#but now i know how its like to be your friend and it is the worst experience of my life

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Dummfucks of the Grid

word count: 760

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: After a disappointing P6 finish at the São Paulo Grand Prix, Lando Norris finds comfort in his girlfriend Y/n's fierce support as she playfully criticizes the other drivers and team principals

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As the door to Lando’s driver’s room closed, the noise of the paddock celebrations faded into the background. Lando sat on the couch, his head in his hands, feeling the weight of finishing P6 after a race that had promised so much more. The disappointment was palpable, especially with Max winning again.

Y/n moved swiftly to sit beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Hey, Lando, P6 isn’t the end of the world. You gave it your all out there.”

He sighed, his frustration evident. “Yeah, but I wanted to do better. With Max winning again, it feels like I keep falling short.”

“Falling short?” she echoed, shaking her head. “You didn’t just fall short; you navigated a field of absolute clowns out there! Let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? Care to elaborate?”

“Okay, first off, Max. He drives like he’s playing Mario Kart and thinks he can just take everyone out with a blue shell! I mean, does he not understand that sharing the track is part of the job? It’s like he thinks he’s invincible! It’s ridiculous!”

He chuckled, a small smile breaking through. “That’s a good way to put it.”

“And then there’s George Russell, who finished P4 today. Honestly, he acts like he’s the golden child of the grid. ‘Look at me, I’m so talented, watch me throw my weight around!’ It’s like he forgets he has to race, not just pose for the cameras. Every time he gets near you, it’s like he’s trying to play bumper cars!”

“True,” Lando said, laughing harder now. “I can feel the ego swelling every time I see him.”

“And don’t even get me started on Leclerc! He’s out there racing like he’s auditioning for the role of ‘Most Likely to Crash Into a Wall.’ It’s like he has a special talent for making the race more dramatic than it needs to be. How does he always manage to be on the brink of disaster and still finish? Is it a gift or a curse?”

Lando nodded, now thoroughly entertained. “He does have that knack for drama, doesn’t he?”

“Absolutely! And then we have Carlos Sainz. I mean, bless him, but he’s trying so hard to keep up with Leclerc that it’s like watching a puppy chase its tail. Poor guy looks so lost sometimes, you just want to give him a treat and a pat on the head! But he gets a pass because he’s your friend.”

“Right? Carlos is actually a good guy,” Lando said, shaking his head, amused.

“And then there’s the team principals!” Y/n continued, her passion bubbling over. “Christian Horner thinks he runs a royal court every time Max crosses the finish line. ‘Look at my king!’ as if it’s not a team effort. And Toto—he’s not innocent either. He struts around like he’s the head of a fashion show! Honestly, if I had a dime for every time I’ve seen him making dramatic hand gestures in the pits, I could fund a whole new racing team!”

“Okay, that one’s a good point!” Lando laughed, feeling the tension ease with every word.

“Seriously, I would fight every one of them for you if it came down to it. Size doesn’t matter when you’re this passionate!” she declared boldly. “I’d take on Max, George, and anyone else who thinks they can just push you around out there!”

“Y/n, you do realize you’re only 5’6, right?” Lando replied, grinning. “How are you going to take on all of them?”

“I may be small, but I’ve got a big heart and a bigger mouth!” she shot back, her eyes sparkling with defiance. “Just imagine me storming the paddock like, ‘Back off, or I’ll unleash my fury on you!’”

“Please don’t start any fights in the paddock,” he said, his tone light but earnest. “I love your spirit, but I’d rather not deal with the fallout. I need you here, not banned.”

“Why not? It would be entertaining!” she countered, smirking. “I’d tell them all off! ‘Listen up, dummfucks of the grid, stop getting in my boyfriend’s way!’”

Lando laughed, the sound genuine now. “You really are something else. Knowing you’ve got my back means everything.”

“Absolutely! If they try to block you from winning, I won’t hesitate to step in,” she said, snuggling closer.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything too crazy,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. “I love your fierceness and protective side, but let’s keep you in the paddock, okay?”

[bellaveux]

be my mistake | n. romanoff x reader

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: three years have passed since the divorce, since natasha hurt you and over time, you found yourself reflecting on the struggles you both went through, both as a couple and apart from each other. revisiting memories with your family draw you and natasha closer than you’ve been in years.

content warnings: lots of angst, hurt/comfort??, cheating, insecure!reader, mentions of alcohol/drinking, implied smut, wanda being a good friend (pls let me know if i’m missing anything else i can’t tell)

word count: 19.8k

It had been three long years since everything fell apart between you and Natasha. Three years since the day you packed your bags, gathered your daughters, and walked away from the life you’d built together. The split wasn’t clean. It wasn’t one of those polite, quiet divorces that people talk about when they’ve simply grown apart. No, yours was loud, raw, and full of hurt. You could still remember the echo of your arguments, the way her voice would crack when she begged for forgiveness, and the silence that always followed afterward—heavy, suffocating. That silence weighed more than the words ever did.

Natasha had tried. She really had. For a while, after the it happened, she did everything to make amends, to erase what she had done. But it wasn’t something you could erase. It wasn’t something you could forgive right then, no matter how hard she tried to make things right. You’d given her so many chances to explain, so many opportunities to show you that the Natasha you fell in love with was still there. 

But each time, all you could see was the betrayal, the moment she chose someone else over you.

For her, it was a mistake—something that happened once and never again. But for you, it was a scar, a wound that never healed. You couldn’t go back. You couldn’t let her back in. You didn’t know if you ever could again. And she knew it, even though she didn’t want to accept it. There were moments, though, when Natasha still looked at you with that same longing, the same desperation she had the night you left her. She wanted things to go back to the way they were, back to when you were her partner, her wife, her everything. 

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

No matter how much she tried to show you that she had changed, the past still lingered between you, like a shadow that refused to leave. Even now, after all this time, there was still a part of her that couldn’t accept that things would never be the same. You saw it in her eyes every time she picked up the girls, every time she lingered a little too long at the door, as if hoping you might invite her in, ask her to stay. But you never did. You couldn’t allow it, not after everything. It had been hard. Painful, even. Co-parenting with someone who had broken your heart, who had shattered the life you thought you’d have together, was an agony all its own. But you had to do it, for your girls, Nina and Lily. They needed you both, and you would never let your pain come between them and their mothers. Even if it meant seeing Natasha more often than you wanted. Even if it meant reopening old wounds every time her name appeared on your phone, or when your girls came home with stories about the time they’d spent with her.

And the first year after the divorce was hell for Natasha. She tried everything in her power to get you back—flowers, letters, showing up at the house at odd hours, always begging for another chance. She couldn’t accept that it was over. Every time she saw you, even in the briefest of moments, she could see the pain in your eyes, the devastation her betrayal had caused. It tore her apart. She had broken something precious, something she didn’t know how to fix, and yet she kept trying. She was relentless, desperate to rewind the clock, to undo what couldn’t be undone.

But the more she tried, the more tired you looked. The weight of it all was etched into your face, exhaustion hanging over you like a dark cloud. Your bright eyes, full of life and love, had dimmed. The smile that had once been hers was gone, replaced by a coldness that froze her out. And with every desperate plea, every attempt to reach you, she realized she was only making it worse. You weren’t healing. You couldn’t, not with her constantly in your space, constantly pulling at the wounds she’d caused.

By the second year, Natasha finally saw it. You needed space, needed time to mend, and she wasn’t helping at all. So, she stopped. Stopped the flowers, the late-night phone calls, the messages begging for you to forgive her, telling you she loved you. She stopped trying to push her way back into your life because it was only making things harder for you. 

She watched from a distance instead, in silence. 

But despite the distance she put between you both, she couldn’t stop loving you. She could never. It was something she couldn’t turn off, no matter how hard she tried. Even when she forced herself to stay away, her heart still ached for you in a way that nothing else could heal. You were everywhere—in the way her daughters smiled, in the moments when she was alone with her thoughts. She’d think of you when she’d go to the grocery store, remembering all the food you liked and didn’t like. She’d think of you at night when she’s in bed, always moving closer to your side of the bed, imagining you were still there with her. And even though she knew she had to let you go for your own sake, a part of her would always be tethered to you. It didn’t matter how much time passed. She could never stop loving you, no matter how much it hurt.

It’s been three years now. Three long, heavy years since the divorce. But in the wake of it, as the dust settled and the hurt slowly gave way to something manageable, a routine. One that neither of you ever explicitly discussed, maybe just briefly, but one that simply came to be, like a truce.

And Natasha hadn’t been with anyone since then. She hadn’t even entertained the idea. There were no late-night flings, no fleeting attempts to fill the void. Because how could she? How could anyone compare to the life she had built with you, even though it had crumbled? It had been such a stupid mistake on her part when it happened, and she promised herself she wouldn’t let that happen again, even if you didn’t want her anymore. She couldn’t bring herself to be with anyone else, and deep down, she knew it was because part of her was still yours.

Nina and Lily, your two little girls, were the threads that still tied you and Natasha together. Nina, with her wild curls and mischievous grin, only four but already full of curiosity and energy, was in preschool. Lily, more thoughtful, quieter but with an infectious laugh, had just started first grade. They were young, their lives filled with playdates, scribbled drawings, and the occasional scraped knee. They didn’t fully understand why Mommy and Mama lived in different houses now, why they didn’t all sit together at the table for dinner anymore. But they adjusted in their own way.

Natasha would pick them up from school most afternoons when she can. You’d drop them off in the mornings, coffee in hand, always on the way to work. You were working now. You didn’t really work that much when you were pregnant with the girls and Natasha always insisted on taking care of you. On weekends when Natasha didn’t have a mission or some urgent task pulling her away, she’d have them over at her place. They’d spend Saturday nights watching movies or baking cookies, or playing games until they were all too tired to continue. And then Sunday morning, she would make them pancakes, the same way you used to. It was a rhythm that worked, one that kept things steady for Nina and Lily, even when things between you and Natasha remained unresolved.

Every time Natasha saw them, it tugged at her heart. The way Lily looked at her with those wide, innocent eyes, so full of trust. The way Nina giggled when Natasha spun her around, her tiny hands reaching up to her mother like nothing had ever changed. They were growing so fast, right in front of her, and yet Natasha couldn’t help but feel like time was slipping through her fingers. Three years had gone by in the blink of an eye, and even though things were better—smoother—between the two of you now, that gnawing regret never fully left her.

But for the girls, she stayed strong. She showed up, she stuck to the routine. It was the least she could do, even if, when the weekends were over and she dropped them back at your place, she found herself lingering just a second too long, watching as you took their small hands and guided them back inside. Wondering if, somehow, it could have all been different.

The sun hung low in the sky as Natasha drove through familiar streets, the scent of fast food wafting through the car, mingling with the laughter of her daughters in the backseat. The afternoon light cast a golden glow on the girls’ faces, illuminating Nina’s bright eyes and Lily’s gentle smile as they excitedly talked about their day.

But as the laughter filled the car, Nina’s innocent question pierced through the cheerful atmosphere, shattering the fragile bubble they had created. 

“Mama, why don’t you sleep at home with us anymore?”

The question hung in the air and Natasha’s heart dropped, the warmth evaporating in an instant. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, forcing a smile that felt painfully strained. Silence enveloped them, thick with heavy emotions and memories she wished she could shield her daughters from. She glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Nina’s expectant gaze, a small frown tugging at her lips as she awaited an answer.

“Um, well…” Natasha began, her voice faltering. “You know, Mama has… a lot of work to do. Sometimes it’s just easier for me to sleep at my own place.”

Even as she spoke, the lie twisted in her stomach, sharp and uncomfortable. She could see the flicker of disappointment in Nina’s eyes, a reflection of the confusion and sadness that still lingered between the lines of their new normal.

Lily, sensing the shift in the mood, chimed in, “We can share a bed, Mama!”

Natasha smiled softly, fighting back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Thank you, baby, but… this is how things are for now.”

Her heart clenched at Lily’s innocent declaration, each word a dagger piercing deeper into her already heavy heart. The car felt suddenly suffocating, filled with the echoes of memories and unresolved feelings. The gentle hum of the car faded into the background, and all she could hear was the soft thrum of her daughters’ voices and the relentless reminder of the pain they were all carrying.

“My bed is big enough!” Lily insisted again, her eyes wide with hope. “And I think Mommy misses you, too. Sometimes, I see her crying at night.”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. The image of you, alone in the dark, tears glistening on your cheeks, tore through her defenses, a reminder of the consequences of her choices. Guilt washed over her, crashing down with a force that made it hard to breathe.

“Sweetheart,” Natasha said softly, her voice trembling slightly as she fought to maintain her composure, “It’s okay for Mommy to be sad sometimes, you know? We all feel sad sometimes.”

“But I don’t want her to be sad,” Lily replied, her voice small and earnest. “We could go to Auntie Wanda’s cabin and have ice cream parties and movie nights like before!”

The wistfulness in Lily’s tone echoed Natasha’s own desires, the aching wish to turn back the clock and reclaim the happiness they had once shared. But Natasha knew that life was never that simple. 

“I know, baby,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “And I want that too. We just… have to be patient.”

Lily frowned, her small brows knitting together in confusion. “Do you still love mommy?”

The question hung in the air. Her heart raced, and she glanced at her daughters in the rearview mirror, the truth of her feelings spilling over like an unguarded secret. 

“Of course I do,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, but she didn’t hesitate.

Nina chimed in, her conviction unwavering. “Maybe if we all hug and give her lots of kisses, she won’t be sad anymore!”

She wanted to laugh at the sheer innocence of their logic, but it only deepened the ache in her chest. “I don’t think it’s that simple, baby.”

Lily tilted her head, her expression earnest and unwavering. “But, we’re a family, and families love each other.”

Natasha only smiled.

As they continued down the road, the fading sunlight cast warm shadows in the car, but the weight of their words settled heavily in Natasha’s chest. Lily fell silent soon after, her small face pensive as she stared out the window, the world outside a blur of colors. Natasha’s heart ached for her, wishing desperately that she could turn back time, wishing that the nights spent apart didn’t feel like an insurmountable distance.

As she pulled up to your house, the familiar flutter of anxiety danced in her stomach. She could hear the muffled giggles of her girls in the backseat, their excitement palpable as they chattered more about their day. But as she stepped out of the car and approached the front door, her heart began to race for a different reason entirely.

When you opened the door, Natasha felt the air shift around her. There you stood, framed in the soft glow of the entryway light, and her breath caught in her throat. You were breathtaking, wearing an elegant black dress that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric glimmered subtly as you moved, catching the light with each breath. Your hair was fixed neatly by your shoulders, and your makeup was flawlessly applied. 

For a moment, Natasha was transported back to the nights when the two of you would dress up for special occasions, the thrill of anticipation sparking between you. But now, that thrill was laced with an ache that felt as sharp as it was familiar.

“Hi, mommy!” Lily squealed, bursting with energy as she darted past you into the house, closely followed by Nina, who gave you a quick hug before joining her sister.

“Hey, girls,” you greeted them softly, your voice warm but tinged with an undercurrent of something unspoken. You stepped back to allow them inside, your gaze flickering to Natasha, who stood momentarily rooted to the spot, taking in the sight of you.

Without breaking eye contact, you rushed over to the mirror that hung just inside the entryway, your movements quick and graceful as you fumbled with your earrings. Natasha’s heart ached at the sight, realizing how beautifully you carried yourself, even through the chaos of their past. She walked inside hesitantly, closing the front door behind her, swallowing the lump in her throat as she slowly walked further in. 

“Wow, Mommy! You look so pretty!” Nina beamed.

“Thank you, honey,” you replied with a soft smile, your voice brightening as you turned your attention to the girls. 

Natasha lingered by the wall, unsure of what to do with her hands as the girls raced off into the living room, their laughter filling the house with warmth. She listened when you asked the girls quick questions about their day at school, but all she could focus on was you. She stood there, still as a statue, her fingers brushing nervously over the seam of her jacket, as her eyes found you again.

You moved gracefully through the hallway, your dress shimmering faintly with each step. She felt a pang in her chest, something akin to longing but deeper, more raw. She hadn’t seen you like this in so long—dressed up, glowing, completely at ease in your skin. Her breath hitched slightly, catching on the memories that rose unbidden in her mind, of nights when she’d watch you just like this, mesmerized by the smallest of movements. You never failed to amaze her every time.

But now, it feels different. There was a distance between you that wasn’t just physical, and Natasha could feel it more sharply than ever. Yet, despite the distance, she found herself rooted in place, unable to tear her gaze away. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling awkward and out of place, like a visitor in what was once her home.

You hadn’t said much since opening the door, offering a quiet greeting before slipping back into the rhythm of your routine. But it didn’t matter. Natasha’s thoughts were too loud to be drowned out by small talk anyway. All she could think about was how beautiful you looked, how effortless you made everything seem. The curve of your neck as you bent slightly to adjust your earring, the way your lips pressed together in concentration—it all made her feel like a stranger witnessing something intimate, something she no longer had the right to witness. For a moment, her fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out, to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin under her palm. But she held herself back, knowing that her place in your life now was nothing like it used to be. Instead, she remained where she was, standing awkwardly by the wall, her heart heavy with unspoken words and feelings she didn’t know how to express anymore.

You must have felt her staring, because you glanced up at her briefly from where you stood by the mirror. The moment your eyes met, Natasha felt a surge of emotion that almost knocked the wind out of her—regret, longing, admiration—all tangled together. She swallowed hard, but couldn’t find the words to say anything. What could she say, anyway? Nothing would change the fact that she was the reason things were the way they were.

And yet, she couldn’t help but think of how beautiful you were. How beautiful you’d always been. How you’d managed to slip right out of her fingers. 

Natasha’s hands twitched at her sides, the yearning almost unbearable as she watched you. The way your dress hugged your frame, the soft curve of your neck as you finished adjusting your earrings—it stirred something deep inside her, a longing so fierce it nearly took her breath away. She wanted to reach out, to close the distance between you and wrap you in her arms. She wanted to hold you like she used to, when everything was easier, when you were hers and there was no wall of hurt between you.

But now, it feels impossible. Every time she considered moving closer, something stopped her—the guilt, the regret, the knowledge that she no longer had the right to that kind of intimacy with you. Not after everything. Not after the way things had ended, fractured by her own mistakes.

Still, the desire was overwhelming, almost painful. She couldn’t help it—her eyes followed the way your fingers brushed against your collarbone as you fixed a stray hair, and her heart ached with the thought of reaching out, of pulling you against her, of whispering that she was sorry, that she had never stopped loving you. God, she wanted to hold you so badly. Just for a moment. Just to feel that connection again, to remind herself that once, not too long ago, you had been hers. 

But instead, then she saw you struggling with the clasp of your necklace. 

Her hesitation was palpable as she took a small step forward, closing the gap between you. Her heart pounded in her chest, every movement deliberate and slow, like she was afraid that even the air between you was fragile. She saw you fumble with the clasp of your necklace, your fingers shaking ever so slightly in your rush. Her own hands twitched, the need to help overwhelming her, but she hesitated for a beat longer. She wasn’t sure she had the right to step into your space, to touch you again, even for something as simple as this.

But when you let out a frustrated huff, she took a breath and moved closer, her presence soft but undeniable as she stood just behind you. Gently, her fingers brushed against your skin, so light you might not have even felt it at first. Carefully, she took the delicate chain from your hands and closed the clasp at the back of your neck.

Her touch lingered just a second too long. She couldn’t help it. The warmth of your skin under her fingers, the proximity, the way your scent filled her senses—it was all too much and not enough at the same time. The faint scent of your perfume washed over her, and it hit her all at once. You smelled exactly the way she remembered, like something warm and comforting, but with an edge that made her dizzy. It was intoxicating. She glanced up for just a moment, catching your reflection in the mirror, but her eyes dropped quickly, too scared to meet yours. She didn’t trust herself to look into your eyes and not say everything she was feeling. It felt like a betrayal of her own heart to be this close to you, yet still so far away. Her hands fell back to her sides, clenched into soft fists, fighting the urge to keep touching you. She stepped back, quietly swallowing the ache that seemed to settle in her chest. 

“You look beautiful,” Natasha breathes, almost afraid to say the words, but it came out before she could even think about it. 

“Thank you,” you said quickly, your voice barely more than a whisper, the quiet words hanging in the air.

She froze for a split second, the simple phrase sending an unexpected ripple through her. It was such a small thing—a polite acknowledgement, nothing more—but to her, it felt loaded with everything that had been left unsaid for years. Then, she forced a small smile, though you couldn’t see it, her eyes still fixed downward as she stepped back from you. 

“You’re welcome,” she murmured, her voice just as soft, though it felt like a lie. She wasn’t welcome. Not anymore.

She watched as you turned back to the mirror, adjusting your hair slightly and smoothing the fabric of your dress. You looked beautiful—breathtaking, really—but all she could focus on was the sadness in your quiet thank you. She opened her mouth as if to say something more, but no words came. Instead, Natasha let the silence speak for her, the tension between you heavy and unresolved, much like everything that had been left behind. 

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Natasha asked, trying to keep her voice light, though it came out more strained than she intended. 

The words had been on the tip of her tongue the moment she saw you in that dress, but she hated herself for asking, for making it sound so casual when the question felt like it was burning her from the inside.

You released a small huff, something resembling a smile flickering at the corners of your mouth, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see the way her jaw clenched in the mirror.

“It’s just a work thing,” you muttered, turning slightly in the mirror as if to busy yourself with something else, but Natasha could tell it was an attempt to deflect the conversation. You had always done that—shrugged things off when they felt too heavy, too personal.

But Natasha wasn’t stupid. She knew it wasn’t just a work thing. She could feel it in her gut, the way you said it so softly, so dismissively. And yet, she didn’t push. Couldn’t. Instead, she let out a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it. 

“Well, you look really nice,” she added, her voice a bit more gentle now, her eyes softening as they roamed over you once more. She hated how small her words felt, like she was grasping for something, anything, to make sense of the distance between you. 

You didn’t say anything at first, just nodded, almost absentmindedly, still adjusting the clasp of your earrings. Natasha stood there, helpless, her hands twitching at her sides as she watched you prepare to leave for an evening that didn’t involve her anymore. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this—this ache of wanting you, this regret that sat like a stone in her chest. 

You glanced at her, your eyes flickering with indecision before they darted to the clock on the wall. 

“Shit, I forgot to text the babysitter,” you muttered, already pulling out your phone. You were halfway through typing the message when Natasha’s voice cut through the quiet tension of the room.

“I can watch them,” she offered quickly, almost too quickly, like she had been waiting for the opportunity. There was a soft urgency in her tone, something that made your fingers pause over the screen.

You hesitated, looking at her fully now, your gaze searching her face. She stood there, trying to appear nonchalant, but you could see the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes flickered between you and the door, as if bracing herself for your response. It wasn’t the first time she had offered, but something about tonight—about her standing there, in your home, so close yet feeling so far away—made you hesitate.

“Natasha, it’s so last minute, and you’re probably busy—“

“I’m not busy.”

There was silence. 

“Are you sure?” you said, your voice trailing off. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust her with the kids, in fact, you trusted her with the girls more than anyone.

“Of course. I promise, I’ll make sure they’re asleep by the time you get back,” Natasha said softly, taking a small step closer, as if to bridge the gap between you.

You lingered for a moment longer, the phone still in your hand, thumb hovering over the screen. Natasha stood there, waiting, her gaze steady but gentle, almost like she was afraid to breathe too loudly in case you changed your mind. There was a hesitation in the air, thick with all the memories and tension that seemed to live between the two of you now.

Finally, you sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. “Okay,” you murmured, the word coming out soft but resigned. “But only if you’re sure.”

Natasha nodded immediately, as if there had never been a question. “I’m sure.”

You watched her for a moment, still not quite as sure as she was, but there was something about the way she looked at you that made you relent. Maybe it was the familiarity of her presence, or the way she always seemed so certain when it came to the girls. You wanted to believe it would be fine, that it wouldn’t hurt to let her help, just this once.

“Alright,” you said again, this time a little firmer. You tucked your phone away, glancing toward the living room where the girls’ voices echoed softly in the distance. “I might be back late, though.”

“I can handle it,” Natasha reassured you with a small smile, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes. Relief, maybe. “You go have fun.”

You nodded, still hesitant but knowing that you had little choice now. With one last glance at her, you grabbed your purse from the table and walked toward the door, feeling Natasha’s eyes on you the whole way. Just before you left, you stopped, hand on the doorknob, and turned to look at her one more time.

“Okay,” you said quietly. Natasha didn’t respond right away, just gave you a small nod, her eyes soft, watching you like she was still trying to figure out if this was real.

Your phone buzzed with a sudden chime, the noise breaking through the quiet air between you and Natasha. You flinched just slightly, caught off guard, but Natasha’s eyes never left you. That unwavering stare, intense and full of something you couldn’t quite place—regret, longing, maybe both—lingered as you glanced down at your phone.

“Oh, that’s… my coworker. She’s here to pick me up…” you said softly, reading the message on the screen. 

You didn’t look up immediately, feeling the weight of Natasha’s gaze settle over you like a thick blanket, almost suffocating. There was another beat of silence, her expression barely changing, though something flickered in her eyes at the word “she.” It was so subtle, you almost missed it. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just nodded once, stiffly, her face carefully neutral, though you could feel the tension in the air shift.

You turned toward the door again, suddenly aware of how small the space between the two of you felt. The air was heavy, like it held all the words neither of you had said over the years. You hesitated, hand on the knob, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

Natasha’s voice, soft but strained, reached you before you could turn the handle. “Be safe tonight.”

You froze, the words hitting you in a way you hadn’t expected. They were simple, but coming from her, you knew they meant so much more.

