With a grin, you wiggle your fingers at him, amused to see the furrow in his brow deepen even further.

The rest of your day is blessedly Scott-free and you spend your time buried in meetings and wading through needlessly complicated grant submissions. Javi employed some of the smartest people you’ve ever had the privilege of working with but they were terrible when it came to making the science digestible to investors. You sigh, rubbing your temples. It was going to be a long night.

You work uninterrupted, buried in the complexities of the grant, until Scott storms into your office, slamming the door behind him. “Did you tell the techs they could go home early?” he demands.

“Please, do come in,” you deadpan, setting aside the papers you’re holding.

“Did you send them home?” He repeats, rounding your desk and invading your personal space. At his side, his hands are clenched into fists, the veins in his neck standing out.

“I did.” You rise to your full height but even in heels, he dwarfs you. 

“That wasn’t your call.”

“You do remember my job title, right?”

“I’m VP of Operations,” he reminds you. “I say when they go home, especially when we’re on a deadline.”

“They report to me, and you’ve had them working long hours,” you fire back.

He shakes his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, as he gives you an unimpressed look. “You’re too soft on them. I told Javi you weren’t right for this job. This isn’t academia. We work hard here.” 

You bristle at his words, clenching your fist so tightly that your nails dig into the soft skin of your palm. He has no idea what it took for you to get here, the challenges you faced, or the men like him you had to prove yourself to.

“Go fuck yourself, Scott.” 

You glare up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. You wait, ready for whatever asshole comment is sure to come but he just stares at you. Then, to your surprise, his gaze drops to your mouth. You freeze, electricity zipping up your spine when you realize you’re close enough for your chest to brush his as you exhale. Looking back, you won't remember the impulse that led you to tilt your head and press your lips to his, only that you did.

The kiss only lasts a second before you pull away, heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, neither of you moves, but then suddenly he surges forward, his large hand grasping the side of your face. His lips crash into yours roughly. A hand at your hip urges you back until you bump your desk but he doesn’t stop until he’s practically dragged you on top of it. He presses in close, eating up what little space remains. You groan, grasping at his shirt as you push your hips into his. 

“Fuck,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours as his warm breath fans across your face. For one terrible second, you think he might stop or say something stupid to ruin the moment but then he’s kissing you again. He forces a hand between your bodies and roughly pulls your underwear aside so his fingers can drag through your folds. You’d be shocked by how fast it’s all happening but any higher thought fizzles out once his thumb circles your clit and his tongue breaks the seam of your lips to taste you. 

You’re breathless when he pulls away, back arching in response to his talented fingers. Through your lashes you see him smirk down at you. “No smart comebacks now?” He questions.

Before you can retort he adds a second finger. You moan, rolling your hips to seek more of him. “Knew you’d be fucking greedy,” he whispers.

He watches you fuck yourself on his hand with a hungry glint in his eyes until your pace slows. He glanced at your face. You rise up on your elbows, brow raised. “Am I going to do all the work here?” 

“Shut up,” he growls, withdrawing his fingers.

A witty comeback is on the tip of your tongue but it dies when Scott brings his fingers to his mouth. He stares down at you while he sucks them clean, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your stomach clenches hard at the sight. 

“That’s better,” he comments, unbuckling his belt. “Nice and quiet.” 

He takes a condom from his wallet and rolls it on his thick length. If there was ever a time to stop, it’s now. You look at Scott, his dark gaze swimming with desire and push the thought away, rising up to kiss him. The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance and you lift your hips. You relish the way he looks, dark hair curling over his sweaty forehead and his body straining for you. Knowing you’ve done this to him sends a rush of want through you. 

Scott pushes inside slowly, hissing as your wet heat envelopes him until he’s halfway in and then he snaps his hips forward unexpectedly. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush. He falls forward and the weight of him is electrifying. You’d be embarrassed at the desperate little sounds his mouth swallows up if he didn’t feel so damn good. 

He fucks with an intense kind of precision you’ve seen him bring to his work, reaching deep inside you to hit all the right places. You bury your fingers in his dark hair and pull, eliciting a needy moan from the irritatingly talented man above you. 

“You gonna come for me?” He asks, breathless. 

A desperate little, please, slips past your lips without your permission, spurring him on. He hooks a hand under your knee and forces your leg into your chest as he keeps up his frantic pace. The new angle takes him even deeper and pleasure ripples through your stomach. He feels unbelievably good and you practically sob when he pulls back and rises to his full height, afraid he’s going to stop. But he doesn’t, grasping your hips with both hands and forcing you to meet his thrusts. 

You’re tantalizing close and, without thinking, you reach down to help yourself along but Scott is quick to slap your hand away, replacing it with his own. 

“That’s mine,” he growls, the rough pad of his thumb catching on the sensitive skin. He watches with rapt attention as his cock and fingers work in tandem to drive you over the edge. You come with his name on your lips. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he gasps. 

Before you can recover your breath, he leans down and kisses you, his weight pressing you into the desk as his hips move relentlessly. Then he shoves himself deep inside and stills, groaning. Your ears ring and your body buzzes with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. The two of you stay like that, intertwined and panting until, finally, Scott moves. 

Cool air rushes between your bodies and you stare up at him. You can see him thinking in real time, his clever gaze searching your face as he continues to process what happened. What could either of you possibly say after this? Nothing good you realize. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t ruin it.” 

Scott closes his eyes and swallows hard. Then he's moving, slipping out of you with a grunt. He turns away from you, redressing. The clink of his belt buckle is loud in the quiet office. Pressing your fingers to your swollen lips, you take a moment to let yourself feel everything before pushing it aside and standing on unsteady legs.

You fix your appearance the best you can and busy yourself with shuffling the mess of papers strewn everywhere. It might be cowardly, but you keep your gaze fixed on your desk when you hear the door creak open. You wait, the minutes dragging by until you know it’s safe to look up, only to find Scott still there.

He lingers in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you. 

Then you blink and he’s gone. 

♡

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[peppermintquartz]

Chimney is striding towards a tall, dark-haired man who is currently checking the cockpit of a helicopter. Time is of the essence, but they will still need to wait for Hen.

Tall guy has a nice ass, Buck thinks vaguely, a little distracted by all the activity that's going on around them. He wonders if the choppers get to go out every day. He would, if he were a pilot.

When the guy turns around, it is to reveal a handsome face: chiseled jaw, aristocratic nose, straightforward gaze, generous lips and - oh - a cleft chin. That face breaks into a broad smile, the lines crinkling at the eyes and around the mouth adding to the overall attractiveness of the features.

"Howie, hey!" Tall Handsome Guy hugs Chimney tightly, enveloping the shorter man in a sincere embrace. "Long time."

Wow. Buck blinks at the show of affection. When he gets closer, he sees that Tall Handsome Guy is actually about the same height as he is, but with a more angular face - that jawline is to die for - and he is broader in the shoulders. Even more handsome up close, too, which is totally unfair.

"This is Tommy, Tommy Kinard. He used to be at the 118," Chimney introduces. "Used to have a fat head, but he grew out of that."

"Thanks to you," says Tommy. He holds out a hand to Eddie and Buck.

Eddie shakes Tommy's hand first. "Eddie Diaz."

"Pleasure. And you are...?" Tommy turns to Buck.

Buck takes the proffered hand. Good God his hand is so big and strong. "Uh, Evan. E-Evan Buckley, hi."

"Hi Evan," says Tommy, smiling at Buck, the smile as warm as his hand. The name Evan sounds cozy and welcoming coming from Tommy, and for a second when Buck meets Tommy's eyes, he almost forgets to breathe. No man should be this good-looking, Buck thinks. Tommy clears his throat and his smile turns a little cheeky. "I'm gonna need that hand to fly the chopper, kid."

"Oh! Oh, right, sorry. I was just, um, thinking. About Cap and Thena."

"Yeah, we're gonna need Hen to show soon with some coordinates," Chimney says, looking antsy. "Can't go flying all over the Gulf of Mexico."

Tommy shrugs. "We'll do what we can. Wait, I see a car pulling in. Might be her. Get in the backseat, strap yourselves in. Once I get Hen clear of Melton, we'll dash. Hopefully she has a good cover story..." His cheeks puff out and he lets out an exaggerated exhale. Then he grins at the three. "If we're all arrested, can I blame it on you, Howie?"

"Yeah I really twisted your arm with the 'Please help us save Cap and Athena'." Chimney climbs in after Eddie.

"You know it's because of your irresistibly pretty face," says Tommy dryly, helping Buck get in, a hand on his elbow. "Alright, put those helmets on. Careful, Evan."

Buck manages to catch Tommy's faint frown just before the pilot takes his seat and starts up the engine, go over his checks or whatever pilots do. Tommy's concerned, which isn't a surprise. They're asking a huge favor.

But it's so cool that he is throwing in his lot with them, just like that. Buck doesn't think there are many people who would do this. Tommy Kinard really is pretty cool.

"Alright. She's ready to go when we are," says Tommy. He opens his door and slides out. To the trio, he says, "Don't touch anything. I'm gonna hang out near Melton and run intercept."

"We'll behave," Eddie says, holding up his hand like a Scout.

Tommy only rolls his eyes and chuckles before jogging away to the main hangar. Buck can't help noticing how the flight suit pulls over the man's shoulders and ass as he moves.

Wonder what his workouts are like, Buck muses. Maybe more squats and lifts.

Now, all they have to do is wait for Hen to show.

--

edited on AO3

Tommy's POV

[wandering-winchesters]

A Quiet Drive Home

Summary: On a Rain-soaked drive back to the bunker, Dean finds solace in the moment.

The rain drummed steadily against the roof of the Impala, the steady rhythm a soothing backdrop to the otherwise quiet drive. Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour, swiping back and forth with a monotonous persistence. It had been a long, grueling hunt, and the exhaustion hung heavily in the car like a thick fog.

Beside him, Sam sat quietly in the passenger seat, his head leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed. He wasn’t asleep—Dean knew his brother well enough to tell when he was faking it—but he was trying to catch some rest, or at least a few moments of peace before they reached the bunker. Dean didn’t blame him. It had been a rough few days, and they were all running on fumes.

Dean’s gaze shifted to the rearview mirror, where he could just make out your sleeping form in the backseat. You were slumped against the window, your jacket pulled tightly around you, your breath steady and even. He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he watched you. You looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, a stark contrast to the fierce hunter you’d been earlier. It always amazed him how you could switch from being a badass in the field to this—someone who could let their guard down, if only for a little while.

He’d been worried about you. You’d taken a few hits during the hunt, and while you’d brushed them off like you always did, Dean had seen the weariness in your eyes. He knew you well enough to see when you were hurting, even if you never said anything. It was part of what he admired about you, but it was also what scared him. You were strong, but everyone had their breaking point, and Dean feared what might happen if you pushed yourself too far.

As the rain continued to pour, the road stretching out endlessly in front of them, Dean’s mind began to wander. It wasn’t like he could help it; long drives had a way of making his thoughts drift. He thought about the hunt they’d just finished, the close calls, the moments where things could’ve gone horribly wrong. But then, he thought about you—how you’d been right there with him, every step of the way, never hesitating, never backing down.

Dean glanced back at you through the mirror again, his heart clenching slightly. You meant more to him than he could ever put into words, more than he’d ever let on. He wasn’t good at talking about his feelings—hell, he wasn’t even good at acknowledging them half the time—but when it came to you, those feelings were impossible to ignore.

He didn’t know when it had happened, when you’d gone from being just another hunter to being someone he couldn’t imagine his life without. Maybe it was the way you always had his back, no matter how bad things got. Or maybe it was the way you looked at him, like you could see past all the walls he’d built up, past the tough exterior, and saw him for who he really was. Whatever it was, it had snuck up on him, and now he was in too deep to ever turn back.

The rain showed no signs of letting up, but Dean found that he didn’t mind. The steady beat against the car, the soft hum of the engine, the knowledge that you and Sam were safe and sound—it all brought a sense of calm that was rare in his life. For a moment, he let himself just be there, in that car, with the two people who mattered most to him.

He glanced over at Sam, who was still pretending to sleep, and felt a pang of gratitude. They’d been through hell together, and somehow, they always managed to come out the other side. But it was different now. With you in the picture, things had changed. It wasn’t just about the two of them anymore. They had you to think about, too, and Dean found that he didn’t mind that one bit. If anything, it made him even more determined to keep you safe, to protect you from the world that had taken so much from him and his brother.

As they neared the bunker, Dean’s thoughts shifted to what lay ahead. He knew you were exhausted, knew that you’d push yourself too hard if given the chance. He’d seen it before. But tonight, he wasn’t going to let that happen. Tonight, he’d make sure you got the rest you needed, even if it meant carrying you to your room himself.

The Impala pulled up to the bunker, the gravel crunching under the tires as Dean brought the car to a stop. The rain had lessened, but it was still coming down steadily, a constant, gentle patter. Dean cut the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening in contrast to the noise of the road.

Sam stirred beside him, opening his eyes and glancing over at Dean. “We home?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, his voice low. He nodded toward the backseat. “She’s out cold.”

Sam followed his gaze, a soft smile crossing his face as he saw you still sleeping. “She needs it,” he said simply, echoing Dean’s earlier thoughts.

Dean nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned back to his brother. “I’ll get her,” he said quietly, not wanting to wake you. Sam just nodded, already reaching for his door handle.

Dean stepped out into the rain, pulling his jacket up over his head as he moved to the backseat. He opened the door as gently as he could, leaning in to see if you were still asleep. You were, your breathing deep and even, completely oblivious to the world around you. Dean couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he watched you for a moment, just taking in the sight of you so peaceful, so at ease.

He carefully slid one arm under your legs, the other around your back, lifting you out of the car with ease. You stirred slightly, murmuring something under your breath, but you didn’t wake. Dean held you close as he made his way to the bunker entrance, the rain a soft, steady beat against his back.

Inside, the bunker was warm and welcoming, the familiar scents and sounds instantly putting Dean at ease. He carried you down the hallway to your room, trying to be as quiet as possible. Sam had already disappeared into his own room, giving Dean the space he needed.

When he reached your room, Dean nudged the door open with his foot, stepping inside and crossing the room to your bed. He gently laid you down on the mattress, careful not to wake you. You sighed softly, rolling onto your side as he pulled the covers up over you, tucking them in around your shoulders.

Dean stood there for a moment, just watching you sleep, his heart swelling with a tenderness he didn’t quite know how to handle. You looked so peaceful, so completely at ease, and he found himself wishing he could keep you that way forever. But he knew better. This life didn’t come with guarantees. All he could do was protect you as best he could, keep you safe for as long as he could.

He reached down, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

With one last glance at you, Dean turned and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the night calm and quiet. As he made his way to his own room, Dean felt a sense of peace settle over him. You were safe, you were home, and for tonight, that was enough.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @mishreem

[cameronluvr]

JAILED PART 2 — toxic!rafe x fem reader

summary: part one here — rafe gets out of jail the next morning after his dad bailed him out, and he is forced to apologize to you.

warnings: none in this one! rafe is much less toxic than in part 1.

after spending a few hours in jail, rafe’s dad bails him out after signing tons of paper work and hours of talking to the officers.

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“come on, cameron. you’re free to go” an officer begins opening the cell, watching as rafe grabbed his stuff and walked out. he greeted his dad at the end of the hallway, who looked less than amused.

“hey dad” rafe says, but ward didn’t have a response. the disappointment look on his face said it all. “really? nothing?” rafe asks as the pair begin heading out of the building and into ward’s car.

“rafe, it’s 6am. do you really think i wanna be here right now?” ward replies, swinging open his car door and angrily shutting it after he got in. rafe got in the passenger side. “i’m sorry” rafe says in a non-meaningful way, but at least he said it. “don’t say sorry to me, say it to y/n.” ward tells him, turning the engine on and driving away.

“y/n? is she at the house?” rafe asks, looking at his dad who isn’t looking back at him. “yeah, she’s at the house. she came in last night crying her eyes out because of you” ward says, taking a quick glance at his son. rafe doesn’t respond, he just looks down in his lap to rethink about what he did, and how he made you feel.

“huh, you gonna say sorry to her?” ward asks, almost in a demanding way in which rafe doesn’t have a choice. “yes, dad” he nods. “good. she’s staying in your room, so don’t go in there until she’s awake.” ward tells him, making him frown.

“but it’s my room..?”

“don’t go in there until she’s awake. you hear me?” ward repeats, not owing his son an explanation. “fine” rafe rolls his eyes, finally agreeing.

“she’s a good girl, rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” ward asks, needing to know the reason as to why his son is abusive towards the girl he loves, the girl who cherishes him.

“i don’t know, dad, alright? we just had too much to drink.” rafe blames it on the alcohol, but he’s just as much the same when he’s sober. “so you got in your car and proceeded to drive with her shit scared in your passenger seat? begging you to stop?” ward argues.

rafe sighs loudly and rolls his eyes, not knowing what to say now. “you could’ve killed her, and yourself!” ward continues to argue, wanting to know why his son is the way he is. “yeah, i know!” rafe argues back. it’s done now, it’s in the past you could’ve died, but you didn’t.

the rest of the drive home was silent. neither of them wanted to speak to each other, nor about the situation to avoid more arguments. when they finally got back to tannyhill, it was around 6:30 am, rafe got out and slammed the car door moodily.

“hey, watch it.” ward scolds him, pointing a finger at him as they both walk into the house. rafe avoids his bedroom with you in it, walking past it to get to the guest room. he didn’t get any sleep all night, so he decided to have a nap.

when he woke up, it was almost 10 am. he got out of bed and left the guest room, checking if his bedroom door was open yet. and to his surprise, it was. he peeked into the room, only seeing you nowhere. moments later, he hears the sound of your voice coming from downstairs.

he makes his way down the stairs, where your voice gets closer and closer. finally, he spots you in the living room, sitting on the couch with his sister, sarah. you were really close to sarah, so obviously you’d already told her what happened last night. when you both saw rafe come into the room, your mouths fell silent. sarah’s eyes darted at rafe, giving him a look of disgust.

“hey y/n” he says, “can i talk to you?” he asks, eyeing his sister to get her to leave. “whatever you have to say to her, i wanna listen” sarah says, not moving from her seat. “no, get out” rafe bickers with her.

“no, i wanna listen too.” ward’s voice suddenly says as he walks in from the kitchen. rafe rolls his eyes at the fact his dad and sister wanted to hear his apology for themselves. he accepts that they aren’t going to leave, and he sits down next to you.

“y/n, i’m sorry” he says, more sympathetic than he was with his dad in the car. you didn’t know what to say, because it certainly wasn’t ok, but you still loved him regardless. “i didn’t mean to scare you like that, or hurt you…” he went on. after a little, sarah and ward could see he meant his words, and they didn’t need to be there anymore. they both got up and walked out, leaving you to be alone with rafe so you could talk it out.

“i know…” you respond quietly, looking down at your lap and fidgeting with your hands. “no, hey, i really mean it. i love you, i didn’t mean to act like that…” rafe grabs your hands, holding them which made you look up into his eyes. “i love you.” he says again.

“i love you too, rafe. i just wish you would’ve said sorry before you got arrested and spent the night in jail. i stayed up for most of the night feeling guilty.” you huff, knowing you shouldn’t feel guilty but you were unsure if you made the situation worse or not.

“don’t feel guilty, baby. none of it was your fault” he tells you, which calms your mind a little. “i didn’t mean to make you mad at the beach, it’s just, i—” you begin to explain, but he cuts you off. “no, no, shh. i shouldn’t have gotten angry at you, it was my fault.” he says, his hands still holding yours and rubbing them softly.

“i’m sorry baby, do you forgive me?” he asks, watching as you struggle to find the right words to say. “…yes, i forgive you. just, don’t do that shit again. you really scared me” you sigh, tearing up just thinking about the whole situation.

“hey, i know. shh, come here” he comforts you, pulling you into a hug. you rest your head on his shoulder, side hugging him back. after a few moments of silence and just hugging each other, ward walks back into the room to see how it went.

“everything ok in here?” he asks, seeing rafe nod in response. though he isn’t looking for rafe’s answer, he wanted yours. you look up at him, sniffling and wiping your tears away. “yeah” you tell him, he watches as rafe rubs your back to comfort you.

ward nods, seeing as you put your head down to look into your lap, he looks at his son with daggers to remind him to behave. you dread to think what he would do if rafe did something mean to you again.