As you stepped out of the house and closed the door behind you, the cool evening air hit your skin, and for a moment, you paused on the front steps. You could hear the muffled sounds of the girls laughing inside, and the thought of leaving them for some work party made your heart twist. 

Truth be told, you didn’t even want to go. The idea of mingling, making small talk, pretending everything was fine—it felt exhausting before it even started. But your coworkers had been persistent, insisting you needed to get out more, that it would be good for you. They meant well, of course. They saw the toll the divorce had taken on you, how the weight of it had settled into your bones, leaving you quieter, more withdrawn. And though you tried to hide it, the loneliness was written all over your face. They probably thought this was what you needed—a night of distraction, a chance to be someone other than the person who had been left shattered after everything fell apart. But standing there, under the dim glow of the porch light, you felt a tug in your chest, a sense of dread thinking about the night ahead.

Natasha lingered in your thoughts as always, the way she had silently helped you with your necklace, the soft brush of her fingers against your skin sending shivers down your spine. You hated to admit it, but you missed her soft touches, her gentle smile, the way she would look at you like you held her world in your hands. The more you thought about it, you realized that it never really went away. And that look in her eyes, the one she always tried to hide but never quite could—it haunted you now as you made your way toward the car waiting at the curb.

With a sigh, you slipped into the passenger seat, greeting your friend with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. As the car pulled away, you found yourself staring out the window, thinking not about the party or the people waiting for you there, but about the house you had just left—the home you used to share with Natasha, the life you once had before everything fell apart. Maybe tonight would be a distraction, or maybe it would just be another reminder of everything you’d lost. Either way, it felt like one more step away from her, and that hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You were grateful for your friends—those who always wanted to help you after what happened.

Wanda was the one who helped you through most of it. 

In the beginning, when everything felt like it was crumbling beneath you, Wanda had been there. She’d been the first to know what had happened with Natasha—the first to see the hurt blooming in your eyes, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, even when you tried so hard to sound strong. When she’d found out, Wanda was so angry, her fury simmering just beneath her skin. Word traveled quickly at the compound; someone must’ve overheard. But you’d heard, too, about how she’d cornered Natasha, her voice cold and sharp, her words unforgiving.

“Why did you do it?” Wanda had demanded of Natasha, her tone somewhere between outrage and heartbreak, and the confrontation left Natasha speechless, stripped of the practiced poise that she carried like armor. You never wanted to know all of what was said, but the rumors filled in the gaps; Wanda’s words were scathing, a fierce defense of the person Natasha had hurt most. She was protective, fiercely loyal, and in that moment, you felt the strength of a bond you hadn’t fully appreciated until you needed it most.

And it wasn’t just the initial shock, either—Wanda stayed. She kept you afloat on the days when the hurt felt too deep, kept you from slipping further into the void of your own heartbreak. She had this way of knowing when the silence was too heavy, when you needed to be pulled from the edge of your own emotions. She never let you wallow, and yet she didn’t rush you to move on either; she’d bring you back, her voice gentle, but firm, reminding you that you were stronger than this pain, that you’d heal, that you still had so much left to give to the world.

When the decision for a divorce finally weighed heavy on you, Wanda was the first person you told. The words had come out choked, but clear, and though she didn’t say much at first, her hand had reached for yours, holding it tightly as you tried to steady yourself. She kept asking if you were sure, her eyes steady, searching yours for any trace of doubt or hesitation. She knew you loved Natasha. And she knew Natasha was madly in love with you. But she wanted you to be certain, not out of judgment, but out of a desire to protect you, to make sure you weren’t making a decision you’d regret. She knew the depths of your love for Natasha and how much this was costing you; she wanted you to find peace in your choice, even if that peace felt miles away.

She had always been quietly supportive, even when things between you and Natasha fell apart. She never pried, never asked too many questions, but she had a way of knowing when you needed someone. You knew it was hard being your friend and Natasha’s friend.

But a few weeks ago, when she helped you pick out the dress you were wearing tonight, you could tell she was trying to lift your spirits, offering a distraction with her usual good-natured humor. She had pulled you into a few boutiques, tossing dresses over the fitting room door while she waited for your approval. When you finally stepped out in the sleek black dress you were wearing now, Wanda gave you that look—her eyes bright with approval, a grin spreading across her face.

“You’re going to knock them dead,” she had said with a playful wink, her tone light, but there was something else in her voice too, something softer.

You hadn’t said much in response then, brushing off the compliment with a smile. You hadn’t really felt like going to the party, but Wanda was insistent that it would be good for you, to dress up, to get out. 

And despite your silence on the matter, you knew she supported you and Natasha—always had. She never quite explained why, but you could sense it. Maybe she believed in second chances, or maybe she saw something in the two of you that you couldn’t see anymore. Even though she hadn’t talked about it much, you could feel her quiet faith in your relationship, like she was holding onto a hope you’d long since let go of. It was comforting, in a way, knowing that someone still believed in you and Natasha, even when you weren’t sure if you believed in it yourself anymore.

And from time to time, Wanda had a gentle way of bringing up her old cabin in the countryside, each suggestion delivered so casually that you might’ve let it slip past if it hadn’t been for the significance lingering just underneath her words. 

She didn’t live there anymore, now that her and Vision moved to New Jersey a lot recently with the twins. But every Thanksgiving, with her permission, the cabin had been your haven—a place where the world’s noise faded, replaced by the simple sounds of fire crackling, the murmur of conversations that stretched late into the night, and the delighted laughter of the girls as they played under the trees. It was as if the cabin held its own magic, a place suspended in time, where warmth radiated from more than just the fireplace, and you could almost believe in the simplicity of those happy moments lasting forever.

The girls loved it there especially—they loved the air, the trees, the comfort of a cozy cabin, playing music on Wanda’s old record player, or drinking hot chocolate Natasha loved to make for them. One winter, you spent the weekend there with them and Lily had just learned how to build a snowman with Natasha. Nina was still a little too young, but she found joy in trying to run around, catching the falling snowflakes with her tongue. You got nothing but good memories from going there.

The first time Wanda mentioned going back, it felt impossible to picture without Natasha. Even imagining it brought a sense of loss so heavy it threatened to shatter the memory entirely. The cabin without her was like watching the film reel of your life with half the scenes missing—disjointed, fractured, unable to find the comfort it once held. When you’d tried to explain, Wanda had only nodded, a knowing look softening her face as if she understood the unspoken things that weighed down your words. But over the months, she kept mentioning it, in small ways, like a quiet refrain.

“Then bring Natasha,” she’d said last, her voice so gentle it almost blended with the room. Her gaze, steady and unwavering, had landed on you with a quiet faith that made you feel exposed.

You’d wanted to respond, to give voice to the reasons why it felt impossible, to explain the ache that lingered too deeply to ignore. But the words had caught in your throat, your thoughts tangled in memories that had once been warm but now held the sting of something fractured. So you’d only managed a soft smile, allowing the silence to stretch between you as you turned the conversation away, knowing Wanda would understand.

And yet, her words stayed with you, lingering long after, wrapped in a fragile hope that you hadn’t dared to touch. Wanda believed in something you weren’t sure you could reach for, a belief that the cabin could be a bridge, a place where memories could be revisited, reconnected—maybe even healed. 

The idea stayed with you, filling your mind, daring you to wonder if, perhaps, she was right.

It was late by the time you finally unlocked the front door, the echo of the party still buzzing faintly in your head, softened by a light haze from the few drinks you’d had. The house was dark and still as you slipped inside.

As you moved further in, adjusting your eyes to the dim light, you saw them. 

Natasha was stretched out on the couch, her body softened in the shadows, and there, tangled in her arms, lay your two little girls. Nina and Lily were nestled close, their small bodies curled and sprawled across her, their hands loosely gripping her shirt, their faces pressed into her chest as if she were their entire world. Natasha’s head was tilted back, her breathing deep and steady, the sort of calm that only came when everything around her was right, if only for that fleeting moment.

You paused there in the doorway, just watching them, a  warmth settling in your chest, bittersweet and familiar. This was the woman you’d once called home. And maybe she’d made mistakes—mistakes that fractured everything between you, mistakes that left bruises you weren’t sure would ever fade. But seeing her now, surrounded by the soft rise and fall of the girls’ breathing, you were reminded that she’d never once faltered as their mother.

For a long moment, you just stood there, absorbing the scene, the beauty of it, the softness that was so rare in Natasha, brought out only by the girls resting so peacefully against her. A part of you ached, the part that remembered when that was your world, too—the intimacy, the trust, the feeling that this was where you belonged. But now, standing alone in front of her, you knew it was different.

“Natasha…”

The name leaves your lips in a choked whisper, so quiet you barely hear it yourself. It’s both a word and a breath, carrying years of ache, of longing, of memories buried beneath the hurt. She stirs softly at the sound, her eyes blinking open, unfocused in the dimness, but immediately careful, instinctively cradling Nina and Lily closer to her, her instincts as a mother overriding everything else. She lifts her head, and in the low light, her eyes meet yours—surprised, still a bit hazy with sleep, yet touched by something tender, something deeply aware.

A faint smile tugs at your lips, almost without your permission. You nod toward the girls, your voice so soft it hardly disturbs the quiet of the room. 

“We should get them to bed,” you murmur, the words gentle, careful, as though you’re trying not to disrupt a delicate peace.

Natasha gives a barely perceptible nod, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, as though she’s searching for something. Then, she looks down at the girls, her features softening into something achingly vulnerable. She shifts, moving slowly so as not to disturb Lily, her hands moving with the practiced care of someone who’s done this a hundred times over but who never takes it for granted.

You step forward, slipping your arms beneath Nina, feeling the gentle weight of her small body settle against you as you carefully lift her, your heart swelling with that instinctive protectiveness you’d felt since the day she was born. Natasha mirrors you, tenderly sliding her arms under Lily, her movements so gentle it’s as though she’s afraid to wake her from whatever dream she’s lost in. Together, you make your way down the hallway, your footsteps muffled on floor.

Natasha trails a few steps behind you, her gaze lingering on the small bundle in your arms. There’s something undeniably tender in the way she holds Lily close, quiet in every step as if even her footfalls could shatter the peace that’s settled over the house. She watches as you cradle Nina with the same delicate care, and she can’t help but feel a pang of something—nostalgia, perhaps, or maybe it’s something deeper, something achingly familiar and distant at the same time.

You reach the doorway to their shared bedroom, and you both instinctively pause, a silent agreement hanging between you as you ease open the door just enough to slip inside. The room is softly lit by a nightlight in the corner casting a warm, gentle glow. You move first, bending to lay Nina down into her bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead as she settles into her pillow, the smallest smile flickering across her sleeping face.

Natasha steps forward, carrying Lily with the same care, lowering her slowly, as if she was releasing something precious. She smooths the blankets over Lily’s small form, her hand lingering on her daughter’s shoulder for a brief moment, her thumb brushing in a gentle, protective arc.

You both stand back, side by side, your eyes on the two little figures in the bed, their steady breaths filling the silence between you. 

You turn first, giving the room one last look before stepping into the hallway, leaving the door just a crack open. Natasha lingers, her gaze falling on the spot where you had stood only moments before. She doesn’t follow immediately, instead letting herself absorb of the room, the weight of it pressing on her chest.

Then, Natasha’s feet shuffle lightly on the carpet, her shoulders tight, her movements more careful than usual. She takes a breath, then steps into the hallway, spotting you just ahead, walking back down the dimly lit corridor, your shoulders softly sloped in a way she recognizes well. Her pulse stutters, a swell of unvoiced words caught in her throat as she trails behind, her eyes fixed on your silhouette.

You pause, turning slowly, the faintest glint of something heavy in your eyes. Natasha freezes, almost holding her breath as you look up at her, gaze wavering, like you’re fighting with words you’re not sure you should say. She knows this look well enough to brace herself, the feeling of dread curling in her stomach. Her shoulders stiffen, instinctively preparing for the worst as the silence stretches, each second laced with something unspeakable.

“I… wanted to talk to you about something,” you say gently, almost catching her by surprise. 

Natasha’s shoulders drop a fraction, her breath catching at your words. She hadn’t expected that, not tonight. Her gaze flickers, uncertain but hopeful, as she steps closer, nodding her head eagerly. 

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. She’s trying to appear calm, but there’s a tension in her eyes, a cautious vulnerability that betrays her. She searches your face for any hint, any sign of what you’re about to say. 

“Lily’s birthday is coming up,” you say softly, your gaze finally lifting to meet Natasha’s, even if just for a moment.

Natasha nods slowly, trying to read between the lines, unsure of what you’re really thinking. She remembers every birthday, every milestone, how you used to plan together, side by side, laughing over cake designs and decorations.

“Lily keeps asking…” you start, your voice so quiet Natasha has to strain to hear. She watches you, noting the way you hesitate, choosing your words with care. “If we could go back to Wanda’s cabin. You know the girls like it there…”

The suggestion hangs heavy between you. Her mind floods with memories of those trips—Wanda’s warm cabin, the girls’ laughter, the four of you bundled in sweaters, sharing cozy meals and evening walks in the crisp, autumn air. Those times felt like forever in the best way possible, like nothing could disturb the harmony you’d built together.

“Yeah… yeah, they love it,” Natasha murmurs, her voice catching. Her eyes are distant, clouded with thoughts she isn’t sure she’s allowed to express. The idea of returning feels almost like opening a door she thought you’d closed for good. Still, the prospect brings a bittersweet hope, like maybe a piece of the life she lost could be revived, if only for several days. 

You shift uncomfortably, glancing away as though admitting this feels too vulnerable, as if voicing it aloud might betray too much of what you’re holding back.

Your words come out soft, almost as if they’d slipped through a crack in your resolve. “It’d be weird to go without you… For them, I mean.” 

The admission lingers, tentative, like an echo that neither of you expected. Natasha stands there, motionless, her gaze locked on you, and you can feel the weight of her eyes on you. She doesn’t respond, perhaps because she doesn’t know how to, or maybe because there’s nothing she could say that would sound right after everything that happened.

You keep your eyes on the floor—this reluctant honesty shared after years of trying to keep a cautious distance. There’s a tenderness in the air, one that feels unfamiliar now, something you haven’t allowed yourself to acknowledge since the divorce. Natasha doesn’t move, and for a moment, you wonder if she’ll reach for you, break the wall of silence. But she just stays there, rooted, like she’s afraid that any movement might shatter the understanding you’ve found yourselves in.

“Maybe, we could… all go,” Natasha offers finally, her voice hushed. “If that’s what you want.”

You glance up, catching her eyes for the first time in what feels like ages. There’s a weight there, a heaviness she carries, lingering regret woven into her eyes. You break the gaze quickly, focusing on a spot on the wall behind her, holding onto the barrier you’ve had to build to keep yourself steady. 

“It’s what Lily wants.”

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, nodding slowly, her fingers fidgeting by her sides. The truth is plain between you: this isn’t really about what either of you want. It’s about the tiny person who’s still dreaming down the hall, in her own perfect, unbroken world where her family feels whole. And somehow, even after everything, you both want to keep it that way for her. The idea of doing this trip together feels as precarious as it does bittersweet. But the image of Lily’s face when she sees you all together, the way she lights up at the mention of Wanda’s cabin, that’s enough to ease the ache.

Natasha leaves late that night, a soft click of the door echoing in the house after she’s gone. You’re left in the quiet, the weight of the decision settling slowly over you. You’d both agreed—two nights, maybe three—just enough time for the girls to enjoy their favorite place, to breathe in the crisp air and marvel at the autumn leaves.

You exhale, leaning against the counter, the thought of those days stirring up a mix of emotions you’ve worked so hard to bury. There’s excitement for the girls, the way their faces will light up at seeing Wanda’s cabin again. You can almost picture Nina and Lily scrambling around the place, giggling and squealing, thrilled at the rare chance to have both their parents there together, even if things have changed.

As you glance down the hall where they’re still sleeping, you wonder what it will feel like to play at something close to normal, if only for a few days. For Lily, for Nina—you would try to make it work.

A few weeks later, Natasha arrives in her old grey Lada Niva. You could hear the familiar rumble of the engine before you even see the car pull up. You’d almost forgotten the way it sounds—the low, steady hum that used to fill the spaces between you two, back when things were simpler. The car, a relic from another time, was a piece of Natasha that never changed, a constant that the girls had grown to love just as much as she did. It had been years since you’d last ridden in it, since those family road trips that now felt like distant memories you barely dared to touch.

Nina and Lily don’t hold back, rushing to the door as Natasha parks, their excited squeals echoing as they shout, “Mama!” and clamber down the front steps. 

You watch as she steps out, smiling with that familiar, easy warmth that once felt like home. She crouches to their level, her arms opening as they run to her, and you can’t help but feel the smallest tug at your heart as she lifts them both in a swift, effortless motion, twirling them around like old times. Her laughter, soft and genuine, floats over to you as you linger in the doorway, a faint, bittersweet ache stirring within you.

She looks up from the girls, her gaze meeting yours, and you catch the flicker of something in her eyes—maybe nostalgia, maybe uncertainty, or maybe something else entirely. You clear your throat, trying to shake off the unease, then grab the bags by the door. You brace yourself for the weight of them, but as you take a step forward, Natasha’s shadow moves alongside you, close enough that you feel her presence before you hear her voice.

“Hey, let me,” she murmurs, her voice soft and warm. 

Before you can protest, her hands reach for the bags, fingers grazing yours for the briefest second. It’s a touch so light that it leaves a ghostly warmth lingering on your skin, but it’s enough to catch you off guard, your breath hitching as she gently eases the bags out of your hands.

You watch as she walks over to the car, her movements steady and familiar, the ease with which she lifts the weight somehow comforting and unsettling all at once. Her shoulders are relaxed, yet there’s a focus in the way she sets the bags in the trunk. She turns back to you, a faint smile pulling at her lips, and for a fleeting second, the past seems to slip into the present.

You tear your gaze away to walk over and open the passenger door and slide in, the scent of old leather and faint traces of Natasha’s cologne unmistakable. It’s strange, slipping back into this space, sitting beside her again like this, feeling the past brushing close but staying just out of reach.

The drive was quiet for the most part, other than the sound of the girls’ favorite songs playing on the car radio. Natasha’s hands grip the steering wheel with ease, and her driving is as steady as it always was. Outside the window, the trees blur by, softened by late autumn light, and you lose yourself in the landscape. 

Every now and then, Natasha’s gaze strays from the road to linger on you. She catches herself, tries to refocus, but her eyes drift back almost instinctively, drawn to the way you sit, wrapped in your own thoughts. Her hand hovers just slightly above her thigh, muscles tensing with the urge to reach out and place it on yours, an instinct that feels so ingrained it’s almost muscle memory. But she pulls back, fingers flexing as they return to the wheel. She remembers all the times she’d reach over without thinking, her palm resting against your thigh. 

And as she glances at you once more, her chest tightens, that feeling of missing you growing stronger each and every day. 

“There’s more trees now,” Natasha mutters, driving along the dirt path, getting closer towards the destination. 

The cabin sits quietly in the woods, nestled under a canopy of tall pines. It’s quiet and private—the next house probably miles away. The air is cool and crisp, smelling faintly of woodsmoke, and when you text Wanda to let her know you’ve arrived, her reply is short, almost comforting in a way, telling you to enjoy yourselves with a tiny smiley face at the end. She doesn’t need to say much; she knows what this place means. She knows it has its own kind of healing, as subtle as the wind rustling through the trees.

When you get out of the car, you unload your things, the girls’ things, and settle in to the cabin.

The girls are thrilled to be here. They take to the cabin with the kind of joy only children can muster, filling the space with giggles that spill out through open windows. They chase each other around the clearing, calling for Natasha to play along, and she does, jumping into their games with an ease that’s somehow both comforting and bittersweet. She’s gentle with them, her patience surprising in moments when the girls demand more and more of her. She spins them in her arms, laughs with them, gets them to try new tricks—whatever they ask, she does. She’s always been a good mother. You’ve never doubted that.

You find yourself watching from the porch, hands wrapped around a mug that’s gone cold, rooted in place by the weight of memories. Sometimes you slip inside, needing the familiar rhythm of chopping and stirring, needing to focus on something simple, something that grounds you. The scents of rosemary and garlic fill the kitchen, and it’s strange, but this simple act of cooking feels like a kind of armor. It’s something you can control, even if you feel like everything else is slipping from your grasp.

Natasha catches your eye sometimes, her glance lingering in a way that almost feels hesitant, as if she’s waiting for you to join them. But you stay back, listening to the sounds of their laughter from a distance. You’ve built walls around yourself, fragile as they are, and the thought of letting them down, even for a moment, feels terrifying. You want to be a part of this, to let yourself fall into the warmth of your family again, but something holds you back. So you stay where you are, like an outsider in your own life. 

The first night the girls are already settled into their beds, sleeping peacefully and Natasha is in the living room, moving quietly, tugging a thin sheet over the lumpy couch cushions and fluffing a pillow that barely holds its shape. Her movements are careful, almost too careful. From the shadowed hallway, you watch her in silence. You know how stiff her back gets, how this couch does her no favors, and how, come morning, the sun will stream straight through the window to warm her face uncomfortably awake. You sigh, a little louder than you mean to, and Natasha glances up but doesn’t see you there, just lingering in the shadows, uncertain.

Finally, you take a breath and step into the dim light of the living room, your voice quiet as you say, “The bed is big enough for both of us, you know. You could sleep there. If you want.” You try to keep your tone casual, as if you haven’t thought this over a hundred times, and shrug lightly. “But you don’t have to. It’s just… an option.”

She stands still, her hand pausing over the pillow, eyes glancing to the floor. Of course she wanted to. But she looks at you, hesitant, as if searching for any hint that this offer is anything more than what you said it was. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze, something softened by a yearning she’s trying too hard to hide from you.

Without waiting for her response, you turn and walk away, not looking back, not wanting to see the indecision flickering across her face. 

For a moment, the silence stretches and fills the empty room behind you. You hear the softest rustle as she stands there, still unsure, before her footsteps follow yours into the bedroom, cautious and quiet. The bed creaks as she settles on her side, keeping a respectful distance, her breaths slow and steady. She doesn’t say a word, but you feel her presence, steady and comforting, like a familiar warmth close enough to touch yet lingering just out of reach.

Natasha lies stiffly on the edge of the bed, her back turned but senses tuned to every breath you take beside her. The proximity—it feels like an exquisite kind of torture, and she’s aware that it’s probably worse than any discomfort the couch could have offered. But somehow, she welcomes it, aches for it, even as she tells herself to keep her distance, to keep her composure.

She can feel the warmth radiating from you, close enough that the tiniest shift would bring her shoulder against yours, but she keeps herself still, staring into the dark, wide awake. Her mind refuses to settle; memories tumble through her thoughts, fragments of laughter, the easy warmth you used to share. She finds herself painfully aware of the rise and fall of your breathing, the gentle way your face looks when you’re asleep, and she almost can’t contain herself.

She knows she won’t sleep tonight. How could she, lying here in the same bed, close enough to touch you, yet worlds apart?

But eventually, as the night wears on, she does. 

It’s your breathing that does it, she realizes, grounding her, washing over her like a lullaby. The sound is soft but constant, and she closes her eyes, letting it surround her, allowing herself, just this once, to be comforted by it. Her hand twitches, wanting to reach out, to rest beside yours on the sheets, but she holds backinstead.

And, in time, Natasha drifts off, lulled by the gentle rhythm of you beside her, more at ease than she’s been in years.

The next night, you help Lily and Nina bake a cake. 

The kitchen is a mess. Flour dusts the countertops, the floor, even speckles across your cheeks and Lily’s small hands. Nina stands on her tiptoes on a kitchen stool, eyeing the mixing bowl with such intense concentration that you can’t help but smile. It’s chaotic and loud, with squeals of laughter whenever a dollop of batter splatters onto someone’s arm. Lily is at the helm, her little hands wielding a wooden spoon as if it’s a magic wand.

“Mommy, I want the sprinkles!” she exclaims, reaching for a bright container of them before you even have a chance to measure them out. 

But you don’t stop her; it’s her night, and this mess is hers to make. Every year she insists on making her own birthday cake, decorating it however she pleases, and every year it’s as beautifully haphazard as she is. You watch her, feeling the warmth of her enthusiasm, her innocence.

Natasha watches from the doorway, leaning against the frame, a soft smile on her lips. She takes in the scene quietly, hoping that it’d never go away—the joy, the laughter, the way Nina’s eyes light up as she carefully mixes ingredients, the concentration on Lily’s face as she decorates her cake, and then, you… God, you looked so beautiful. The mother of her children. The person she once called her wife. When you glance over, you catch Natasha’s gaze, and there’s a tenderness there as she smiles lightly at you, knowing exactly where her place is. So, she doesn’t move. She watches. 

Eventually, the cake is baked, golden and imperfect, with sprinkles scattered unevenly over thick layers of frosting. It’s more of an abstract work of art than anything, but Lily beams with pride, her little hands sticky with icing as she admires her creation.

When it’s finally time to sing, she stands on a chair, practically glowing as everyone joins in, voices soft and full of love. Everybody sings. The light of the candle flickers across the girls’ faces as Natasha’s voice blends in with yours, and for a moment, everything feels… whole. You catch her eye again, and she looks at you with something unreadable—hope, maybe.

But you look away and her smile falls.

Then, Wanda visits on the last day.

Her visit catches you off guard, appearing just as you’re gathering up the last odds and ends in the cabin. She breezes in with that familiar smile, warmth radiating from her as if she’d been here all along, making herself at home in the easy way she always does. It’s been a couple weeks since you last saw her, yet here she is, greeting the girls with the kind of affection that only Wanda has, her laugh bright and contagious as she swoops them up one by one. You can’t help but smile as they cling to her, their giggles filling the cabin as they chatter on about every little detail of the weekend, as if they hadn’t seen her in ages.

Then, somewhere between the hugs and the laughter, Wanda’s eyes meet yours, a glimmer of something mischievous sparking in them. 

Before you know it, she’s suggested ice cream, casually slipping the offer into the air, barely giving you a moment to consider before Nina and Lily’s eyes light up with excitement, their voices blending into one constant, pleading hum of “Please, Mommy, please!” 

You hesitate, glancing around at the half-packed bags and open suitcases scattered on the floor. There’s still so much to do, and the sky outside has that heavy look to it, the kind that promises to come down hard if given the chance. You shoot Wanda a skeptical look, but she just waves it off, her voice light and certain. 

“Oh, I’ll just take them real quick,” she says, already holding out her hands as Nina grabs one, Lily the other.

You glance once more at the ominous clouds hanging low in the sky. They should wait, you think, but you’ve already seen the way their faces light up at the mention of ice cream, and you can’t bring yourself to say no, not when they’re this happy. 

So you sigh, pulling each of them close for a quick hug, whispering your usual cautions, “Be careful, okay? And Wanda, please… it looks like it’s about to rain.”

With a final nod, you watch as they pile out the door, their voices fading into the thick silence left in their wake. And suddenly, it’s just you and Natasha, an entire cabin somehow feeling smaller without the girls. She clears her throat softly, moving to help with a stray pile of blankets, and you follow. 

The silence between you stretches on and you find yourself too aware of every sound she makes, the soft rustling of fabric, the soft padding of her steps across the creaky wooden floor. You don’t dare look at her, not directly, focusing instead on the small tasks in front of you: folding the blankets with slow, methodical care, stacking up dishes in silence, packing up the girls’ scattered toys one by one. But out of the corner of your eye, you can see Natasha’s glances, her fingers moving with a touch too gentle, as if each item in her hands were something precious, something irreplaceable.

When she reaches over, her hand brushing yours as she passes a blanket, you freeze for the briefest second, your heart pounding in a way you wish you could ignore. It’s strange, this small gesture—nothing more than a graze of skin, but it feels heavy. 

After a moment, Natasha clears her throat, shifting her gaze to the window where the sky darkens further.

“Looks like a storm’s coming,” she murmurs, more to herself than to you, but her voice is close, familiar in a way that aches, that reminds you of nights spent together, whispering in the dark. 

And you want to say something, to fill the silence with something else, but the words won’t come out. 

Instead, you both go back to packing in silence, And as you reach for another item, you catch her eyes on you again, lingering a second longer than necessary, something soft and unreadable passing through them before she looks away.

When the last bag is zipped and the blankets are folded neatly on the couch, the sky finally breaks open with a relentless downpour. Raindrops hammer against the cabin roof. You glance out the window, watching as the world outside the cabin turns hazy and blurred, colors melting together in streaks. It’s coming down harder than you expected, the kind of rain that turns roads to rivers, and any hope of a quick drive to meet Wanda and the girls seems to vanish.

Natasha stands beside you, her gaze following yours out the window. There’s something calming in the way she stands there, shoulders relaxed, as if she were rooted to the spot, waiting without a rush. She doesn’t offer any suggestion about the rain or attempt to fill the silence, and somehow, that makes it harder to ignore her presence. 

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance, low and resonant, like a warning. You watch as Natasha crosses her arms, her fingers tapping lightly against her sleeve as if in thought, and you can tell she’s trying to gauge the storm, trying to calculate how long you’ll be stuck here together.

Natasha looks over at you, an almost apologetic look flickering across her face. “I’ll go check on the car real quick,” she murmurs, her voice low enough to blend with the rain. “I know we probably shouldn’t go anywhere right now, but it’s old, and it never does well sitting in rain like this.”

You only nod, saying nothing, watching her pull on a jacket and tug the hood over her head before slipping out the front door. The rain swallows her figure instantly, and you see her trudge through the mud, her boots sinking slightly with every step. 

Through the window, you can just barely make out the shape of Natasha as she reaches the car, her hand brushing over its rain-streaked surface with a soft touch, like she’s apologizing to it for what she’s about to ask of it. The headlights flicker as she tries to turn it over, but the engine groans before settling into silence again. Another turn of the key yields the same result, the rumble followed by a spluttering cough as the car refuses to cooperate, sinking ever deeper into the mud.

You watch as Natasha leans back in the driver’s seat, her shoulders slumping in quiet resignation. She presses her forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, as if gathering herself, then takes a deep breath and steps out. She gives the car a gentle, almost defeated pat on the hood, the look of someone who knows they’ve tried all they can. When she glances back toward the cabin, her gaze lifts to find you through the window.

She walks back, her steps slow, head slightly bowed against the storm. When she reaches the porch, Natasha shakes out her hood, droplets splashing across the wooden boards, and stands for a moment, hesitating as if she doesn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news. But there’s a strange, almost gentle softness in her gaze as she finally meets your eyes.

“It’s stuck,” she says quietly, tugging the hood down. “The mud’s got it pretty good, and… I don’t think we’re going anywhere tonight.” 

You nod, trying to ignore the small part of you that almost feels relief at her words. You watch the rainwater drip down from her jacket, forming a small puddle at her feet, and the cabin’s warmth surrounds you both, soft and heavy. Natasha only watches you as you pull your phone out to text Wanda. You fumble with your phone, tapping the screen to try and coax a single bar of signal to life. Nothing. The little icon taunts you with its emptiness, a dead end in the storm. 

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, low enough that it almost feels like an afterthought, something you wish would disappear into the sounds of the rain.

Natasha’s voice, gentle and steady, breaks through. “I’m sure the girls are fine with Wanda…”

You look at her. Her gaze is fixed on you, softened by a faint worry lingering at the corners of her eyes. There’s a sincerity you see in her irises. You look away, down to your phone as though it might somehow find a way to work.

The silence settles in again, heavier this time. Natasha shifts on her feet, uncertain, as if waiting for something from you—a response, an assurance, anything to break the tension she can feel thickening in the air. But instead, you simply pocket your phone, shoulders tense as you press your lips together in thought, a part of you unwilling to trust that everything is okay. You don’t respond, your mind too wrapped up in worry, feeling that gnawing pit in your stomach that refuses to ease, the sense that something is just… out of reach, outside of your control.

The rain comes down in sheets, a constant drumming against the windows and the roof, filling the air with a steady hum. But inside, the silence between you and Natasha is deafening, thicker than the rain, pressing down on you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. Each passing second feels heavier, and you can feel yourself starting to unravel under the weight of it. It’s suffocating, somehow.

You glance down, trying to keep your breathing steady, but there’s something clawing at you from the inside, a mix of panic and… something else. The feeling of being here alone with her, the person you loved so much and lost so painfully, is almost too much to bear. You press your lips together, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens, the way your hands start to tremble just a little. It’s as if everything’s closing in on you, the walls, the quiet, the memories. You sense Natasha watching you, catching the small signs you’re trying to hide. Her gaze is warm, careful, as if she’s afraid that one wrong move could make everything fall apart. She shifts, almost reaching out, her hand hesitating in the space between you, as if she’s weighing whether she has the right to offer any comfort.

A shaky breath escapes you, breaking the silence, and you almost regret it instantly. It’s like you’ve let down a barrier, and Natasha’s expression softens, her eyes filled with something that’s so familiar it hurts. The ache inside you grows stronger, and you find yourself wanting to say something, anything, but the words stick in your throat. You can feel the weight of all that’s unsaid between you—the hurt, the love, the quiet grief of two people who once had everything and lost it.

For a second, you catch her eye, and you’re pulled right back to those moments when it was just the two of you, when you didn’t need words to understand each other. You have to look away, not ready to face the full force of it.

You take a shaky step backward, feeling your chest tighten as you distance yourself from Natasha, as though putting even a few inches between you could somehow ease the ache clawing inside you. 

“I… I can’t be here,” you murmur, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice, raw and low.

You glance toward the rain-soaked windows, almost desperate for escape, the downpour outside strangely inviting, anything to cut through the weight of this moment. You’re one step from turning toward the door when you feel Natasha’s fingers close gently around your wrist, her hold soft but unyielding.

“I won’t let you go out in this rain,” she says, her voice steady, a quiet determination threading through her tone. She’s close now, closer than she’s been in so long, and the warmth of her hand against your skin, even through the fabric of your sleeve, sends a shiver down your spine.

You look down at her hand, your eyes tracing the lines of her fingers where they touch you, and for a moment, you feel yourself waver, caught between the urge to pull away and the desire to stay. It’s almost as if her touch could melt away everything you’re carrying, all the years, the heartbreak, the carefully rebuilt walls. But you don’t move, and she doesn’t let go.

“Please,” she whispers, her thumb brushing gently along your wrist. It’s the barest touch, but it’s enough to keep you grounded, to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to face this alone.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Natasha’s hand falls away from your wrist, fingers slipping into emptiness as if she’s retreating into herself. Her gaze drops, the slightest flinch crossing her face, a flash of something broken that she quickly tries to bury.

“I can go make you some tea,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, gentler than you’ve heard in a long time. It’s a soft offering that she knows has always brought you comfort.

But you turn away, steeling yourself. “I don’t need it,” you reply, sharper than you mean to, the words laced with bitterness you can’t hide.

Natasha hesitates, her hand hovering in the air like she wants to reach for you, to do something, anything, to take the pain from your eyes. “It’ll help—” she begins softly.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you cut her off, voice splintering, more forceful this time, a fierce edge to the words that lands heavy in the space between you.

Natasha stares, caught off guard, and her expression shifts, something fragile crossing her face that she can’t quite hide. She opens her mouth, but no words come, her voice lodged somewhere too deep to reach. She doesn’t fight back, doesn’t press you. Instead, she just watches, taking in every tremor, every piece of you she’s shattered.

And that’s when you feel it—everything inside you begins to unravel, as if a dam has broken. Your voice drops to a whisper, your gaze falling to the floor, and your hands start to shake as you choke out, “I don’t… I don’t need you.” 

The words come softer, barely audible, and you realize it’s as much for yourself as it is for her.

But then your voice cracks, your resolve slipping, and the truth of it cuts into you like glass. The tears come, quiet at first, slipping down your cheeks as you try to hold it together, but the pain is too much. You can’t stop the sobs that rise, each one sharper than the last, as the weight of it all threatens to swallow you whole.

Natasha’s heart twists painfully as she watches you, each quiet sob striking her deeper than any wound she’s ever endured. She hates seeing you like this, hates that she’s the reason for it. Every tear, every tremor, is a reminder of the ways she’s failed you. There’s a pain that fills her, clawing at her chest as she stands there, watching you break in front of her, knowing there’s nothing she can do to piece you back together.

Her hands itch to reach out, to pull you close, to soothe you the way she used to. But the distance between you feels unbridgeable. She can only stand there, fists clenching at her sides as she tries to steady herself, feeling utterly powerless. Regret presses down on her, heavy and unrelenting, mingling with a love she never stopped feeling and a longing that never seems to fade.

Every part of her wants to close the gap, to say something that might ease the pain she’s caused, but all she can manage is a quiet, broken whisper. 

“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, her voice cracking, barely audible over the sound of your quiet sobs.

It’s the same apology she’s given a hundred times, one that feels worn out, hoping it will somehow be enough to mend what’s been broken. But even as the words leave her lips, she knows they don’t carry the weight they used to.

Your hands reach up to push her weakly. It only takes three pushes until Natasha feels the cool wall of the cabin press against her back as your hands meet her chest, each shove more desperate than the last. She doesn’t resist, doesn’t move to stop you, just lets you push her—lets you release everything that’s been simmering inside. The look in her eyes is pained but unwavering, as if she knows she deserves every bit of anger, every ounce of resentment, that you hurl at her.

When your voice breaks on those words, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” it feels like something inside her is splintering. 

She’s faced countless enemies, stared down dangers most people couldn’t imagine, but nothing has ever gutted her like hearing you say those words. Her chest aches in a way she can’t describe; it’s a hollow, consuming pain that only comes from hurting someone you love.

“I hate you,” you say again.

Natasha swallows, her own eyes shining with unshed tears as she reaches out instinctively, hesitantly, as if she might still be able to comfort you, though she knows it’s selfish. Her fingers brush your arms, just barely, but she stops, feeling unworthy to touch you, even if every fiber of her being wants to hold you.

“I know,” she whispers, her voice low, raw. “I know. I hate myself too.” Her words come out fractured, like she’s fighting to keep them steady.

You press against Natasha with the last bit of strength you have left, hands shoving her even as your body begins to crumble under the weight of all you’ve been holding back. Your knees weaken, unsteady as a wave of exhaustion overtakes you, and you feel yourself start to slip. And Natasha, still pressed against the wall, doesn’t hesitate. She reaches for you, arms encircling you in one swift, instinctive movement, pulling you close against her as though she’s been waiting for this—for any chance to hold you again. 

You struggle at first, fists pressing weakly against her chest as you try to push her away, to break free from the comfort that only stings in its familiarity. But Natasha’s grip is firm, and steady, that doesn’t falter as you fight against her. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t loosen her hold; she just holds you close, pressing you to her, heart hammering beneath your cheek.

Eventually, the exhaustion wins. All of your fight slips away. A ragged sob escapes your lips, and then another, and before you know it, you’re crying fully, the sound muffled against the warmth of Natasha’s neck. She lets her cheek rest against the top of your head, her hand moving to stroke your back in small, soothing circles, each touch tender and careful, as if she’s afraid of breaking what little is left of you.

“I’m here,” she whispers into your hair, her voice barely a breath, soft and unwavering. “I’m right here.” 

She repeats it, holding you even closer, feeling each of your sobs shake through her. For the first time in a long time, Natasha feels you, feels you surrender in her arms, and it breaks her as much as it mends her.

Eventually, your sobs subside, fading into shallow, uneven breaths. You can feel Natasha’s steady heartbeat beneath your palm, and the room settles into a stillness as heavy as the rain outside. Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your head, pulling back just enough to see her face. And in that close space between you, you realize she’s been crying too. Silent tears slip down her cheeks, glistening under the dim light, eyes raw and vulnerable in a way that you’ve almost forgotten.

You take her in, every detail of her face, so familiar yet somehow achingly new. Her lips part, a trembling breath barely filling the space between you, and there’s something almost fragile in her gaze, like she’s as uncertain of this as you are. 

Neither of you speaks.

And before you can second-guess it, before you can pull yourself back, your lips meet hers. The touch is gentle, neither of you moving too quickly, afraid to shatter whatever understanding has settled between you. Natasha’s hand moves slowly, coming up to cradle the side of your face, her thumb grazing your cheek so that nearly undoes you.

The kiss deepens, the two of you leaning into each other, guiding each other towards the couch just behind you. You straddle her, settling yourself on her lap, feeling the heat radiating from her body, and it’s intoxicating. Your hands tangle in her hair, drawing her closer, as your lips press against each other. You feel her tongue in your mouth, moaning against your lips and for the first time in years, she remembers the taste of you. She wanted more. More. More. More—

And Natasha snaps back to reality. 

“I can’t do this,” she gasps, pulling away, her breath uneven, a pained look etched across her face.

You freeze, disbelief washing over you like a cold tide. “What?” you whisper, the weight of her words crashing into you. 

It’s as if the ground has fallen out beneath your feet. The warmth you felt disappeared, replaced by an uncomfortable chill that seeps into your bones. You feel it all over again. You feel unwanted. And you wanted to get away from her, as fast as you could. 

But Natasha’s grip tightens around your hips, anchoring you in place. “No, no, please,” she pleads. “Please don’t go.”

Her voice breaks and stops your movements. Instead of pushing away, you find yourself drawn back into her orbit. Natasha pulls you closer, resting her forehead against your shoulder, and you feel the warmth of her tears soak into the fabric of your shirt. You sit there in silence, letting Natasha cry against you. 

You remember the warmth of her laughter, the way her eyes would light up when she saw you, how her touch used to feel like home. You sigh, feeling the ache in your chest as Natasha clings to you. It feels strange, foreign even, to see her like this, to feel her emotions pouring out when she’s usually so guarded, so composed. You gently run your fingers through her red hair, each stroke an attempt to calm her down just as it always did. It’s rare to see Natasha like this, and the sight of her tears pulls at something deep within you, something that refuses to let go of the memories you once shared.

Her breath is warm against your neck as she whispers, “It’s not that I don’t want you…” Her voice trembles, soft and almost hesitant. “I always want you… but I want you to be sure. I want you to want me too… not now… not when we’re still fighting like this.”

The words settle heavily between you. Her confession is raw and earnest, a glimpse into the heart she so rarely lets anyone see. The warmth of her touch and the depth of her gaze make you feel as though you’re standing on the edge of something vast and uncertain. You could so easily fall back into her arms but the walls that the two of you have built—brick by painful brick—are still there.

“I know,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a breath, trying to find the right words to bridge the space between you. 

You want to tell her that you’re here, that part of you has always been here, waiting. But you’re afraid too, afraid of what wanting her again could mean, afraid of the heartbreak that might be waiting if things were to fall apart once more. You pause, resting your cheek against her head, feeling the soft tickle of her hair against your skin. 

“I know,” you say again, softer this time, as if to convince yourself as much as her.

Natasha’s eyes drift shut, and she lets out a long, unsteady sigh as she pulls you closer, absorbing the feeling of your warmth, the familiar weight of you against her. It’s been years since she’s held you like this, years since she’s felt your skin. Every inch of her aches with the realization of how much she’s missed this—missed you.

She lets her fingers trace gentle circles on your back, each touch cautious, as if she’s afraid you’ll slip away the second she lets go. Memories flood her mind of the times when the two of you were unbreakable, your worlds wrapped around each other. All of it feels so close, so painfully real, like she could reach out and grasp it, yet impossibly far away. She’s overwhelmed, but she doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to let go.

She listens to the rain, feels you underneath her fingertips, the scent of your skin filling her nose. She dreamed of holding you like this everyday for the past three years. And now that she had it, she wanted it forever. 

“Where did we go wrong?” you whispered, almost too quiet for her to hear. 

The question catches Natasha off-guard, lingers in the air between you, and she can barely bring herself to breathe, almost afraid that any movement might shatter this moment. She holds you a little tighter, as if she could somehow shield you from the pain in your voice.

She feels the weight of all the memories, the years you’ve shared, pressing down on her. She nuzzles closer, her face tucked into the curve of your neck, feeling the warmth of your skin against hers, a feeling she’d almost forgotten. She’s surprised you haven’t pulled away yet, as if the tenderness still feels too familiar, too natural.

“It’s my fault,” Natasha whispers, barely louder than the rain outside, her voice breaking around the edges. Her heart races, and she doesn’t dare to look at you, afraid of the hurt she knows she’ll see in your eyes.

You let out a heavy sigh, your gaze drifting somewhere past her, lost in thought. “You don’t think… I gave you a reason to… to find someone else?”

She’s stunned into silence, the realization settling over her that maybe, somehow, you’ve been carrying this blame, wondering if you were part of the reason she’d broken the life you built together. She blinks, swallowing hard as she tries to find the words, a flicker of panic rising in her chest.

“No,” she says firmly, her voice steady yet soft, almost pleading. She shifts, pulling back just enough to look at you, her hand gently brushing your cheek. “No, it was never because of you.”

But you’re still looking at her, and your voice trembles, barely holding back the pain. 

“Don’t lie to me, Natasha.”

“I can’t,” she says.

Your eyes harden and you pull back slightly to look at her face, “The truth. You owe me that.”

She didn’t want to say it. Her heart twists, and she hesitates, closing her eyes as she forces herself to say the words she’s been too afraid to admit—even to herself.

“I thought… I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” Her voice wavers, her fingers tightening their hold on you as if afraid that letting go would mean losing you all over again.

The silence between you is thick and heavy, your breaths filling the quiet space as you absorb her words. She feels the guilt clawing at her, as if she’s baring every part of herself, hoping that you can see the truth buried within her confession. She never wanted to hurt you. She never wanted to push you away. But somewhere along the way, she’d lost sight of what mattered most, and she’d convinced herself it was too late, that the love you’d once shared had slipped through her fingers.

The word slips out, barely audible, cracked and raw. “Why?”

The question hangs in the air. Natasha feels it wrap around her heart. She forces herself to look at you, even though the sight of that single tear tracing its way down your cheek makes her want to look away. She knows this answer; she’s carried it silently, wordlessly, and now it seems so inevitable that you’d finally ask her.

She tries to swallow, her voice almost too thick to form the words. “You… you stopped touching me.”

It’s such a small statement, so simple, yet it feels too big, too complicated, as if it holds every untold truth between you. 

She falters, looking down at her hands, gathering herself before she tries to explain. 

“I don’t mean… just sex,” she says softly, her head shaking almost in shame, as if she doesn’t trust you to believe her. “It was all the little things. We used to be close, you know? I liked touching you, even if it was just brushing my hand against yours… feeling you next to me in bed. I liked—” 

She pauses, her voice catching as she tries to summon the tenderness that’s still tucked away somewhere in the past. 

“I liked holding you at night. I liked standing close to you when you cook. I liked that you liked holding my hands no matter how rough they were. And I loved how you’d kiss me before I left the house, or the way you’d kiss me again as soon as I came back…”

She trails off, the words fading into the silence. The silence presses down between you. It’s all so achingly clear at this moment. You sit there, absorbing her words, the hurt spreading through you in waves as she continues. 

“And then… somewhere along the line, we just stopped,” she breathes into your neck. “We barely talked anymore. And when I tried to initiate anything… you’d pull away from me.”

Natasha’s voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper. But the way she says it hits you with a kind of clarity that feels like a wound reopening. She’s talking about something ordinary, something so small and routine that you can hardly believe it could be the reason for so much hurt. Yet now, hearing her say it, you realize how much those tiny moments meant. The gentle touches, the kisses, the reassurances you’d once given each other like breathing… how you pulled away from her… it was all fading even before you saw it happening.

She sits there, barely daring to breathe, looking at you with eyes that hold more regret than she’s ever known how to express. There’s a subtle twitch in her fingers, as if she wants to pull you even closer, to bridge that space between you that now feels so painfully wide.

The words spill out hesitantly, each one trembling with the weight of something you’ve kept hidden, maybe even from yourself. “I think… things changed for us after Nina was born.” 

The realization feels sharp, pressing against you. You’re not blaming Nina—she’s so innocent, so undeserving of even a hint of this pain—but it’s like tracing back a long path through a dark wood, seeing the moments where you veered off course, where insecurities took root without you realizing it.

Natasha’s gaze is soft as she looks at you, her thumb grazing over your waist in small, comforting circles, coaxing you to keep talking. 

“Why?” she asks gently, like she’s holding space for you.

You hesitate, feeling the words catch in your throat, but you force yourself to continue. “I don’t know… I… I’m the one who pulled away first.”

Natasha’s fingers pause on your waist, her focus fully on you, willing you to keep going. Her voice is a low murmur, soft but insistent, “Why did you pull away?”

The question cracks something open inside you, and you feel your lips start to quiver, your chest tightening with the ache of it all. You’re on the edge of sobbing again, but you push forward, knowing you can’t stop now. “Because I changed after Nina was born.”

Natasha’s brows knit together as she searches your face. “What do you mean?”

You take a shaky breath, looking down for a moment, as if saying it out loud will finally make it real, and will confirm what you’ve been so afraid to confront. 

“My… my body changed.” Your voice is barely a whisper, fragile and almost embarrassed, but it’s there, raw and painfully honest.

A light bulb flickers on in Natasha’s mind as she processes your words. 

“Did you think I had an issue with your body after Nina was born?” she asks quietly, her voice laced with both offense and confusion. She wants to understand, to dig deeper into your emotions. “Did you think I wouldn’t want you if your body changed?”

You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks like the rain outside, each drop echoing the chaos inside. 

“No, I…” You struggle for the right words, each syllable weighed down with shame. “I don’t know. It was so stupid… Y-You’re always in shape, Natasha. Everyone you know and work with… they’re all perfect and strong and beautiful. And you’d come home and I’d be struggling to lose the weight I gained when I was pregnant. I’d have baby food in my hair. The times I didn’t get to shower early enough because taking care of the girls could get so hectic sometimes… and you would come home to that… and I thought…” 

Your voice trails off, the weight of your thoughts pressing heavily on your chest. Natasha’s expression shifts as she absorbs your words, her brows furrowing in a way that reveals how deeply your pain affects her. She shakes her head, protesting against the image you’ve painted of yourself. 

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, (Y/n). Always,” she says softly, wiping away your tears with her thumbs, her touch gentle yet firm, as if she could erase the hurt with the warmth of her hands. “I don’t look at you and think anything else other than how breathtaking you are. You carried and gave birth to both of our beautiful girls. That alone means everything to me. You didn’t have to pull away from me.”

“I… I pulled away… because I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore…” you confess, each word punctuated by the quiet sobs that escape you, an avalanche of emotions finally breaking free.

“I always want you,” Natasha sighs, a tear slipping down her cheek, mirroring your own pain. She murmurs, her voice thick with regret. “I wish I knew… I should’ve asked. I should’ve…” 

Her words tumbled out in a rush. You see the depth of her sorrow, the realization that she could have made a difference if only she had reached out, if only she had known. As you cry silently, Natasha takes your hands in hers, cradling them like fragile treasures. 

“I should’ve told you,” you say, watching as she soothed her fingers gently over your hands. 

“No,” she interjects, her tone firm but gentle. “I should’ve known. I should’ve clued in on what was going on a long time ago.”