THIS WAS SHORT. but as requested, here’s part 2! rafe is much less toxic in this one, obviously:) hope you guys enjoy! <3

@cameronluvr

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING SPOILED !!! FERNANDO A. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she could easily get away with things and when she couldn’t, he always made sure to put her back in her place

content warning: smut (minors dni!), pwp(ish?), what is context, explicit language, themes of jealousy and sugar daddy/baby relationship, degradation, dumbification, spitting, dacryphilia, impact play, brief mention of oral sex (m receiving), brat taming (dom!fernando), brief lance stroll x reader interaction, shitty smut, what’s beta reading we just rawdog our writing in here

note: i will be making a separate masterlist for this i think… lmk what you think and enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

send your 💌re:moony’s planner requests here!

she can get away from a lot of things. she knew that. fernando knew that. 

in fact, fernando would even reward her for it. after all, she never demanded too much and all he wanted was to give her the world.

she wanted a new pair of shoes? he’d buy her the sneakers AND a pair of red bottoms. she wanted something from macy’s? fuck that; he’d have his assistant book the whole floor of harrods just so she can pick out new clothes for her closet. 

he would give her everything. even if she tends to be very playful and hilarious, he’d give her everything just to see it.

her cheekiness was a welcome distraction from his busy life as a professional racer. she’d often tease him in different ways but not once did she ever cross the lines and tested his patience and limits. she wasn’t really a brat, to say the least— she’d often give up by the time fernando would wrap his arms around her and press kisses all over her face.

and if she didn’t give up her act, he’d put her back to her place. it rarely happened, and when it did— they were rough. she would continue to act up just so he could punish her. she welcomed the pain with no hesitation and allowed him to control her like she was nothing but a body to be tossed around. 

she could get away from a lot. whenever she couldn’t, her excitement would soak through her knickers while thinking about his next move.

but right now, she wasn’t really at fault for being so bratty. her petulant attitude toward him wasn’t something that she expected from herself, but when her partner continued to ignore her throughout the party after arriving separately— the least she could do was throw his attitude right back at him. more petulantly, if you were to compare her actions to his.

she sat by the bar counter and quietly sipped on her drink, her ears ringing at the sound of his laughter from the distance alongside other men while they spoke about the happenings during the race earlier today.

she looked so pathetic like this; dressed up in the prettiest slip dress that turned to be a fabric of despair. she was the prettiest woman to have ever existed, and even the rest of the grid thought so, yet she looked so alone. she blamed fernando for this. 

all she wanted was him. she only wanted him right now. nothing more, nothing less. 

yet, in a world where he’d give her everything, he wouldn’t hand himself over to her. instead, he was laughing with lewis and carlos as they chatted about whatever the fuck it was. 

“you’d make a good renaissance painting,” her head shot up at the sound as she found lance stroll sitting next to her. the canadian beamed at her teasingly before sipping on his whiskey on the rocks. 

she scoffed, “if you want to see me naked, just say that.” 

lance laughed over the club music that continued to bust everyone’s eardrums. he then continued, “i would say that but do i really want to get my engines busted by a certain teammate before the next race?” 

her thoughts drifted back to fernando, who, from afar, had gone quiet (not that she knew that), before she rolled her eyes. “don’t be stupid,” she said, “i don’t think he’d care enough to ruin your car.” 

“you’re underestimating the man,” lance chuckled, “way too much, if anything. he could kill with just a look if anyone’s made a passing comment about you.” 

“i really should stop showing up at these stupid races,” she muttered quietly, “it’ll get worse as soon as people find out i hang out in the garages or paddock.”

“why?” lance asked, his frown an evident of concern as he said, “are you two not a…” 

“no, we’re not,” she interrupted with a huff, downing the rest of her drink as she continued, “it’s still the same arrangement. i could just stay at home and still get an allowance— i dunno why i said i’d come with him. look where i am now. he’s doing the same shit he does whenever he’s arriving at the paddock— i have to go after him so nobody knows who i am.” 

it was so obvious that she and fernando should be more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. he showed her something more than financial support and casual intimacy— yet he kept it on the down low as if she’s just a pastime. 

“damn,” lance muttered, offering her a sympathetic smile as he said, “is the money that good?”

“i don’t even care about the money anymore,” she laughed quietly, her eyes pausing from their track as she saw the obvious glare from her partner. he certainly wasn’t happy with what he was seeing.

yet she ignored his heavy scowl as she beamed, “i’m sure you’d be able to provide more if it was about it.” 

lance smirked lazily, now realizing what she was implying as he replied, “i’m sure i would’ve given it to you already if you weren’t as attached to fernando as you are now.” 

looking away from fernando, she covered her excitement and petulance with a giggle before she shoved lance lightly. “shut up.” 

sure, she could get away from a lot of things. but the way fernando stared at her coldly while she was acting all playful towards lance told her enough about the kind of treatment a spoiled brat like her would get from him. 

all she could do was squirm at the thought. 

her mouth let out a shrill cry as fernando pulled her mouth away from his cock, saliva dribbling down her chin to her chest as she felt a sharp pain on the roots of her head. he continued to grab a handful of her hair as he looked down at her. 

his eyes showed nothing of affection. his face offered nothing but mockery and anger. not towards her— but her bratty attitude that she showed tonight. 

he never felt so jealous until he saw lance talking to her up close. and he’s never been angrier than what he felt when she let his teammate get close like that. like she could just move on after talking to the man with a flirtatious smile and get away from her crimes that easily. 

her petulance and constant refusal on the way back to the hotel led to where she was now. her thighs rubbed against each other while tears trickled down her reddening cheeks.

she was desperate for his cock and his touch. both of which she didn’t even deserve despite being his spoiled girlfriend.

she tried to be prideful and strong as she refused to listen to his orders. 

it was too bad for her because while she thought that her pride was big, fernando alonso’s pride was bigger. his ego and his desire to control were what she enjoyed most about this— and these were his tools to tame her. 

“did you think that you can get away from that, hermosa?” he spewed out, watching her as she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “not listening to me and letting those men get near you— you’re not very smart, are you?”

“m- fer—“ she babbled, only to be interrupted by the clicking of his tongue as his other hand gripped her chin tightly. finally letting go of her hair, he tilted her chin up to his direction without a word. 

he growled quietly, “you’re such a disobedient girl. a very ungrateful and disobedient girl. you don’t deserve my cock after all of this, hermosa.”

“n- no! please-“ she exclaimed, squirming against the hold on her chin as she pleaded with him, “‘ll be good! i’ll be a good girl, i pr- promise. jus’ wan’ your cock- please nando!” 

his breath fanned on her face as he chuckled quietly, “you don’t listen to me unless you want it, hm?”

his hand let go of the grip for a moment, only for his palm to strike her cheek as he gripped her face once more. “open.” 

her brain, feeling hazy from the impact of his slapping and being deprived of his touch and his cock, short circuited. fernando tsked, tapping her reddening cheek once more as he crooned, “look at you, amor. you’re so dumb for my cock, eh? such a stupid bratty girl— wanting my cock when she doesn’t deserve it— open your mouth, hermosa.” 

she obliged, not wanting to disobey him anymore as he grinned. his grin eventually turned into a frown before spitting in her mouth as he demanded, “you know what to do.”

closing her mouth, she swallowed without a hesitation while her glistening eyes looked up at him.

“so you listen then,” he laughed mockingly, “i thought i’ve already fucked your mouth until you turned stupid.” 

she rubbed her thighs against each other, hoping for some sort of relief as a whine escaped her throat. “what’s wrong, hermosa?” tears escaped her eyes as she continued to plead with him wordlessly. “that’s not going to get you anywhere right now— not after you pulled that shit earlier just so you can piss me off.”

she couldn’t find a way to speak, humiliation and pleasure mixed with her adrenaline as she babbled, “i- i wan’- ‘m…” 

“speak up,” he laughed once more. “you’re way too mouthy earlier— what is stopping you now?” 

she whimpered, feeling too frustrated and already feeling too fucked out. she really wasn’t going to get away with all of those things that she did just to catch his attention earlier.

she just wanted him, but she couldn’t seem to get it all out because of the immense pleasure that she received from being disciplined. 

he chuckled quietly, “you want my cock?” 

she nodded frantically, a series of murmurs escaped her mouth as she meekly cried out, “want you to fuck me, please, please, please nando~ ‘m a good girl.”

“no, you’re really not, hermosa,” he grinned wickedly, “if you were you would’ve known not to flirt with those people. but i guess it was my fault that i’ve left you hanging and horny before we went, no? otherwise you wouldn’t have been that stupid to tease them like you would with me.”

she squirmed again, whimpering at his words as fernando continued, “but i’ve given you so much that you always find a way to get some more. i think that my little slut should be thankful for what she’s getting instead of acting like a spoiled brat.”

she couldn’t even find herself to protest. she was so drunk in lust and his dominance that she couldn’t find herself to fight back against his words. 

her love for him would have to wait. she was in too deep right now and if it meant that she’ll get an orgasm and maybe more then she’d do whatever it takes to please him. 

after all, she was spoiled already. working hard didn’t sound too bad. 

[1l0v3y0ud0ntl3av3me]

「Yandere Tumblr User/Stalker × GN! Reader」

A/N: Saur, totally didn't disappear..Again. Anyways, here ya go.

【DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊】

TW: Kidnapping, implied long time stalking, victim blaming, non-con, delusional, loss of virginity, the usual stuff.

Sunny stands outside your window, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want it to come to this, but you left him with no choice. His hands shook as he stood there, his heart racing after tracking down your address.

"If only you hadn't met with that person," Sunny thought bitterly, the regret weighing heavily on his heart. The thought brought a pang of sadness, and for a moment, his eyes welled up. He wiped his face before quietly sliding open your window, slipping inside as silently as he could.

The room was dim, the faint sound of your breathing guiding him toward the bed. When he saw your sleeping figure, his breath hitched. With slow, deliberate steps, Sunny approached and sat at the edge, his eyes never leaving your face. There was something unsettling in his gaze, the way it lingered, heavy with emotion.

"[Name]...?" he whispered softly, his voice barely audible. His trembling hand reached out to brush a lock of hair from your face, but he froze when he noticed the blood. A single drop fell from his hand, splashing onto your cheek.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, quickly wiping it away with his sleeve. His hands were stained, his thoughts frantic, but the decision had already been made. He couldn't stop now.

Sunny's eyes darkened as he leaned closer, his hand reaching for the cloth he had prepared. You stirred slightly in your sleep, oblivious to the tension in the air. With one swift motion, he covered your mouth, muffling any chance of a scream as you jolted awake in panic.

"I'm sorry," Sunny whispered, though his voice lacked any warmth. His grip tightened as you struggled, the world around you blurring into confusion and fear.

Within minutes, it was over. The room was silent once more, and Sunny carefully lifted your unconscious form into his arms, his expression a mix of regret and determination.

He glanced around one last time before slipping back through the window, vanishing into the night with you in tow. The weight of what he had done settled heavily on his shoulders, and he knew there was no turning back now. Sunny had crossed a line, and now, he would have to face the consequences of his actions, whatever they may be.

─── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ───

The world blurs into a haze when you finally come to, your head heavy and disoriented. You realize your wrists and ankles are bound, and a gag muffles your attempts to speak. Panic surges through your veins as you comprehend your situation.

Sunny sits in the driver's seat, his eyes darting between the road and the rearview mirror, where his gaze lingers on you. His grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles white. The hum of the engine fills the tense silence, but the atmosphere is suffocating.

When he notices you're awake, a strained sigh escapes his lips. He doesn't say anything at first, just keeps driving, though you can see the conflict warring within him. Minutes pass before he speaks, his voice low and barely above a whisper.

"If you hadn’t talked to that... bastard," he says, his tone bitter, "then I wouldn’t have to do this." His words hang heavy in the air, and he swallows hard, his voice rising in frustration as he continues. "This is your fault."

His words sting, but they're coated in a layer of anguish, not just anger. He glances at you again through the mirror, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and resentment. He looks like a man on the edge, torn between his feelings and the actions he's already committed to.

"I didn’t want it to be like this," Sunny says, his voice wavering. "I didn’t... I didn’t plan this. You made me do it." His hands shake as he grips the steering wheel harder, trying to keep control of himself.

You try to move, to make a sound, but the gag holds you silent. The reality of your situation starts to sink in deeper as the weight of his words presses down on you.

"If you’d just listened to me," Sunny says, his voice cracking, "we wouldn’t be here. But no—no, you had to go see him. You had to talk to him!" His voice rises, filled with an emotional intensity that makes the air in the car feel even tighter. "I thought you cared, [Name]. I thought you understood... us. But I guess I was wrong."

There’s a long pause, and the silence feels like it's swallowing the car whole. Then, softer this time, almost like a confession, he adds, "I didn’t want to hurt you. But now... I don’t know what else to do."

His words tremble as they leave his lips, and despite everything—the fear, the panic—you can hear the genuine pain in his voice. But it's twisted, entangled with his anger and desperation, making it impossible to know what he'll do next. The car keeps moving, and all you can do is pray that somewhere in him, there’s still a shred of the Sunny you once knew.

─── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ───

Sunny stands at the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on you, the light from the moon outside casting half his face in shadow. He looks at you, really looks at you, and you can see the conflict in his eyes, the war between what he wants and what he thinks is right.

"You don't have to do this," you say, your voice trembling. "I don't want this."

But he doesn't listen, just continues to stare at you, his gaze boring into you, and you can feel your skin prickle with the sensation. He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and you can see the determination in them, the resolve that he's made up his mind.

"I have to," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "because if I don't, I'll lose you. And I can't... I can't lose you."

He's on the bed now, his weight pressing down on you, and you can feel his breath on your face, hot and harsh. His hands are on your wrists, holding them above your head, and you can see the tension in his muscles, the way his jaw is clenched.

"You don't want this," he says again, his voice a whisper, "but I do. I want you, [Name]. I want all of you."

And then his mouth is on yours, his lips hard and demanding, and you can taste the desperation in him, the need that's been building up inside him for so long. You try to push him away, to fight back, but he's too strong, too determined, and you can feel yourself being pulled deeper into the darkness, into the place where you don't want to be.

He moves down your body, his lips trailing kisses along your skin, and you can feel the shivers running down your spine, the way your body is responding to him, to his touch, despite yourself. He stops at your hips, his hands gripping them, holding you in place, and you can feel the hardness of him pressing against you, and you know what's coming next.

You try to close your eyes, to block out the darkness, but you can't, and you can see him, see the hunger in his eyes, the desire, and you know that you're lost, that there's no turning back now.

He enters you, hard and fast, and you can feel the pain, the sharp sting of it, and you can hear his groan, the sound of his pleasure, and it's almost too much to bear. He moves, his hips thrusting against you, and you can feel yourself being pulled deeper and deeper into the darkness, into the place where you don't want to be, and you can't stop it, can't stop him, and you can't help but cry out, your voice hoarse and raw.

You don't know how long it lasts, how long he lasts, but when it's over, he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing down on you, and you can feel the dampness of his tears on your neck, the saltiness of them on your skin, and you know that he's lost something, something precious, and you know that you've lost something too, and you can't help but wonder if you'll ever find it again.

In the aftermath, you're broken, your spirit and body shattered by the night's events. But Sunny is content with taking your virginity. As you cry, Sunny says, "I love you. I'll protect you."

You hate him for what he's done. Your hatred is palpable, a searing anger that consumes you. You don't feel anything towards Sunny, just anguish, despair, and rage. The love between you is non-existent, no glimmer of hope in the darkness. You wish for freedom, for escape, but you wonder if you'll ever find it, or if you'll be trapped forever in this nightmare, suffocated by the darkness that surrounds you.

[syoddeye]

consequence / hyacinth

price x f!reader | 1.9k words series directory tags: exes, angst, references to depression. a/n: an ex boyfriend. a story. a kiss. ☕

a surprise trap door. an errant self-driving car. a jet engine falling from the sky. anything to get you out of this.

hyperbolic? maybe. necessary? absolutely. forty-five minutes, and you haven’t gotten a word in edgewise. ben drones on about his studio and his upcoming exhibition. you brought this on yourself by doing the polite thing and asking him how are you?—lesson learned. 

it hurts. it blisters to hear how happy and successful he is and how he’s moved on from the breakup. as if he didn’t leave you hanging with a dinner you couldn’t afford after admitting that he cheated. he hasn’t asked about your wrist, your old flat, or your art career.

eventually, he stands. sets you free.

“i should go, long trip home,” he says, eyes glued to an incoming text. “it was lovely to catch up. thanks for holding onto this junk for me.” he hoists the box off the seat beside him and tucks it under an arm.

you let him kiss your cheek. “yeah. of course.”

he doesn’t look back. you wish you could do the same. 

you order another cider and resolve to not remain looking like the miserable slump you are.

~~~~

>> are you in town?

>> if you are, i could use a drinking buddy

john’s hair is still damp when he spots her at a two-top in the garden, nursing a cider. he waves, then ducks inside for his own drink. his head buzzes with whatever this invite means.

he checked with the florist twice to ensure the flowers arrived intact at her place. made the woman on the phone read back his apologetic note and bit his tongue when she reminded him it wasn’t her ‘place to say whether it sounded good enough or not’. he never heard if she liked them.

there’s a stiffness to her smile but relief in her voice. “you came.”

“‘course.”

“how’re you?”

in six words or less, he knows something’s off. he eases onto the seat, trying to exude a sense of humor and not telegraph his one hundred questions. “undercaffeinated, but i’m more interested in how you’re doing.”

“i noticed you hadn’t stopped in.”

“didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“about that. it was rude of me to kick you out without warning.”

guilt isn’t what he wants. he adjusts course to shoulder the blame. “i crossed a line.”

she isn’t having it. “please, it was rude. i know you weren’t trying to…”

“cross a line? overstep?”

her mouth wavers undecided between a frown and a smile. “you didn’t know. i could’ve explained. spare you £45.”

you. little.

“so you did get them. the note, too?” she nods. “then why the radio silence? hyacinths a bad choice?”

“no, they’re perfect. i just. i sort of froze. i had a rough couple of days.”

the hangdog expression she hides with the glass makes his chest hurt. “i’ve been told i’m a decent listener.”

“it’s a long story.”

“i got time.” he offers quietly. “just got back. caught me in the shower, actually.”

her eyes narrow, curious. “did you dress and come straight here?”

“well, it’s generally frowned upon to walk around naked.”

he beams at her laugh, her shaking shoulders. for a moment, her whole face lights up. it relaxes her posture as it peters off, leaving her looking less like a cornered mouse than when he initially sat down. 

“so.” john pushes carefully. “the paintings.”

her smile lapses into something unreadable, a pause to find the right place to begin. her fingers trace the table’s grate.

when she finally speaks, she refocuses. meets his eye. good. he doesn’t want to twist her arm to get the story. the tale starts innocently enough.

the woman is hannah, her best friend and a ceramicist. they met on the first day of her mfa and were paired for the terms project shortly thereafter. they quickly became inseparable, until his girl met ben.

~~

“i can’t talk about hannah without talking about ben. to talk about ben, you need context.”

john leans in. his thick eyebrows lift in a silent go on. 

“they say it happens when you’re not looking, right?” you nervously laugh, smiling at the table sheepishly, unable to meet his eye. “well, i met ben at a networking event. last place i thought i’d find a date, rubbing elbows with alumni. but he introduced himself, said he liked my portfolio book. told me about his work and all these shows he’d done. he took me to lunch the next day.” 

you wince at the memory, crystal clear and acutely embarrassing. how starry-eyed you’d been. your throat dries, sandpaper scraping down your esophagus at the thought of ben scribbling his number on your wrist. you clear your throat.

“then he asked me to dinner. during lunch.”

if john’s disgusted or disappointed, he doesn’t show it. his self-control is infuriating yet reliable. steady where you’re shaky.

why can’t i be like that?

you push on.

“without diving into minutiae, i eventually had to introduce hannah and ben. they hounded me, because if i wasn’t with one, i was with the other.” 

“jealous of each other.”

“i think so. i agonized. they’re big personalities, i thought they’d clash.” you replay their first meeting in your head. you have a thousand times. “and they did.”

~~

‘differing artistic opinions’ and ‘absurd expectations’ are the root causes of the squabbling she describes. her words, not his.

(he thinks of less charitable ways to characterize interpersonal conflict.)

barrages of text messages competing for her attention. underhanded attempts to get her to cancel plans with the other. emergencies that turned out to be trivial. guilt trips. one particularly ugly screaming match at a mutual friend’s birthday.

(if it were him, he thinks, they’d’ve lost privileges long ago.)

“it took weeks for them to come around to the idea of each other.”

“what was the catalyst?

“me again.”

john hums. he watches her rest against the back of her seat, her arms crossing and tightening over her chest. compressing herself as much as she can. embarrassment rolls off her in waves. he doesn’t say a word, afraid he’ll cut what courage she’s mustered off at the knees.

she has her own idea.

“can we—are you finished?” 

his glass is two-thirds empty, and he polishes off the rest. a fist squeezes his heart when her lip twitches at his abruptness. she makes it difficult to be collected with his interest.

“where to?”

“where else.”

it’s a challenge, defending oneself from an insistent, bullying cat. cece shows no mercy.

“she likes beards.”

“does she see many beards?”

“just a theory.” she leans against the cushions, watching him and the cat, a glass of water held in both hands. “yours is the only one she’s tried.”

in the end, after negotiations, cece loafs between them. her purr a white noise.

“where were we?” her tone suggests she knows precisely where.

“the truce and you.”

her eyes find a spot past his head to rest. he’s tempted to tilt his head into her line of sight, assuming that nudging her on home turf’s a safer bet than in public. but the hesitant, almost imperceptible exhale that leaves her keeps him still.

“alright. so. me.” her chest expands with another sigh. “i was already struggling two terms into school. really struggling. when i applied, i had this clear vision, but then classes started, i met my peers, and suddenly it felt like everything i thought i knew just disappeared. nothing looked right, nothing felt right. i pulled constant all-nighters. sat through brutal critiques. i’m lucky i had thick skin from my job, otherwise, i might have dropped out to join a convent or the circus.”

immediately, his mind conjures the image of a tattooed nun, swiftly followed by a tattooed strongwoman. his lip quirks. he hastily buries what those do for him. later. 

their gazes meet briefly to share a smile.

she licks her lips after a drink and sets the glass aside.

“they realized their bickering wasn’t helping, so they put their heads together. kind of forced us to become the three musketeers. they helped me where they could, and things smoothed out between them in the process. he found her ceramics shows to exhibit. let her move her wheel into our joint space. we were in close quarters, and i needed it. i needed them.”

a couch width is suddenly too far a distance with how she crumples. something difficult passes over her face, and she excuses it with a shrug.

“despite their joint efforts, i barely scraped by that first year. i was burnt out, miserable, and i spent two weeks holed up alone, trying to not go off the rails.”

oh, sweetheart.

“where were they?”

“hannah was visiting family stateside, and ben was traveling for work.”

not that his schedule allows flexibility, not that he’s behaved the perfect partner in the past—but john knows instantly that he would not have left her. he’d’ve been there. the more he hears about ben, the more he wants to meet him. come to a violent understanding. impart a lesson or two on loyalty.

“when ben returned, he told me he decided to move here to ‘reconnect with the country’. something about ‘capturing and celebrating the bucolic’. he wanted long-distance, but i, uh, i said i’d rather quit and move with him. we fought and he called in reinforcements. at hannah and ben’s…encouragement, i finished out the term. and it nearly killed me. as you know, i withdrew.”

john often reads between the lines. a vital skill, interpreting indirect and unintended communication. what’s unsaid. shame pulls her inward again, a moment where she seems smaller. swallowed by the enormity of whatever she doesn’t say. can’t say.

“i know they were disappointed. they didn’t need to say anything. hannah felt abandoned, and ben burdened by my tagging along. i got this awful feeling the morning we left and i ignored it. i was convinced leaving school behind and taking a break from art would fix me.” 

cece stretches, stands, and allows herself to be scooped up. 

she holds the cat under its front legs, bringing their faces closer together. “but it’s like that saying or whatever. ‘wherever you go, there you are’. i got here. settled in. and i was still a loser.”

it’s instinct.

“you’re not–”

she bulldozes.

“i started working at the café. ben booked murals. he painted the big one a few streets over.”

he’s familiar. “the one with–?”

“yep.” she releases cece. “he tried to get me to paint. he begged me. but i couldn’t do it. things took a turn last summer when ben won a huge job in the city, which snowballed into an invitation to exhibit. hannah got busy with the final stretch of the program, and couldn’t visit much.”

“so you were alone again.”

“yeah.” her voice thins, then breaks. “alone again.” she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes before a single tear drops off her lashes. 

john’s beside her before doubt seeds itself in his mind. one arm gathers her to his side, his chin lifting then settling atop her head when she tucks closer. his other arm winds around her, and the slight tremors of her distress ripple through him. she’s quiet, not quite sobbing, but sucking in deep breaths. he rubs her back in a slow circle, murmuring nothings.

“what do you need?” he asks as she gradually stills.

she sniffs. 

“sleep.”

without thinking, he kisses the crown of her head. “okay.”

john only catches a glimpse as she hands him a quilt. but he sees them. blue hyacinths, pinned and drying above her bed.

“sorry. this is all i got. you set?”

he smiles at her sweet, tear swollen eyes. 

“yeah. i’ve got all i need.”

[theladycarpathia]

Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.

“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.

“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.

“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.

“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”

“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.

“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”

“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”

Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.

“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”

Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.

“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.

“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.

“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.

“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.

“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”

“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”

“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.

“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.

“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.

“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.

“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”

“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.

“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.

This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.

[phan3145]

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Intensity, implications) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***NOTES: Finally a chapter with a decent length. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me along this story’s journey. I would love to hear more from you guys, what you think of the chapter, or any predictions for what might happen! Tagging @imaginarydreams

Chapter 7: At Odds

You

It wasn’t long after Noa left that you found sleep again. It wasn’t completely restful though, odd dreams and quick flashes of memory plagued you until you woke up once more. You sighed, eyes cracking open to steal a glance towards the opening by your fire, noting it was barely dawn, the cool blue tone of morning still reflecting along the sides of the rock. You closed your eyes again, wanting just a little bit more time, hoping that if you went back to sleep now it would be dreamless.

You blamed the visions on your conversation with Noa, reawakening thoughts and feelings you buried a long time ago. You knew whatever peace you found last night wouldn’t last, but even you had to admit this was a little too soon. You heard a faint scratching of rock next to you, and you groaned internally. Bringing your hands up to rub at you eyes, you wondered if a bird had gotten in.

You turned your head, suddenly coming face to face with brown eyes, auburn fur, and white teeth. Your own eyes widened, frozen in place as you stared at the predator in front of you. It’s body was lithe, crouched in a position that suggested it was ready to either leap or dash away. Your eyes focused then on its mouth, open but not snarling or frothing. No rabies then, but not necessarily a non-threat. It was studying you just as you studied it, each of you waiting for the other to move.

You slowly placed a hand on the edge of your bed, the red tail fox sniffing and inching closer as you did. This surprised you, having come across foxes before and never experiencing this level of naïve curiosity in them before. In the past, they had let out a horrendous screeching noise before dashing away into the woods. Your mom had loved the creatures, saying they reminded her of domesticated cats that used to roam free when she was a child. She never explained what happened to them, only that they no longer existed. She had modeled your shelter after the foxes’ homes apparently, which also explained why she called it a burrow. The engineering was smart though, having two different ways of getting in and out, one obvious, the other hidden in case of a predator cornering you.

The fox paused as you tentatively pushed yourself into a sitting position, its eyes lingering before darting to the left. You looked then to the ledge a foot away from you. The half eaten salmon that Noa gave you, still wrapped in the leaf, sat there cold and untouched. The fox was hungry…and desperately so if it was willing to get so close to you. You leaned over hesitantly, not wanting to spook it, and grabbed the fish.

It whined then, almost sounding like a laugh as it swayed left then back right. That’s when you noticed the protruding ribs. Foxes were meant to be thin, but not that thin. Its mouth opened in another whine, tongue lolling out slightly as it raised its paw only to put it back down exactly where it had been. You chuckled, looking at the fish in your hand, then to the fox. It was waiting patiently. You leaned forward, ready to spring back if it decided to lunge at you instead of the volunteered meat. It sniffed at the offering in your hand, head inching closer before snatching the fish from you. It paused a moment, as if surprised how easy that had been, then spinning around and scurrying towards your entrance. It stopped again, looking back at you once more, before squirming it’s way through the crack between the rock and cave wall, dashing away into the woods.

You let out a breath in surprise, wondering if that had actually happened. You didn’t need to pinch your arm, the ache in your shoulder reminding you that you were in fact awake. Then you wondered if its burrow was somewhere nearby, surprisingly not concerned for yourself, but for the creature. It seemed so hungry, and you were aware there was not a lot of small game in the area. The sickening thought that you might be over hunting the woods of what little game there was, made your stomach drop.

You looked to your makeshift kitchen…no more meat. There were only two baskets of fruit remaining, and normally today you would go out and hunt for rabbit or squirrel before meeting the apes. You breathed in deeply, shaking your head as you pushed yourself up from your bed. You would need to wash your sheets tomorrow during bathing day...and also remember to wash the blood from your forehead. Until then, you grabbed an apple, your spear, and fishing line, deciding to get your day started.

The salmon had been good last night, at least until your stomach tried to reject it during your emotional trip down memory lane. You usually didn’t eat it, knowing the apes frequently visited the creek and fish was part of their food supply. Now that you had built a relationship, if you could call it that, with three of them, you decided now was the best time to include more fish in your diet. It wouldn’t kill you to eat fish and fruit for awhile, instead of squirrel and rabbit.

Something fluttered in your heart then as a passing thought rocketed through your mind. If you happened to have an extra fish, and the fox came back, it would be such a shame not to feed it. Waste not, want not and all that. The apes had their eagles after all, so inter-species companionship wasn’t inherently a human trait. If you could befriend an ape, why not a fox? At least, you wanted to try.

Your time with the apes, while new and strange, recently reminded you of just how alone you were. You relied on their persistent presence now, dreading days you knew you wouldn’t see them. You enjoyed living alone, but not necessarily being alone…to be the only living thing in a space was unnerving sometimes. Solitude was a blessing and a curse in that regard. You could never domesticate an Eagle like the apes…but a fox? Maybe. As you squeezed yourself through your entrance, huffing slightly from the effort, you made your way towards the creek. Might as well get there early and work on dinner before the apes came to learn.

You were reminded then of the books, knowing you hadn’t seen them in your burrow last night or this morning. You recalled Noa placing them into his satchel before the boar attacked, hopefully they were still with him. It was Noa after all, he seemed to think of everything. You groaned then, vividly reminded oh how the two of you had parted last night. You had been flustered and slightly awkward, which caused you to flush from embarrassment all over again. What exactly had you even been thinking at the time?

Noa was a friend, an ally if nothing else. His touch last night was nothing more than an attempt to soothe you after an emotional moment, but something about it had left a lingering impact on your senses. You recalled every second of that exchange in vivid detail, to the point you could almost still feel the warmth of his hand on your body now. You shook the thought from your head, reminding yourself about the truth behind his touch. It was to comfort, and to serve his own goals. He told you as much, wanting to make you more comfortable around apes in the future. You couldn’t deny that, he even said he wanted to build off the fact his touch didn’t bother you.

At the time, your mind had been too muddled to really think about his words, but now? His frequent touch may shock you, surprise you even if you’re unprepared, but you agreed it didn’t bother you. You had to admit, if only to yourself, all the times you’ve flinched from it, it’s never been in disgust or a desire to get away from him. It hadn’t been, not since that first day. He wasn’t Gol, and you were very aware of that. The day you two met he had been gentle with you, reassured you, and though it had scared you at the time, he had protected you. He didn’t know you, but he had been willing to throw his body over yours so you wouldn’t get hurt. Noa’s touch was protective and gentle, and that’s why you flinched from it.

Now, because you responded after he showed you that same gentleness and kindness, you were worried about facing him. All you really did was hold his hand! How ridiculous was that? Maybe Noa was right, maybe you were jumbled. At the very least, you were hungry. You took a bite of your apple then, the juice dribbling down your chin. You wiped it away, noting that you were already off to a fantastic start as a teacher. You forgot about your books and you were scared to face your students. Then there was the glaring issue, that you had never had to teach anyone anything before. You had always been the student, and swapping roles made you nervous. You wanted to be a good teacher, hoping to be patient and well spoken as you explained how the English language worked. The apes were quick learners and highly intelligent, so that would certainly help you. And, in all fairness, how hard could teaching adults really be?

…

Surprisingly, it was easier than you thought. Teaching the trio words using the alphabet as association had been simple enough, even if they never heard of the animals in the book. Explaining a lion to the apes took longer than you would have liked to admit, same went for a tiger. You had to promise to get a book on zoology the next time you went to the library before they agreed to focus back on the lesson.

It wasn’t until the third lesson a week later that you realized your mistake. They were learning words, but the individual letters? Not so much. Forming individual syllables seemed to be hard for the apes, Anaya more so than Noa or Soona. At least, that’s what you thought up until right now.

“Wait,” you stopped Noa’s reading mid phrase. You leaned over his shoulder, pointing to a specific line in the middle of the page, “Read this line right here.”

Noa was uncharacteristically shy now. You saw his eyes scanning the words at the top, mouth twitching in phantom movement. You groaned, slightly impressed by his ability to trick you as you accused, “You memorized the book the last time I read it with you, didn’t you?”

Noa’s mouth pulled into a thin line, sniffing once, “Too simple, easy to remember.”

You sighed, “That’s not the point Noa. That’s not reading, that’s memorization. I can’t go around reading everything to you first. And neither can Soona.”

Soona was the star pupil between the apes, putting in the hard work to understand the individual letters. She had already finished her first book, and was starting on her second. She was saving Stellaluna to read to you on her first go, wanting instead to start on Anaya’s books after she finished this one for more practice. You thought that was odd, but if that was her goal you weren’t going to tell her she couldn’t do it. It was rare she asked for your help, choosing to use the Learning Your ABC’s book as a comparison as she sounded out words. You had to admit, her technique was far superior to anything you came up with when learning to read as a child.

She hooted her amusement at your scolding, “Would not help Noa…if he asked anyway….same teacher…same books…can learn himself.”

Noa huffed, flipping the book closed before turning away, “Choose another book…know this one.”

You raised a brow, picking up the book and opening it to a random page, “Are you telling me you can’t read this because you’ve memorized it that quickly? What if I point at individual words?”

Noa hesitated, “Still will remember…you reading it…not on purpose.”

You ran your hand through your hair then, placing the book on the rock a few feet from you. This time last week you thought keeping yourself focused on teaching around Noa would be your biggest struggle. That, or keeping him focused. When he was determined there was little you could do to distract his mind, and you feared he might want to work on building up your tolerance to ape touch instead of learning to read. Thankfully, that had not been the case. Unfortunately however, he had been so determined that he remembered everything you read or showed him. It wasn’t necessarily a bad problem to have, he had certain words memorized, but it did produce the challenge that he could not replicate Soona’s success. He tried to fill in the blanks instead of actually breaking down the words and sounding them out.

You took a deep breath, turning to glance at Anaya now. He was struggling with the first page of his book still. He could understand vowels, but had a hard time grasping the sound of consonants. Much like Noa, he could memorize a word once he heard someone speak it while reading, but had a hard time hearing the sounds on his own. Maybe putting them together would lead to better results?

“Anaya,” you called softly. When he looked up, you motioned him over to where you and Noa sat, “We’re going to do some group work, can you come over here and sit next to Noa? Bring your book too, please.”

He looked absolutely miserable, half walking half dragging himself over before plopping down next to his Sunset Brother. Noa noticed his defeated look, hand coming up to clasp his shoulder, but Anaya shrugged him off. He curled into himself more, crossing his arms and letting his head rest on top of them before sighing. You truly felt bad for him, giving a small thumbs up as you asked, “Are you okay?”

Anaya looked to you, eyes darting towards your hand before returning to your face. He shook his head then, looking away as he signed, Anaya stupid.

“Hey!” You said a little more sternly than you probably should have. Both apes in front of you stared with surprised eyes, silent as you continued, “You are not stupid. Don’t call yourself that again. You’re learning, and yes, it’s going to take time and it’s going to be frustrating, but I know you. You can do this, Anaya.”

Anaya, apparently still not up for words, signed, Soona not frustrated. Soona learn fast.

You gave Anaya a half smile, “Don’t compare yourself to Soona. Everyone is different, everyone has different strengths and weaknesses. Look at me, I can’t jump or climb like any of you can. I can read, because I learned at a young age, but I can’t fish half as well as you Anaya. Soona can braid and weave baskets, because she learned at a young age, but she can’t leap as far as you or Noa. And of course Noa, he uh…”