Natasha looks at you softly, memories flood her mind—images of that one night, a night she’d tried to forget but couldn’t escape. The feeling of abandonment gnawed at her as she replayed the moments leading up to her decision to leave. She remembers the heavy weight of despair that had settled in her chest, suffocating and relentless, making it impossible to breathe. She had convinced herself that if she went out, if she got drunk enough, maybe the pain of feeling unwanted would fade away.

But it only deepened.

In her haze, she had followed a woman into bed, desperately trying to imagine the warmth of your body in place of hers, the softness of your laughter, your gentle voice reassuring her that everything was okay, that you loved her. Natasha had thought that perhaps, just for a moment, she could replace the feeling of loneliness with something that resembled closeness. But the alcohol only made her feel more lost, more empty. And when the fog of the night began to lift, reality crashed down on her like a tidal wave.

Then, the devastation that followed was unbearable, the realization that she was lying next to someone who wasn’t you was a betrayal of its own. She had stumbled back to her car, tears streaming down her face as she cried against the steering wheel, the home you shared just miles away, reminding her of everything she had thrown away in that one moment of weakness.

“I wish I didn’t leave that night. I should’ve stayed with you,” Natasha murmurs, the regret thick in her voice.

She looks down, fingers fidgeting restlessly against your waist. The memory of that night, the night she let her pain turn her into someone she didn’t recognize, stings like an open wound.

In her mind, it replays over and over with cruel clarity: the empty bed she left behind, the bitter taste of jealousy and self-doubt that drove her out the door, and the alcohol she turned to, hoping it would numb the ache. But it only made things worse. 

She remembers how her vision blurred, and in the hazy, dimly lit room, she’d let herself believe she was somewhere else—back home, with you, as if she could trick herself into feeling loved. She imagined your skin. She imagined your lips. She imagined your hands. She imagined your voice. She imagined it all to be you. She wanted it so badly to be you. That the woman she was with became an illusion that she’d desperately wanted to be real.

But it wasn’t. It was a lie she told herself, a lie that shattered the instant she sobered up. And when she told you the truth, when she saw the pain in your eyes, she knew the weight of what she’d done.

Her voice breaks as she continues, “I thought… that if I could just close my eyes and pretend, I’d feel close to you again.” 

She risks a glance up, searching your face for something—understanding, forgiveness, anything to soften the truth of what she’s saying.

“All I could think about was you,” she whispers, her gaze dropping to where your hands rest between you. “Even when I was trying so hard to forget. It was only you. It’s always only been you.”

There’s a silence, a moment where her words settle, and she braces herself, unsure if her honesty will bring you closer or push you further away.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n),” Natasha’s voice is barely above a whisper as she leans forward, resting her forehead against your shoulder, her hands slipping down to your hips, holding you gently but firmly against her lap. “I hate myself for hurting you as much as I did. And if I could go back and undo everything, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

There’s a tremor in her voice, a rawness in her apology that cuts through the walls you’d built, walls that once felt impenetrable, necessary. Now, they softened, melting under her words, her touches.

You sit there, not moving, not quite sure where to go with the ache that’s lodged itself in your chest. Natasha’s breath is warm against your neck, steady yet trembling with the emotion she can no longer contain. Her arms wrap tighter, as if she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she lets go. She presses her lips to your shoulder, a hesitant kiss, soft and laden with the weight of every unsaid apology, every moment she should’ve been there instead of elsewhere.

You feel your own heart twisting, caught between confusion and forgiveness, between the impulse to push her away and the urge to hold her closer, to let yourself be vulnerable just one more time. Natasha’s fingers flex against your hips, grounding herself in the reality of you here, with her, despite everything.

“I think… we were both lost, Natasha,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, fingers threading gently through her red hair. Her hair is soft between your fingers, and somehow that simple act—the feel of her—grounds you both in the present.

Natasha tilts her head slightly, resting into your touch, as though she was seeking forgiveness in every gentle movement of your hand. Her eyes are closed, and you watch as her face softens, a flicker of relief and remorse still etched deep in her features.

“I was just… struggling… trying to hold everything together and forgetting… forgetting we were supposed to hold each other up.” Your voice cracks, but you push on, feeling Natasha’s grip on your waist tighten. “And you were hurting too. I didn’t even see it.”

Her eyes open then, green and full of something you can’t quite name. “I wish I had been stronger for the both of us… for you,” she murmurs, her hand lifting to brush a stray tear from your cheek. Her touch is warm, delicate, as if she’s afraid to break you any more than she already has.

You shake your head, your hand still buried in her hair. Your thumb strokes softly against her scalp, and her hand comes to cover yours, pressing it gently against her. Natasha opens her eyes to meet yours, and in that gaze, a flicker of hope ignites, mingled with uncertainty. 

“What do you want us to do?” she asks softly and you hesitate, the words catching in your throat. 

“I don’t know how to forgive you yet,” you admit, and the honesty feels fragile. The confession hangs in the air, but it’s not a rejection. It’s an acknowledgment of the hurt that has settled deep in both of you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it,” Natasha replies, nodding her head in agreement, her voice thick with regret. 

“But I… maybe we could try. It won’t be easy,” you say, a spark of resolve rising within you. “But I want us to try. Not just for you and me… but for the girls too.” 

The thought of Lily and Nina grounds you, their innocent laughter echoing in your mind, reminding you of the love between you and Natasha not only affects the two of you, but the lives of your beautiful little girls as well. And they motivate you to be better, to be stronger in a lot of ways, no matter how scary something could be. 

Natasha blinks, taken aback by your words. She searches your eyes, searching for some sign of betrayal, some hint that this is just another cruel twist of fate, but all she finds is sincerity—a desperate wish for something more. To move forward. A possibility.

You take a shaky breath. The anger and bitterness that had clouded your heart for so long begin to dissipate, and you realize that the facade you had built to protect yourself was crumbling. You had pretended to hate her kb because it felt easier than confronting the truth—that all you wanted was her love, her touch, her presence beside you.

“You said you hate me,” Natasha murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, as her gaze drifts to your lips. 

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. “I always told myself that I did. I thought I did.” 

A silence stretches between you, thick with unsaid feelings and the echoes of past grievances. Natasha watches you intently, her emerald eyes searching for understanding, desperate to catch every part of your emotions.

“And even though I felt like I wanted to,” you continue, your voice trembling as the truth rises to the surface, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you, Natasha.” 

Her breath catches in her throat. She tilts her head slightly, allowing a small smile to break through the sorrow etched on her features. 

“You love me,” she repeats, her voice barely more than a murmur, eyes searching yours.

You take a steadying breath, feeling the weight of her gaze, the way it’s unraveling parts of you that you thought you’d locked away. 

“Don’t act surprised,” you reply, sighing softly, almost chastising her for even doubting it. But there’s a hint of resignation in your voice, as if loving her has become an undeniable part of you, something you’ve both fought against and clung to.

Natasha’s expression shifts, and you see something like both relief and remorse in her eyes. She reaches up, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, lingering there as if grounding herself in this moment, in the truth of it. 

“I didn’t know if you still did… if you still could.” Her voice is low, raw, carrying the weight of all her insecurities, the missteps and miscommunications that led you both here.

You hold her gaze, letting her see the depth of what you feel, all the love and pain tangled together, and you shake your head slightly. 

“Loving you was never the problem, Natasha. I just… I didn’t know if I could keep doing it when I was… so angry with you.” 

The admission aches as it leaves your lips, but it’s the truth. For all the love you feel, there’s been just as much pain, and it’s taken its toll on both of you.

Natasha nods, her thumb brushing against your cheek as if she’s memorizing every detail of it.

“Are you sure you still want to try with me?” she asks quietly. She’s looking at you with those green eyes that have seen so much, eyes that hold both love and a flicker of fear, as if she’s afraid of the answer.

You take a moment, feeling the gravity of her question settle in your chest. You nod slowly, your heart pounding against the silence that envelops you. 

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready for us to be together soon…” The words feel thick on your tongue, but they’re the truth. You can’t rush this—too much has happened for that. “But, I still want to try.”

Natasha’s expression shifts slightly, the blink of pain that crosses her face making your heart ache in response. She nods, processing your words with the understanding that comes from a deep love. 

“I just need time,” you add, hoping to offer her some reassurance amidst the uncertainty. “Maybe, we can take it slow?”

A small smile breaks through the tension, and in that moment, it feels like the world around you lights up just a bit. It’s not much, but it’s everything Natasha needs right now. 

“However slow you want to go,” she replies, her voice softer and her hands gentle against your waist. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll wait however long you need me to.”

The sincerity in her voice wraps around you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tightness in your chest. You can see the depth of her commitment in her eyes, a willingness to do whatever it takes to bridge the distance that formed between the two of you.

You lean into her slightly and whisper, “Thank you.”

Natasha looks at you, her gaze filled with a depth of emotion that makes your heart flutter. It’s as if she’s seeing you for the first time, not just as the woman she loves but as the most beautiful woman she has ever laid eyes on. The way her eyes soften, the way her lips curl into a smile—it’s overwhelming. There’s a longing there, an undeniable desire that urges her to close the distance, to lean in and kiss you. She wanted to kiss you so badly. 

But she holds herself back, restraint crossing her features as she fights against it. Instead, she smiles gently, looking up at you. It’s a smile that says she’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. The warmth of her touch spreads. You feel a surge of gratitude. Her fingers press softly into your sides, holding you there without demanding anything more than what you’re ready to give.

Her gaze softens as she watches you, studying your face like it’s something she’s memorizing all over again, tracing every detail with her eyes. A small, almost hesitant smile plays at her lips, just the faintest upward curve, afraid to let the moment slip away. 

It was quiet. Too quiet.

You watch as Natasha turns her head towards the window, her eyes shifting away from you. 

“Where did the rain go?” she murmurs, almost to herself, her voice low.

You follow her gaze to the window, watching as raindrops cling to the glass in silent, scattered trails.

“The sun’s out,” you murmur, shifting off Natasha’s lap. Her hands linger for a second longer than they should, fingers brushing against you as you slip away and rise to your feet.

Natasha watches you cross the room, her gaze following each step, each small movement. You move towards the window, your hand brushing against the glass as you peer outside. The world looks untouched, as if the storm never even happened, with the sun spilling over the trees and grass, drying the last remnants of raindrops clinging to the leaves. In the distance, you catch sight of Wanda’s car pulling into the drive, her headlights cutting through the last threads of mist hanging low over the ground.

“It’s like it didn’t even rain,” you say softly, almost to yourself, the words carrying an odd, quiet wonder.

Natasha moves closely behind you. She’s close enough that you feel her there but she doesn’t reach out. 

The car door clicks open, and you watch as your daughters jump out, their laughter filling the morning air as they spot you and Natasha in the window. They wave eagerly, little hands in the air, faces bright with excitement. You walk over to the front door and push the screen door open, stepping out onto the porch and watching Wanda step out of the car with a knowing look. Her expression is unreadable, that sly, familiar grin playing at her lips as she lingers by the driver’s side, watching the scene with a certain satisfaction. 

Natasha’s smile widens as she looks at the girls, softening into something that feels almost like relief, her eyes lighting up as Nina comes running, arms wide, straight toward her.

“How’d you guys survive the rain?” you call out, a trace of teasing in your voice as the girls run up to you and Natasha, their laughter still bubbling over.

Nina giggles, wrapping herself around Natasha’s leg, as though she’s missed her all these hours.

“It didn’t rain, Mommy!” she laughs, her head tilting back, eyes sparkling with innocence.

The words take a moment to sink in. It didn’t rain. You exchange a look with Natasha, and suddenly it all starts to fall into place. Wanda’s magic. The quiet, unexpected downpour. The way the time seemed to disappear for hours, leaving you and Natasha stranded in the cabin with nothing but your hurt and your words to fill the silence. You feel the realization settle in, glancing between Natasha and Wanda. 

You step closer, crossing your arms with a faint smirk and meeting Wanda’s eyes directly. 

“Really?” you say, raising an eyebrow. 

Wanda only shrugs, her mouth quirking in that mischievous, all-too-familiar smile. “Seemed like you two could use a little time to talk.”

She says it lightly, like a friend with good intentions, and yet there’s something so deliberate in her tone that you know she planned this from the start.

You let out a quiet sigh, shaking your head as you turn away, slipping back through the doorway to collect the bags still waiting by the cabin’s door. You can feel Natasha’s gaze on you as you move inside, her eyes following you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she looks away. But there’s a softness in her eyes now, a sort of peace that hadn’t been there before, like the air between you both is just a little lighter after the night you shared.

Behind you, Natasha stands on the porch, her hands resting loosely by her sides. She watches as the girls eagerly chatter, running toward her before she crouches down with a smile. 

“Hey, girls,” she says gently, smoothing back a stray curl from Lily’s forehead. “Why don’t you go help Mommy with your things?”

Nina and Lily grin, nodding excitedly before they dart inside, their footsteps echoing across the cabin floor as they rush to your side, each one eagerly grabbing a piece of luggage and heading toward the car. 

Wanda steps up to Natasha’s side, her heels crunching softly on the gravel as she gives a knowing smile. She glances at Natasha, eyes curious, then leans in close enough that her voice falls to a gentle whisper. “So… how did it go?”

Natasha takes a slow, steady breath, her eyes lingering on the doorway where you disappeared moments ago. 

“We talked…” she says softly, the words holding a weight Wanda understands without needing more.

“That’s something,” she murmurs, glancing back toward the cabin as though she can see the space between you both healing, bit by bit. 

Natasha looks down, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her voice is soft, barely more than a whisper, but the weight of those words lingers in the air between them. 

“She said she wants to try,” she murmurs, closing her eyes as a heavy, relieved sigh slips past her lips. Her shoulders relax, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a spark of hope flickering inside her—a chance to start over, a chance to make things right.

Wanda watches her closely, her expression warm and understanding as she nods. She knows the journey won’t be easy, that there are pieces to pick up and trust to rebuild, but seeing Natasha standing here, her face softened with hope, Wanda knows it’s a start.

Natasha opens her eyes slowly, her gaze distant as if she’s looking past the porch, past the quiet woods stretching around them. Her mind is with you, picturing the way you held let her hold you, the way you���d let her in, even if only a little. It had been so long since she felt that closeness, and the thought alone fills her with a warmth she hadn’t dared let herself feel.

“She wants to try…” Natasha repeats softly, as though saying it aloud might make it more real, solid, something she can hold onto. A soft smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and she looks over at Wanda, her green eyes shining.

Wanda gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

“It’s a start,” she says gently, her voice steady but tinged with that familiar note of caution. She meets her gaze, her eyes filled with both support and a warning Natasha knows is true. “You know it won’t be easy.”

Natasha nods, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She knows. Every cell in her body knows. Her mistakes, the distance she let grow between you, the ache that took root in the spaces where love and trust used to be—but knowing it won’t be easy hasn’t made her want it any less.

She stares out toward the driveway, where you’re helping the girls settle in, the sunlight glinting in your hair as you laugh at something Nina says. It’s a sound she’s missed so deeply, it aches, and yet here it is, real and alive, a reminder of what’s still here, what’s still possible.

“I know,” Natasha murmurs, her gaze locked on you, as if watching you can give her strength. “I know it’ll take time, and… there’s a lot to make up for. But, I want it more than anything.”

“That’s all that matters, Natasha,” Wanda says. “But if you break her heart again, I don’t think I’ll be willing to help with that next time around.”

She smiles and nods in response, the determination in her eyes stronger now. She glances back toward the car just as you emerge, the girls trotting behind you, chattering happily as they throw their bags in, their laughter floating across the grass.

Natasha’s heart swells as she watches you, watches her family together, a sense of purpose settling over her as she realizes just how much she wants to make this right. She knows it won’t be easy, knows that there will be days filled with doubt and pain, but for now, for this moment, she has a sliver of hope. 

And for Natasha, that’s more than enough.

note: would you forgive her ?

navigation | n.r masterlist

[aroacedragongirl]

Im just going to answer all of these because why not

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

its complicated

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

my father

03: Do you regret anything?

so many things :)

04: Are you insecure?

definitely

05: What is your relationship status?

single, hoping to stay that way

06: How do you want to die?

preferably painlessly

07: What did you last eat?

Honey bunches of oats with almonds

08: Played any sports?

i did karate for like eight years and hated it for at least like half of that

09: Do you bite your nails?

not really

10: When was your last physical fight?

see #8

11: Do you like someone?

this is a really ambiguous question. not romantically or sexually, thats for sure

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

no

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

yes

14: Do you miss someone?

I miss my friends who have all gone off to college around the country

15: Have any pets?

two dogs and a chinchilla

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

tired and annoyed by my mother

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

nope, never anywhere, for that matter

18: Are you scared of spiders?

no, i think they are cute

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

probably not, because it is impossible to predict the far reaching effects of what you do, and you could irreversibly change your life forever

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

what the fuck does that even mean? actually I dont think i want to know

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

i have no idea right now

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

nope

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

nope

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

calculus, physics, and computer science, probably

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

that is literally the same question as question 14

26: What are you craving right now?

sleep

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

probably by accident at least once without realizing it

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

never been in a relationship

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

never been in a relationship

30: What’s irritating you right now?

upon reading this my entire body spontaneously became itchy, fuck you

31: Does somebody love you?

I think my parents do?

32: What is your favourite color?

purple

33: Do you have trust issues?

definitely

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

I crashed the car that i am borrowing

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

one of my parents, i dont recall which

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

probably

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

i am guilty of both

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

no

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

never have; hoping to continue that

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

no

51: Favourite food?

i wrote an entire essay on this one in response to an ask if you want to know go read that

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

if the consequences of our actions and random chance count then yes, otherwise no

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

game with friends

54: Is cheating ever okay?

I dont think i am qualified to answer this (aroace)

55: Are you mean?

sometimes unintentionally

56: How many people have you fist fought?

complicated answer, see question #08

57: Do you believe in true love?

no

58: Favourite weather?

just cool enough to wear a hoodie, not too cold

59: Do you like the snow?

yes

60: Do you wanna get married?

no

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

definitely not

62: What makes you happy?

Making things, success, sometimes hanging out with my friends

63: Would you change your name?

probably, idk to what though

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

jokes on you ive never kissed anyone

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

apologize for being unable to adequately reciprocate also why exclusively opposite sex?

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

idk

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

my mom

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

also my mom

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

no

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

probably not

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[angievue]

flower girl ʚɞ billie eilish

in which you work at a flower shop and billie works at a tattoo parlour right next door

contains smut, degrading, dumbification, fingering & oral, ig readers innocent, unsupportive parents, this is really bad LOL

a/n guys i found this i think i made this three months ago for fun and OMG😭 also i’m on my phone so that’s why the layout is so ugly😔 i’m not even gonna proof read this cuz its so bad but i love the tattoo girl x flower girl trope so🫠 might re write this or make a pt 2 idk!!

You’ve always been a bit of a goody two shoes. The obedient type, always following your parents’ strict rules and agreeing to whatever your friends begged for, even though you never truly felt free. Your life felt like it was on lockdown, confined by your parents’ watchful eyes.

That was until you started working at a cozy little flower shop. The space was filled with hyacinths, lilies, and roses, and you felt instantly at home there. You could arrange bouquets however you liked and finally had a chance to connect with the world outside.

But what you liked most was the dark-haired girl who worked at the tattoo shop right next to your little flower shop. Growing up, you were taught that attraction to the same gender was forbidden, so now, alone with your thoughts, you can’t help but be drawn to her.

You’ve never spoken to her, and God knows when you will. You’ve only ever seen her walking into the shop every weekday at 8 a.m. and leaving at 5 p.m.

You’ve always wondered what she was like. Her long, raven hair and baggy clothes. You wondered what her name was or what color her eyes were. You wondered if she’d ever think about you the way you think about her.

But she had one flaw: her tattoo parlor somehow scared customers away. The loud music and her starkly different aesthetic made your beautiful flower shop feel dim and boring by comparison. You found yourself loathing her for it.

Today, you swore to confront her and send her a sweet message.

So here you are, standing outside her little tattoo parlor. The edgy music blasts from inside, and you can feel your knees getting weak.

You open the door and immediately feel out of place. Dressed in your cute pink skirt, white sweater, leg warmers, and Mary Janes, you stand out against the harsh red lights and black, dimmed walls of the tattoo parlor. You can’t believe you’re here—imagine if your parents saw you in a place like this…

You gulp as your eyes meet hers. She’s the one you’ve been secretly watching for months now. Her icy blue eyes and rosy pink lips make your stomach twist, and you bite your lip, nervously approaching her with your hands tucked behind your back.

“You here for a tattoo?” she asks, her voice carrying an edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Um… no! Actually, I’m from the flower shop… right next door,” you manage, voice shaky. “Your music is kinda loud… and, well, I’ve been getting some complaints from my customers, so… if you could maybe turn it down a little?”

You stare down at your shoes, feeling like a complete idiot as you mumble through your words, unable to meet her piercing gaze.

She lets out a low chuckle, biting her lip. “Flower shop, eh?”

You glance up, nodding with wide, blinking eyes. Her gaze holds yours, and you feel heat rise through your body.

Her eyes roam over you, lingering just a little too long. She shifts, leaning in closer. “Hm. I’ll think about it… if you give me something.”

Your face lights up. “Okay! Like… a flower?”

She laughs softly, amused by your innocence. “Mm. Yeah… like a flower.”

And that’s how you found yourself, dazed and flustered, barely able to think straight, hiding out in the tiny, employees-only bathroom tucked away in the back of the flower shop.

Billie was her name. And she didn’t really want a flower…

Your breath hitches as you feel Billie's fingers trace the curve of your spine, her touch both gentle and teasing. You shiver, unable to suppress a soft whine as her fingertips trail lower, dipping into the crease of your ass. Her voice is a low murmur in your ear, honeyed and dripping with promise.

"You’re so fucking eager, aren’t you? Like a dumb little puppy."

The words should sting, but they only make your heart race faster. You nod, too consumed by your own arousal to form a response. Billie chuckles, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

Her hands slide around your waist, pulling you back against her chest. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your clothes, and it makes your skin tingle. Billie nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Such a sweet baby," she purrs, her lips brushing against your skin. "I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

You whimper, a desperate plea escaping your lips. Billie’s grip tightens, drawing you even closer. Her mouth finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, and she bites down gently, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp.

"Please…" you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Billie hums in satisfaction, her hand sliding down to cup your heat through the fabric of your panties. You feel yourself growing wetter at her touch, your body betraying you with every passing second. She teases you, circling your clit with her thumb, making you squirm in her hold.

"So naughty," she mocks, her tone playful yet domineering. "Such a whore letting a random girl touch you like this. I bet you’d do anything I say, wouldn’t you?”

You nod frantically, your mind foggy with arousal. Billie’s fingers dip beneath the edge of your panties, slipping inside to find your slick entrance. You moan loudly, arching your back to give her better access. She thrusts two fingers into you without warning, making you cry out.

"That’s it, baby," she coos. "Take it. Take my fingers like the good girl you are."

Her words are laced with condescension, but you find them intoxicating. You press yourself harder onto her hand, desperate for more. Billie pulls her fingers out with a wet sound, bringing them to her mouth to lick them clean. You watch, entranced, as she savors your taste.

"Mmm, delicious," she murmurs. "But you know what you really need, don’t you?"

You shake your head, unsure, but your body tenses with anticipation. Billie smirks, clearly enjoying the power she holds over you.

"On your knees," she commands, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You comply immediately, dropping to your knees before her. Billie steps back, giving you room to maneuver. She undoes her pants with deliberate slowness, letting them fall to the floor in a pool around her ankles. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of her exposed pussy, glistening with desire.

"Come on," she orders, her voice firm. "Show me how much of a dumb little slut you really are.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, your tongue flicking out to taste her. Billie hisses at the contact, gripping your hair tightly as you begin to lick and suck at her clit. Your movements are hesitant at first, but she guides you with forceful tugs on your hair, showing you exactly what she wants.

"Fuck, that’s it," she groans. "Lick it like you mean it, my little baby.

The harshness of her words spurs you on, your tongue working faster as you try to bring her to the edge. Billie’s hips buck against your face, her moans growing louder and more urgent. You can feel the tension building in her body, and you redouble your efforts, determined to make her come.

"Oh, fuck," she gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair.

She pulls away from your mouth abruptly, making you whine in protest. But before you can react, she spins you around, pushing your face against insf the wall. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you realize what’s coming next.

"Stay still," she warns, her voice clipped.

"I’m going to ruin you, and you’re going to take it like the good little slut you are."

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation. Billie wastes no time, her fingers returning to your soaked pussy. She pushes one inside, then two, scissoring them to stretch you open. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your hips rocking back instinctively.

"Such a greedy little thing," she taunts.

With that, she removes her fingers and replaces them with something much larger—her tongue. You cry out at the sudden invasion, your body shuddering as she laps at your folds, drinking in your juices. Her mouth is demanding, relentless, and you can feel yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.

"Billie… please…" you beg, your voice breaking. "I can’t… I can’t hold on…"

"Good," she whispers against your flesh. "Let go, my dumb little baby. Let go for me."

And with those words, you do. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, overwhelming your senses. You scream her name, your entire body convulsing with pleasure as Billie continues to eat you out, driving you further into bliss.

As your climax begins to fade, she pulls away, leaving you panting and spent. But before you can catch your breath, she flips you over, pinning you down with her body. Her eyes burn with intensity as she looks down at you.

"Liked that, did you?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous. "How about we make this a regular thing?"

You blink up at her, dazed and sated. Part of you wants to protest, to say that this is so unprofessional and wrong. But the other part of you, the part that’s currently throbbing with residual pleasure, doesn’t want this to ever end.