As your gaze turned to said ape, you lost your train of thought. He was looking at you again, the same way he had that night in your burrow. Those intensely green irises reflected warmth and sincerity that froze the very breath in your lungs. Thankfully, Anaya picked up where you left off, admitting, “Noa…is…good leader…cares for Eagle Clan…but thinks too much.”

Anaya hooted as Noa’s head jerked sideways to glare at him, letting out an offended huff. You chuckled, grateful for the distraction so you could catch your breath. “See? Strengths and weaknesses. No one started out good at any of those things though, they had to learn and grow into it. Just don’t give up so soon, okay?”

Anaya gave you a half smile and a thumbs up, mumbling, “Okay, Echo.”

Soona had remained silent during this exchange, seated under the tree behind you, but grunted now to get your attention. You turned then, seeing her arm outstretched with the Learning Your ABCs book. You leaned over, taking it and signing Thank you before returning your attention to the male apes in front of you. To say you were at a loss for what to do was an understatement. You imagined Noa memorized the alphabet the same way he did his other book, so you weren’t sure how this would be much help. You ran a hand through your hair once more in frustration, kneeling on the ground in front of the apes and beginning to draw in the dirt with your finger. You had one idea that might break through some barriers.

They watched your scribbling with curiosity. You held your breath as you studied the upside down letters to make sure they were right for the apes. You pointed to Anaya then, handing him the book, “Anaya, I want you to use this like Soona does. Try to read what I’ve written, and if you can’t remember a sound, find the letter in the book and use the example.”

Anaya nodded as you pivoted over to Noa, doing the same thing for him. His word was relatively easier to write upside down, and you hoped making it personal for the two apes would bring out their desire to learn again. You wiped your hands on your pants once you were done, “Noa, this one is yours. Same thing, try to figure it out.”

You scooted over to Anaya then, who was staring at his word in confusion. You leaned into him, gently nudging his shoulder, “Sound it out. One letter at a time.”

Anaya pointed, “ A. A. A…sounds like aaaaaape.”

You giggled, “Okay, that’s a start. What about the other two letters?”

Anaya huffed, frantically turning pages in the book, “N…nest and…Y…yarn.”

“Very good,” you smiled. “Now, put all the letters together. Try to sound them out. If they don’t sound right, remember that vowels have a big sound and a little sound.”

Anaya had a few false starts before pushing out, “A…NA…Y..A …that does not sound…like a word.”

You pointed at the first A then, “Okay, so let’s try changing the sounds. Instead of ape, what else can this sound like?”

“Apple,” Anaya immediately supplied.

“Yes!” You encouraged, “Now, try it again until it sounds right.”

You saw the wheels in his head turning, mouth moving over the syllables until you saw the dots connect. Anaya looked up at you then, pants of air followed by hoots as he stood from the ground. You smiled as he pointed to himself, swaying back and forth, “Anaya…is Anaya…my name…is my name!”

“That’s right!” You cheered.

Anaya seemed in brighter spirits at least, pacing back over to Noa and his word. You hoped that Anaya hadn’t given away Noa’s own word by cheering for his success. You watched as Noa seemed puzzled by the letters in front of him. You crouched down to his level then, “What are you struggling with?”

“Thought…it was my name…but now…not sure.” He grunted.

“You thought?” You asked, confused. It was his name, what was he not understanding?

Noa pointed at each letter then, making the big sound for each one, “N…O…A…H…NoAHa….does not make sense.”

“Oh,” you said, understanding his confusion. “So, same thing with Anaya. A does not always mean A. Remember big sounds and little sounds?”

He tried it once more, but still curled his lip at the end. He kept putting a small A at the end of the H. You tried to breathe out an example of what an H sounds like, but when he tried to copy you it still came out as Ha. You reached for his hand then, bringing it closer to your mouth as you explained, “No, you’re going too hard on the H. It’s not a war cry. You’re going, Ha, like there’s an A on it. I need you to say it softer, breathe with it. Like this.”

You breathed out several quick H sounds onto his hand. You locked eyes with him, but he looked even more confused as he stared at you. Sitting up straighter, you angled his hand, turning your head slightly so you were sure he could see your mouth. You held his gaze, pointing to yourself with your free hand as you said, “Watch my lips, feel my breath at the end. NoaH… NoaH… NoaH.”

You breathed and put emphasis on each of the H’s, watching Noa tense on the second pronunciation of his name. On the third, you noticed him lean away from you, the hairs along his neck and shoulders raising. When you were done, silence engulfed the four of you. Noa looked more than confused now, while you could only guess Soona’s expression since she was still at your back, and Anaya’s head swiveled between Noa and you with a slack jaw. For a moment, you worried you had done or said something weird in their language from the way they were reacting.

You let go of Noa’s hand then, which remained suspended in the air a second or two longer, before it dropped into his lap like dead weight. You looked between the trio then, finally having the guts to ask, “What? Did I do something wrong?”

Everything seemed to happen at once then. Soona screeched in laughter, startling you as you jerked around to look at her. She was holding her stomach, as if it physically hurt her to laugh, which in all fairness was a rare occurrence for her. You heard a Thud then, turning away from Soona to see Anaya on the ground, rolling around as he hooted and pointed at you. Or, at least you thought he was pointing at you.

A low rumble came from Noa’s chest, and while it should probably have concerned you, you had a feeling it wasn’t directed at you. In fact, Noa wasn’t even looking at you now. Anaya shot up then, hobbling on all fours to be next to Noa, signing so rapidly you couldn’t keep up. Soona’s hooting, which started to die down, seemed to come back with a vengeance at whatever Anaya was saying. Noa attempted to look away from Anaya, but the chimp leaned his body around his shoulder to continue whatever he was saying.

Finally, Noa tried to swat away Anaya’s hands, who did not stop his signing, skillfully dodging Noa’s attempts. Noa leaned over, trying to cover his hands now with his own, but once again, Anaya was too quick. He rolled sideways, shuffling over by you, hooting in amusement as he slowed his signs, allowing you to catch a handful of words.

Noa…upset…Echo…private…learn…happy…

You opened your mouth to ask what you were missing when Noa, in a tone you had never heard him use, something between a growl and a yell, boomed, “No!”

All three of you had the same reaction, freezing as muscles grew tense and silence struck you like an arrow. You couldn’t see Soona’s reaction, but you saw Anaya crouch low and duck his head in submission. You felt your breath come in harsher as your heart rate spiked, eyes wide as you stared at Noa in confusion and unease. You must have done something wrong after all. He was taking deep breaths through his nose, something he only did when he was irritated, and after that yell…you decided it was best if you apologized.

You found the courage to open your mouth again, snapping it shut when Noa raised his hand to halt you. His eyes locked on to yours then, nostrils flaring now as he continued to breathe deeply. Anaya’s left arm was placed in front of you then, his body leaning forward and pushing himself out of his submissive stance, closer now to Noa than he had been. He signed with his right hand, phrases you couldn’t see as his shoulder blocked your line of sight. You twitched in surprise when Soona’s hand landed on your left shoulder. You looked up, seeing a determined look in her eye that matched Anaya’s while standing behind you. It didn’t seem like they were challenging Noa…but there was a warning there you couldn’t decipher the cause of.

Everything felt too tense, and you couldn’t understand what you could have possibly said in their language to garner such a reaction, but you filed it away to never do again. Noa’s eyes darted between Soona and Anaya, looking uncomfortable, using his mouth to release quick gusts of air, before you heard his breathing start to return to its normal rhythm. He looked away from the three of you then, staring down at his name in the dirt. You brushed Anaya’s arm aside as you said, “I’m sorry Noa, if what I did ‘upset’ you. It was not my intention. I won’t do it again.”

You copied the sign that Anaya made for ‘upset’ as you apologized, pulling Noa’s attention back to you in that moment. He flinched when he saw the sign, looking concerned before shaking his head, “Not…upset.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, feeling that the opposite was true. Noa used the back of his hand then to roughly swipe at the dirt in front of him. Looking down, you saw the H had been wiped away. Noa pointed to each letter as he read, “N…O…A…my name…Noa.”

You smiled again, “Alright, Noa with no H. It was mainly silent anyway. At least now you know what your name looks like.”

He hummed in response. Soona tapped your shoulder then, apparently she also wrote in the dirt. You turned, seeing her spelled out S O O N A in clean strokes on the ground. You smiled at her, leaning to nudge your shoulder with hers, “Very good. I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled back, writing another word before underlining it.

M A L E S

You snickered, causing the other two apes to rush over and see what she had written. Noa and Anaya both sounded the word out before saying it out loud. You were surprised, watching as they pointed at each other. Apparently, friendly competition was a good incentive. You tucked that away for later as well.

Noa turned to you then, “Your…name?”

You sighed, trying not to look bitter as you scrawled your name in the dirt. The letters stared back at you, almost mockingly. You hadn’t seen your name spelled out in so long, and even though Noa said it recently in the library, it was hardly ever spoken anymore. It was as temporary as it’s dirt form, only here as long as you made sure it was.

Speaking of Noa, he stood over your shoulder now, staring intently at the letters. You shuffled to your left as he leaned over to trace the pathing of your letters with his own fingers. He let out a low hum in thought, concentrating as he began to replicate each one below your original markings. He took his time, saying each letter out loud until he finished. He paused, drawing a line under your name before he whispered it, almost to himself.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, ignoring the small swoop in your stomach as you turned fully towards him. He smiled, that same smile he gifted you when your arms were entwined a week ago, in your burrow. You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat before you found your voice enough to say, “That’s very good Noa, I’m impressed. I’ll be more impressed if you can do it in a few days without an example in front of you.”

You stood then on nervous feet, stretching your arms and spine in a deep arch, hearing a few bones pop before letting out a small groan of satisfaction. The apes ability to sit on the ground for so long astounded you. You turned to Noa first, then Anaya, “We have a little bit more time before we lose the light and I need to head back to my shelter. You should read Soona’s Goodnight Moon, I know you haven’t memorized it so it should pose a bit of a challenge. And Anaya, do you want me to help you with Green Eggs and Ham?”

He nodded enthusiastically, practically running towards the pile of books on the nearby rock. He shuffled through them, but turned back to you a moment later looking anxious, “Not…there!”

Your brows furrowed, “What? I don’t understand, Soona do you have it?”

You pivoted to the female ape, who quickly paced back to her tree, checking her three-tiered stack before shaking her head. You were about to turn back to Noa, to ask him the same question, when his arm came around your body to place the book in question in your line of sight. You let out a sigh of relief, the words ‘thank you’ on the tip of your tongue when you felt his lips graze your ear and breathe out, “Here.”

The action alone caused a shiver to run up your spine, but the emphasized H and heat of his breath on your neck, forced a startled inhale from you. The air hissed through your teeth and rattled your lungs as you took a step forward. You whipped around to face him then, right hand coming up to cover your ear as you gaped. You hadn’t even realized he had risen from his place on the ground. He looked completely innocent to his deeds, seeming shocked by your reaction, but you knew better. As always, his eyes expressed everything his mouth and body language did not. You saw that playfulness, that mirth that was rarely displayed by the leader of the Eagle Clan. Except of course, when he was around his Sunset Brother and Sunset Sister. Except, apparently, when he was around you.

Anaya hooted lowly, teasing, “Noa…scared Echo.”

“Not scared,” you replied as you stared Noa down. “Thank you for the book in any case. Soona, can you sit with Noa, make sure he’s actually trying, please?”

She hummed in agreement as you made your way towards Anaya, and Noa moved to sit with Soona. You felt the brush of his fur against your bare arm and thought for a second that it was deliberate, but decided it must be your imagination acting up after his teasing. Still, you felt your own hair react to him, rubbing discreetly at the pebbled flesh along your arms. This was getting out of hand.

…

By the end of the day, the two male apes had turned a corner, showing real progress. You felt confident when you stopped and decided to send everyone home. It was twilight, just enough time for you to make it back to your burrow before a friendly visitor, hopefully, made an appearance. You had caught three fish, enough for dinner and breakfast, and one to spare. You were excited, having something to look forward to as you went home.

Anaya waved goodbye, his own catch hanging from his fishing rod as he made packed his things, two apples clasped tightly in hand. One for him, and one for his horse. Now that the apes were making frequent visits to the creek, they chose to ride on horseback to get there. You were fine with it, as long as it saved them time. You felt bad for the horses though, being tied up somewhere for hours waiting for the apes to go home, so you’d taken to bringing fruit that was a couple days away from spoiling for them. They deserved a treat for being so patient.

Soona was next, hand reaching up to cup the back of your head, she didn’t pull you in like you expected, but she smiled before nodding her head and releasing you. You returned her smile, nodding in return as she prepared to mount her horse. Jumping up onto the saddle, she settled before clicking her tongue, both her and Anaya trotting off in the direction of their village. You were confused by this, noticing Noa dawdling by his own stallion.

You took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before making your way over to him. He was feeding his horse the apple you had given him, patting its neck affectionately. You chuckled then, shifting the books you were holding to one arm. You jabbed your thumb back in the direction of the retreating apes, “You do realize you’re outnumbered now, right?”

Noa hummed, “Horse…is on my side.”

“As it eats the apples I brought.” You scoffed, pulling another apple from your own bag and letting the horse snatch it up from your hand. You were feeling good about your statement, when you heard a faint screech somewhere above you. You ducked, just in time to see Eagle Sun land on the saddle of the horse. He bobbed a moment, eyes trained on you as his talons readjusted themselves. You sighed, “I stand corrected, we are perfectly matched.”

Noa chuckled, “No…you are right…outnumbered…Eagle Sun…never on my side.”

“What is it with you and this bird?” You asked, hand gently outstretched to Eagle Sun. You remained wary of him, sometimes just as temperamental to touch as you were. Instead of the warning peck you were accustomed to receiving when he didn’t want your touch, he simply elongated his neck so you could give him his cherished chin scratches. “After all, he follows you, keeps an eye out for danger, and acts pretty calm around others. He seems like a sweetheart to me.”

Noa’s gaze lingered on you and Eagle Sun, before he confessed, “Was my father’s bird…we did not always…get along…we bonded…only after he died.”

Your hand froze, Eagle Sun tilting his head upwards to see what had caused you to stop, “You never told me that before.”

Noa shrugged both shoulders, “Never…had reason to.”

That was fair, it wasn’t often Eagle Sun made an appearance, choosing to fly free while Noa occupied his time with you. The few rare times the bird did choose to interact with you, it was usually because he wanted attention, or the food you were eating. You tilted your head, watching Noa shift from foot to foot, “Is there something else you want to tell me? Something you want to talk about?”

Noa looked down to the books in your hand, reaching for them and opening his saddle bag. You didn’t protest, simply asked, “Are you taking them back to practice more?”

“No,” he said simply. “Easier to…walk this way.”

“Walk?” You parroted. “Are you not going to ride?”

Noa shook his head, “No…you are…I am walking…you out.”

Your lips twitched upwards, a giggle threatening to burst out of you at the misuse of your phrase, but he was simply too endearing to laugh at. You figured this meant he did want to talk though, and decided to let him open up on his terms. Noa ushered Eagle Sun away from the saddle, the bird squawking once before taking off and landing somewhere in the nearby trees. You didn’t see where he landed, but knew he wasn’t far. You took the opportunity to step into the stirrup and hoist yourself up, before he thought to fly back.

You groaned under your breath, lingering tension in your legs reminding you what happened the last time you had been on Noa’s horse. He brushed knuckles along your outer thigh, “Still sore…prefer to walk?”

You waved him off, “No, I’ll be fine. Humans heal slower than apes I think, and you know, I’m not used to riding.”

Noa reached for the reigns, guiding his horse in the direction of your burrow as he hummed, “Not far…will get used to it…after a moon cycle.”

You tried to remember how long that was, but found yourself distracted by the colors smeared across the skyline. Soft pinks, purples, and a heady dark blue swirled against the clouds, creating a masterpiece that would never be seen again once the black of night overtook it. You glanced back to Noa, his focus solely on the path forward. You didn’t enjoy his silence, as you normally would. This one felt different, full of unspoken tension, like Noa was holding something back.

Your mind began to wander, and you couldn’t stop the question that slipped from your mouth, “Do you see in color like I do?”

Noa’s head turned sharply to glance at you, feet steady as he continued to walk, “Think so…how would I know…if we see things…differently?”

You pointed to the sky in the distance, “What colors do you see there?”

Noa was quiet a moment, “Blue…purple…black…light red.”

“Light red? Do you mean pink?” You asked, leaning forward in the saddle to be closer to the ape.

“Same thing.” Noa chuffed, “Like light red…better.”

“To each their own,” you hummed. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re walking me out?”

Noa was quiet. If not for the fact that you were so close to him, you might have thought he didn’t hear you, but by the extra power he suddenly added to his stride, you knew he had. You bit the inside of your cheek, sitting up again and fighting the urge to say anything else. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Need to…explain…a few things.” Noa said, sounding somewhat reluctant.

“Okay.” You asked, “Do you want to explain them now while we’re walking, or back at the burrow where you’ll have my full attention?”

Noa seemed to actually consider the question before replying, “Now is…good.”

“Alright then, Master of Birds,” you teased. “What needs explained?”

Noa sighed through his nose, “Before…when things were…tense…during the lesson…I did not mean to scare you.”

“Which time?” You asked.

Noa grunted, “When I was…loud.”

That certainly caught your attention, originally thinking he meant when he had whispered in your ear. You leaned forward again, “It seemed to me you were just processing what happened. I didn’t mean to do what I did, then Soona and Anaya’s reactions were…a lot. It’s understandable you were upset and lost your temper.”

Noa’s head seemed to bend slightly, admitting, “Was not…upset.”

“Not to argue, but if that’s not you upset, I would hate to see what you look like when you are actually angry,” you said playfully.

Noa stopped then, turning and making two different signs. The second one was upset, but you weren’t sure what the first one was. As if hearing your thoughts, Noa responded, “This is upset…what Anaya signed was this… it means bothered.”

You felt your body curl inwards, “I didn’t mean to bother you either. I have to admit, that’s a pretty small distinction for apes. Upset, bothered, annoyed…”

“Not that type…of bothered.” Noa confessed, urging his horse forward again.

You sat there, trying to figure out what bothered could possibly mean if not annoyed. Apes sometimes twisted or altered words, like echo, depending on the need it seemed to fill. Finally, you asked, “Bothered how, if not in the annoyed or upset way?”

“Same way…as you.” Noa said, head swiveling to look at you for a moment before turning back. “When I practiced…my small H sound.”

Another moment of confusion, then you felt your heart stutter to a stop, your breathing following suit. Your mouth went dry, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t think of a single word to say. Noa not only recognized your response to him, but apparently had felt the same way you did, when you had-…breathed on his hand while calling his name. Now you were the one who felt stupid.

How embarrassing

A hand came up to cover your eyes as you winced. No matter how innocent that had been in your mind, intimacy wasn’t solely a human thing. You had tried to show Noa like you would a child, but he was not a child. He reacted like any normal adult human, or ape, would. Oh, God. How uncomfortable he must have been in that moment, while you sat there confused and clueless.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, the only phrase that felt appropriate at the moment.

Noa hummed, huffing once before admitting, “I am sorry…Anaya signed something after…as a joke…and I…reacted poorly.”

Something inside of your brain screamed not to ask, but your mouth listened to the other part that just had to know. “What did he say?”

“Suggested,” Noa began, seeming to think about his choice of words. “Echo stay with me…in the village…would be happy to be taught…just you and me…no other apes around…it reminded me…of you…as a pet...made me…angry.”

The implication was there, but you chose to ignore it in favor of, “You didn’t tell Anaya or Soona about my history with apes…did you? Anaya never would have suggested something like that if he knew.”

Noa grunted, “Not…my…place.”

You thought about it for a moment, then asked, “Do you think they would treat me differently, if they knew?”

“Yes.” Noa answered immediately. He seemed to reconsider his one word answer before adding, “Would not do it…on purpose…would not want to scare…or hurt you...they are…good apes.”

You sighed, noticing your burrow up ahead, “It’s probably best they don’t know for now, then. I like the way things are between us, I don’t want things to change.”

“Apes say,” Noa began, stopping his horse and tying the reins to a nearby tree. “Change is nature…cannot control it…or stop it…only embrace it…as it happens.”

You patted the horse’s neck and mane as Noa finished the knot and looped back around to you. You snorted, “That sounds very wise, but here’s a little known fact about humans. We don’t like change. We actively try to avoid change. We like the security of the same thing everyday.”

“You…need change.” Noa insisted, hands reaching for you as you swung your left leg over the saddle.

You let him wrap an arm around your waist as you made to slide down, your own hands bracing on both of his shoulders. “So says, the Master of Birds. You think you know what I need?”

Your feet were not sure as they landed on the ground, but you did not stumble as Noa’s other hand came to wrap around your side and brace your back. He basically held your entire weight, only letting you take it back once he felt your legs lock in place. He glanced down briefly between the two of you, acknowledging your feet were on solid ground before his eyes darted back to meet yours. That intensity that was always there, burned now with a new type of determination as he said, “Yes.”

You felt the fingers of your left hand inadvertently tighten on his shoulder, grazing the skin underneath his fur. When that happened, you felt Noa subtly shift in place, somehow closer to you now. His hands trailed from their hold along your back, skimming down your sides, before stopping to rest on your hips. You found yourself caught in his gaze, trapped again at what you perceived as something dangerous in front of you. Only, this time, the sense of danger was completely different. He tilted his head slightly, eyes wandering across your face like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. He sighed through his nose then, head beginning to tilt downward before something over your shoulder caught his eye.

Just as quickly as his focus shifted behind you, did he react. You were thrown behind him before your could blink, barely having time to process the movement as he screeched and yelled. You turned, watching him charge on all fours after the offending creature, growling, “Get away…shoo…Pest!”

You could have cried, seeing the fox you had been secretly feeding for the past week yip and whimper, trying to stand its ground against Noa. But Noa was bigger, scarier, growling and hissing as he circled and chased after it. You ran to stop him, calling out, “No! It isn’t hurting anyone Noa, just leave it alone.”

Too late, the fox whined and chirped as it is was chased off. You heard the leaves and rustling of bushes, but lost sight of it after a few seconds. Noa was panting, face scrunched as he snarled and grunted a final warning to the empty woods. Then you saw the harsh lines ease, canines retreating back behind his lips as he moved to stand on two legs. You had never been reminded so harshly before that he was an ape. It was a startling contrast to the intimate position you two had been in just seconds ago, and something in your stomach turned.

“Why did you do that?” You half whispered, somewhat breathless yourself.

Noa turned to you then, concerned as he pointed in the distance, “That…was a fox…not safe.”

Your brows furrowed, “But it wasn’t hurting-”

“Not…safe.” Noa interrupted with a final huff. “Predator…has attacked Eagles…nuisance that apes…usually kill on sight…in the village…cannot trust vermin…like that…pest needs to be…driven away…or will bring harm…to you…as all pests tend to do.”

You felt the blood in your veins, which had felt so warm moments ago, freeze. You had never been at odds with Noa before, and his resolve seemed absolute in this. It also showed you that once you had made an enemy of the apes, they were not so kind as to forgive. A fox had attacked Eagles, it might as well have killed an ape. You were surprised Noa hadn’t killed it on sight. You imagined your presence was the only thing that stayed his hand, since he never had been overly violent around you before.

This changed things

You hoped the fox would come back, but even if it did, you would have to make sure Noa was nowhere near your shelter. You owed the ape your loyalty, but you also owed the fox for all the food you had been depriving it of for so long. Noa was your-…friend, but the fox could be your companion…given enough time. Then again, maybe this was your sign not to pursue the idea of companionship with animals. After all, with what had just taken place between you and Noa, you weren’t exactly sure you were in a place to make that type of decision. You needed time to think, and to do that you needed to be away from Noa.

Said ape was pacing back to where you stood, rooted to the ground. Not for long though, as Noa’s hand reached for you. Without properly thinking, you took an involuntary step back, avoiding his outstretched fingers. He had no time to mask the surprise that immediately morphed into hurt, pulling his arm back and asking, “Are you…alright?”

“Yes,” you lied. “That just surprised me. It’s late and I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed now.”

Noa turned to look behind him, “Need help…with rock?”

You smiled, “No, thank you, Noa. I’ll be fine. Go home.”

He looked reluctant, stuck in place as he seemed to search for the right thing to say. He swayed back and forth as you walked towards him, then past him. He turned, mouth moving but saying nothing, hands fidgeting until he seemed to remember something. He moved quickly towards you, stammering out, “B-books…books in…bag!”

You stopped in your tracks, “I almost forgot. I’ll grab them real quick, that way you aren’t riding back in the dark.”

Before you could take so much as two steps forward, Noa had run back to his horse and yanked them out of the satchel. He paced back over to you, holding the books out, somewhat hesitantly, “Will not…see us…tomorrow…big day of…preparations.”

You swallowed, part of you wanting to comfort him, but the other part screaming at you to distance yourself from him before you ended up in another situation like before. Your heart won out though, as you sighed, “That’s okay, will I see you the day after?”

“Yes,” he was quick to reply. “Do not have to…give lesson…next time we meet…can explore…or talk…or something else…you need to do.”

You gently took the books from Noa, pulling them into your chest as you promised, “I’ll think about it. I’ll probably rest tomorrow, make some repairs to my shelter.”

His brow creased at that, asking, “Broken?”

You shook your head, “No, just need to make some adjustments. It happened over time, but it’s nothing I haven’t done before. Don’t worry.”

Noa nodded then, lips pursing before he said, “I have…made something I…would like to give to you…next time we meet.”

Something about the way he said it made you nervous, made your stomach sink, but you brushed it away. “Well, now I can’t wait until we see each other again. Way to leave me in suspense. I’ll look forward to the surprise.”

“It is…nothing grand,” Noa hedged. “Will explain better…when you see.”

“Noa, I’m sure whatever it is will be great and I’ll love it.” Your heart hurt as you realized that you fully believed what you had said. “I’ll see you day after next, okay? Get home safe, and get some rest.”

Noa nodded, “You too…have been working…hard…goodnight.”

You started to back up, waving with your free hand as you hummed, “Goodnight.”

You turned as Noa made his way to his horse, pausing once you reached the entrance of your cave, to watch him ride off. His eyes didn’t leave your form for the longest time, not until his horse carried him so far away that you were only a silhouette against the rock. You swallowed, placing the books on the dry shelf before bracing your back against the stone wall and sealing yourself in for the night, leaving just enough space for your nightly visitor if they returned. You dropped your bag on the ground, the chain to your doorway swaying back and forth as you sunk to the ground. You leaned back against said door, questionable tears filling your eyes as the reality of your life crashed into you.

You wrapped your arms around your knees, conflict swirling within you as you tried to think rationally. You felt like you were at war with yourself, nothing making sense or feeling right as you struggled to understand any of it. A sob shook you then, the heels of your hands digging into your eyes. The material still wrapped around your palms absorbed your tears, which made you angry for some reason. You pulled the offending material off and threw it over with your bag, looking at the new pink flesh that had been revealed underneath. No scarring or bleeding, just edges of new skin.

Reminded of Anaya and Noa’s kindness, the tears returned with a vengeance and you tucked your head into your knees. You hated feeling this way, hated how strange and disoriented you felt. You just wanted someone to hug you and tell you it was going to be alright. But who did you have that would do that? The face you used to imagine was not the one that appeared in your minds eye now, and that broke your heart even more. In that moment, you pretended that the last five years didn’t happen, that you were seventeen again and had had a nightmare in the vault.

You opened your mouth, a sob stealing your breath before you desperately called out, “Micheal!”

You didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t look up, because you knew he wouldn’t be there… but just for a moment, you pretended he could hear you. You pretended he was throwing the blankets off of himself in bed, and making his way over to you in yours, to comfort you until you fell back asleep. You sucked in a breath when you suddenly felt a light touch on your leg.

And there he was, auburn fur and brown eyes. Your fox had placed a paw on your leg, looking up at you with something almost like concern. You swiped at your eyes, sure you were seeing this wrong. The fox yipped and whined as you made eye contact. You felt crazy, but tried again, calling out, “Micheal?”

The fox lowered its paw then, sitting up a little straighter as it observed you. You leaned over, reaching for your bag and pulling a fish out. The fox hardly reacted, simply taking it from you with its teeth. This time though, it did not run. It laid down on its belly, tearing into the meat of the fish while it sat next to you.

Your tears stopped all at once, and you chuckled wetly, “I guess I know what to call you now. You know we’ll have to be more careful from now on, right?”

Micheal, the fox, looked up at you then, licking its lips and blinking slowly at you before returning to his meal. You were pretty certain at this point that you had lost your mind, but hey, at least you had a friend to keep you company and share dinner with.

[munariplans]

is there someone else? part 3 | natasha romanoff

synopsis: part 3 to is there someone else?

natasha romanoff x reader | slight wanda maximoff x reader

word count: 9.6k words

read part 1 and part 2 here.

masterlist

natasha woke to the sound of wheels skidding on the road before the cabin, before they ended on the gravel right outside. it took her a few moments to gather her surroundings, she had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for you after all, before heading outside to check the commotion. 

what she did not expect was for you to be sitting by the front porch, the old, beaten-up porsche parked haphazardly by the gravel with the engine running, and a bottle of tequila by your side. she took another look at you, then at the car, and sighed in worry. 

rushing forward to switch the engine off, natasha knew being angry with you was not the right approach at that moment. “jesus, were you drunk driving?”

you shrugged. “maybe. still got home, though.”

the woman before you fought the urge to scream. the morning sun was due to rise anytime soon, the golden beginning to bleed into the warm planks of the porch. you were sat by the edge, still shrouded in the remaining comfort of the night. natasha pulled the ends of her robe closer, hand over her bump, and finally sat next to you. 

“i can’t believe–”

suddenly the bottle was slammed between the both of you, causing natasha to jump and stop herself mid-sentence. “yes, i drove to the store to get tequila, and yes, i was drinking it on the drive back. and yes, i am probably drunk right now. i know i was wrong, it was dangerous, so you can save the lecture you’re going to spew and head back inside if you’ve only come out to get mad at me again.”

Natasha didn’t need to voice out her worry, or disagreement, for you to know that your words had been mean, and unnecessarily hurtful; because in the next moment, you dropped your head between your knees, and shook it in disappointment.

Instead, Natasha could only think about how badly she had screwed up, to make the monster that you were before her then. How she treated you, transformed you, from a person everyone at SHIELD knew as a steadfast anchor; an agent with skills like no other, and a heart more kind and warm than anyone she knew, to an irresponsible drunk that worried too much in your last missions together, a workaholic with a temper she had grown slightly afraid of recently. Natasha felt like she was to blame for everything. 

For a while, the woman sat with you in silence, only the brief gusts of wind howling in the distance and the crickets by the forest accompanying the both of you. She was getting cold, but refused to leave you alone out there for the night. 

Finally, she heard a faint I’m sorry from your face hidden between your knees, and dared to reach out to pat your back gently. It prompted you to continue. 

“I’m so sorry, Nat,” she could hear the heartbreak in your voice, “I’m so sorry you ended up with me; that you have to deal with someone like me as a partner. I don’t know where we went wrong, I don’t know what’s happened to us, but I…I know we fucked up. I’ve become everything I told myself I would never be when I fell in love with you, and I’ve hurt you so much to the point where you’re crying almost every night because of me, because of my stupid actions and what they��ve caused to you and our little one.”

You looked up at her then, and under the moonlight, your tears looked almost ethereal to Natasha. “I never meant to hurt you, and I hate that it’s come to this now; where we can’t even resolve a disagreement without arguing or resenting one another. We are walking on eggshells around each other, Nat, and this…whatever this is…is tearing us apart.” 

When the woman remained quiet, you croaked with, “Tell me what’s wrong with us, Nat.” 

She found your gaze, and her eyes were glassy and red too. Natasha shook her head, and withdrew the hand from your back to hold herself. With more despondence in her voice than you had ever heard, she said, “I just…I just feel you don’t love me anymore.” 

“That cannot be more untrue,” you interjected. “I know…I know I still love you.”

“Maybe your mind knows, but does your heart say the same?” 

“Of course, I…” At the disbelieving look on Natasha’s face, you grew desperate, “...Natasha, of course I love you. I want this marriage to work, I want us to work. I know I’m not the best at showing my love for you but…I whisper I love you, when you’re in another room, when you’re asleep, when you have headphones on, every time you look at me. My heart whispers that it loves you. I’m trying, Natasha, I try and try–”

“–Trying? You have to consciously put in effort into caring about me?”

“Am I wrong for wanting to put effort into us? Wanting to care about you?”

“No, but it should come naturally. It’s like you’re convincing yourself to be in love with me.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know that I love you. I’ve known from the very start, from before Clint pulled that arrow, from when I first saw you, even from when I was first handed your file. I knew you were going to be the one to change my life. I just…” you shut your eyes, bracing yourself, “...You hurt me. You’ve hurt me so much this past year and a half, and I can’t help but push you away when you do.”

“Hurt you…?”

Natasha looked more confused than ever, and you didn’t know whether to sigh or scream. “Natasha, I know, trying for a baby is hard. IVFs are hard, relationships are hard. But when you get upset and pin the blame and anger on me when things don’t work out…it forces me to shoulder all the burden in this relationship. I just feel so helpless all the time, because you keep shutting me out, and you keep letting your own insecurities of Wanda, and everyone else, get the better of us. 

All of this is scary for me too. I’m learning to be a better person, and parent, too. But some nights you yell and scream at me and I sit there and take it because I know you are having a hard time, but these things get harder and harder to look through and swallow when you basically deduce that that is all I am worth to you now. I know it’s unfair to ask, but I’m sure you know you haven’t been treating me the same, and I want to at least know why, so we can fix this. I want to fix this.”

Swallowing, you watched the mess of red hair before you blew in the wind, Natasha’s face almost identical in colour with how hard she was crying, too. It took a few minutes for her to gather her thoughts, before she spoke, “I’m just scared that you’ll one day wake up and realise that you deserve better, and when you do, you’ll leave me and I’ll return to the monster I was in the Red Room. I won’t have your patience, your love, to guide me to be a better person, and everything good about it will return to you, where they came from. 

I know you, and I know the way you are. We’ve been married for so long, but I know you would still sacrifice your own happiness, your own future, your everything, to make life easier for me, You never put yourself and what you want first; you’re always too kind, too considerate, too stupid to see that you’re not even happy with the situations you land yourself in because of your kindness. 

I mean…you married me, when nobody else would even spare me a glance in the compound when I first arrived, because who would want the dirty KGB agent that defaulted and still tried to kill the very own rescuers tasked to kill her? You held back Clint’s arrow from flying towards my head, you spared me because you somehow thought I was worth saving, and you smiled at me, nodding your head and whispering it’s okay while I was trying to squeeze the life out of you with my hands around your neck. Who does that? Who lets their target try to kill them and be so willing to die for someone they thought needed to be saved?

And you married me. So readily, without a second thought or consideration towards what it would mean for your reputation, your future, in SHIELD. You could have refused Fury’s request, let me get sent back to the KGB, let me get executed, and you wouldn’t be affected in any way, shape or form. But you married me, in that stupid courthouse in the stupid part of town with Fury as our witness and the priest who knew you deserved better than some Russian assassin who needed a green card. And you kissed me, and let me strangle you again that night, threatening that I would never, ever fall for someone as dumb, and kind, as you, while you still laid back on the bed, face already purple and prepared to die if I had just held on for a second too long. 

And now, I’m just afraid you’re doing it again, staying with me just because I am with child, when you know you could be happier somewhere else, with someone else. You chose to be responsible, and not happy. You want a child, but you don’t want this child. Not with me, you don’t want me. I fooled myself into thinking anyone does. You are not an exception, you are just too nice to do anything otherwise.” 

“So what, you’re just going to delude yourself into thinking that you not being around would somehow magically make my life better?” You shot back bitterly, the liquor fuelling the anger simmering at her declaration. 

“If it makes you happy!” Natasha replied, “I love you so much, I would rather let you go and be happy with someone else than tying you down here with me. You said it yourself, I hurt you, I’m a horrible partner to be around, and in my pursuit of what I wanted, I never considered that you were there hurting, too. You are the first and only person I have ever loved so deeply, so…so even if it breaks my heart into a million pieces and turns me irrevocably into something I swore I would never go back to…I would let you go if you wanted to leave. I don’t want to see you like this, in pain just for the sake of staying with me.”

Natasha watched you sink deeper into your knees, sobs she so rarely heard coming out raw and guttural from your throat. And then, for the first time in a long, long while, Natasha felt you embrace her first, arms clinging on to her body as if she would dissipate any second, as if you were afraid she was going to be torn from your reach. 

“Please don’t make me go,” she heard against your cries, “Please. Please. I love you. And I want this, I want this with you, everything with you. I don’t want to go. Please let me fix this, please don’t push me away, please forgive me.”

To even hear your declaration of love for her, of your want to still be around and to fix whatever that had been tearing the both of you apart, was all that Natasha ever wanted to hear. No matter the circumstances, no matter the hurt and pain, she always found it hard to stay angry at you for long, and the absolute desperation in your voice and your arms around her were already signs she knew you could never disguise to gain sympathy from her. Natasha knew you. 

She only wished she had known all of it earlier. “You know I have always just wanted you. I want you around, by me, for the rest of my life.”

“You already have me, all of me. From the very start, Natasha.” 

“But I need that you back. I know I have my own flaws, and you have to tell me how I can fix them, but I need the you that I fell in love with. I just need my wife back; you need to prioritise me, this, us, right now, because I can’t do this alone. Me and baby, we need you to be the anchor you have always been for me, darling, because above all, we need to be a team for our little one. They need you more than I need you, so even if you can’t do it for me, please, do it for them. 

And I need you to be open with me. No more secrets, no more hiding. I want all of you; your pain, your sorrows, I agreed to them in our vows, remember? You need to talk to me when things get rough, if I get rough. I know you’re one of the Avengers’ and SHIELD’s strongest leaders, nobody doubts that, but even the strongest need someone to fall back on and be vulnerable too. You need to let me be that person, okay?”

Natasha was rubbing your back then, being the one holding you up when the roles were usually reversed. She had hoped she wasn’t asking for too much, that your love for her would allow you to put your pride down and actually agree to her terms, and she was right. In the next moment, she felt you nod against her. 

“Okay.” 

“You can start by telling me what’s wrong now, and what I need to fix from my end.”

You returned to your seat beside her then, tossing the tequila casually into the trash nearby, and took a moment to consider what you wanted to say. Natasha held your hand in reassurance. 

Then, you squeezed her hand back, your touch warm and encouraging. “If you get scared, or worried, or angry, you need to tell me what it is that is bothering you. Don’t bottle it in, Nat. It’ll only grow and manifest until it becomes too big to control and you can only let it out in anger at me. If we want to get through it, you need to tell me, and we’ll work through it together. 

I know you’re afraid, when we first started discussing if we wanted kids, you were reluctant that you were going to be a bad mother, but I never doubted you for a second. Everyone gets scared, Nat, but I’m here for you, just as you are for me. Anything, anything at all, you come to me. I will do everything I can in my power to protect you and our child. It’s just you and me, it will always be you and me.”

Your wife let out a small smile, brimming of hope, and love, for your future. 

“We’ll both do our best for our little one?”

“Of course. And for us, too.”

“One last thing.”

“Anything.”

“No more drunk driving.”

–

When she finally coaxed the both of you back to the house, Natasha asked if you wanted to see something, and as she led you to the bedroom and told you to stand behind her in the full body mirror, you had an inkling of what she was going to do. However, it could not compare to the warmth that spread through your body, the skipping of your heartbeat, when Natasha put her hands over yours, and led them to the bump you spotted just hours earlier. 

She giggled as you dropped to your knees in front of her, and pressed kisses all over the bump, before capturing her own lips with yours and whispering I love yous through the night.  

–

Natasha only realised that you had driven the both of you to the site of your very first date when you pulled into the parking lot of the Met, exactly five years after the date itself. You smiled when she let out a small gasp at the realisation, when she held your hand excitedly as you paid for the tickets, even more so when she began leading you down the exact route the both of you had taken for your first official date then.

It was after a mission where Natasha finally realised that she had caught feelings for you, where you guessed she had only done so after the countless times you had pulled her back from reckless moves that would have killed her in her rookie missions, or where you willingly jumped in front of enemy fire when she so clearly had not trained her senses to missions yet. 

Natasha remembered it quite differently. It was the mission where the both of you were alone, and she had seen you smile and laugh at something she said so happily, so free, as if you saw her as something other than the defaulted ex-KGB she knew everyone still regarded as. You had always reserved a special smile for her, she knew this, and everyone had told her that even though she would never return your feelings, you had undeniably been in love with her ever since you saw her, but this time, it was different. For some reason, this time, everything seemed to fall into place. You, whizzing past the New York skyline and swinging the both of you home as Natasha latched on, laughing at her still getting used to the speed and height of how fast you were flying, her body pressed on yours and hearing your heartbeat beating steadily to match hers, Natasha knew something was amiss when her own heartbeat began to quicken. 

That very same night, after you had patched up her wounds and began to pack to retreat and sleep in your own bedroom, Natasha knew she had to do something before her heart felt like it was going to burst. 

“Wait,” she held your wrist, and against your confused look to see if you had missed an injury, she continued with, “I want to try something.”

Before you could ask what, her lips were on yours, for the very first time since your wedding day, the taste of cherry and blood infiltrating your senses. Natasha’s eyes were shut, her lips unsure, but when you reciprocated and deepened the kiss, her hands abruptly pushed you back, disconnecting the both of you.

“Thanks, you can go back now.”

Natasha didn’t leave you to worry, and wonder very long of course. Because while you lay awake in bed that night more confused than ever, she barged into your bedroom, and declared, “I have two tickets to the Met tomorrow. I’ve never gone before, and I would really like to go. Do you want the other ticket?”

The nonchalance, yet shakiness in her voice that you could tell after spending so much time together, almost made you want to laugh, if it had not puzzled you even further. “I…”

She took your momentary confusion as rejection, however, as a flash of hurt appeared on her face, before she turned and said, “Never mind, forget it. I’ll go by myself tomorrow.”