"Yes…" you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Whatever you want…"

Billie smiles, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Good girl."

a/n someone do this trope justice or if someones already done smth like this LMK PLZ😫 i love it

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sebek and his big ol' heart

Y’all thought I would be writing an extensive analysis on [REDACTED] or Skully but JOKE’S ON YOU, I love my lame idiot child Sebek 😭

When I tell you I actually CRIED MULTIPLE TIMES reading his Nightmare Suit vignettes… because all the pieces fit together SO well…

Before reading this (long) post, I’d like to ask that you also take your time to read this analysis and this analysis. They will help you understand some of the points I made later regarding Sebek and his internalized racism + how he expresses himself.

Have your recommended reading done? Great, then let’s hop to it!

***Spoilers for Sebek's Nightmare Suit vignettes, book 7, and various other Sebek and Silver card vignettes.***

Sebek is one of those characters that lives in infamy for how much time he takes to get warmed up to. He presents himself as loud and brazen, with these traits often earning him the ire of both in-universe peers and irl fans alike. Worst case scenario, Sebek can be seen as someone who is outright hateful. He’s rude to most people (including Silver, his childhood friend, sometimes), denounces humans, acts like Malleus can do nothing wrong, and doesn’t seem to respect his own father.

Well, I’m here today to tell you those claims are false and that Sebek is actually capable of so, so much love. All you need to really do is look at his Nightmare Suit vignettes—and how well they connect with the rest of his lore—to understand what I mean.

The vignettes start with Jack Skellington finishing a bento that Sally made for him. Sebek tells Jack that he should now return the basket that the bento was delivered in to her and to let her know what he thinks of her meals, but Jack says he can’t because he’s busy with Halloween preparations. Jack asks Sebek and Azul to return the basket in his stead, which they do. They aren't allowed to see Sally because Dr. Finkelstein has locked her up for misbehaving, so they leave the basket. Azul advises that they also pass along Jack's comments (he had called Sally smart, thoughtful, and kind; he often forgets to have meals when he's absorbed with his work, so it's generous for her to prepare a delicious meal like this for him). Sebek loudly refuses, as he believes that hearing these grateful words from Jack himself would be much more meaningful to Sally.

He later confronts Sally at Town Hall and asks to speak with her privately (in an ALLEYWAY lol). There, Sebek flat-out tells Sally that such roundabout tactics will never help her feelings reach Jack because he's way too dense. Of course, she reacts with denial which sends Sebek into a passionate speech about the lengths Sally will go to for love (short of actually speaking about it). She literally threw herself out of a window and put herself in bodily harm to get to Jack when Dr. Finkelstein locked her in her room. She deliberately disobeyed her guardian and brainstormed a way to get out when theoretically she should not have been able to move around freely. If that's not motivated by love, then what is? Sebek declares that it's really annoying to watch Sally dance around the issue and to see her devotion go to waste. IT'S LIKE HE'S WATCHING/READING A ROMCOM AND THE TWO MAIN CHARACTERS KEEP PLAYING THE "WILL THEY, WON'T THEY" CARD... She admits that she can't share her feelings because Sally thinks she's not worthy of someone as impressive as Jack... They're not compatible. And you know how Sebek responds??? BY TELLING SALLY ABOUT WHAT IS BASICALLY TWISTED ROMEO AND JULIET... Sebek reading tragic romance confirmed 😭 He describes the story as one of two lovers whose families do not approve of their union. In desperation, the lovers try to elope--but their plan fails and they return to their warring families. Instead of committing dying like in the original tale, the lovers live the rest of their lives lamenting the outcome and how they can no longer see the person they love most. Sebek shares his own interpretation of the story and its moral: because the lovers gave up hope that they could get their families to accept one another... because they never tried to get their families to get along... because they could not properly articulate their feelings to their families... the lovers could not be together. He is convinced that if they had communicated better, the story would have a happier ending. Sebek is of the firm belief that a story itself cannot come to be without the author wanting to share their own thoughts or feelings; he even suggests that maybe the author of Romeo and Juliet experienced something similar--a regret that resulted from neglecting to express deep-seated feelings. It's not just this book either, Sebek claims to have many stories with a similar theme or miscommunication leading to conflict.

Above all, Sebek stresses to Sally that she must believe in herself and take swift, decisive action. And why does Sebek whole-heartedly throw himself into this belief? Because his own family is living proof that a happy ending is possible if you try hard for it.

If you've paid attention to Sebek lore prior to this, you'll know that he has a human father and a fae mother. Their marriage faced opposition and scrutiny in Briar Valley, a country which is isolated from the rest of the world and suffered greatly from human invaders pilfering the fae lands for resources. One of these sources of opposition and scrutiny is Sebek's own grandfather and his mother's father, Baur. Apparently, Mrs. Zigvolt married Mr. Zigvolt against the wishes of her dad.

Sebek shares even more details with Sally in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. To this day, Baur does NOT approve of his daughter's marriage--but Mrs. Zigvolt doesn't let that get her down! No, she does everything in her power to prove to her father that she made the right choice and she's perfectly content with her life. She'll send letters enclosed with photographs of her family, take her children to visit Baur's home, and invites him to join family dinners. Sebek adds that he's sure his mom made other efforts too--all to try and get Baur to acknowledge her marriage. More recently, Baur seems to have lightened up a little... as in, he always used to turn Mr. Zigvolt away at the door, but now lets him in about once a year (though Baur still avoids eye contact with him and continues to frown). Mrs. Zigvolt stubbornly believes that if she keeps this up, her dad will one day change and bless her marriage with the man she truly loves. Sally commends Sebek and his mother's ability to speak their minds loudly and proudly, but then disparages herself again by saying she can't do the same. Sebek then confesses that he can relate to Sally's frustrations. He related her feelings to his own inadequacy in serving Malleus, the powerful and noble king-to-be of his country. That feeling... Sebek describes it as akin to heartache. But instead of wallowing in that heartache, he pushes himself to close that distance between himself and his idol. If he keeps hesitating, then there is absolutely no way he can catch up to where Malleus is! Sebek must dedicate himself to becoming someone worthy of serving him. He encourages Sally to do the same through both her words and her actions! At that moment, Jack walks in and Sally makes good on Sebek's advice. (This part isn't important to the analysis on Sebek's character, so I'm glossing over it.) The vignettes end with Epel complaining about Sebek being loud as per usual. Sally doesn't take issue with his volume though. She simply giggles and informs Epel that Sebek speaks so loudly and clearly so that his words can resonate with others--like how his words gave her courage.

We have learned new lore about Sebek's grandfather and mother. What does this tell us about Sebek? A lot, actually--if you slate it with all the other lore we have on hand.

We see just how strong of a woman his mother is. I suspect this is where Sebek picked up a lot of his hard-headedness, as well as the tendency to express himself very overtly, from. However, it also speaks to the loving environment he grew up in.

His mother seemingly never questioned her own life choices and never gave up fighting to prove her happiness to a father--and likely an entire community--that rejected her marriage, her husband, and maybe even her children. She fiercely loves and defends her family and the life they have made for themselves. Sebek states that he looks up to her for her magical strength, but that he also admires her principles and strong convictions. Indeed, it was her who ardently pursued Mr. Zigvolt and did not allow naysaying to deter her.

Then there is Mr. Zigvolt. In Sebek's Birthday Boy vignettes, he describes his father as "a strange man" who is "magically deficient" and "never lets his smile fade, no matter what I say to him [...] he defies comprehension." Though Sebek doesn't seem to hold the same amount of respect he has for his mother for his father, we don't hear Sebek openly insulting his dad, just expressing confusion about him. When asked about it, Sebek denies depending on his father--but it's clear there is a fondness there that he's not addressing. Mr. Zigvolt is impressed whenever his children use magic, buys them snacks they never asked for, and talks with them for long periods of time in a calm, patient manner. His father, too, has given Sebek so much compassion and understanding.

We don't know a lot about Sebek's siblings, but they seem to get along fine! He has mentioned going to parks with them. They've also gone fishing together and witnessed magic competitions, which they were all amazed by. The Zigvolts in general (or at least the parents) seem to be accepting too, as they volunteer to take Silver in whenever Lilia is unable to take care of him.

And you'd think that's where it ends, but NO. Baur ALSO has a lot of love to give. Despite not approving of his daughter's marriage, he doesn't actively despise his grandchildren. Quite the opposite, in fact! Though he's rough around the edges and looks scary, Baur doesn't fault any of his grandchildren for being born half fae and half human. He actually makes it a point to bond with them, and especially with Sebek. It was Baur who taught Sebek the language of nocturnal fae and instilled in Sebek his love for reading (as he bought many books for him and tells many stories himself). He also personally reached out to Lilia to train Sebek, as the young boy (at around age 7) expressed an interest in martial arts. Sebek has a love for salmon carpaccio because he and his siblings would fish at Baur's house and then prepare the dish for him--Baur was so happy about it. Additionally, Baur values getting a good education and was proud when Sebek shared with him that he was invited to attend Night Raven College.

Sebek grew up in a country that dislikes humans, but he was raised in an household where he was loved unconditionally and provided with all the resources he could need to get a good education and become someone who is physically strong. So of course he becomes frustrated when he sees Sally, who is so nervous to act on her feelings. What would have happened if Sebek’s mother had been like Sally? Sebek, as the youngest of three, might not event exist. His parents may not still be together… or maybe they wouldn’t have gotten together in the first place. It’s exactly because Sebek knows what love is supposed to be like--courtesy of his own family—that he can see it so well in others, and wants them to act on it. His very existence is proof that love is possible, and it transcends arbitrary labels like race that serve to divide people into categories.

One quirk of Sebek's is how he's always dishing out back-handed compliments or making comments that come off as rude but aren't at their core. He can't seem to help but say a good thing that sounds like something bad. His Diasomnia classmates, usually Silver, have to translate these Sebek-isms for others, who misunderstand him or interpret his words in the worst possible way. For example, from one of Silver’s Fairy Gala lines; “Sebek said to me that no self-respecting disciple of Lilia’s would dare get a single stain on this clothing. That's his way of encouraging me.” In Silver's Dorm Uniform vignettes, Sebek tries to reassure his friend and tell him to not let other people's opinions hurt him--but he phrases it as, "Hmph, ridiculous! I see no reason for you to heed a few random comments from some humans." The duo is also shown to be competitive with one another in training; it's never malicious, they both want to prove themselves as the superior knight, and the other serves as motivation to improve and/or a means of measuring one's own growth against a fellow disciple. When the mostly elderly population of Harveston is in need of physical labor, Sebek comments "[...] the humans in Harveston are woefully out of shape," yet he insists he "still [has] energy to burn" (as if to volunteer himself to do more work) and call such tasks "simple" (as if to point out how easy it is for him to do, so don't worry about troubling him). He hauls apples and helps the villagers with whatever they need, declaring that they should "be grateful"--but if he truly did not care, he could have stopped at any time or settled for just making fun of them. But Sebek doesn't, because he DOES care deep down. This aspect of Sebek is made even more obvious in Fairy Gala: What If. He appears at Ramshackle and opens by declaring, "NO! I am by no means worried about anyone! [...] Don't mistake my intentions. I am NOT here to help! If your mission doesn't succeed, the repercussions will definitely affect Malleus and Lilia. Hence... I shall lend you uneducated humans my aid! [...] You're welcome to weep with joy at my magnanimity..." Time and time again, we see Sebek demonstrating a lot of kindness, but deflecting or not being totally transparent with his intentions due to pride or embarrassment. This behavior is very reminiscent of Baur, the grandfather that Sebek loves dearly and spent so much time with. Baur, too, can be very passionate and loving, but struggles to speak of those feelings openly. Just look at how the man deals with Mr. Zigvolt. The behaviors of the family, then, imprint on Sebek and influence his behaviors--and being that Sebek is from such a loving group, it follows that Sebek puts out a lot of love into the world too.

A lot of times when the fandom discusses Sebek's attitude, I feel it's from the context of him being hateful towards humans. I'm not going to deny that Sebek has said some pretty nasty things about half of his own identity. The point I would like to make here is that Sebek can love just as strongly.

The most obvious thing that supports the claim that Sebek is capable of strong love is how he views Malleus. It's no great secret that Sebek practically worships the ground his dorm leader walks on. That's essentially Sebek's key defining character trait. What I'll ask you to consider instead is the nature of Sebek's love--not the obsessiveness of it, but rather the unconditional nature of it.

In Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Skully laments that Sebek has not been disappointed by his idol, Malleus. Sebek actually corrects him by saying that love isn't imposing your own views on your idol, it means preparing to accept them, flaws and all. He says the same of Malleus; should the time ever come where Sebek's expectations of Malleus falter or their paths have to diverge, then he will still embrace his young master, never once turning his back on him. And where does Sebek gets this from? His parents. The father who loves his children no matter how critical Sebek may be of him. The mother who remained so strong in the face of her friends and family being against her life choices.

A common fandom sentiment regarding Sebek is that he blindly follows Malleus--but when speaking about his idol to Skully, Sebek says that agreeing with someone and continuing to love them are different things. You can disagree with someone's actions and still continue to love them and accept them. This follows what Sebek does in book 7; though he is betrayed and hurt by Malleus turning his powers against the world, Sebek does not let up on the hope that he can bring his young master back. He even sillily calls the yet-to-be-hatched Malleus tamago/egg-sama, showing even an infant form of Malleus great respect after witnessing his OB. Skully took the opposite path that Sebek did; when he realized that his own idol, Jack Skellington, was not as he imagined him to be, Skully became enraged and lashed out over it. Sebek points out Skully's inadequacies as well, which ties back to how he spoke of his own drive to improve in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. Skully confesses to trying desperately to emulate Jack--so much so that he breaks down when Sebek's UM destroys his iconic shades. He wallows in his current state and doesn't make efforts to change or to be better; the past and his own vision is where he's comfortable. It's a strong contrast to Sebek, who has made it clear he will continue to train and work hard to prove his merits and to be someone worthy of protecting the great Malleus Draconia.

It is Sebek's passion and boundless love that makes him a hero both in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas AND in the main story's book 7. He serves as a foil to Skully in the former and actively saves Silver when he's on the brink of despair in the latter. After learning that his biological father is the man responsible for killing Malleus's mother and leading the Silver Owls' onslaught on Briar Valley, Silver despairs and comes to the conclusion that his father must loathe him. "He could never love the son of the man he despised! He has to hate me! He has to!" Sebek rushes to Silver's side using Living Bolt, a UM he has yet to master (thus causing residual damage to him when he casts it), to correct him:

"You have this much strength... and you dare to say you weren't loved?! That you were hated?! [...] If [Lilia] hated you, he didn't have to give or teach you anything. He could've just raised you into a dimwitted coward and made you a servant. But he didn't--and look at you now. Even alone and helpless, you stood firm. You spoke up, unfaltering in the face of our liege's madness. Even trapped in the darkest despair, you kept on fighting! Who raised you to be so strong? LILIA DID! Why don't you see? Why do you doubt? You should have understood years ago! What can you call your strength, if not the direct result of Lilia's love?!"

WHETHER SEBEK REALIZES IT OR NOT, A LOT OF WHAT HE TELLS SILVER HITS HOME FOR HIM TOO... Like, thinking about it... Sebek must have faced a lot of prejudice from his community because of who his father is. He might have grown up thinking he, too, was hated, had he not been protected by his loving mother, father, and, yes, even grandfather, who is still struggling to accept the human in their family. Baur must have been feeling very complicated emotions upon meeting his half human grandchildren for the first time... but even though he dislikes humans, he could never find it in himself to dislike his grandkids. If he had hated Sebek, he wouldn't have wanted him to get a good education. Baur wouldn't be happy that he got into NRC. He wouldn't personally ask Lilia to train the grandson who expressed an interest in combat. He wouldn't buy so many books for Sebek or read with him or tell him stories or teach him his language. But Baur DID do all of these things, because deep down he loves Sebek no matter what he is. If it was anything less than love he felt for his grandson, if he decided to neglect his grandkids, then Sebek would have grown up as some "dimwitted coward". IT'S ALL CONNECTED.

And now here Sebek stands, able to tell others that they are loved and should be cognizant of that love. He reminds Silver that Lilia loves him. He advises Skully to reevaluate how he sees his idol. He tells Sally to speak honestly about her feelings, because it was his own mother speaking honestly about hers that led to Sebek and his entire family being as happy as they are now. He shouts at people to act and to speak their minds because he doesn't want them to live with regrets, because he doesn't want to see them be weak and timid--a version of himself that could have resulted if he hadn't been loved so strongly.

You can say many things about Sebek: that he's loud, that he's rude, that he's a fanboy, that he has big muscles. But of all those muscles, Sebek has a very big heart too. And what made him so strong? All the love he received from his family, despite growing up an environment that surely invited hatred for humans.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨All Dolled Up✨

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: After months of hard work, Lucifer finally gifted you a welcome present after joining the hotel! In return, you decide to make something of your own just for him! Your gift, however, turns out to be even more special than you intended...

This is a surprise story for my friend @rosen-und-mondlicht who gave me this very creative and fun idea for a story! Love you boo <3

Huge thanks to @canihaveacandycane and @citrusbatsandhoneybees for the help on this one!

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, p in v

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! We're so happy to have you stay with us! We hope your time here is an enjoyable one!

-Hotel Staff

P.S. Hey there! I'm sorry this took so long to give you, I just had to make it perfect! I hope you like it!

-Lucifer

It was custom for every new resident to receive a welcome letter. Even though you've already been at the hotel for 6 months now, it was still appreciated. You walked into your room and found your very late letter sitting next to a small white box complete with a red bow resting at the foot of your bed. The gift was unexpected; however, you hadn't heard of anyone else receiving one. Once you read the card, you figured you knew the reason for its delay. Lucifer, always the perfectionist, must have stalled the whole operation.

You hadn't expected to become so close to the King of Hell himself. You were weary of him at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Everyone knew about the fallen angel. But after a while, you started to warm up to him. It was easy to see that he was nothing like you imagined or had been told about while you were alive. He was a kind soul, a dreamer who loved his daughter dearly, and someone who was very, very lonely. You learned about his previous wife Lilith and how she had left several years ago never and hadn't been heard from since. You could tell this deeply affected Lucifer even though he did his best to hide it through his jovial persona. You two grew pretty close, he found you incredibly easy to talk to, as if he had known you his whole life. You enjoyed your time together and you found joy in listening to whatever he chose to ramble on about that day be it his latest project or reminiscing about his daughter Charlie when she was younger. You'd never admit it, but you had developed somewhat of a crush on the king. But who were you to get involved with the ruler of Hell? It wasn't your place as a mere sinner and you dared not ruin the friendship you had built with him, odd as it may be.

Curiously, you picked up the box and casually began to unwrap it. you lifted the lid to find a cute little rubber duck that resembled you! All the little details down to your hair, your eye color, and somehow it managed to capture your smile in its little orange beak. You loved it, no wonder to took him so long to complete; every detail was perfect. It was such a thoughtful gift, and you felt the burning need to return the favor! Who knows the last time Lucifer had been given a gift. Why couldn't it be from you?

You noticed something else in the box too and lifted it up gently. It was a beautiful white and red feather. You knew it must have been his, but did he mean to give this to you as well? Knowing him, he must have worked frantically to get this gift finished. A few must have fallen off during the packing process; you knew how stressed the man could get. But the feather gave you an idea. You couldn't make rubber ducks like him, that was his specialty. But you did, however, know how to make little felt dolls! You were very crafty during your life and you figured you might as well use the skills you have to do something good.

You spent most of the night sewing and stitching everything together, ignoring the many warning signs your body gave you in order to try and get you to sleep. You were stubborn, however. Once you started a project, it was almost impossible for you stop until it was complete. It was nearly dawn by the time you finally finished the little doll. Well, almost finished! Everything was perfect, from the little snake that wrapped around his little hat to the tiny golden buttons on his jacket. There was only one things left to do! You grabbed the feather that you had found your box and delicately placed it inside of the small slit you had left open on the side of the doll. You thought the feather could represent a heart, something meaningful to give the doll and make it different from anything else.

Finally, you stitched the last gap closed, cutting the strong with your teeth to finally complete your gift. You stared at the doll for a moment to admire your work. And you were happy. But something weird happened. Just then, a small flash of golden light emanated from the doll but disappeared as quickly as it came. You set it down and rubbed your eyes. You looked over the doll again for another minute, but the flash of light never returned. You chalked it up to being a trick of the light. And considering the fact that you were sleep deprived, you wouldn't put it past your brain to start pulling tricks on you. You shrugged it off, taking the doll with you to bed. You drifted off to sleep easily, your eyes growing heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow. You clutched the doll close to your chest, giving it a small peck on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Lucifer," you whispered to it before letting your body fall unconscious.

****

You woke up with a start to the sound of your alarm blaring. It was 8:00 a.m. Not nearly enough sleep. You realized you hadn't moved all night; your body must have been too exhausted to toss and turn. You found yourself still holding the doll and smiled to yourself. You were still exhausted, but you knew Charlie would be sad if you missed breakfast, so with all of your remaining strength, you pulled yourself out of bed and begrudgingly began to get ready for the day. You decided you use a small tan paper you had from one of your shopping trips bag to hold the doll, thanking yourself for not just tossing it away like you normally would have.

You made your way to the kitchen knowing Charlie would be preparing breakfast for everyone. But to your surprise, when you entered through the kitchen door, it was not the princess you found at the stove, but her father. You heard him whistling a song you never heard before, a perfect melody. Your heart began to race as you walked a little bit closer to him, the smell of pancakes filling your senses.

"I can hear you, you know," Lucifer called out playfully as he flipped a pancake in the air. You couldn't help but giggle.

"Well, I'm glad," you retorted, now standing beside him. "I didn't really want to be scaring you when you’re working over a hot stove like that."

He gave you a small smirk without looking away from what he was doing. "Oh yeah, that truly would be terrible, wouldn't it?" he laughed. You knew he was more or less invincible, being an angel and all. Still, you didn't want to distract him.

"I thought Charlie was usually the one to prepare breakfast," you commented.

"Oh, she is!" Lucifer smiled. "But I told her I would handle the meals today. My little girl works so hard around here, you know? I thought it would be nice to take something of her plate...so to speak." He chuckled at his own joke as he laid the freshly made stack of pancakes on the neatly assembled row of plates.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, setting down the brown paper bag behind the kitchen island out of his view.

"Sure!" He turned around and pointed to the condiments he had laid out. "Could you hand me the syrup and the whipped cream over there?" You did as he asked and brought him the items. Lucifer began to smother the fluffy cakes in syrup and drawing little ducks with the whipped cream to top them all off. When he was finished, you and him delivered breakfast to the hotel residents. You came back to the kitchen to notice there were two plates of pancakes left.

"Oh, we forgot some," you commented. "Who did we forget?"

Lucifer only smiled. "Those are for us, silly! You have to eat too, don't you?"

In your effort to help, you completely forgot that you hadn't eaten. He handed you your plate and fork and you two stood there eating his delicious creation as you leaned against the countertop.

"These are amazing!" you tried to say with your mouth still half full.

Lucifer swallowed his last bite and gave you a toothy grin. "Why thank you! I'll be honest, I haven't cooked in a long time. I was afraid I had forgot how. But if you like them, then I know I succeeded!"

You set your finished plate down and crossed your arms. Lucifer seemed to be in more high spirits than usual. You liked seeing him like this; just happy. "If you don't mind me saying, Lucifer, your mood seems...different. N-Not in a bad way! Just...more full of energy."

He followed your motion and set his plate down behind him. "You think so?"

"Yeah," you continued. "It's nice to see. I like a happy Lucifer."

He smiled at you and left out a soft sigh. "Can I tell you something?" You tilted your head in confusion but nodded. "This is gonna sound a little weird, maybe a little bit crazy, but just hear me out, okay?"

"Of course! I never think you're crazy," you smiled. His hand found the back of his neck; he looked as though he was nervous about whatever he was about to tell you. Your heart started racing again.

"Last night, when I was sleeping...in the middle of the night, I felt something...I don't know how to say this...constricting me?" You furrowed your brow, not understanding what he was trying to say. "Maybe that's not the right word. Let's say...holding me. That sounds better."

"Holding you?" you questioned, "I'm not sure I get it."

"Okay uhh, let me think..." he placed his hand under his chin. "It almost felt like...cuddling?"

"So...someone was cuddling you last night?" you spoke in a hushed tone. You feared the worst when you heard him say those words. Lucifer noticed your change in demeanor and quickly back peddled.

"No, no, that's the thing! I was alone last night!" he reassured you. "I always sleep alone, ever since..." he shook his head as to move on and forget it. But you knew what he was going to say. "It was the strangest damn thing, in the middle of the night no less! And there was a voice that..."

Your brain refused to acknowledge Lucifer's last few words and were more focused on the fact that he was indeed alone last night. "That...certainly is odd. What could..."

Oh no...

Your eyes went wide with fear, your whole body froze, you couldn't bring yourself to finish your thought.

The doll.

The doll you made for him. You went to bed with it last night. You held it in your arms. You kissed it goodnight!

Oh no, oh no, oh no!

"Is everything alright?" Lucifer snapped you back to reality. "You look paler than me!"

You swallowed hard trying to muster up any sort of response. "Y-Yeah! Yeah, I'm totally fine! I just...I realized I promised I would help Angel with something this morning and I completely forgot! So, I'll see you later!"

You didn't give Lucifer a chance to respond as you ran out the door and grabbed the bag you had hidden from view. You didn't let up until you reached your room and slammed the door behind you. You set the bag down carefully onto your bed and gingerly removed the doll from it, using only your nails to hoist it out. You let it lay in your hand as you stared at it with panicked eyes.