That had you jumping out of bed quicker than you had ever done before, as you prevented the door from slamming, and held her hand back. “Wait, Nat, you didn’t really give me a chance to answer!”

At her eyebrow quirk and invitation for you to continue, you chuckled, and showcased your smile, the special smile Natasha knew was reserved just for her, and said, “Of course I want the other ticket. We’ll go together.”

There it was. The feeling of her heart going to burst again. It had happened on the way home, had multiplied during the kiss, felt like it was legitimately going to burst right then. 

Natasha fought the smile creeping onto her face, as she coolly replied, “Great. It’s a date. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“Great,” you breathed, feeling like you were dreaming, “I’ll see you…tomorrow.”

Natasha shut the door to your bedroom, retreated to hers, and the squeal that left her then felt almost inhuman. 

Though, at the date itself, Natasha wondered if you had even enjoyed yourself, or learnt anything from the artwork, when she caught you looking and smiling at her more times than you were even looking at the art. 

Fast forward five years later, you hadn’t changed; as Natasha gawked and tried discussing with you on symbolism and technique, only to fail and sigh in faux irritation as you were too preoccupied admiring her instead. 

–

And in the less happy moments, you were there to quell the fear that had replaced Natasha’s anger. After the museum date, and a very heavy lunch where you had ordered half the menu to satisfy Natasha’s cravings, she had taken to the bathroom to freshen up first. 

But when nearly ten minutes passed with no indication of her presence in the bathroom, you thought it was reasonable to get worried, given her current state. So giving the door a few soft knocks, you were surprised that it creaked open, not even closed or locked. 

And you were even more surprised, perhaps a little disappointed, to see Natasha still standing over the bathroom scale, frowning as she tried to look over her bump at the numbers below. 

She noticed your presence, noticed you leaning against the sink as you entered, unsure of what to say to her, but all Natasha could zero in on was the additional two kilograms that she had put on, another spike from the previous week.  

“Why’d you order so much earlier?” She whispered, half angry at herself, half afraid that you had noticed the weight gain far earlier than she had. 

But Natasha knew the answer was not in blaming you, not anymore, she had sworn, as immediately after, an apologetic look appeared on her face and you moved forward with bringing her off the scale. Shoving it right under the bathtub again, you brought her to face the mirror, and smiled convincingly. 

“It’s completely normal,” your lips moved to the space between her neck and shoulder, pressing feather-light kisses, “To grow for our baby.” 

“Not this fast, not this much,” Natasha rebutted. “Two kilograms since last week is too much.”

You allowed yourself to chuckle against her skin. “Maybe our little one is a big eater.”

“Or their mother is a fat cow who can’t even control her urges–”

“–Natasha.” Your voice had suddenly dropped, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. The smile on your face was gone, replaced with a dangerous glare she had often seen before you took down million dollar organised crime institutions. She groaned, feeling your grip around her tighten. “Don’t ever say that about yourself ever again.”

There were tears hot behind her eyes, but Natasha choked down her sob with, “I’m just afraid you won’t find me attractive anymore…at the end of all of this…when I’ve become so…different…from what I used to be, from what my body used to be. I mean, I know what I was, I know I have always used my body to get what I needed in the past, and even since the Avengers and SHIELD, it has never changed. Until now. Even Ward said it, you know? When he told you you struck gold—”

Fuck. You knew that was going to come back to bite you, and it did, astronomically. You shut your eyes then, shaking your head and trying to stop the river of regret of not punching his face right then and there overwhelm your senses. He was your friend, one of your oldest at it, but Natasha was your wife, and you should have done better for your wife. 

“–Fuck Ward. He was drunk, and I should have beat the shit out of him when he said all those things about you.” You knew it was completely your fault that Natasha was even feeling like this, that the tears streaming down her face then was because of the insecurities you instilled in her. 

“He’s somewhat right, but–”

“–No, he’s not,” you interjected, “He’s a piece of shit, that’s what he is. I was too tipsy to really take in his words then, and he had me cornered in front of everyone. I was a coward, and didn’t say anything when he was insulting your name in front of me. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Nat.” 

Natasha’s lips trembled as her hands laid over yours, and you sighed in frustration. “You know that what he says is not reflective of what I think of you, right? That I never, and I would never, think of you in that way. Your body growing, changing, will never deter what I feel for you. You are beautiful, Nat, a little extra weight is not going to undo five years of my love just like that.”

She sighed, still in worry, when you slowly reached further up her shirt, slipping your hands underneath  and holding the breasts she had been complaining had hurt for the past few weeks. “And you know these are growing too, which is a major plus for me.” 

“Ugh,” Natasha gave an annoyed look, hiding the hint of a smile, “Do you always have to ruin the moment?” 

But the woman certainly did not complain when you turned her right around, and began worshipping her body the way she deserved to be worshipped. 

–

Of course, not every part of Natasha’s change with her body was as harmless as a little weight gain. Her back hurt, she was having trouble going to the toilet most days, and most of all, the breasts that you admired growing so much, were giving her the hardest time of her days thus far. 

Inevitably, she was cranky. Twice she had caught herself from snapping at you for trying to initiate intimacy in the mornings, and when she painfully rolled over to alleviate the tension in her back, she had left you a little hurt and concerned. But you were merely brushed off with a I’m still sleepy, or not now, and you had no choice but to leave her be. 

By the time she had showered in the morning and headed to the bedroom to change, you watched as she slipped off her robe and grabbed the hoodie you put on her the very day you and Clint rescued her (which never returned to your own closet ever since), but when the thick fabric touched her skin and weighed her down, she flinched and sighed in discomfort. This time, you got up from the bed to hold her hands, massaging them too. 

“What’s hurting you?” You asked, assessing her body to see if there were visible signs of injury, to which there were none.

She shrugged, looking away. It was so stupid to feel burdened by this, Natasha thought. She was an assassin, and an Avenger, for Christ’s sake. God forbid she was losing a battle with her own body in pregnancy. You would think of her as weak, and incapable of raising a child without shouldering so much hardship, she considered, and a new fear crept within. “I’m fine.”

“Do you really want to play this game with me, Nat?” You prompted again, an eyebrow raised this time. “You know you can’t hide these things from me.”

“I can try,” she let out a smirk, to which you pressed down a little harder on her knuckle and she cursed, before lowering her head in shame, reaching out to pull you in for an embrace. You obliged, and with her face smushed into your shirt, she mumbled, “They hurt. My breasts hurt.”

“Oh.” You looked down to her eyes searching yours for signs of rejection, or amusement, that she was unable to hide pain as trivial as this, but you were serious. And then, you brought her in closer, and she sighed in happiness at the feeling of being held.

“My bras are all a little too tight now. Even the loosest hooks press against them too hard,” Natasha indulged, relieved that you were nodding in understanding. 

Finally, you asked, “You still up for your ice cream cravings from last night?”

“Mm,” she replied, “I dreamt of butterscotch last night, of course.”

At your chuckle, Natasha smiled, the sound of your laughter music to her ears as you began leading her down to the car to head out. 

But what Natasha didn’t expect, as she held onto her butterscotch cone while you helped hold her other flavour in your hand, was for you to bring her to a maternity shop by the mall, a personal assistant already greeting the both of you as she entered. 

She looked at you in surprise when the assistant led her to a section further down the shop, and you shrugged and said, “Figured you needed some new bras, my hands aren’t enough support.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha quickly let go of your arm as the assistant began pushing forth recommendations for softer, more comfortable bras for the rest of her pregnancy. She was grateful to you, as she sighed in relief at the instant comfort and support the new ones provided, while you sighed in contentment watching her try them on in the fitting room. 

“I’ll make you even happier than you were in that fitting room, tonight,” she whispered as you paid, a smirk growing on your lips right after. 

–

Though, as the shop assistant busied you with offering promotions and memberships while you paid, Natasha roamed around, and spotted a small rack of magazines right by the counter. Clearly a tabloid highlight, she skimmed the magazines for any good ones to bring home, when her eyes were caught in a particular tabloid; one with yours and Wanda’s faces splashed right at the cover. 

Her heart sinking, she picked it up immediately, and the headlines were not much more forgiving. Exclusive scoop: Illicit affairs even in superhero assemblies; will the Scarlet Witch tear down every family she is accepted to? 

Quickly flipping through the pages, Natasha scanned a quick analysis of yours and Natasha’s relationship, and eventually, reached the looming question of your marriage, and its legitimacy. They then showed the progression of yours and Wanda’s closeness that was not invisible even to the public, and the chemistry the both of you radiated onto each other. The next few pages held her compared side by side with Wanda, including her looks and abilities compared to the Scarlet Witch’s, and even a trivia to which one of them the reader would choose if they were you. 

It made Natasha sick to the core. It seemed as if everyone could see it, everyone but her, that Wanda was the better option. Not her, never her. Anybody but her. Obviously, she was so much younger, much more worthy of your companionship, much more deserving of your love. Whatever good had come from the day had vacated, as a permanent frown began to creep its way onto Natasha’s face, and an icy cold feeling crept onto her hands. 

Her ears were ringing, and when you called out to her, she had frozen in place with the inability to hear anything but her own deprecating thoughts. You got worried then, and quietly excused yourself from the assistants to walk up to her. 

When your arms wrapped around her waist a few moments later, and the magazine was taken from her hands to be brought back to the shelf, Natasha felt herself physically trembling. 

“Let’s go home,” was all you said, as you led her out of the shop, arm still around her waist as Natasha felt the world disappear from her own reality. 

–

In the car, however, you made sure she was comfortable, before holding her hand reassuringly, and convinced her to look at you. 

“Natasha.”

“Mm,” she tried to avert her gaze to the window behind you, but you were firm. Even though there were tears in her eyes then, you remained strong and continued. 

“I need to tell you something, and I know you will get angry, and very upset with me, but I hope…I hope you will understand, and you will forgive me. So we can move past this, together.”

At her nod, you declared, “I had feelings for Wanda, for a while in our relationship. It was when things were at the lowest between us, and I felt all hope was lost, when…when it was just a while before and during your announcement of the pregnancy.”

Natasha bit her lip, trying to withdraw her hand from yours, but you held on. “But those feelings have long dissipated, Natasha. Trust me, you are all I want, all I love now. 

I admit, the night we had that talk, with my drunk driving and stupid decisions, I…I thought of calling her. It felt like you had given up on me, I thought I should give up on our relationship, and…and I was exhausted and stressed. But the phone rang, and I saw you there, you and our baby asleep on the sofa, and…my whole future was there. I saw only you and our child, Natasha, nobody else. I couldn’t do it, I hung up the phone right when she picked up, and my feelings for her died with the urge to start something I knew I would regret. 

I recognise my mistakes, I know, I was a shitty wife and an even more horrible person, for even thinking of doing that to you, and I understand if you need space after this. But I just want you to know, Natasha, that you are the one I love, you are the one I would choose everyday, and nobody compares to you. I was stupid for even thinking there could be a possibility otherwise, I know it now. No one else makes my heart beat as fast as you do, no one else I would love the way I love you.”

The paper bag in Natasha’s lap crinkled as she adjusted her thighs, the swipe of her hands against her tear-stained cheeks sounding like a harsh slap as she let go of yours. You watched as she faced the door of the car then, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Natasha–”

“–Just…drive home. I need time, and space.”

Watching her retreat straight into the bathroom and hearing her retching right as you reached home, you knew that telling Natasha had been the right thing; you just wished the right thing did not have to be so difficult then. 

—

For the better part of the rest of the day, Natasha avoided you as much as she could, staying in the bedroom while you spent time simmering in your guilt. Look at the consequences of your actions. Made your wife cry, yet again. Made her feel less of herself, yet again. Natasha was too good to you, and you knew it. 

You brought her dinner as a peace offering. Knocking softly on the door of the bedroom, you could hear the sheets rustling as you said, “I’ve made dinner. Do you want to eat it inside?” 

A yes was heard, and you tentatively opened the door to find Natasha still under the sheets, face not visible. She pulled them up even higher as you set down the plate by her vanity table, and even though you wanted to say something, anything, to get her to even look at you, you knew better. 

Another soft click was heard as the door shut behind you, and Natasha continued to let the waterworks run. 

–

At night, you asked if you could enter the bedroom again, to which Natasha said yes. She was sitting on the bed this time, eyes still red, but at the very least not crying anymore. It was nearly time for bed, and in her nightgown, she watched as you went to your side of the bed, and picked up your pillows and a spare blanket. 

“Where are you going?” She asked, putting down her book. Her voice was still throaty. 

“The couch?” You answered, a little confused that she thought you would be anywhere else. “Do you…want anything? Before bed?”

Usually you fixed her a hot glass of milk before bed, or the occasional decaffeinated tea to help her sleep better. But tonight you were unsure of any move you should make in order not to upset her even further, and skipped out on the ritual. 

Natasha took a while to consider her next words, and you were prepared to head to the kitchen to steam the milk for her, when she patted the space beside her, and said, “Stay. Sleep here tonight.”

“Nat, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch if you’re not comfortable–”

“–Stay. I want to sleep next to you tonight.”

You nodded, fighting off the grateful smile on your face, and ensured there was as much space as possible between the two of you as you laid down on the bed, just in case. 

A few minutes passed, you wide awake and listening to Natasha’s breathing. Recently, it was a habit that you had begun doing; Natasha was afraid of falling asleep alone, and her nightmares did not help with her insomnia either. You always waited for her to fall asleep first, no matter the circumstances, no matter how tired you were. 

Her breathing slowed to even intervals, but never slow enough to indicate she was asleep. And then, she whispered in the dark, “Can you look at me, darling?” 

You rolled over to face her, and your heart squeezed at the sight of her crying again. She reached out for your hand, you gave it to her willingly, and she brought it to her bump, squeezing it in fear that you might let go of her. 

“I know, there are better women out there for you. I know, that I am not the most attractive, or the easiest to be with. I know I get mad at you when I so often encounter problems that I should be more mad at myself with, I know you know yourself that you could have done so much better than just…me. I practically stole the rest of your future away, with my problems and my need to escape the KGB. You could have settled down with someone better, someone like Wanda, maybe, started a family with them earlier, had a much easier time being with them. 

Or you could have moved to Switzerland and become head of the new STRIKE team, like Fury and everyone else expected you to, without being bound to stay because of me. Anything, I know, is better than me.”

You were about to protest, to hold Natasha’s face and say that everything that just came out of her mouth was not the least bit true, but she shook her head, and you allowed her to continue. 

“But I need you, and I love you. I needed you then, when the whole world was against me and you were the only one to show me kindness by sticking with me, I will need you in the future, when the baby is here and needs their two parents, but most importantly, I need you now, when I have no one else with me to go through this scary, scary nine months with. 

I’m sorry I’m not Wanda, I’m sorry I can never be her, but please…I need you to choose me, to choose us. More than anything, more than the baby in my womb right now, I need, and want you around with me, for the rest of my life. I don’t know how to get through all this alone without you, I don’t know how my heart can accept and love anyone else but you. You are my everything, you know this, and this is me begging you, to please, please, choose me. 

Our little one is half of you, as is my heart shaped by yours. Despite everything, you are all I love, you are all that makes sense to me, and I would do anything, just for you to be by my side, please. I need you, we need you.”

Your lips began to bleed with how hard you were biting them, as fresh, salty tears began to roll down your own face, the remorse and longing wrapping around your heart like a snake, squeezing so tight you felt like you were drowning. 

A choked sob left your throat as you then pulled Natasha to your arms, peppering her face with wet kisses and murmurs of you, always you, as she held onto you for dear life as well. 

“Nobody else,” you reaffirmed, the tightness of your arms around Natasha a welcomed feeling as she cried into your chest, “Nobody else but you, till the end of time.” 

She tangled her body with yours, always pressing herself closer if possible, as if afraid that you would slip away from her just as quickly as she had gotten the old you back, and only when you began carding your hands through her hair and reassured her that you were not going anywhere, did her breathing finally even out. 

It was the first night in two weeks where her nightmares never came.

–

The time with Natasha alone ran out on a balmy Friday afternoon, as Fury had called you back for an emergency mission the minute her first trimester had ended and the two of you had patched up your relationship. However, she was reluctant to move back to the compound so soon, and with an agreement for your mother to come visit her on days that you were not around during missions, she was happier to stay in the cabin nesting. 

Still, it did not quell your worries, as you watched your elderly mother fuss over Natasha as if she was her own daughter. Teaching the woman her signature crochet patterns, she noticed as you stood by the door, fidgeting with your fingers at the sight of Natasha near the knitting needles. “You worry too much, dear.”

“Right, I told her so too,” Natasha chimed in, to which you scoffed and rolled your eyes at their ganging up on you. 

Your bags were packed and in the car, everything Natasha could need for the next week was packed in the shelves and fridges, and you had reminded your mother to be careful when accompanying her for her doctor’s appointment in two days. “Just…the prenatals, every morning, okay Mom? And if you’re cooking her eggs, remember to get them a little more well done.No runny yolks. She needs at least eight hours of sleep–”

“–Yes, dear, I know. You’re treating your wife like a baby, I don’t think your father was even as concerned when I was pregnant with you,” she said, following you out on the porch after you had kissed Natasha goodbye for her midday nap, “Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. I know you love your wife so much, but remember that I’m here, and she’s safe, too.”

You nodded, gulping. “I know, I know. I just haven’t been treating her so well these past few months, I want to…I want to make sure..”

“I know,” your mother pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead, hugging you goodbye, “Now go. Focus on the mission. And come home safe, for her, and the child, okay?”

–

“Well you look healthier, and happier,” Tony chimed in as he watched you fly the Quinjet for the first time in three months, your hands slightly shaking. 

You steered left, before replying, “Thanks.” 

“Why isn’t Natasha on this mission? I thought Fury said he needed someone who could work with the security system?” Steve pointed out right after, and all eyes travelled to you.

You knew they had their suspicions, but they were just waiting for you to say it. It could only go on for so long, after all.

Stabilising the jet in the air, you then moved out of your seat to finally face the team. “Natasha’s pregnant. Three and a half months, today.” 

Knowing looks were exchanged, and the smiles began to grow on your teammates’ faces, as one by one they started clapping for you, with Steve coming forward to hug you tightly then. “Congratulations.”

Then, he leaned in, whispering, “You guys are okay, now?”

“Yup,” you replied, “We’re better.”

You thanked the team quickly after, promising to let them visit Natasha soon, before refocusing on your targeted location for the mission. 

–

You should have guessed that when Fury said they needed you for an emergency mission, they needed you for a truly emergency mission. 

Bullets raining down on your heads and armed weaponry that did not seem like they were made from any material on this earth, you found yourself trapped with Clint in the vents of the abandoned government building with barely any room to breathe without risking a bullet in your head. 

“Just like old times, huh?” He tried to lighten the mood, “The archer and the spider.” 

“I’m not like the kid,” you retorted, “They actually inserted the serum of that spider safely in me. No freakish hanging-on-walls nonsense.” 

He rolled his eyes, letting you web up an enemy from a distance, before finally ambushing the soldiers from the vent and preparing yourself for a long, drawn out battle with them. 

–

But no matter how hard you fought, or how many of Clint’s arrows helped to take enemies off your back, you were clearly outnumbered when the enemy had cut off all of your comms early on, Tony unable to come in for backup while you and Clint were probably in the most densely-populated part of the building. 

The moment the archer got caught in one of the negative-energy weapons the enemies had struck at him, was the moment you knew you had to escape. There was no point in trying to take them down and risking Clint. 

You shot the last web to blind Clint’s attacker, before releasing him and swinging straight out of the window to the lower floors. He was groaning in your hold, as you examined the remnants of the energy searing a deep burn onto his skin. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, worried that something would spread underneath and render his arms useless, “I’m taking you back to the jet.”

The first ones back on the jet were Tony and Steve, the energy on the verge of melting the Wakandan metal on the Captain’s shield and Tony’s weapons. You turned back to Clint worriedly, but before you could say anything more, the comms crackled and a groan was heard from the other side. 

“C-Can anyone help? We’re kind of…” The comms crackled again, but it was clear whose voice was on the other end.

“Peter, where are you?” You were the only one uninjured, and fit enough to go back in, as the doctors had already begun escorting Clint away, and the Captain and Tony were still trying to get their weapons and shield back working. 

“South Building, second floor,” his voice was getting fainter and fainter, before, “Can you hurry, please? I’m with Ms Maximoff, and it’s not g–”

“–I’ll be right there, Peter.”

–

The area was fairly unguarded as you tore through more enemies towards the South Building, and you soon found out why when more than half of them were tied up in Wanda’s magic, hanging from the ceiling in every room you burst through.

“Peter! Wanda!” Upon your arrival, you heard Peter’s web shooters fly and immediately rushed to his aid just a few rooms down from where you were. 

The boy was on the ground, shrouding a heavily injured Wanda with negative-energy enveloping all around her, while the last of the attackers tried desperately to capture the both of them. You overpowered them easily with more strength and experience, but as you returned to the duo you knew that the mission had been compromised, and had to be abandoned. 

Inspecting Spider-Man for injuries, you were glad that he was still able to walk, and more importantly, swing, as you then carried an unconscious Wanda into your arms and led him swinging behind you to safety. 

“Do me a favour,” you said as he found difficulty keeping up, “Don’t ever do that again. Risking your life like that.”

“Ms Maximoff was–”

“–I know she was injured, but if it came down to it, Peter, I wouldn’t have wanted you both dead. You tell me when you know you’re not able to handle these things next time, and I’ll be there instantly,  you know I will. Better me than you, okay?”

The young hero could only nod slowly behind. 

–

Back at the Quinjet, while everyone was scrambling to grab medical supplies for Wanda and the energy quickly burning through her skin, Steve pulled you aside to put you on the line with Fury.

“I know you’re worried about her Agent,” his voice cut through the noise in your head as you stared at Wanda being wrapped in all sorts of healing blankets and devices, “But I wish to request something.”

“Yes, Fury,” you replied, heart still in your throat as you watched the woman fail to open her eyes through her second resuscitation. You couldn’t help feeling like it was all your fault, that you hadn't gotten to her in time, and fear was steadily rising through your body. 

If Fury noticed the lack of focus in your voice, he didn’t mention it. “The nearest safehouse and medical facility for you guys is too far. Doctor Cho fears it might be too late for Wanda. The only other option is the woods where yours and Natasha’s cabin is.”

Even in your worry, you couldn’t help but prioritise your wife, though. “I don’t want Natasha involved–”

“–She won’t. As far as she knows, she’s just lending your house for the doctors in the jet to treat the team. That’s all. I’ve already gotten her approval, Agent.”

You sighed through the phone, heavy and worried. But one more look at Clint, and then Wanda, had confirmed any doubts you had. “I’ll get us there, then.”

–

Natasha was already waiting by the fields by the time you landed the jet, rushing forward to engulf you in her arms as she consciously felt around your suit for any injuries as well. When she didn’t find anything but a slash through your right shoulder, she sighed in relief and could only turn her focus to the team then. 

“I’m fine,” you breathed, thankful for the fact that she was there, “Can’t say the same for everyone here, though.” The both of you watched as Clint was carried by Steve into the cabin, followed by Wanda by Tony, and Natasha felt your fist tighten at the sight of her skin seared and lips pale. 

“Can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault. First mission back and I’m already getting so many of them injured.” You muttered.

Natasha cupped your face then, shaking her head. “Don’t say that. You didn’t know better, Steve was the leader of this mission, and none of you could have anticipated that there would be so many of them. And you are home now, you are safe, which is all that matters to me.” 

You leaned into her touch, nodding your head. 

–

the medical team left by midnight once they had stabilised wanda’s injuries, but being the only one certified as a medical professional aside from doctor strange, you chose to stay by her side the entire night, as she took up the spare bedroom in the cabin while the rest of the team slept in the living room. 

you changed her dressings after a few hours, and when you came out of her room, natasha was sitting by the kitchen counter. she was awake, and a steaming mug of milk was right beside her. soft snores from the living room had filled up the atmosphere, but the low lighting she had switched on made her look more ethereal than ever. her face shrouded in the warm glow, you approached her carefully and smiled when she gazed up at you. 

disposing of the bloody bandages, you sat across from her and saw that she had been filling up the crossword in the newspaper. 

“couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged. you pointed out a word to her and she thanked you. 

“without me?” you joked, but she nodded, and you smiled sadly. “i’m sorry. i…” 

you gestured towards the room, but natasha put her hand up. “i understand. i know you’re worried. i am too.”

you bit your lip, half in shame, half in guilt that your worry for wanda was affecting your wife too. but natasha put on a brave smile then, looking at the bloody dressings, and said, “i’ll help you get the new bandages from our storage. go.”

you dutifully returned to the room, watching her silhouette disappear for a moment before the door shut and your heart dipped deeper into your stomach.

–

you were administering a new bag into wanda’s IV drip when her fingers twitched, proceeding to ghost along the skin of your left arm as her eyes opened blearily. 

“hello sunshine,” you smiled at her, apologising as you reinserted the needle. 

wanda tried to smile back. “waking up to your face? i thought i must have died and went to heaven.”

you chuckled, but slowly removed the hand that had encircled around your wrist. “not heaven. you’re still stuck in this shitty cabin with me and the rest of the avengers. and if the painkillers tell you otherwise, just remember that your skin is redder and rawer than a tomato now.” 

the spare room was in fact your study, with the makeshift hospital bed in the middle and your desk pushed to the far corner of the room. as wanda’s eyes travelled and took in her surroundings then, you noticed her gazing across the photos of you and natasha on the desk replacing the ones with the team (and her), natasha’s little trinkets that you had now adopted, and the multiple scans of the baby right alongside. 

she looked at you sadly, and asked, “three and a half months?”

“yeah,” you grabbed the most recent scan, showing her, “natasha wants to wait a little while before knowing the gender. i'm a little afraid, to be honest, but we’re excited nonetheless.”

“right.” wanda looked at the scan, where the faint shape of the foetus was forming. she knew she had lost the moment she saw the softness in your eyes as you gazed back at the scan. 

she swallowed her fears, and asked, “so it’s her then? between me and her?” 

you looked up, staring at her face and remembering the phone call, the late nights, the companionship of being around the scarlet witch. fighting by her side in missions, coming home to her laughs and comfort after, you remembered her encouraging you after every fight with Natasha, the smiles exchanged as she brought you in for hugs and your laughter as she tried making jokes to cheer you up. 

wanda’s eyes were blue, natasha’s green. but there was only one pair you knew you would stare lovingly into for the rest of your life. 

natasha’s first night with you after your first date, sharing ice cream and exchanging quiet smiles. her wearing the sweater you had put on her after her rescue. it was her safety sweater, the safest space in her world. the tightness of her hugs, the softness of her kisses. the love in her eyes when you discussed parenthood with her, the excitement of you promising to be by her side until the end of time. 

“it’s her. in every life, i would choose her.” 

natasha, who had been listening behind the door, held the bandages closer to her chest, the warmth spreading through her had her smiling until her cheeks hurt. 

[nyoomfruits]

hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them

This one, lando and oscar, please I BEG

hive mind hive mind hive mind

At the end of the day, Oscar’s going to blame the exhaustion.

Exhaustion over the shit luck that seems to follow him through this stupid triple header. Exhaustion over having to drive an entire race for nothing because of the stupid +1 lap. Exhaustion over his break up with Lily, who had sat him down for a talk roughly a month ago and told him very gently that she couldn’t be with him when his heart clearly belonged to someone else.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

So he blames the exhaustion, and the fact that he misses her, and that he’s so used to wrapping her small frame up in a hug after a bad race, letting her mere presence comfort him.

It’s the only excuse he has, really, for wandering into the meeting room Lando and his race engineer just finished their debrief in, wrapping his arms around Lando’s waist, pressing his lips against the back of Lando’s neck and mumbling, “Let’s go home, yeah?” against his skin.

It doesn’t even fully register until the body in his arms freezes, and says, “Oscar?” But with the r dropped and the a sounding more like a u.

“Shit,” Oscar says, jumping away from Lando so fast he bangs his knee against the table. “Lando, fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought-“

But he doesn’t finishes the sentence. Because what he wanted to say was ‘I thought you were Lily’ but despite missing her, and her comfort, he never actually thought it was her.

He hadn’t been looking for Lily, when he’d wandered into the briefing room. He’d been looking for what Lily would’ve offered him, before. He’d been looking for love.

And he’d gone to Lando.

Lando, who is smiling at him like nothing weird has just happened, soft in a way he only ever looks at Oscar. “At least buy a guy dinner first, yeah?” He says, and his tone is joking, but it’s also not.

And fuck it. Oscar thinks back, on how Lily had said his heart belonged to someone else. And maybe she was right. Maybe it did. And maybe-

“You’re right,” Oscar says, allowing himself to smile back. “How do you feel pizza? There’s a great place right around the corner from here.”

Lando’s smile widens, takes over his entire face. He looks radiant, so goddamn beautiful, and Oscar feels a little stupid, suddenly, for not realizing before. “Yeah,” Lando says, eyes bright and sparkling. “I love pizza.”

[snipersfucker]

request from @infintyfandoms: Thought! Mirage is always so reckless, well what if one time he went too far and hurt his friend or s/o (either)?? I feel like he’d blame himself so bad - even if he was blind sighted by a distracted driver. Never drive crazy again or not drive around again or what??

angsty mirage x fem!reader times. thought of making it a headcanon thingy but nah. this one might need a warning that there are descriptions of serious injuries. and im also writing this on 0 hours of sleep thank you very much

A silver Porsche parked in front of the vinyl store you just walked out of was catching the attention of every passerby. Both men and women's eyes were stopping on the vehicle for a bit longer than they would on any regular car, their heads turning slightly to allow them to do that.

Mirage loved that. He loved transforming in different models everyday, the next one even more prestigious than the one before. Just to get that attention every single time.

You noticed a couple of teenage girls staring at your boyfriend, and even though you were fully aware they were doing so only because he was a good-looking car, you still rolled your eyes at it.

Your feet led you to the Porsche and you hopped in. Before getting the chance to point out the shameless staring of the group of teens, Mirage spoke up, "Whatcha got there?"

Your gaze had shifted to the vinyl case before you placed it down on the passenger's seat without much thought.

"Music," you responded casually in a light tone, putting your hands on the steering wheel, even though you knew Mirage would be doing the driving. "You got fans," you murmured under your breath but Mirage could obviously hear it. Your eyes landed on the girls again, and although you weren't particularly jealous, you still didn't appreciate it too much.

"Hell yeah, I do, baby," he said proudly, the grin in his voice palpable, even though you couldn't see it at the moment. And then, he added, a little bit more quietly as if he was saying this to the man who literally stopped in front of the car to admire him, "You wish you looked like that, huh?"

You let out an amused snort, and patted the gear stick with your palm to give him a sign to drive out of the parking lot. "C'mon."

"Let me honk at him," he'd asked for your permission seconds before doing it anyway without you allowing him to, causing the man to jump in his spot and then walk away. You just smacked the passenger's seat in disapproval, not even going on a rant about his behaviour because it was a daily occurrence for Mirage to do whatever he wanted.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, offended by your sudden reaction, as if he wasn't used to it, "I'm all for violence unless it's directed towards me," he muttered, sounding like an annoyed child. Then, without any warning, he revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot onto the main road. You only rolled your eyes without a word but then, you noticed how fast he was passing all the other cars in his lane, which he would usually cuss out for being slow, as if their owners weren't driving under the speed limit for safety reasons.

"Mirage…" you warned him, using his full name instead of a nickname, which he did not appreciate but decided not to speak on it and just change the topic.

"Jus' tell me it's not George Michael," he said with a short sigh, as if it was very important to him that it, in fact, was not George Michael.

"Mirage..." you warned him once again, ignoring his words, gripping the steering wheel with much more force now to hopefully get him to slow down.

"Nope," he said simply, understanding what you meant without you even having to say it. If he was in his humanoid form, he'd probably cross his arms on his chest and shake his head with that signature smirk indicating that he knew he was in control of the situation. "That's what you get for hitting your poor boy," he added, sounding very content with himself, revving the engine once more just to show you that he, in fact, was not planning on slowing down.

You scoffed. "You deserved it."

"For what?" he began talking in that specific, overly innocent tone, and you just knew he was going to say something sarcastic that would only annoy you even more, "For being so cute and funny?" He asked rhetorically, as if he wasn't aware that he really needn't have honked at that man, and then drive as recklessly as he normally would when you weren't inside him.

But he was very much aware. It was just that his pride didn't allow him to apologise.

"For being a little shit." You decided not to banter with him as per usual, but just to get straight to the point. Even though you were possibly risking starting an argument between you two, you just needed to reprimend him at the moment, especially now that you noticed how nonchalant he was about it.

"Ouch," he pretended to be hurt by what you just said. And although he wasn't actually offended, he still wasn't really in the mood to let you win.

So he sped up even more.

Noticing the opportunity presented right in front of him, the almost empty road ahead of you two, he floored the gas pedal, making you let out a short, quiet noise at the impact in which you got pushed back into the seat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you asked him with anger in your voice, not raising it just yet, and not actually expecting a response. But you got one anyway:

"Takin' you on a ride date, baby," he answered sarcastically, his overly sweet tone making him sound even more annoying than before.

"Mirage, I—"

If he wasn't as sure in his abilities as he was, he'd never drive over three times faster than the speed limit allowed, never wanting to actually risk you getting hurt in any way.

And it wasn't even his fault, when a sport's car drove right into his left side, before you could even finish your sentence.

It wasn't his fault that the car ran a red light, that it was supposed to stop and wait for him to just drive away without getting thrown to the right by the impact.

It wasn't his fault that he was now rolling over for the fifth time, his roof and sides hitting the hard asphalt every single time.

You weren't even making any noises anymore so that he would know that you were with him, conscious, alive. He ignored the sound of his glass shattering, his metal body getting scratched, bent and painfully ruined, just to be able to hear your breath.

The other car was in a much worse condition, but he didn't care. The only thing occupying his mind was you, your heartbeat he would do anything to hear again. He needed to make sure you were still there.

He felt it all. He felt the pain that came with getting drove into by another car, with flipping over with unimaginable speed and force. But he needed to make sure you were alright.

And he couldn't even do anything to stop his worst nightmare from beginning to play right in front of his very optics.

Then, after a few moments that felt like hours to him, everything finally came to an end. The hiss coming out of him was still hearable, the hot steam, the liquid pouring out of his fual lines threatened to mix with the flames growing with every passing second. But it was finally quiet; no noise of metal hitting the asphalt distracted him from listening to your body.

His spark nearly exploded with relief when he heard the faint sound of your heartbeat. He wanted to transform, to be able to hold you, to get you out of him so that his bent roof wouldn't be pressing against your wounded head.

When people began to gather up around him, he realised he had a decision to make: to transform and risk getting hunted down just like it happened to Bumblebee, or to stay there and pray to Primus, pray to the people now surrounding him that they'd help you and make sure you were okay.

He wanted to scream at them to hurry up, to get you out, to make that heartbeat of yours sound more promising. To let him know that you weren't going to—

The idea of losing you forever crossed his mind for a split second before he could even stop it.

And it was his fault that he was going a lot over the speed limit, too distracted by the need to tease you, to win the argument, and show you that you had nothing to say in the way he was behaving.

It was his fault that there was crimson running down your forehead, the drops rolling past the hairs of your eyebrows, all the way down to your jaw, then staining your shirt with your own blood.

It was his fault that your body felt lifeless against his ruined upholstery, the only motion it was making was an almost undetectable rise of your chest every couple of seconds.

His train of thoughts got interrupted by the distant sound of sirens getting closer and closer to him. The people were talking, someone was yelling, it all making an irritating mixture of human noises he didn't need to hear at the moment.

Mirage felt his left door being opened or rather being torn out of him in a couple painful motions. He didn't care.

He just wanted them to take you away from him.

When he no longer felt your weight on his driver's seat, he almost let a sound of relief through his radio, but just now noticed that it's been ruined, making it impossible for him to do so. He hadn't paid attention to it earlier, too stunned to be able to say anything to you, even though your name and endless questions if you were okay wanted to escape him.

Cold liquid hit his hot metal body, the lower temperature of it somewhat helping him get in a clearer state of mind. Even though he felt deserving of being on fire, he appreciated the slight relief it gave him.

Somebody placed you on a stretcher, put you carefully in another vehicle, and then closed the door. He couldn't see you anymore but was sure the humans would take good care of you. Better care than he was able to offer.

The loud sirens hit his audio receptors before he registered the ambulance leaving the crash site.

And the sound was still bouncing against the interior walls of his helm every single day since the accident. The imagine of your limp body, his steering wheel covered in your blood, your head pressed uncomfortably against the remains of his left window...

Two whole weeks passed and he couldn't think of anything else but you. You in that horrible state he put you in himself.

The guilt was eating him alive, and even though he'd make Noah visit you everyday in the hospital to make sure your condiction was stable, he still couldn't help but beat himself up and be worried sick.

"Concussion, five broken ribs, broken arm and nose, and she was fucking bleeding from her liver, man," your mutual friend told him after leaving the hospital for the first time, after the doctors allowed anybody to visit you, even though you weren't conscious yet.

It affected Noah nearly as much as it did the robot. The only difference was that the human had no reason to blame himself for it, because it wasn't his recklessness that nearly killed you.

Mirage fell silent.

He got quiet, very quiet, unusually for him. Every Autobot he used to hang out with knew what happened, how much you meant to him, and how affected he was by the accident. They noticed the sudden shift in his behaviour, the once bubbly personality disappearing just so he could dwell in guilt in peace.

The thing that bothered him a lot among others was that he couldn't see you. He couldn't walk into the hospital you were being taken care of in. He couldn't sit next to you and tell you how painfully sorry he was for doing it to you, for putting you in danger, for hurting you so much your pain radiated off you body and made him feel it, too.

Noah insisted on repairing him, and he agreed purely because then he'd be able to park in front of the hospital to be as near you as possible.

But he was a wreck, both physically and emotionally.

And it still didn't change when you finally got discharged. He was not the one to pick you up from the hospital, it was Noah and Bee. He couldn't face you.

You asked about him when you woke up from the coma, your friend sitting next to you on the uncomfortable hospital chair only shrugging in response, telling you he didn't know anything about Mirage, where he was or how he was.

It was a lie. The robot was spending his time either in the garage, getting fixed by his only human friend, or out on the road, hoping that maybe, just maybe someone would crash into him again, making him feel that pain again. That pain he thought he deserved for harming you.

And when you insisted on Noah taking you to the garage to see him, after getting the information about his location out of the poor human, Mirage couldn't help but feel even worse than before.

You were alive, of course you were alive, but he also did notice the way you winced with every step, how dull the colour of your skin was compared to the times before the accident, how fragile you looked, standing there in front of him with Noah not leaving your side in case you'd collapse onto the floor.

You were alive, but also in so much pain he couldn't even look at you without feeling a strong sting in his spark.

His optics shifted to Noah in an instant, as if he was trying to bash him for taking you here, which he responded to out loud with his hands raised in a defensive gesture, "She threatened me."

You didn't even know what you were feeling at that moment. A mixture of sadness, annoyance, impatience, and hurt made you unable to say anything, forcing you to just stand there in silence. Suddenly, a short wave of pain washed over your right side, making you grimace and put your only free palm on the area surrounding your liver.

As soon as Mirage noticed your movement, he made an involuntary step towards you, his servos extended in your direction, as if he was trying to both comfort you and catch you if you were to fall.

Noah immediately asked, "You okay?" His eyes shifting between your hand on your side and your pained face. You just nodded.

Uncomfortable silence fell between the three of you, and the other human was close to replacing it with whistling just so that he wouldn't have to stand there awkwardly without a word.

"Imma just leave you two, yeah?" He scratched the back of his neck, his feet already leading him in the direction of the exit. "Jus'... scream if you die or somethin'..." he added, the awkwardness making him joke about things he normally wouldn't joke about.

And then, he left. He left poor Mirage with even poorer you. Alone.

You let out a grunt, making your way to the nearest chair to sit down. He was ready to help you with everything, but he didn't know if you even wanted him to, so he just stayed in his spot.

"You look bad," you commented, lazily motioning to his beaten-up body with your hand. The raspiness, the weakness in your voice almost made him drop to his knees.

He responded unsurely after a pause, a forced, unamused smirk on his face plate, "...You should see the other guy."

It was awkward. Awkward as never before, you two having always found it pretty easy to communicate with each other. But now... Now he couldn't help but feel that unpleasant feeling in his tank when you spoke up and made him say something back to you.

And it was his fault.

Your reaction to his little joke wasn't something you could control. A short, quiet chuckle left your mouth, causing you to grab your right side even more tightly and a wince of pain on your face to deepen.

She can't even laugh.

He felt so excruciatingly bad he had to fight himself not to transform into a car and just drive away.

You wanted to tell him that you've been told the other driver didn't make it. But you knew the war it would start in his mind if you shared that information with him, so you stayed silent.

"You look terrible," he muttered after a few moments of observing your body, as if to himself to comment on the damage he'd done.

You snorted, shaking your head in amusement. "That's exactly what every woman likes to hear," you responded, deciding that a little banter would be better than sitting without any words being exchanged.