"What the hell did I do?!" you asked yourself in a berating tone. "It's just a doll, it shouldn't have - hold on..." A sudden memory came flooding back to you. You called the doll emitting a strange light the night before as soon as you finished sewing the remaining stitches. Last night, you thought it was just the trick of the light; it was late and you were beyond exhausted. But that didn't explain why Lucifer was able to feel you holding him last night. The last thing you did was add "...the feather!"

That must be it! His feather must have caused the connection. Lucifer was an angel after all, a magical being of pure light. Surely anything that was a part of him would carry those same properties. You had to get rid of it! But how? You didn't know the extent of what this doll could feel. Surely stabbing it with a knife would cause him some pain...you think. Given Lucifer was more or less indestructible,  you still didn't really want to test that theory.

So, you stood there with the doll limp in your hand unsure of what to do with it next.

You couldn't bring yourself to destroy it, you put so much work into it and it would kill you to get rid of something that was meant to be an innocent gift. The best option would be to hide it, leave somewhere no one would find it and forget that it even exists. But then, the thought of Lucifer's smile crosses your mind. He was so happy this morning, happier than you've ever seen him. And it was because of you. Not that you would every dream of telling him that. But maybe...maybe it would be alright if you kept it. If you held it close to you at night. Perhaps it wasn't the most moral decision, but hey, you're in Hell, morality is not a common practice here. You brought that doll to your chest and held it tight. "I'm sorry..." you murmured to it, "If I can't tell you how I really feel, maybe this is the next best thing."

For the next several nights, you went to bed with the held tightly. And for the next several days, you couldn't bring yourself to face Lucifer. Anytime you heard him approaching or his voice getting closer, you ran the other direction. But not far enough to completely miss him. While you hid from his view, he had that same jovial expression since the day you made breakfast together. It warned your heart to know that what you were doing had a positive effect on him, even though you couldn't shake the guilt that came with that either. Sometimes he would catch you by surprise and spot you from across the hall. Lucifer would call out to you but you made it a point to get out of there as fast as possible. Strangely enough, he never sought you out after you ran, but you thought that was for the best.

One night before you went to bed, you sat up on your mattress staring at your creation resting in your palms.

"I'm a coward," you told yourself. "I should just tell him the truth. Why am I even doing this? I want him to be happy, but this isn't right. I shouldn't have put the feather in there, I should have just thrown this in my closet and not given it a second thought. But no! Now I'm avoiding him like a frightened cat because I don't have the guts to tell him..." You sighed. "One more night. Just one more. And then I'm done. I'll never think about this again." You turned off your lamp and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

****

You cracked your eyes open the next morning, the light of the red sky filling your room. You sat up and rubbed your eyes before feeling around for your doll. You couldn't find it. Your opened your eyes wider. The doll wasn't there. You leaped from the bed and quickly began turning over your covers and throwing the pillows onto the floor. Nothing. You dropped to the ground and peered under your bed to a shocking sight. You gasped.

Keekee somehow found her way into your room. And what was in her mouth other than your little Lucifer doll.

"Keekee," you called to her. "I'm gonna need that back, sweetie! That's not a toy!" Your hand reached out slowly, trying not to spook the little cat. Her tail whipped back and forth as she raised her hind legs. "Nooooooo, don't you dare Keekee, I swear I'll..." but before you could finish your threat, she bolted from under your bed and ran straight out of your room. "Damn it!"

You didn't have time to change and in that moment you didn't care. You flung the door wide open and watched Keekee turn the corner, the doll still in her tiny mouth. "Keekee, get back here!" you yelled down to her as quietly as you could. You didn't know what time it was but it was too early to be cursing at a cat. She scurried away into another hall, forcing you to chase after her. You never lost sight of her, which you thought was a little odd. Normally Keekee could disappear if she really wanted to, but at no point did she ever make an attempt to avoid you completely. It was almost like she wanted you to follow her.

After several crazy turns, you saw her duck into and open door in one of the hallways. You figured it must be a closet. She was finally trapped. You hurried over to the dark room and pushed the door shut so the cat couldn't escape easily. But now you couldn't see.

"Keekee, come here girl," you cooed. "I promise I'm not mad, I just want the doll back." You found it a little ridiculous that you were trying to barter with a cat, but it was early in the morning and your hadn't fully woken up yet. "This isn't funny anymore, you know. Please, Keekee, I need that back!"

"And why would that be?" a low voice boomed in the dark. You shrieked as the lights flashed on. After blinking a few times trying to get your eye to readjust, you realized where you ended up.

Lucifer's workshop...with Lucifer sitting at his desk, Keekee snuggled in his lap.

Shit.

The first thing you could process was that you were still in your nightgown. Instinctively, you threw your hands over your chest in shock and embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Lucifer apologized, quickly covering his eyes with his forearm. "H-Here!" With a snap of his fingers, a giant blanket formed around you, covering you from head to toe. You gripped it tightly to keep in from falling off your shoulders. Lucifer peaked through his arm to make sure you were decent. "Sorry again, I should have realized you wouldn't have been dressed yet." You felt your cheeks burn as he spoke. He reached down to pet Keekee who had then dropped the doll into his other hand. "Such a good girl, Keekee!" he praised her, "who's a good girl? You are! Yes you are!" He looked back up at you and cleared his throat. Lucifer stood up from his chair while Keekee leaped onto the ground, curling up into a ball, and taking a little nap under his desk.

You swallowed hard before finally finding your voice to speak. "L-Lucifer, I-I can explain! I-"

"It's alright," the fallen angel smiled. "I'm sorry about all this, but you've been avoiding me lately. I knew you'd follow Keekee once you realized she stole this from you." He held out the doll in his hand. "You made this?"

You nodded your head, refusing to make any sort of eye contact. "It was meant as a gift for you. The duck you gave me was amazing, I wanted to give you something in return, but..." you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence. Lucifer continued to smile softly at you. This was definitely not the reaction you were expecting from him. You had so many questions and so many apologies to give him, but there was one burning question that you needed answered first. "Did you know something like this was possible?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, I didn't. One of my feathers is in this, right?" You nod. "It must still contain its magic despite not being attached to me anymore."

Your eyes shifted to the ground. "How did you know it was me?"

"I heard you." You raised your eyebrow, not understanding his answer. "I heard your voice. Anytime you held the doll, I heard you, as if you were whispering in my ear. At first, I didn't recognize it. But as you kept talking, the words you were saying; it all clicked. I've been trying to get your attention these last few days but you ran as soon as you saw me. Were you...afraid that I would be angry?"

You nodded again, tears now welling up in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Lucifer, I didn't mean to...I just..."

"Hey, hey! Please don't cry! Please?" Lucifer quickly wiped away the tears that fell down your cheek. "I'm not angry, I promise! I'm the furthest thing from it!"

You sniffled a few times, trying to even out your breathing again. "You...You're not? But why?"

Lucifer looked down at the doll in his hand and sighed. "Because...I haven't felt that kind of care in a long time. " He gently ran his hands over the small striped undershirt of the tiny Lucifer. "Hehe, it feels weird when I do it..." He looked back up at you with the most needy eyes you've ever seen. "I should have talked to you immediately after I figured out what was going on. I should have made more of an effort. But I didn't. I know that's selfish of me. But...I was afraid if I did, you would stop. Every time I tried to talk to you, you ran. And I was silently grateful that you did. It meant I would get to feel that same feeling of being held again that night. When you said that last night would be the final time, I knew I had to come clean. I couldn't let you go on thinking that what you were doing was wrong. I hope you can forgive me."

He was apologizing to you? When you were the one that made this magical doll and refused to tell him about it? "You have nothing to be sorry for, I created this, and I didn't tell you what was happening when I learned what I'd done. This is my fault."

"Can I see your hand?" Lucifer asked, almost as if he was ignoring the blame you were putting on yourself. You did as he asked and outstretched your hand. He placed the doll flat in your palm. "You're very skilled, you know. You did a wonderful job capturing my good side," he chuckled. "I know this was originally meant for me, but I want you to keep it. What you do with it is up to you." You remained perfectly as he spoke. "If you want to forget that this ever happened, I would completely understand. You can put it on a shelf or hide it in a closet, and this will never be brought up again." His palms rested on top of the doll and the bottom of your hand. "But..." his grip tightened ever so slightly, his claws digging into the fabric.

"You don't want that, do you?" his thoughts leaving your mouth. Lucifer didn't respond, he didn't even look up as you asked him.

That was all the answer you needed.

You pulled away and hid the doll under your blanket, giving him a soft smile. "I'll keep it...you safe. I promise. If it's what you really want."

"I do." The king couldn't help but beam at you. He wrapped his arms around you, constricting your own. He pulled away once he realized how hard he had been squeezing you. "Sorry," he laughed lightly. "Umm, by the way, i-if you ever need me, you can use the doll to talk to me if I'm not around. It can be about anything..." he leaned in closer and closer to you until you felt the light brush of his lips against your cheek. "And I do mean anything. I don't want to, you know, assume anything, but there had to be a reason why you went to bed with the doll every night. Some of the things you said...it sounded like you had more that you wanted to say. I just don't want you to be afraid. We're friends after all, right?"

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you listened to his words. You tried to speak but only air left your lips. Lucifer only giggled as you watched his cheeks turn a pale yellow. You couldn't believe what he was inferring. it couldn't be possible. And yet here you were with Lucifer himself practically begging for more of your attention.

"I...I don't know what to say," you finally managed to choke out. "This is all a little overwhelming, Lucifer."

"Then don't say anything," Lucifer responded. "Take all the time you need. I hope to see you soon," With a snap of his fingers, you were engulfed in sparkling red flame. You shielded your eyes for a brief moment. But after opening them again, you found yourself back in your bedroom. You walked over to your open door and quietly closed it, sinking to the floor afterwards. There was a lot you needed to process. The blanket that covered you fell to the floor as you ogled at the doll in your hand.

You hugged it tighter than you ever had before.

****

The rest of the day was perfectly quiet, mostly because you did see Lucifer for the rest of it. You cautiously approached Charlie and asked about him. She let you know that her dad told her he needed his privacy today and that no one should worry. Her words didn't comfort you like you hoped they would. Was Lucifer okay? Did this whole ordeal cause him to isolate himself. Did he change his mind about it? Your heart sunk at the thought. You needed to talk to him again, but you weren't sure you could face him. But...there was another option.

Later that night, you threw on your robe to get ready for a nice long bath. After the day you had, you needed it. You glanced over at the little stuffed doll sitting on your night stand, now hearing your own heartbeat in your ears. It was now or never; you wouldn't let your nerves get the better of you anymore. You took a hold of it and sat down on your bed, now extra aware of  your hand movements.

"Lucifer, can you hear me?" You asked. There was no response. "I guess that was a stupid question. Hey, umm, I wanted to thank you. For today, I mean. I was so afraid that this situation would sully our friendship so badly that you'd never want to talk to me again. I hope you're doing alright. And I hope Keekee's teeth didn't hurt you too badly. I'm rambling now, aren't I?" In that moment, you could almost hear Lucifer's laugh.

The grip on you had on it tightened ever so slightly as you gathered the courage for what you really wanted to say. "You were right before. When you thought I had more to say to you. I-I did. But I didn't know how you would take it if I ever told you. I was afraid of your reaction. And your rejection. But...I don't have the strength to tell you in person." You brought the doll closer to your face, your lips ghosting over the fabric. "I love you," you whispered before planting a small peck to its small cheek.

Silence.

Your breath heaved slightly before setting the doll back down. You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. It was done. There was nothing more you can do. You stood up and headed straight for the tub. You needed that bath now more than ever.

Knock knock knock

You froze in place for a few seconds, a little bit frightened by the sudden noise that emanated from your bedroom door.

Knock knock knock knock knock

The knocking on the door became more eager. You hurried over to answer after waiting a little too long to answer. Silently, you opened the door.

Lucifer was standing there in the hallway with the brightest smile.

"I love you too. I only wish you would have told me sooner," the ruler of Hell whispered as he gripped your hands. "Because then I could have done this!"

With little warning, Lucifer brought his lips to yours. You sat there in shock, eyes wide, before quickly succumbing to his temptations. You let your eyes lids fall as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his hands found your waist. A delicate kiss to your soft lips, over and over he lightly parted his own as he continuously nipped at you. He pulled away, staring back with his half-lidded eyes. You could have sworn he was drunk of the kiss the way his face formed into a goofy grin. He giggled just a little before widening his eyes in shock and stepping away.

"I'm sorry! I don't know how I keep catching you at the worst times!" he exclaimed now looking at the ceiling to avoid your gaze. You realized what had caused him to get so flustered. You looked down and remembered that you were in your robe.

And only your robe.

You blushed hard, not being able to stop yourself from laughing. "No, no, it's okay! This one's on me, I shouldn't have called you dressed like this."

"But you didn't know I was going to pop over here! My fault, I don't wanna hear any 'buts'!" Lucifer turned his head to the side still doing his best not to look at you.

"Well, I was just getting ready for a bath..." you began.

"O-Oh, yeah, of course! No worries! I really should have thought this through, I just got really excited and I...Anyway! We can talk about this tomorrow! So, I'll just be-"

"My bath is big enough for two." You blurted out without thinking.

At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. What was only a few moments felt like an eternity of silence. Your first instinct was to shut the door and lock it as fast as possible, but your body refused to budge. You just stood there horrified at the words that had escaped your mouth.

Lucifer wasn't faring much better. You watched his whole face turn a bright yellow that spread rapidly over his painted cheeks. And...was he shaking?

"I don't know why I said that," you mumbled almost incoherently. "if you need me, I'll be drowning myself now." You began to close the door before Lucifer caught it.

"I don't want you to drown," he spoke softly with just a hint of humor in his voice. "I better stay to make sure you're safe."

His words shot threw you like an arrow and your body instinctively opened the door once more to let your visitor in. The implications of his acceptance of your accidental offer crashed over you as soon as Lucifer closed the door behind him. He gave you a sheepish smile, his face's yellow tint had yet to rescind.

"I-I'll uhh, I'll draw the bath then," you squeaked and scurried over to the bathroom without another word. You tossed a towel for him onto your bed and hid yourself in the next room as the water began to fill the tub. You felt as though you could pass out at any moment; the crushing anxiety mixed with your burning desire to be as close to him as physically possible was a terrifying yet tantalizing feeling. To counter your worry, you grabbed some bottled soap from the counter and mixed it in with the steaming water, creating thousands of little white bubbles that threatened to spill over onto the floor. You would worry about any mess made later; right now, you wanted to savor this moment as much as you possibly could. Disrobing, you stepped into the now full tub and sunk down into the soothing water. Your heart was still beating a mile a minute but the water did half a sort of calming effect on you.

Knock knock knock

Well, that didn't last long.

"May I join you now?" Lucifer's muffled voiced called out.

A few quick deep breaths later, you cleared your throat, praying your voice wouldn't reveal how utterly stressed you were. "Y-Yes, come in!" Perhaps a poor choice of words, but you didn't have time to think about that when you caught your first glimpse of a nearly naked Lucifer. His alabaster skin looked as if he had been carved from the finest marble, his shoulders were broad compared to his relatively slim physique. Your eyes trailed to his blackened arms and hands that perfectly contrasted the rest of his skin. He was the epitome of perfection. The man closed the door behind him and made his way over to you.

"H-Hi," Lucifer stuttered.

"Heeeyyyyy there..." you rolled your eyes. "Listen, we can agree this is just a little awkward, right?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Maybe just a little bit. How's the water?"

"Join me and see for yourself! I'll just umm..." you turned your head and covered the side of your face with your hand, assuring you wouldn't see anything once he removed his towel.

"I'm not shy, hon." You just knew if you turned around, he would have the most prideful smirk on his face.

"You should get in before I change my mind," you playfully shot back.

You heard his towel hit the floor immediately. A fiery heat burned your core as the water shifted when he made his way in the tub. You closed your eyes for good measure so that you wouldn't be tempted to make this even more awkward than it already was. As soon as the water stopped moving, you took that as a sign that it was safe to look again. You turned your head to see Lucifer was sitting back against the other side playfully running his hands through the soapy bubbles that were floating on the surface.

"I love the bubbles, a very nice touch!" he commented.

"Thanks," you murmured. "You're sitting the wrong way though."

"Huh?"

"W-Well," you cleared your throat, "how am I supposed to clean you if you’re sitting so far away?"

"Oh...oh! Yeah, you're right!" Lucifer quickly spun his body around, his back now facing you. You spread your legs wider for him to scoot up closer to you, but he remained closer to the center of the tub. "Is this better?"

"Still a little too far..." The time for embarrassment had long gone. You grabbed a hold of Lucifer's hips and brought his body nearly flush between your thighs, earning a yelp from the startled angel. "What happened to not being shy, hmm?" you taunted. You could have sworn a little whimper escaped his throat.

Despite its frigid appearance, his body was warmer than you expected. You didn't let your hands linger on his waist for too long nor did you want to think about how his ass was mere inches away from your yearning womanhood. You forced yourself out of the trance and instead grabbed the washcloth and body soap from the small table and began to pour some of the liquid into the small towel, rubbing it between your fingers. "You promise to tell me if this becomes too much?"

Lucifer turned his head with a soft look on his face. "I promise that it won't be." You hummed, slowly bringing the cloth to his skin. He shuddered from the contact.

"Are you alright, Lucifer?"

He exhaled deeply. "I'm alright. More than alright! I'm just...really enjoying this. Thank you..."

You didn't waist anymore time scrubbing the rest of his back clean. Moving to his shoulders, down each arms, then reaching around the front to get to his chest. Without realizing, your head found its way to one of his shoulders, your chin resting comfortably. A soft sigh left your lips.

"Hey, uhh, y-you're going a little low there..." Lucifer said, his voice snapping you out of your haze. Your hand somehow drifted below the water and ended up resting on his lower stomach. Once you realized where you were heading, you pulled your arms away immediately.

"Sorry!" you nearly shouted. "I-I wasn't paying attention! Shit, I'm sorry!"

Lucifer shifted again, now facing you and gave you a small peck. "Sweetheart, it's alright, really! You don't need to apologize." Lucifer took the rag from your hand and made his way back to where he first started against the other side of the tub. "Here, let me return the favor. It's your turn now." With mild hesitation, you accepted his help wordlessly, turning your back to him as he did for you. Afraid of getting any closer, you stopped before any noticeable contact had been made. "I need you closer, dear," he whispered in your ear before pulling you against his chest with minimal effort.

You felt everything in that moment; his hands resting on your hips, his hot breath against your sensitive skin, and most distracting of all, his very noticeable hard on against the small of your back. It took everything you had to not scream like you wanted to. Knowing that this perfect creator was turned on by you made your heart flutter like a butterfly. Your body begged your to shift, if only a little bit, just to feel him rub against you. But you fought it against it furiously, digging your finger into the sides of his thighs to keep yourself grounded. The way your body tensed caused Lucifer to push you away from him slightly.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned that he may have crossed a line.

"No." you shook your head. You pushed yourself back against him, the friction sending a shiver up your spine. The low moan from Lucifer was magical, almost hypnotic. You needed to hear more. But before you could shift again, you felt the soft texture of the washcloth against your back.

"Good," his voice causing goosebumps to form on your arms, "now let's get you clean." He mimicked your movements, gliding the cloth against your soft skin, starting from the top and working his way down methodically. He moved to your shoulders, first the left and the right. Every muscle in your body just wanted to relax into him; you only wanted to float in this water with him for the rest of the night. But you were snapped out of your daydream when you noticed his movements had stopped. You looked down and saw his hand resting on your collarbone. It took only a moment to realize why the devil himself became a statue.

Lucifer swallowed hard behind you. "Am I allowed to...can I...?"

With a small giggle, you took the cloth from his hand and tossed it to the ground. Pulling your hands out of the water, you guided his own hands to your breasts. Lucifer gasped lightly but didn't pull away once your released his hands. His claws felt so nice on your bare skin that you let out a gasp of your own. "I think we're past the point of modesty, Lucifer. Go ahead, I-I want you to touch me."

Your permission was all he needed. Within a second, the king of Hell began to massage your breasts with the most delicate of touches, kneading them like fresh dough. His mouth sank down onto your pulse, sucking on it feverishly. A small whimper escaped your throat as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers. The man was intoxicated and you were the cause.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" he breathed against your skin. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you how beautiful you are? How enchanting? How irresistible?" One of his hands made its way down your side to your hip, sinking beneath the water and resting on your inner thigh. "To hold you like this is a dream come true."

"Lucifer, please..." you begged. Your hand found his once more and guided it down to where you needed him most. Once his fingers reached your folds, you couldn't help but whimper. In no time, he began circling your clit gingerly while his other hand worked at your breast. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You opened your legs as wide as your tub would allow to give him more access to your needy hole.

"Tell me what you want, love," he whispered in your ear. "Just say the word and it's yours."

"Touch me..." you pleaded.

You felt a finger slip into you effortlessly, a broken moan falling from your lips. You turned your head and crashed your lips into his, your desire for him only growing with every passing second. Another one of his fingers slid into you, his digits gliding in and out of your pussy with ease. He moaned into your mouth as he continued to pump his digits into your cunt, his pace increasing slowly with every movement.

"Need more of you..." he pleaded. "Please..." His fingers refused to let up. The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter. You cried out in pure elation when you felt the coil finally give way, cumming hard and pulsing around his fingers that had yet to slow down. Once you could breathe normally against, he at last retreated his fingers from you, giving you a small peck on your forehead.

"T-Thank you," you mumbled out. "I think we're both pretty clean now, wouldn't you say."

"I'd say your right," Lucifer agreed. In a flash, Lucifer managed to stand up and scoop you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You let out a small yelp when he picked you up and set you down on the bathroom floor, retrieving a towel from the nearby rack and sliding it up and down your body before using it on himself. "But I think this is all for naught," he continued as he guided you back to your bed, "because I think we may need another bath, I'm afraid."

He laid you down and quickly shoved his heads between your legs. You realized what he was about to do and sat up before he could go any further. "Wait, wait, hold on now!" Lucifer's eyes looked back at you with concern. "I don't think this is fair! What about you? I haven't even touched you yet!"

Lucifer gaze softened. "Oh, hon, I appreciate it but you don't have to worry about me! I-I'm fine, really! I just...I really need to taste you... Please, I'll do anything!"

You closed your legs and folded your arms over your chest, earning a tiny whimper from the man in front of you. "I seem to recall that I could have anything I wanted," you teased. Lucifer nodded and stuck out his lower lip to pout. You rolled your eyes and smiled, crawling over to him. "I have an idea. But you need to lay down for me. Can you do that?"

He did as you said almost instantly, his head hitting the back of the pillows with a soft thud. At this point you couldn't help but stare at his twitching cock. It was beautiful; thicker and longer than you might have expected from someone of his stature. Not that you would ever complain. You had to hold yourself back from letting out a whine that threatened to make you sound even more pathetic. You closed your eyes and crawled over the devil beneath you. You leaned down to kiss him again, his tongue not holding back from pushing through your lips and entangling it with yours. You pulled away and smiled unabashedly at him, admiring his perfect face and his insanely adorable blush. Without a word, you turned your body so your pussy hovered inches away from his mouth.

"S-Shit..." you heard Lucifer mutter under his breath. Knowing you had this much of an effect on him gave you the confidence you needed to grab ahold of his aching member. Lucifer couldn't help but cry out.

"This way we both get what we want," you told him before giving his tip a tiny little kitten lick. The precum from his shaft had already begun spilling onto your hand; you couldn't help but grin. "Someone is needyyyyYYYY F-FUCK!"

Lucifer pulled your hips down onto his face without warning, his tongue working at your slick cunt like a man starved. HIs claws dug into the sides of your body, the pain mixing with the undeniable pleasure his mouth gave you. Not to be outdone, you sunk your mouth down on his cock, licking and sucking at the tip. Lucifer moaned into your pussy at the feeling of your tongue. Both of your lust-filled sounds filled your room as you each sought to bring the other to their climax. You wouldn't let him win. You couldn't.

Your head bobbed up and down his girthy shaft over and over, taking in as much of him as you could. But with your growing pace came Lucifer's own counter move as his forked tongue pushed even further into you than you thought possible. You were both coming undone impossibly fast. Even with your head fuzzy from the tantalizing feeling of his mouth, your hand and mouth worked together in tandem to push him over the edge. Lucifer cursed against your skin as you felt his hot cum finally fill your waiting mouth. But it only took him a few seconds more to bring you to another orgasm after he begun to tease your clit over and over and over, refusing to give you any sort of reprieve.

You swallowed as much of his as you could before letting go of his cock with a satisfying pop with some of his release dripping down towards your chin. You wiped your fingers against the remains and made sure he watched as you licked them clean. Something in Lucifer must have snapped because the next thing you knew, you had been flipped down onto the mattress with your wrists pinned at your sides. You blinked and stared up into Lucifer now glowing red eyes; his. His demonic horns had burst from his temple, his angelic wings appeared and began flapping behind him, and his tail whipped back and forth before coiling itself around your waist. You gulped, your pussy begging to be filled by the man above you.

"Sorry," Lucifer apologized. "I got a little too excited there." He freed your hands and brought them down to your hips. "D-Do you want to keep going? We can stop if this is too much and-"

You cut him off with a soft kiss to his lips. "It's alright, Luci. I want this. I want you."

Lucifer smiled and kissed you again, stroking his still hard cock in the process. When he pulled away, you felt the tip graze your slick folds. That feeling alone was enough to make you shudder with anticipation. With final nod from you, Lucifer at last began to sink into you. You winced at the pain you felt as your body forced itself to stretch for him until he finally bottomed out inside of you. The pain slowly faded as he waited patiently, smiling at you the entire time.

"Y-You can move now," you squeaked out.

Lucifer nodded, shifting his hips just enough to pull out of you almost all the way before thrusting back in, earning a wanton moan from you. He started slow for you, knowing his size was a bit much to handle. But as your body relaxed, his picked up the pace. Faster and faster until both of you were complete and utter moaning messes.

"F-Fuck...feel so good, love," Lucifer sighed as his wings began to twitch. "S-So good. So perfect...I'm really happy y-you made that doll. I-I know everything didn't go exactly as planned but...GAAHHH FFFFUCK...I think it all turned out f-for the better, don't you think?"

Your moans turned into giggles as he continued to rut into you relentlessly. "You're s-such a dork," you laughed as your legs wrapped around him to force him to keep him as deep inside you as possible.

"B-But I'm your dork," he joked back. "Sorry love, but you're stuck with m-me now!"

"G-Good," you responded breathlessly, his hips thrusting into you even faster than before. "Then we c-can be dorks together!"

"P-Perfect!" Your cunt sucked in his cock as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening again. By the noises he was making, you can only assume Lucifer was almost at his limit too. "Darling...c-can't...I'm close...f-fuck...where-"

"Inside!" you screamed. "FuckfuckfuckFUCK LUCIFER!" Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your wanton cries echoing off the corners of your room. It only took a few more thrusts for Lucifer to follow suit and spill his seed inside of you, his cum painting your walls a pearlescent white was he pulled you in close for another passionate kiss.

The king crashed on top of you after pulling out of you, his unearthly features retreating except for his tail which remained firmly wrapped around you. You smiled as he laid his head on your chest, his breathing labored and shaky. You stroked his soft blond hair as he hummed in approval. He looked up at you with adoring eyes and stuck out his snake-like tongue.

"What's that look for?" you asked him.

"Oh nothing," Lucifer sighed, "I'm just looking at the prettiest woman in all of Hell is all!"

You pushed his face away and laughed. "Yep, still a dork."

"But you love me!" he said gleefully, rolling onto the bed and pulling you into a tight embrace.

"I do, I really do. I wish I would have told you sooner."

Lucifer kissed the top of your forehead. "Don't worry, hon, I know now. And that's all that matters. Besides, I finally get to hold you now! And wow, does it feel like heaven!"

You buried your face in his chest and squeezed him tight. "Well, I can say for certain that you feel much better than the doll. Would you...like to stay over tonight?"