Mirage's eyes widened slightly as he took a step towards you, his servos up in the air again in a specific gesture that indicated that he didn't actually mean it like that.

He had this tendency to make things worse with his words, and normally it wouldn't bother him at all, but this time it was you. He didn't want to make thing worse with you.

"No, no, you're pretty. Gorgeous, in my humble opinion. Walking perfection even," he wanted to correct himself, spurting word after word just to show you that he didn't want you to be mad at him. "Geez, I'm sorry," he added, bringing his servos to his face plate to cover it in... embarrassment.

Something new for him.

You shook your head, looking up at him with a small smile. "I do look kinda ter—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he said with much more confidence now, "...For everything."

He rarely apologised.

But you deserved to hear it. Even if you weren't ready to forgive him just yet, even if you were to never forgive him, he just needed you to know that he regretted it.

You frowned, opening your mouth to say something, but he interrupted you again, "Maybe I shouldn't have be the fastest car in Brooklyn that day. Maybe I should've listened to you and not be a little shit," he recalled the way you called him these few weeks ago, just minutes before the accident. With determination in his tone, he continued, "You can hate me, I can take it." But then, he changed his mind as soon as he realised he would prefer if you didn't hate him, "Actually. Hate me for the next three days at max. Please. If you don't want me to rip my vents out."

You snorted weakly once more, the movement of your body making you wince in pain again.

He finally found enough courage within himself to get closer to you. With a couple of steps, he kneeled down in front of you and extended one of his servos in your direction, as if non-verbally telling you to stop laughing and not cause yourself even more pain.

"'m sorry," he whispered his apology again, the sincere look in his optics showing you just how much he cared for you.

"It wasn't y—"

"It was," he interrupted you in a much more serious tone, but it was still filled with softness, "I was stupid..."

"Nothing new," you managed to blurt out before closing your eyes shut and grunting, a grimace on your face as you felt another sting of pain, which you were kind of used to now.

You opened your eyes and looked up at his worried optics observing your every move, his servos desperately wanting to touch and help you but he knew it'd only make things worse due to his size.

You let out a short chuckle at your own joke as soon as your body allowed you to.

"Not funny," he reprimanded you with a serious face, not finding your apparent discomfort amusing at all, even though he agreed with your words.

"You were just making jokes ab—"

"So?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Child," you insulted him, fully aware how much he hated being called out on his childishness.

"I'm older than your cute little Earth, please," he scoffed.

"No, you're not," you deadpanned.

"...So?"

"I hate you," you said, although a small smile on your lips betrayed you.

"That's the spirit," he sighed but the corners of his lips curled up as well. A beat of silence passed and his gaze went back to your face, "I meant that."

You frowned slightly.

"I am sorry. For being the..." he was about to say something that would hurt his pride and ego, but decided it was worth it, "...the dumbest machine there is. Even a hairdryer is smarter than me," he insulted himself, hoping the sacrifice would make you like him again.

"You're right." You nodded, fighting back a chuckle.

He raised his arms in a playfully offended, confused gesture. "You could at least disagree, damn."

You shook your head in amusement.

After another beat of silence, he said seriously, "You're never coming inside me again."

"Wow."

"Should've worded it better, yeah..." he trailed off, "Primus, woman, give me a break." He let out a small laugh when he noticed your amused reaction to his sentence. "No, seriously... I... You're my girl, yeah? Don't want you to... You know, be in pain."

Why did he have to be so awkward about his feelings? Now that he finally had the chance to show you how much he loved you and never wanted to see you hurt again.

"I still have your..." he wanted to say that he still had your blood on some of his parts that didn't want to come off, but then decided it wasn't the best time to tell you that, "I almost lost my mind when I couldn't hear you," he confessed, his tone regaining its sincerity, the look in his optics describing his guilt to you without words.

He was referring to the moment he was so desperately trying to silence everything around him just to be able to find your heartbeat.

"I'm okay..." Your tone was soft, quiet, as if you were trying not to scare a lost, disoriented puppy.

"You're not okay," he disagreed with a slightly clenched jaw, angry at himself, not even for a second at you, "You..." He lowered himself so that he'd be able to whisper to you, as if saying these words more loudly would make them come true someday, "You almost died... I almost killed you..."

His face panel was close enough to your body for you to put your hand against his warm, metal cheek. Mirage immediately melted at the touch, his optics closing slowly just to allow him to savour the softness of your palm as much as he could.

"It wasn't your fault..." you started your monologue, this time the robot allowing you to continue, "I didn't die. I might have a broken bone or two..." He opened his eyes at this sentence, giving you a sad look. "...But I'll be alright. I didn't die," you repeated, which gained you an unsure nod from your boyfriend, who was now avoiding making eye contact with you.

You didn't force him to look up at you.

"I promise..." he trailed off, not wanting to show you how weak he felt, "I promise I'll never do that again..." His gaze went back to meet yours as you smiled softly, your eyes filled with love you had for him. "I'll never be dumber than a hairdryer, you have my unreliable word. And I'll never argue with you. I'll just say that I'm sorry, and that my woman is always right, and I'll shut up for as long as you want me to. And I... I'll never drive over twenty-five. Yeah, it hurts. But guess what hurts more. Seeing you with a broken bone or two."

Joking might've been the only way he would be able to overcome the sorrow he felt within himself. But it worked both for you and him. You really wouldn't have it any other way.

"Tell me," you whispered with a slight head tilt, slowly closing the gap between your faces.

He frowned, not understanding what you meant by that, but then the small smirk on your lips explained it to him.

He rolled his optics, the remains of guilt still evident in them, although with every passing second and every joke, they seemed to disappear bit by bit.

"'m sorry. My woman is always right," he repeated himself, pretending to find it very boring, as if he didn't really want to admit that. But he did. He did want you to know that he meant every single thing that rolled off his glossa.

Your smile widened immediately, your eyes closing as you minimized the gap between your and Mirage's lips completely.

And then, after long weeks of not being able to forgive himself for hurting the only woman he loved, he was finally able to feel relief.

[iwas-tooru]

how i think the kny demons let it rip

AKAZA

refuses to fart in a public space, the thought is absolutely mortifying to him

excuses himself politely and goes into a little corner to do it

occasionally when he can't hold it in he lets it out and blames the smell on Douma

DOUMA

accidentally farts when he's laughing too hard but isn't necessarily ashamed of it

it's very unexpected like one second he's wheezing hard and the next you hear a loud one rip

it surprises him too but he just goes "ah, excuse me ✋🏻✋🏻" and just goes right back to saying whatever he was saying

doesn't really stink, unless he's freshly back from munching on women at his shrine lol

KOKUSHIBO

he doesn't feel the need to hold it in if he senses a discreet one coming on but Kokushibo is like really bad at reading his own farts lol

he suspects a silent one bubbling up in his stomach and just decides to let it out at the upper moon summon while he's sitting like 🧎🏻‍♂️ as usual but turns out he misjudged it and it actually comes out loud as fuck scaring everyone in the vicinity

he knows nobody will dare say anything about it cause he's upper moon one and tbh he doesn't really give a shit, he just goes:

👁 👁

👁 _ 👁 "excuse me."

👁 👁

GYOKKO

like those watery ones that sound like someone blowing into a glass of soda with a straw

this mf sharts, i just know he does

does it at the worst moments too like Muzan be talking about how worthless and useless the upper moons are and he's trying his hardest to hold it in but it just comes out right in between Muzan's speech

turns very red and embarrassed

doesn't stink in the air but woe betide if you catch a whiff of his behind

HANTENGU CLONES:

HANTENGU

he has those really high pitched squeaky musical note ones that stink like a septic tank

it happens when he's really scared or anxious and just sinks into the floor when they escape

they come out anywhere and everywhere lol Douma snorts everytime it happens and damn near bites his own tongue

SEKIDO

one loud angry fart that just goes 'BLARP'

mostly happens when he can't hold it in anymore and even tho he's embarrassed as hell he'll be looking at you as if daring you to comment on it like "tf you lookin' at huh 🤬"

KARAKU

this mf farts in the blanket and traps Sekido inside, shoving his head in and holding it in a death grip till he's choking and sputtering

he also lifts his leg to do it onto Sekido sometimes just to annoy him

gets his ass beat each time but to him it's worth it lol

UROGI

man has no shame whatsoever will do it anywhere and everywhere and he has those little continuous ones that rumble and stink like hell

sometimes he lets out a long string of trumpet ones. he mostly likes doing it while he's flying cause he feels free and finds it funny that people could be going on with their lives as usual and suddenly they look up to see an overgrown chicken zooming across the sky while letting out a long engine-like backfiring with each toot varying in pitch and tone

AIZETSU

has those silent and deadly ones when he gets overtly anxious or sad

it's bad enough to make the other three gag and cough and he just turns red and starts stuttering out apologies

will probably never look you in the eye again

ZOHAKUTEN

look i don't' know how to describe it but it's as if he's been holding it in for fucking centuries????

like he's deadass gonna stand there with his arms crossed and his face all (ㆆ_ㆆ) while he lets it rip and oh lord it's going to be one of those that just keeps on going and going and going

worst part is he'll probably stare you right in the eye while doing it and woe betide you if you dare laugh at him

the pitch increases as the fart begins dying out

ig thats what happens when you remain fused inside hantengu's body for too long......

DAKI

dainty toots, always excuses herself to go into a corner

lowkey terrified of doing it in public so she always runs off into a restroom when she feels the slightest bit of churning in her tummy

forces them out sometimes while she's alone so that they don't come out in public and those ones are real loud and stink terribly lol

GYUTARO

is neutral about it i think

he feels its a regular bodily function so he ain't necessarily ashamed of it

in short he doesn't really give a shit and doesn't even excuse himself when he lets one out lol

they're usually pretty plain and straightforward smell like the normal level of stink

only excuses himself if he does it in front of Daki

KAIGAKU

this mf squats lol

has those loud ass ones that start out low and rumbly and go higher and higher by the second and finally end when they've reached the maximum pitch

he doesn't give a shit and just sniggers at whoever is on the receiving end of this monstrosity

stinks like hell, he really needs to fix his diet

ENMU

he has those little tiny toots that come out unexpectedly and randomly like he could be walking and suddenly you'd hear a little squeak come out from behind him

has definitely accidentally done it in front of Muzan lol the memory still haunts him

turns scarlet and begins stammering apologies

goes into a corner and has a mental breakdown soon after

RUI

he has those loud, rumbling ones that you let out when you're really stressed/angry if you get what i mean??

has no shame in it fr, and besides everyone in his 'family' is too scared to say anything to him lol so he gets away with it pretty easy

NAKIME

now don't come for me but i feel like she lets out silent stinky ones and blames them on someone else (mostly Douma)

like she's chilling with her biwa and feels a lil rumble in her tummy so she just lets it out silently and keeps quiet abt it until someone goes "ewww what's that smell" and she deadass says with a straight face "it appears Lord Douma has had a good meal today"

LIKE JUST STRAIGHT UP BLAMES IT ON HIM AND THEN WATCHES THE CHAOS UNFOLD AS DOUMA DENIES IT AND PINS IT ON AKAZA AND THEY END UP FIGHTING WHILE SHE'S JUST CHILLING TRYING TO FIGHT BACK A SMIRK LMFAO-

MUZAN

he doesn't fart.

he just doesn't.

no criticism shall be taken.

[wandering-winchesters]

No Room for Blame

Summary: After a hunt leaves you injured saving Sam, a tense and emotional ride back to the motel forces Dean to confront his fear, anger, and the unbreakable bond between the three of you.

The hunt had gone sideways, fast. What was supposed to be a routine salt-and-burn turned into a nightmare when the spirit you were hunting turned out to be far more powerful than any of you had anticipated. In the chaos of the fight, Sam had been pinned, unable to move, the spirit’s ghostly hands tightening around his throat. You didn’t think twice—you launched yourself at the spirit, using every ounce of strength and whatever weapons you had on hand to distract it and give Sam a chance to break free.

It worked, but not without a cost. The spirit turned its fury on you, throwing you hard against a wall. You felt a sharp, searing pain in your side as you hit the ground, and everything went dark for a moment. By the time you came to, the spirit was gone, banished by Sam and Dean, who had finished the job. But the damage was done. You could barely move, every breath sending sharp, stabbing pains through your ribs.

Sam was at your side in an instant, his face pale with worry as he helped you to your feet. You saw the guilt in his eyes, clear as day. He knew you’d taken the hit for him, and it was eating him up inside. But there was no time to dwell on it. The three of you needed to get out of there before anything else went wrong.

The ride back to the motel was a quiet one. Sam had insisted on sitting in the backseat with you, his usual spot next to Dean forgotten in favor of being close, making sure you were okay. He kept glancing at you, his brow furrowed with concern, his hand hovering near yours as if he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should.

“You should’ve let me handle it,” Sam finally said, his voice low and filled with a mixture of guilt and frustration. “You didn’t have to—”

“I couldn’t just let it kill you, Sam,” you interrupted, your voice strained with pain but firm. “I wasn’t about to lose you.”

He fell silent, his jaw tightening as he stared out the window, clearly struggling with his emotions. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists in his lap. Sam was blaming himself for what happened, even though you both knew that in a hunt, things rarely went as planned.

The Impala’s engine hummed steadily, the only sound breaking the heavy silence between you. Dean hadn’t said much since you all piled into the car, his eyes focused on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. You knew him well enough to recognize the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. He was angry—angry that you’d gotten hurt, angry that the hunt had gone so wrong, and probably angry at himself for letting it happen.

The motel finally came into view, and you could feel the tension in the car ratchet up another notch. Dean parked the Impala with more force than necessary, the tires squealing slightly as he pulled into the lot. He was out of the car and around to your side in seconds, opening the door and leaning in to help you out before Sam could even unbuckle his seatbelt.

“Let’s get you inside,” Dean said, his voice clipped and controlled, but you could hear the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

You nodded, too exhausted to argue, and let him help you out of the car. The pain in your side flared up as you moved, and you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips. Dean’s grip tightened around you, his expression hardening as he all but carried you toward the motel room.

Sam followed close behind, his guilt-ridden silence a heavy presence that seemed to weigh down the air around you. You could feel the tension between the brothers, a palpable thing that made your chest tighten with something other than pain.

Dean pushed open the motel room door, guiding you inside and over to the bed. He was gentle as he helped you sit down, but his movements were stiff, his jaw clenched tight as he tried to keep his emotions in check. Sam hovered by the door, his eyes downcast, as if he didn’t know whether to come closer or keep his distance.

“Dean…” you started, but he cut you off with a sharp shake of his head.

“Not now,” he said, his voice rough. “We need to get you patched up.”

You sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing with him when he was like this. He was in full protective mode, and that meant nothing else mattered until he was sure you were okay. But you also knew that his anger wasn’t just about you being hurt—it was about the risk you’d taken to protect Sam. And that was something he couldn’t just brush off.

Dean moved with practiced efficiency, retrieving the first aid kit and kneeling beside you to assess the damage. You winced as he gently lifted your shirt to inspect the bruising already forming along your ribs, but he didn’t say a word, his expression set in a grim line.

Sam stayed by the door, his guilt weighing heavily in the room. He finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing as he turned to look at his brother. “Don’t start that crap, Sam. It’s not your fault.”

“Dean, if I had just—”

“If you had just what? Let that thing kill you?” Dean’s voice was rising now, his anger no longer held back. “She did what she had to do, and now she’s hurt because of it. But don’t you dare blame yourself for this. We all made choices out there.”

Sam flinched at Dean’s harsh tone but didn’t back down. “But she wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for me.”

“Enough!” you cut in, your voice strained but firm. You couldn’t bear to see them tearing each other apart over this. “This isn’t about blame. We’re a team, and we all did what we had to do. I’d do it again if it meant keeping you both safe.”

Dean looked at you, his expression softening slightly, though the anger in his eyes hadn’t completely faded. “You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t have to put yourself in danger like that.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, trying to reassure him. “And you shouldn’t have to either, but we do it because that’s what we do. We protect each other.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained tight. “Just… don’t do it again, okay? I can’t—” His voice caught, and he quickly looked away, unable to finish the sentence.

“I won’t,” you promised, though you both knew it was a lie. In this life, there were no guarantees. But in that moment, it was what he needed to hear.

Dean finished patching you up in silence, his movements gentle but his expression still shadowed with worry. Sam eventually moved closer, sitting on the edge of the other bed, his head in his hands as he tried to process everything.

The room was quiet, the tension slowly ebbing away as the reality of what had happened settled in. It wasn’t the first time one of you had gotten hurt, and it wouldn’t be the last. But it was a reminder of just how fragile everything was, how easily things could go wrong.

When Dean finally stood up, he took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he looked between you and Sam. “We’ll get through this,” he said, his voice low but steady. “We always do.”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance, and Sam finally lifted his head, meeting Dean’s gaze with a small, hesitant smile.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed quietly. “We will.”

The three of you sat in the quiet motel room, the weight of the night slowly lifting, replaced by the unspoken bond that had always held you together. You knew there would be more hunts, more dangers, and more times when you’d have to put everything on the line for each other. But you also knew that as long as you had each other, you could face whatever came next.

And that was enough.

Taglist: @roseblue373 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @mishreem

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

104/150 with lethal company?

104) I can hear it calling my name

.........

[Y/n], January 29th, [Log 001]

---I'm afraid this will be my last log. So I'm keeping this encrypted.

Everyone's gone, but I'm still here. And I'm terrified. We started on this job as strangers, and we became family. Now I'm all alone because of a stupid mask. A piece of scrap we should've just sold off.

But he thought it would be funny to wear. I don't blame him. He was always a jokester, willing to do anything to turn a frown upside down and make light of our dreary trips. I know he didn't mean to hurt us. He thought it was harmless. Honest to god we thought so too.

Until he started vomiting blood and tried grabbing me. He tore off my helmet, along with my tracker, but I managed to get away. I still don't know how. But I wish I was smarter about it, because I got lost.

Then I heard the ship's engines.

They must've thought I was dead. Or maybe they all died and the autopilot kicked in. I'm not sure. I don't even know the current time. But what I do know is that I'm stuck here now. Possibly forever. I could make an SOS but that monster is still outside. I had to barricade myself in this storage room and wait until it goes away.

It keeps knocking. I can hear it calling my name. But I know it's not him.

To anyone who reads this, don't pick up the porcelain masks. They aren't worth shit. It'll tempt you to put it on. Don't. You'll find better loot elsewhere. If you see anyone already wearing it, kill them. Stun them. Run. Whatever. Just don't let it take you.

And if you see me wearing it, put me out of my misery. I promise I'll understand---

Finishing what would likely be your final log, you sighed and slumped back against the wall, letting the tablet slip from your hands.

You don't know how long you've been stuck here--whether it's been hours or days.

But all you know is that the Masked on the other side of the door hasn't left. It was using your coworker's corpse, mimicking his voice as it pounded on the steel and tried convincing you to let it in, even shattering the window. For some reason it refused to leave you alone, and kept begging and begging until it began screaming unintelligently...

That would go on and on until eventually it would cease, weakly clawing at the door, only to rinse and repeat once it rested its voice.

You were starving, trying your best to ration the jar of pickles you were luckily able to find in this storage room.

Unfortunately, that's as far as your luck will go at this point. They were sour and made you want to vomit every time you ate one. But while you didn't want starvation to take your life, you weren't exactly sure how you really wanted to go out instead.

It sure as hell wasn't gonna be from that bastard who took away your friends.

"It's clear....all clear......come on out....the ship is leaving..leave....out.....COME OUT..!! COME OUT!! COMEOUTCOMEOUT-!!"

With your heart hammering in your chest, you curled up and covered your ears, squeezing both eyes shut. 'Fuck, it's losing its mind again...this is a nightmare..why did I ever take this job?' You tried not to focus on the screams so much, and instead prayed for some kind of miracle.

But in space, would anyone really hear your prayers?

Yet somebody must have, because the screaming abruptly stopped a minute later, being replaced by the sounds of heavy thumping and growling drawing near.

You only knew one other alien creature that made those.

And you knew it was pissed off.

Getting up and backing away from the door, you fearfully clutched a stop sign as you heard a series of terrified shrieks, roars, slamming and crashing sounds....before silence followed, save for the low growls you heard earlier and chewing noises.

Cautiously, you went back over and pushed aside one of the things covering up the window, and the sight on the other side was quite nauseating:

The Thumper was hovering over the Masked's body, teeth covered in blood and flesh as it tore into it, clearly wanting to savor this midnight snack.. But eventually it decided to drag the rest of the corpse away and to another part of the facility, only leaving behind a few shattered fragments of white dirty porcelain.

You couldn't believe it.

You were actually happy that a Thumper, of all things, saved your skin.

But you sure as hell didn't want it coming back for a second lunch. Now was your window of opportunity to get out of here. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only reason you were able to grab your loot and book it out of that storage room, being careful not to run into that Thumper again.

At least now you could go outside and (hopefully) send an S.O.S.