"Of course I would love," he spoke softly. "I have you in my arms now, and I don't intend on ever letting you go."

~~~~

THIS TOOK WAY TOO FUCKING LONG, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!

Taglist: @ask-theradio-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj

@bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps

@ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @pvppybun

@seulace9 @fluffypinkpillows @starlightdreaming @k-n0-x @rosen-und-mondlicht

@heavenlyraindrops @ronniesgonerogue @ag-cookiebat800 @victoriousvic @meesachan

@rand0m-1diot @lonelynmisunderstood @godsent69 @yourmom132 @liveontelevision

@luci-lover-forever @lolalovesmorningstar @moonlight-readings @nayomi247 @la-undercover-latina

@yve-barr @literallurker @leviskittywh0re @thornwolfy235 @qu1cks1lversb1tch

@lauruoriii @annybah @jayyyayaysblog @sweet-radio @diffidentphantom

@sunflower-reaper @6esiree @writteninlunarlight-years

[undeadentropy]

I grew up with a mixture of both, and honestly both are quite brilliant in how they do things. One pan meals are easier when cooking for like 2 or 3 people. You can clean up while it finishes, and now you just have one cooking item plus plating to clean. No measuring, just grab how much you wanna eat. It's kinda like the rice + thing model, except already mixed together. You usually have a potato or pasta in there for bulk. Soups and stews are just backwards rice + thing. They're supposed to be served with bread or crackers on the side to add in or dip as you please.

But I love the rice + thing model too. Especially when cooking for lots of people. Once you have it down, rice is super easy. Just get yourself a big ass bag, polish it a couple times in water till its sorta clear, pop it in your rice maker (very solid investment when you enjoy rice often) with the right amount of water, and your off. That's the bulk right there. Now you just have the Thing to make. This is often like the one pan part by the end, but won't be bulked internally by pasta or anything. Everyone gets their bowl of rice. Now throw some good stuff on it, and you're good. Perfect for communal meals eaten as a full family, or with friends. Leftovers can just be mixed together and reheated later. Won't be as good as fresh, but who are we kidding, it's leftovers.

Very curious how other places in the world do things. I see a lot of logic and overlaps with what little I do know, but it's always fascinating learning a culture's cuisine. It's the best way to begin to learn that culture I think. One thing that unites us as a species is an appreciation for food. It's a core part of being human, and we all have it.

Culture Shock

[gojobbg]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.7

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: im back!!! with part 7!!!! (i hope i tagged everyone who asked to be in the taglist). thank you all for your patience, and for your kind words from the last part! it brought up my mood entirely :) im sorry im so repetitive, but truly i am grateful. i hope this is well written (looked over it like 8 times)

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Wednesday 

It was around 2 A.M. when Haibara grudgingly entered the small speakeasy. 

It was a small, cozy bar inside the facade of a greasy burger joint, which Haibara gladly ordered from. He peeled the wrapping of his hot smash burger like a banana while making his way towards the back of the restaurant. The bar was separated with a curtain, and it was immensely dim. The only goers were a few guys in the corner, and Nanami at the bar itself. Haibara squinted through exhausted eyes about 4 empty cups near Nanami’s folded hands. 

Drunk, are we? He thought. 

Haibara casually laps at his greasy fingers, crumpling the wrapping paper with his other hand as he strolled over to Nanami. With a now somewhat clean hand, Haibara pats on Nanami’s shoulder. “You look like a loser, and I’m tired. Why don’t we call it a night right now and do this some other time?” 

“I can’t sleep,” Nanami begins quietly, wagging his finger in the air to beckon the bartender. “Please, two on the rocks.” 

“Whiskey? Tequila?” 

“Anejo, dark rum, please,” Nanami requests, bringing his hands up to his chin to rest on. He was pensive, but somewhat lost, as Haibara noticed the distance in his hazel orbs. It was unfamiliar, this version of Nanami. 

Haibara grimaces, already unenthused by the selection of drink, “we work in a few hours, you know. Are you sure we want to drink this much? Because I’m not.” He passes the crumpled burger paper to the waitress that came over.

“I’ve seen you come into work after getting black out drunk, and run on an hour's sleep. Sit.” Nanami grabs the seat next to him and pulls it out for Haibara. His close friend stares at him skeptically, but takes a seat. 

Haibara begins to take off his coat, the warmth of the bar melting him completely. Draping it over the back of his seat, he rubs his hands together, preparing himself for the night. “I’m never a responsible drunk, I can admit that. But you… this isn’t like you at all. What’s going on?”

Nanami emits a shaky sigh, trying his best to keep himself relaxed. But even slightly drunk, nothing to waive his nerves and the weight of his sporadic thoughts. “I feel like… I’m going crazy,” Nanami begins quietly, his eyes not daring to leave the bar. The two requested drinks make its presence known as they sat before the two men. “I just don’t understand why.” 

“Let’s start with what happened,” Haibara begins. You called Haibara, once again in tears while you explained what happened just a few hours ago at the steakhouse. You fall asleep with that same woe, allowing Haibara to nap for a few hours until Nanami calls him up. “Did something happen between you and Y/N?” 

Nanami raises his eyebrow, “how do you know?” 

Haibara’s tongue was too slick, “Y/N came back down by herself, and returned to the office because you gave her ‘extra work.’” 

“I could have, for all you knew,” Nanami huffs before taking his glass. 

“You came back down and didn’t say a single word,” Haibara grabs his own glass. “Whenever you were spoken to, you’d shake your head and say ‘repeat that.’” 

“All of a sudden you want to be meticulous,” Nanami murmurs before taking a sip of the dark brown booze. He looks up to meet Haibara’s eyes, which were stern and looking straight through Nanami. The blonde gives in, and carefully puts his cup down. “Y/N and I had a talk.” 

“Clearly.” Haibara downs his drink immediately. Might as well get drunk while Nanami was paying. He waves at the bartender and silently asks for another round. “Give me the rundown.” 

Nanami adjusts the collar of his crewneck, clearly becoming a bit shy, “No need for all of the details. Y/N, she um…- she confirmed the rumors regarding her feelings for me. They… aren’t just rumors.” 

Haibara had to bite his lip to keep a smile from forming, “is that right?” Nanami’s eyes narrowed down at his glass, staring at the large ice cube slowly melting. The struggle to keep from smiling disappears when he realizes that this wasn’t Nanami. “I assume you rejected her? Like you always do.” 

Nanami grimaces, looking away as if trying to shield his expression from Haibara. It was almost like… he was lamenting all his decisions that led him to this point. “...I did.” 

“So, what’s wrong?” Haibara starts, his words emitted slowly as he wants to carefully tread this new side of his friend. “You aren’t interested in relationships, Kento. Was there something else that happened?” 

“N-no, it's… exactly that, actually,” Nanami hums, his tone ornate with perplexity. “I rejected her… and it has made me unsettled since.” 

“What makes you unsettled?” Haibara asks, curious over this new side of Nanami. “You can’t reciprocate her feelings, so you rejected her. She can’t blame you for being honest.” 

“A-and, that’s the thing, right?” Nanami runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes a bit. He’s drunk, Haibara noted. “I was honest, and told her… not really politely, but I told her I did not feel the way she does. But now, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Alright, let’s make this easier for the both of us,” Haibara sharply interrupts. He slightly slams his glass down, gaining the eye contact of his dear friend. Guilty hazel eyes meet his own, but they don’t flicker away. “Just tell me what’s bothering you. Let it all out.” 

Nanami stares at him for a moment, fixing his eyes on each of Haibara’s. He could feel the pit in his stomach, working with the feeling of his drunkenness. His body felt hot, but goosebumps danced along his skin as though he was freezing. He could feel his cheeks warm, not just from the ethanol, but from his unaddressed feelings. Feelings that he’s not even aware of. Feelings he didn't even know he had. 

“I…” Nanami begins hesitantly. He downs another glass of liquor, a growl-like sigh leaving his dry lips. He was working up the courage to admit what was bothering him, but the conflict of why was keeping him silent. Haibara noticed this and quickly tapped his friend's shoulder. “Hm?” 

“Bartender,” Haibara calls, “two cups of absinthe, please.” 

Nanami lets out a chuckle, despite his feelings, “what do you know about absinthe?” 

“A lot, actually,” Haibara amuses him, “you’re not gonna get me fucked up without having at least one sweet thing.” 

“Absinthe is gonna fuck us completely,” Nanami replies, genuine laughter leaving him. A rare curse coming from Nanami. The two cups arrive, which both gentlemen take one. “You know it’s not that sweet… and it’s diluted.” 

“Just drink,” Haibara hisses, the two lifting their cups and downing the alcohol. They immediately cough, leaning against one another to suffer the coughing and the laughter that follows. “Shit, I always forget how strong it is.” 

Nanami covers his lips with a closed fist, laughter running around it, “it’s watered down for a reason.” 

After the sea of laughter calms, Haibara nudges Nanami. He could tell they were both tipsy, Nanami more so as he was here for an unknown amount of time before his arrival. “Please, tell me everything that’s bothering you. Better to get it out of your chest than keeping it in and suffering that.” 

Nanami gulps, but finds comfort in his friend's words. Haibara was right. He called him out here to do exactly that. And Nanami would feel worse if he dragged Haibara outside just to not confide in him. Carefully putting down his cup, he straightens his back and clears his throat. The liquid courage must not go to waste. 

“I mean… what am I bothered by?” Nanami whispers. The tip of his index rubbed along the rim of his glass. “We’ve grown up together, Yu. You’ve never seen me with a woman, nor was I ever really interested.” 

“But?” Haibara’s curiosity saunters with the alcohol in his system.

“I guess what really bothers me,” Nanami hums quietly, “is that of all the women I’ve met. From our school days, from outings, from work– it’s her. Why… is it her?” 

“Is it bad that it’s her?” 

“It’s not bad– not at all,” Nanami quickly says, “but how come I’ve become so taken by her? Without even realizing it? Am I that out of touch with my feelings?” 

Haibara chuckles at Nanami’s small panic, “it’s not that you’re out of touch with your feelings, Kento. You’ve never had these exact feelings to begin with, so this is foreign for you.” 

“But… as people, we aren’t that acquainted,” Nanami’s eyes lowered to his hands. “I don’t know anything about what she likes, her family, her hobbies. How can I like someone I know nothing about?” 

“Let me put it in a different perspective then,” Haibara suggests. “What are things that you like whenever you two work together?” 

Nanami looks up at Haibara and pauses for a moment. Then, his lips part, “I like that she always does things exactly as I request, even before I ask.” 

“She’s quite the assistant,” Haibara agrees. 

Nanami nods, “she is detailed in her work, extremely meticulous and doesn’t let any detail get past her.” He doesn’t pause at all this time, and keeps going. “She always knows what I like to have. I come into work knowing she has my cup of coffee, and wait for her to tell me what I want for lunch because I need not tell her.” 

Haibara fights off a smile. It was extremely relieving to see his friend finally like someone. It was almost destiny that life had kept his heart dormant until now. Until you. 

“I like that she’s honest without being rude,” Nanami says slowly, the ends of his lips forming a soft smile. "She has a sweet tooth, but she wanted to try my coffee after I confided its context to her.” 

“She has a good head on her shoulders,” Haibara concurs, encouraging him to keep talking about you. 

"I like the way she pushes back her hair whenever she has to deal with a more tedious task. And the way she smiles whenever she finishes all of her work for the day."

Haibara was cheering for you in his mind.

"I like..." Nanami begins hesitantly. "...that she's my assistant, and nobody else's." Haibara felt his own feels warm from his admittance.

Nanami finally feels his body go completely hot, his chest taking on the most warmth. He could feel his smile tickle his own cheeks, insistently forcing him to cup his mouth. It was overwhelming– realizing that he was wrong this whole time. He lied to you when he rejected you, albeit his newly discovered feelings. His free hand cups his chest, feeling his heart pumping at a speed alien to him. 

“Yu,” Nanami begins quietly. He looks over at him, face suddenly pale, “I think I’m having a heart attack.” 

Haibara finally breaks, and starts laughing. He quickly wraps his arm around the blonde man. Haibara leans his forehead against Nanami’s, soothing his nerves from the simple gesture. “You’re not having a heart attack, Kento. You’re drunk and feeling things we both didn’t think you had.” 

Nanami nudges him off, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t like I’d never like somebody,” Nanami huffs, bringing his cup to his lips to sip at the watered-down remaining alcohol. 

“I can’t even count in 20 hands how many women you’ve rejected in the many years that I’ve known you,” Haibara scoffs. “You are sculpted like a Greek god, and yet somehow you’ve managed to waste it until now.” 

Nanami shoves Haibara a bit, but chuckles escape his lips. Haibara joins him. It felt like to have such a heart-to-heart, especially with someone like Haibara. Nanami raises his hand to the bartender, pretending to sign a check in the air. “I’m so sorry for keeping us so late for my foolishness. But, thank you very much for being my friend, Yu. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I really appreciate it.” 

Haibara rolls his eyes, “you’re right; it has not been easy, and I deserve to be compensated.” He then laughs through already soft words. “But honestly, it’s no biggie. I’m glad that you actually feel comfortable enough to talk about this with me. You’re usually one to keep to yourself.” 

Nanami’s drunk smile remains, “that’s fair. But please feel free to call out if you don’t feel well rested. I can absolutely vouch that you had a family emergency.” 

Haibara held his chest, his eyes full of surprise, “the work-obsessed and policy-abiding Nanami is willing to lie for me? You really do love me.” 

The bartender comes with the check, and Nanami reaches into his pocket for his wallet. Although under the influence, Nanami couldn’t get rid of the smile on his face. “Yeah, well. I asked you to come out, so this is the least I could do.” 

Haibara watches as Nanami tosses his credit card onto the bill. “But I have no plans of leaving you on your own tomorrow. We gotta really seal the deal, and finally be finished with our clients.” 

Nanami nods in agreement, watching as the bartender returns and collects the closed bill. “You just reminded me that I should send an email to both Marketing and Sales to warn them about our new clients.” 

Haibara nods, “yeah, they’re a bit much, aren’t they? Especially with how they stared at Y/N at the restaurant. Weird pervs.” 

Nanami, without meeting Haibara’s eyes, says simply, “it was why I didn’t let Y/N assist me during this time. A bird informed me about their crude manner with women.”

Haibara chuckles, but immediately stops and looks over at Haibara. All the dots were connecting like the stars in the Big Dipper. “No wonder you kept mentioning that Takada shacho assigned you his assistants. I thought you kept saying it to boost your rep!” 

Nanami shows a cocky grin, “that’s a given. But, I didn’t want Y/N to be a victim of that. Especially now that I understand what I’m feeling– I don’t think I would have acted decent.” 

Through slurred words, Haibara chuckles, “you’re so whipped, Kent.” 

“Whipped?” Nanami looks over at his friend, innocently tilting his head in confusion like a pup. “What does that mean?” 

Haibara gets off from his seat, his body warm and stomach satisfied. He lifts off his coat from the seat, and begins to pull on the sleeves. “Come, I’ll tell you outside.” Nanami signs the check, and retrieves his credit card. 

Walking slowly behind Haibara, Nanami couldn’t help but feel something. It felt like the cross between relief and anticipation. Suddenly, he felt at ease about the future, almost as if his unrecognized worry was now washed away. He felt hopeful that he could remedy his mistake, and start something new… with you. 

Of course, that won’t be easy, as you were currently sleeping with a hollow, broken heart. 

Taglist: [Now Closed]

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[strab3rr]

(long story and no short sorry) GUYSSS I DID ITT

I INDUCED IT!!!!! I WAS PURE AS A FUCKING BABY

IDK WHAT TO SAY (ok enough w capslock)

i have so much to say and not a thing at da same time idk how

anyway i want to begin with thanking you @b4ddprincess bc youre the reason i realized why i started this thing. thank you for making my life better and make me realized what i need to do: nothing. (its same for you guys, all u have to do is nothing)

two fuckn years ago i said to myself that i need a better life, quiter life, less fight with everthing bc everything was so loud and not clear i was feeling lost like a child in the market, and i wanted to make things better for myself in every way, but the main idea of my reasons to wanting to get in the void was: making anxiety go and having better people in my life. but the ''voidlist'' just never stopped bc im kinda greedy(having the idea of controling on your life, the idea of that power makes you greedy. yes thats a thing) anyway the more i add to the list the more i feel like im movin away from my desires then i feel depressed bc ive overcomplicating it bc theres so many things to do but i dont do anything so nothing happend bc i was waiting to be someth happen. and then i started doing awkwardly silly things such as: void routines and challenges and (im embarrassed of this one bc i was too desperate) drinking water

youve read it correct drinking water.

i was sooo desperate for having those things id do anything to get them.

i am simple. i want what everyone wants🎀🎀🎀: shifting realities bc i have so many crush and i need them to be crush me in bed(for 2020 girlies)

being an academic weapon is so easy for me🎀(bc of the urge to make my family proud) +dream collage

being the girl that everyone gets along w(basic needs)

being the girl who is pretty not cute(trauma response)

glowing aura(cats loves people w glowing aura yes thats a thing too)

dream body n hair(bc i deserve this🎀)

healthy (girlyfriend)friends(basic needs)

and of course him, my sp(i cant tell wich one at that time but i releived that its not him now, bc MY BELOVED CURRENT BF. guyss he is the one. dont u dare ask me how you know? i literally manifested him🎀)

then i realized i can have everything bc its my reality so why not add these:

new phone, +macbook air

dream apartment of my own

pinterest closet

lifa app for this reality

financially free-money(a lot. like really a lot)

knowing 4 languages like a native person(bc i want to be diplomat so bad) +sign language(its in general)

a little drama(its not gonna hurt anybody)

my parents being more lovable and away from me

every time i try to get in, either i was failing or falling

and im sick of it, sick of it so much i quit.(for a year)

then i go to the theraphy(ofc no im jk ilove being crazy)

one day i saw a post ss from tumblr about pure consciousness on pinterest and i was like whaat is thiiss. no mention of void so i thougt its a diffrent thing and i download the tumblr again and search everything abt it. and same excitement again after one year same thougts and same list popes up in my head. and i was like ok maybe this time itll happen.

still waiting to be someth happen so nothing happend, it was such a waste of time trying to get in while i was already be, i was already what i want to become. i was that girl that everyone gets along with but i couldnt even see bc i was too focused on wanting to be. but still tried every night and failed. and again tried-failed-quit circle bc.. have you ever met me🎀

4 month ago i saw the girl, iconic blogger and the goddess of my dreams, her @b4ddprincess thx again love u so much

a post pops in my fyp and i see the words ''pure consciousness'' i was like noo not again. and i was serious abt it i wasnt gonna read the whole thing but it attract me n i couldnt resist it so ive read it from the top to the bottom. and she got my interest so i stalked her page from the last and to the first post. it was quiet a beautiful journey for me. lasted like 3 days, the end of the 3rd day i was ''woaw it was this easy all along? u cant be serious.'' she was. i tried one last time, no breathing exercise, no ridiculous routines and no waiting something to be happen. it was just me being real me chilling out asf.

and it was this easy and it should be this easy bc being your 4d self is being nothing also being everything at the same time. if u wanna be everything you should be nothing first(as wizardliz saying: drop the old story, leave the victimhood, for being better stop being bitter etc.)u should make a space for everything first and then u can be everything.

for being 4d self of yours stop being your3dself.

sooo long story (no)short i am writing this from my mac in my new apartment(in middle of the night bc i couldnt sleep and then one tumblr notification reminded me i have a success story to share too) and my phone buzzing two minutes a time bc of my friends while im writing this, so if theres anything wrong ignore it pls.

oh u asking my bf how cute, hes sleepin in my bed now, exhausted from the work n school balance.

YWS SCHOOL!! im in my dream collage and im going to be in paris for a week. i deserve a vacation i guess(its for another conference), i kinda hate french men bc theyre so mansplaning(not like how i imagined, its hard to be friends w them)girls are cute but i feel like theyre aware im not permanent there so we just con buddies still cute and hepful for this foreigner.

and i canceled the lifa app thingy bc i can be my purest consciousness anytime i want, so i am my lifa app.

and thx to 4 languages i make a lot of money and that brings us to the pinterest closet, yesterday i realiased that. theyre not comes to me w an imaginary way like i imagined! i go outside for shopping casually and theyre there luckily i have enough money to buy them.

and my family theyre living in our hometown now so as i want it to be, we are away from eachother.

and the most magical thing: SHIFTING REALITIESSS

i did 5 world before i met w my bf. it was such a wonderful experience. if you have doubts abt shifting you can go fuck urself

because sir i did it and i am very sure that dean winchester being my husband is not a daydream, fantasy nor lucid dreaming. believe it or not he kissed me GOD HE KİSSED ME(someone should stop me i have a bf)

is there anything i missed let me see.. cats i have 2 cats now and theyre adorable. glowing aura-check

the girl who is pretty not cute- check +make anxietygo-checkcheckcheck

dream body and hair- check and check

i wanna give u a info i didnt have all my desires by being my4dself

not directly actually. but i have them all. and thats the point.

im not trying to be a blogger but if you have any question abt anything, id be happy to help

now i need to upgrade things in my farm byeess

loves, siena.

[buzzinrusso]

PLEASE DON'T LEAVE

( I have nothing).

Summary : ever since you joined Barcelona a year ago ,you've known that you have had feelings for ingrid and mapi .

Contains :angst.

Part 1 / part 2 / part 3

It has been about 3 years since you first met mapi , two since you met her girlfriend, ingrid , and one year since you joined them in Barcelona.

The day you signed your 5 year contract was by far the best day of your shitty life,but there was always a pit in your stomach whenever you glanced at Maria leon and ingrid engen.

They were happily in love ,they lived together , had two cats ,and were learning each other's languages. It felt so wrong to feel the things you were feeling for them .

Whether it was the butterflies in your stomach when one of them looked at you or the way you would state longingly at them when they interacted, that made it feel wrong for you to have feelings for them.

So ,you swallowed the feelings down and accepted the fact that you will never be the one they love ,the one they have feelings for . They would never love someone like you.

You were fucked up in more ways that one ,you were.disowned by your mother at 15 when you came out and was sent to live with you father ,whom ,even though was extremely nice , you didn't know.

Your life was just a series of unfortunate events after that. You had a couple of girlfriends, but two of them cheated, and the other was sent to overaction camps and was convinced that she wasn't gay anymore .

At some point ,you had to juggle 3 different jobs to even think about staying in football as a goalkeeper,even after being signed to a big club like Arsenal at 16.

Now at 26 ,you had accomplished all of your young dreams ,but you still felt so alone.

You weren't really close with all the girls on the team,only cata ,Claudia, and occasionally mapi its not that they don't like you,it's just that they were all already close and just assumed that you would immediately fit in .

Spoiler alert ,you didn't.

As a goalkeeper, you were fine.but it took you roughly 2 months to even become friends with everyone.

Current,at practice , you were lifting weights as it was a gym day .You were able to beat your own personal record by lifting 200 kg today ,the girls ,specifically ingrid and mapi ,cheered for you , but what you didn't notice was they way the couple were staring at you .

Ot was not a normal look they spared all the other girls ,it was different .

Their eyes lingered, but just as mapi was about to approach you, Jonathan walked through.

"Team bonding tonight . Who wants to host?" He informed everyone.

Mapi and ingrid immediately jumped at the opportunity to have everyone over (they really just wanted you.)

"Okay ,good, text the girls the information . And ,please, I need everyone to show up." The team nodded along to his words ,knowing how important team bonding nights are vital.

Later in the evening

As soon as you got home ,you jumped in the shower .

After that,you had a little nap after eating your food,and 7 pm came rolling in no time .

It was a casual movie night at ingrid and mapi's, so you just wore your old university hoodie with some oversized jeans wich a dab of makeup.

Before you went to their home, you stopped by the store to buy some popcorn as the girls had run out the kernels and may or may not have bought two roses from a small boutique besides the shop .

You made your way through the busy highways of Barcelona before finally reaching your destination.

You made your way up the stairs and knocked on the door only for Frido to open.

"Hello!" Frido exclaimed with a smile and pulled you into a hug as if you hadn't seen her today.

"Hi ,frido," you smiled fondly at her .

She moved away ,took the kernels from your hand, and made her way into the kitchen ,but not before teasing you for the two flowers in hand.

You made your way into the living room ,only to stop as you dropped you phone.

"I mean ,I can't believe Y/n thinks she has a chance with you two!" You heard alexia exclaimed," perra idiota. " she laughed,making everyone laugh along with her .including mapi and ingrid, who she was directing the question to.

You immediately turned around and walked put ,slamming the door behind you, which caused mapi to perk up .

"Did you hear that ?"

At the same time ,fridolina walked in ,"where's y/n ? Did she go to the bathroom?"

Realization dawned on everyone as ingrids face paled .She and mapi made their way to the door as quickly as possible while mapi was letting out a string of curse words.

Meanwhile ,you were sitting in your car trying not to cry your eyes out as you drove back home .

As soon as you stepped foot into your apartment,you broke down in sobs .of course, they think that of you.you we're nothing but a failure your entire life .

You didn't know how anyone who was as good and perfect as mapi and ingrid would ever like someone like you.

You hated yourself ,you should've known .

"I can't believe Y/n thinks she has a chance with you two!"

The words rang in the back of your mind as you collapsed onto the floor .

All you could hear was her words repeating and the lingering laughs in the back of your mind .

You knew that your life was messed up ,that you were messed up , you just didn't know why they needed to point it out .

This was the last thing you expected from anyone.e on the team , your heart hammered in your chest as you stopped sobbing .

This wasn't good for you ,you knew it wasn't. You tried pulling away from the world once and it ended up with you in a while different country with your dad whom you barely knew .

But you couldn't help yourself ,so for the upcoming days ,you would pull yourself away from everyone while taking to your manager about a transfer.

[the-prophesied-disco-gay]

Some things are not easy to say but it's important they are said. When this post says "fuck child abusers" it means me. That includes me. I spanked my kids when they were young. That's a real thing that I am guilty of and pretending otherwise might feel better for me but it doesn't help anyone.

I'm hoping that talking about it will.

I was raised in a very conservative household. My friends and partners have described my upbringing as "being raised in a non-religious cult." My Dine heritage was hidden from me. My Jewish heritage was hidden from me, and then later I was told we are "white Jews" (which is a perfectly acceptable thing to be! But I am...not..one). I was raised steeped in white supremacy and racism and homophobia (my dad referred to both Black people and LGB people as "those people" and expected it to be clear from context which he meant)(shockingly, there was virtually zero transphobia in my house growing up. The neighbor's eldest transitioned when I was a kid and my parents liked and respected her parents so they decided that must be alright. That tiny twist of fate saved me much).

Now I don't list off these things to excuse child abuse. I do so to show just how interconnected these things are. Conservative beliefs, whether they are religious or just social/cultural, are inherently violent. I was 18 when I had my first child, my spouse was 20. Both of us had been spanked growing up, and so had all our friends. At that point in our lives it was unthinkable that there was another proper way to raise children. All the examples we had been shown of children that lacked "discipline" were either living violent, out of control, addiction ridden lives (you are not immune to propaganda), or insufferable brats who called their parents by their first names ("There once was a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it").

Here's the thing tho. It didn't feel good.

Sure it did in all the ways that have perpetuated such actions for millenia. The chemical changes that happen in the brain, the feeling of regained control and reasserted authority, the relief that the world is right on it's axis and everything is back in its box. Corporal punishment doesn't teach a child anything useful or worthwhile, only fear and uncertainty and lack of trust. That's not truly why people do it. It provides a sense of relief for the adult. An outlet for the emotion they haven't learned to manage.

But it didn't make us feel like good parents. It didn't make us feel like we were doing right by our kids. And the more we moved in the world away from our own parents, the more we met and spoke with different kinds of people, the more we learned. The very first time I found a science article about the effects of spanking, I felt both relieved and vindicated. I showed it to my partner and we never spanked our kids again.

It wasn't difficult. We never wanted to be doing it in the first place. We had legitimately believed we would be failing our children if we chose otherwise. We were wrong.

Sometimes you're going to be wrong. On big things. On important things.

It is never too late. Once you know better, do better. It's not too late to stop. To apologize. To begin doing better. My children were still young when we learned better, and I am grateful for that. But even if your children are grown, it's not too late to apologize and admit you were wrong. You will be shocked what it can heal.

[lqveharrington]

Golden Snitch | D.M.

summary: You don’t tell Draco what you’re dressing up as, and when he sees you, he can’t help but be enamored.

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

includes: kissing, underage drinking, talks of sex, cursing

a/n: holding a poll for a similar imagine but a different character! (will post the other imagine in two days and poll in three!)

Halloween was a big thing at Hogwarts. Each house held their own parties and own costume competitions; There would be snacks — courtesy of the kitchen elves — and drinks smuggled in from home or Hogsmeade. It was one of the best nights throughout the school year.

From your fourth year to your very last, you enjoyed every single second. Of course, you were dressed differently every year in hopes to win the costume contests. You were the Corpse Bride, then Dorothy, then a pirate. But this year, you chose something a little closer to Hogwarts itself.

“You know we have to get down there now if you want to be in the competition, right?” Pansy flicked her hair back and adjusted her Cher outfit.

You huffed and finished the last bits of gold adorning your cheeks. You loved Pansy, you really did, but jesus, she was a stickler to rules and schedules sometimes.

“Look, I’m done now.” You dust your hands off and arrange your golden wings to be more presentable. “How do I look?”

“Hot.” Her eyes roamed over your body and winked at you. “Draco will totally drool.”

You send her an amused smile before rushing out the dorm hand in hand. When you got to the Slytherin common room, everyone and everything was already upbeat. The lights had been dimmed even more and green lights were casted all around. The floor was sticky in spilt drinks and the room reeked of sex.

"Let's go get drinks!" Pansy shouted over the loud music and elbowed her way through the mass of Slytherin students, gagging when one couple was getting too intimate on the dance floor. "I am so happy you and Draco have boundaries!"

You roll your eyes at her and grab a plastic cup, filling it with firewhisky and downing it fast enough to forget what Pansy had said. She gave you an unimpressed look and took her own shot.

After joining the infamous costume contest and winning, mingling with the others and downing more drinks, a fifth year finally announced the arrival of the Slytherin Prince himself. And the party only got rowdier from there.

The second the blonde stepped into the common room, drinks were shoved into his hands; A courtesy of Blaise. Draco made his way over to the group of seventh years he deemed his friends since childhood before his eyes landed on you.

His eyes roamed across your body. From the golden makeup adorning your gorgeous face to the golden dress that hugged your curves and accentuated them, it was like he fell in love all over again. He watched you down another drink and shook his head in amusement. You looked so confident and happy and excited and ethereal in what you wore that he wanted to keep you all to himself.

“Well, what do we have here?” His free hand found its way to the curve of your hip and pulled you close to him, smirking when your eyes get blown wide at his sudden presence. “You look ravishing.”

“I know. I won the competition like always.” You brag as you murmur and wrap a hand around his tie, softly tugging on it so you could meet his lips without needing to strain. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“James Bond.” He pulled you even closer, wanting to be completely flush against you. “But I should’ve worn my Quidditch uniform because I believe I have my eye on the golden snitch.”

The smile that graced your lips practically emits warmth when you realize Draco knew what you were. “You should probably keep your sight on her because she’s not straying far.”

“Better not.” He planted a mind searing kiss to your lips and thumbed the costume, parting when he felt how rough it was. “Your dress feels uncomfortable to the touch, love. It’s not real gold, is it?”

“No, not all of it. Daddy wouldn’t let me get one.” You sigh as you lean your head on his chest and hiccup when he pats your ass softly at the remark.

Draco could practically see the flashing signs around you saying how plastered you were, and it was truly entertaining at the most. He knew you were drunk when you flaunted your father’s money around, which you typically never do. He finished his cup before tossing it somewhere, holding your hip with two hands now.

You look up at him at the movement, wide eyes only reflecting your pupils. “What?”

“Nothing, love. Just admiring.” He scanned your body once more and planted a kiss to the top of your head. “How many drinks have you had so far?”

You shrug and gasp when someone poured a fresh round right behind Draco. “Let’s go get some more!”

He shook his head and locked his arms behind you, “No more for you. You are so fucking drunk.”

“I am not!” You huff and almost stomp your golden heel on the ground like a spoiled child. “Blaise and Pansy are! They’re practically fucking behind you!”

Draco pursed his lips and pulled you away from the center of the common room. It was funny how only during Halloween you would be more drunk than he was. Any other time, he would be absolutely plastered and ready to throw you over his shoulder for some quality time in the bedroom. Besides, he was also drunk, but not as drunk as you were at the moment.

“Hey—!” You whine and stumble up the staircase to his dorm. “Where are we going?”

“You’re done for tonight, my love.” He opened his shared dorm and quickly shut it behind him, quieting the room from the loud mass of music and people downstairs.

You blink at the sudden quietude and look up at him with eyes that made him want to abandon everything and take you there. Draco cleared his throat and adjusted himself, rubbing his palms against his eyes.

“Let’s get you changed into comfortable clothing, yeah?” He dug through his clothes to find a sweater and guided you toward the bathroom, flicking the light on.

“Draco?” You mumble as he sat you down on the counter and pulled your golden pumps off. “Draco.”

“Yes, baby?” He look up at you from his kneeled position, eyes equally blown wide. “What is it?”

You blink again and just watch him for a little longer, keeping eye contact with the blonde. Even in your intoxicated state you still found time to admire him.

“Nothing.” You sent him a cheeky smile at his expression, taking off your golden wings and handing them to him.

He stood from his spot and kissed your shoulder, “Do you wanna shower or go straight to bed?”

“Bed.” You yawn.

Draco hummed and helped your stand, slowly removing your dress and replacing it with his quidditch sweater. You smiled tiredly and leaned your body against his when he began wiping the makeup off your face, playing with the end of his tie.

“You remembered.” You murmur sleepily, blindly reaching for your toothbrush you kept in the boys dorm.

“I’ve been doing this for two years straight, I think I would know.” He handed you your toothbrush and toothpaste before removing the rest of your makeup and golden pins from your hair. “There.”

“Thank you.” You spoke with your toothbrush still in your mouth and leaned against the counter as Draco moved around you to change.

When you were both settled into bed, you wanted to just fall asleep right then and there, but you still had one thing to do. Your body was practically on top of his when you thought of it, your head rested on his bare shoulder.

“Draco?” You murmur and trace hearts on his chest, splaying your hand over his beating heart.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head over to you, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

“Happy third year anniversary.” You smile softly and fiddle with the promise ring he got you years ago.

“Happy anniversary, my love.” He hugged you tighter, head now buried in your shoulder and neck. “Thank you for being amazing.”

You kiss his cheek and sigh, “I love you.”

“I love you more than you could ever know.” Draco murmured and kissed you properly. “Cheers to three years.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[ghstzzn]

sweet when you lie — park sunghoon

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: smut, angst wc: 1.4k

synopsis: in which park sunghoon is your favorite coping mechanism— unfortunately, it makes matters worse.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! angst, crying (sexy and not sexy), rough unprotected sex, some fingering, one usage of the word slut, creampie, no happy ending because ew!, short and not so sweet. barely proofread! completely rawdogged <3

💭: this is sloppy and quick (just how i like it) sowwwyyy! im gonna try to release short pieces like this while i work on my actual wip list because im slow writer and i am obsessed with long fics.

it was one of those nights. the one where the tears refused to stop and your body didn’t dare move from its spot in the corner of your bed. your room was dark and it only added to the loneliness.

everything in the past few months had hit you like a truck and all it took was one more bad day to really top it off. you could reach out to a friend, one willing to be the shoulder you could cry on. but that’s not what you wanted, you were stubborn and refused to show vulnerability. this would pass. it always does.

but the tears just didn’t stop. you could drink, but then what? cry some more?

so you choose an even healthier coping mechanism.

sunghoon.

a close friend turned friend with benefits. you text him, a single are you busy would suffice, he would know immediately.

it doesn’t take long for him to respond, letting you know his eta. 

this alone is enough to make you wipe your eyes and change your outfit, ripping off the oversized tee and throwing on a small dainty tank top, not bothering with pants. you need him to get straight to the point.

moments pass and your front door is being unlocked, of course he has a key, why wouldn’t he?

a few words are exchanged, he’s about to ask about your wellbeing but you cut him off with your arms around his neck and your lips ghosting his. begging him to fuck you.

“fuck— sunghoon, please.” you groan, his fingers curling inside of you but it's not enough. it takes one look from you to let sunghoon know that you want it rough and you want it now.

he pulls his fingers out of you and unbuckles his belt, quickly discarding it along with his jeans, “so fucking needy.” 

you hum and sit up, attempting to touch him but he shakes his head and pushes you roughly back onto the mattress. 

“barely let me walk through the door before you were all over me.” he continues, crawling closer to you. sunghoon suddenly grabs your hips and forces you to flip, situating you on your hands and knees. “can’t even let me prep you because you just wanna get fucked like a slut, huh?”

“yesyes— please just..” your sentence is cut off when he roughly enters you, ripping a loud groan from your throat. he wastes no time setting a pace, thrusting into you at a quick speed.

you reach your hand beneath you to rub at your clit, but sunghoon grabs your wrist instead, pinning it behind your back and pushing your face and chest into the mattress and he slams into you.

he’s never too talkative when he fucks you, just enough to keep you wet. he knows what you like to hear and god does he know what you want. 

you’re already reaching your peak, the new position only bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “m’ cumming— ah!”

sunghoon groans, letting out a few curses as he continues to plow you from behind. his fingers dig into your wrists and he presses the arch of your back, fucking deeper into you.

not even moments later you’re clenching, thighs trembling as he fucks you hard and deep as you cream around his cock.

“fuck,” he mutters, flipping you over. you’re not even sure if he came or not, your head was spinning from being squished into your pillows like that but you manage to squeak out a small ‘more’.

he’s panting but you know better than anyone else that his stamina could last the whole fucking night. sunghoon pushes your knees to your chest and enters your cunt once more.

his strokes this time are long and deep, he's groaning softly and the pressure of his cock is enough to bring tears to your eyes— but you love the overstimulation. it’s mind blurring and that’s exactly what you needed.

he quickens his thrusts, fucking you into a mating press. you’re gasping and whimpering, tears falling down your cheek.

“so fucking good,” his face is mere centimeters from yours. he captures your lips in a rough kiss, bitting and pulling at your bottom lip. 

his lips travel down your neck, then to your chest. everywhere he goes— he’s biting and leaving marks. the only times you’ve ever kissed him, it was rough and desperate. you wonder for a moment if you would get a chance to steal soft kisses from him.

that thought is ripped away when he sits up again, fucking into you breathlessly. a loud groan escapes your throat as the head of his cock is knocking against your cervix, painful but in the most delicious way possible.

you’re already cumming around his cock again, and he’s quick to follow after you after a few sloppy thrusts.

this continues a few more rounds, you’re insatiable— more than usual. sunghoon doesn’t mind though, nor does he question it, as long as he gets to fuck the life out of you.

he’s panting when he finally pulls out of you, you’re finally spent. of course, he could go again, but he can’t literally fuck the life out of you.

sunghoon plants a chaste kiss onto your knee and sits up, he stretches his body and rolls his neck to release any tension. his forehead is covered in sweat and he uses it to push back his hair. he exits your room and you sit up, cringing at the way your sheets stick to your sweaty body, 

you sit up against your headboard, you’re already sore and your cunt is pulsing from the past hour of abuse it went through.

tears form in your eyes and you almost get angry when they fall. why couldn’t it wait until sunghoon had left? the thought only forces more tears out of you and now you're a whimpering mess. 

sunghoon returns with a few wet wipes you keep in your bathroom. you wipe at your eyes and bite down on your tongue to control the tears, they don’t stop but they do slow down.

he’s wiping you down with care, it makes you cry more. sunghoon notices of course, but the poor boy doesn’t know what to do. he’s seen you cry— but when his cock was down your throat or if you were drunk and incoherent.

the soft touch of his hands as he cleans up the cum spilling onto your thighs makes you wish it was something more. that he’d stay and hold you.

everytime you’ve thought of sunghoon in a way thats more intimate than a fuck buddy, you’re usually quick to empty yourself of those thoughts. he’s nothing more and you both know that. he has commitment issues and you have baggage, that’s been made clear— especially tonight with the amount of tears that’s been spilled.

he wants to ask if you’re okay, he’s almost having trouble ripping his eyes away from your watery ones.

you tell him to leave, that you’re okay to take care of yourself and your soiled sheets. but god you almost need him to stay. 

sunghoon feels awkward, he does care about you but he’s even more careful to not cross any lines. he’s aloof, and usually stone cold but he’s not a monster. he can’t blur the lines for you.

he can tell you’re an emotional wreck right now and it leaves him confused.

stepping away from you, he clothes himself without a word, he hands you the oversized shirt you changed out of earlier before he came— he helps you put it on.

your chest hurts. you need him in a different way now, but you can’t have him.

you can’t have each other.

“just- just go, i got it.” you mutter, legs trembling as you stand up to walk him out. sunghoon feels horrible leaving you in a state like this, but he really can't stay. 

“sleep well.” he quietly says before exiting your apartment.

you nod, head leaning against your door, “mhm. get home safe.”

and with that, your front door is shut and you’re once again clouded with every emotion from before. a new one added to the mountain of issues, yearning for a boy you know you couldn’t have. a silent promise to each other that you would never break the pact you made.

use each other and nothing more.

do not repost or translate please.

[taeyongdoyoung]

bear or man?

summary: you follow your secretive roommate deep into the forest and what you discover surprises you... pairing: werebear/bear shifter!haechan x reader genre: smut, fantasy, best friends to lovers warnings: y/n stalking (?) haechan, meeting a bear (?) in the forest, reader is lowkey a bimbo lol, running, licking, mentions of pee, cuddling a bear (don't try this at home), supernatural elements, fuzzy memories, fear of accidentally killing someone, confessions, kissing, hugging, squeezing face (is that a thing?), eating out, strength kink, size kink, unprotected sex in the woods (stay safe yall), dumbification, creampie author's note: this fic is inspired by the infamous "bear or man?" social media debate and i took some creative liberty to choose the best of both worlds aka THE haechan, duh word count: 2.5k

You have the best roommate ever. True, Haechan doesn't do much, mostly keeping to himself. When he's not working, he's sleeping all day in his room and probably gaming all night long. But what makes you like Haechan so much is that he's not invading your personal space. He's super funny and sweet to you. Whenever he goes shopping, Haechan always makes sure to buy you your favourite snacks, even without you asking for them. He sometimes gets you random gifts like cute pens he finds or little flowers every once in a while. In conclusion, the perfect roommate.

Haechan does have one flaw, however. Once a month, he goes missing. Once a month and it always coincides with the full moon. Now, he cannot possibly be a werewolf, because you, as any sane person, know that those things don't exist. But your curiosity is so strong that one night, you decide to follow him. You are aware that what you're doing is very wrong, especially considering that he's always been respectful towards your privacy. But at the end of the day, you're just a 🎀girl🎀. You can't possibly imagine sleeping another night without cracking his secret.

If it were you and you had a huge secret, you would totally tell him. After all, Haechan's not just your roommate's he's also your bestie. So, you need to know. At least, that's how you excuse your actions as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. What the hell? This is really suspicious...You swear you have your eyes on him when all of a sudden, he disappears. Eh? He was right here...You walk even further but Haechan is nowhere to be seen. Okay, you should probably head back home now.

And then, you see it. A giant brown bear staring at you. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!! Alright, you try to stay calm and remember all the tips on surviving a bear encounter you read one time on the Internet out of sheer curiosity. Um, the first thing was probably not to run, as bears are incredibly fast. Yeah, no, fuck that. You start running but you don't make it far before the bear catches up with you. You trip and fall on the ground, already accepting the fact that you are probably going to die tonight. Okay, erm, what other advice did the Internet tell you?

You manage to get up and identify yourself as a human, slowly waving your arms and trying to speak calmly.

"Um, please don't eat me, bear," you murmur. "I'm not delicious, I promise."

At the mention of the word delicious, the bear quickly runs towards you. Your knees give out in sheer horror and you fall on your back. The bear stands nearly on top of you, sniffing in...curiosity? Hunger? God, you really hope the bear has eaten something already. You wonder if you have food in your bag. Will that make the bear angrier or calmer? Ughh, you don't remember the tips anymore. You feel so stupid and close your eyes, not bearing (pun-intended) the thought of staring death in its face.

Then, you feel something moist and slippery all over your face. Fuckk, is the bear licking you? Great, at least bears do foreplay before eating their victims. So much fun. Time passes and you are in disbelief your head hasn't been torn off its shoulders by now. You are also in disbelief that you still haven't passed out or pissed yourself or something even more embarrassing...You sneak a quick glance at the bear and it's still there, licking your face and looking at you.

God, you can't take this any longer. You try to move a little and to your immense shock, the bear gives you the space needed to get up. You do as you planned. Okay, so running doesn't help. But neither does staying in one place. What are you supposed to do? The bear seems to sense your uncertainty and stands on two feet. Does that mean it's curious or trying to intimidate you? You honestly have no idea. Then, the bear extends its front arms as if offering a hug. If it weren't for this dangerous situation, you would have totally found it cute.

Well, to be honest, it is kinda cute. Damnit, what is wrong with you? You figure that if you are meant to die tonight, then you might as well go out with a bang, right? You rush into the bear's arms, immediately being enveloped by a warm hug. Fuck, it is so soft and cozy! You feel like a total idiot but the fact it hasn't eaten you yet gives you some shred of hope.

Soon, the bear tires of standing on two feet and releases you from its tight grip. Aww, is it over already? You curse yourself for even thinking it. The bear lies down on the muddy ground and using its paw and claws, makes you lie down next to it. Eh?!?! You do as it suggests, making peace with your fate. Then, the bear once again hugs you strongly and soon after, it falls asleep!

Yep, running away is definitely out of the question. It didn't eat you but it didn't let you escape, either. What the actual hell is going on? As you rack your brain for answers, you feel exhaustion coming over you, and eventually, sleep visits you, too.

You wake up to the light of sunrays. In the middle of the forest. Recalling the shocking events of last night, you are immediately stunned upon realizing the bear is nowhere to be seen. Instead, next to you is the naked sleeping figure of your best friend, your roommate...Haechan! What is he even doing here?

You quickly take off your jacket and put it on him, because he looks terribly cold. Why is he naked? Is he an exhibitionist? Was that his big secret? You shake his arm roughly, waking him up.

"Mmn, Y/N? What are you doing here?" he murmurs sleepily.

"What are you doing here and why the fuck are you naked?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Haechan whispers.

"Oh, yeah? Fucking try me! You won't believe the night I had. First, I followed you, because you always disappear during a full moon and I was incredibly curious. I know it was wrong but I really couldn't resist the temptation. Then, as I was following you into the forest, you suddenly vanished. And I ran into this huge bear, at first I ran a bit, but the bear was faster and caught up with me. And then I thought I was going to die but the bear didn't eat me, instead it just licked my face and cuddled me! Finally, the bear fell asleep and at some point so did I. So, whatever you wanna tell me, it can't be crazier than THAT," you exhale deeply, as you finish recounting your story.

"I am that bear," Haechan confesses. Okay, now THAT is crazier. "Well, technically I'm a bear shifter or a werebear, I'm not really familiar with the appropriate terminology, but uhm, yeah."

"Is that why you didn't attack me? Because you knew subconsciously it was...well, me," you try to find a logical explanation to this very bizarre situation.

"Honestly, my memories of last night are hazy," Haechan explains. "This happens every month. Whenever I transform into a bear, I have no recollection of what I do. I just know the transformation happened, as usual."

"If you don't have your memories, then, how do you know you didn't accidentally harm or...kill someone?" you mumble nervously. "Not that I believe you're capable of it. Just asking out of concern for your sanity."

"I keep track of all the news happening in our town. And there haven't been any bear attacks."

"But what if there is a bear attack one day? How will you know whether it was an actual bear or...you?" you begin to panic, just thinking of the possibility.

"Trust me, I'll know. There haven't been any bears in our town, period. Just me," Haechan says and the way he says it, God...He really is one of a kind.

"Oh. That's good, I suppose. But, just in case...would it be okay if I stick by your side every full moon from now on? Make sure you don't hurt anyone or...well, yourself."

"I can't ask that of you," Haechan shakes his head.

"You're not asking, I'm offering," you shrug calmly. "Seriously, Hyuck, if you accidentally kill someone while you're in your bear form, I'd probably forgive you and try to hide the body..."

"You're crazy," Haechan chuckles, somewhat amused by your words. "I wouldn't forgive myself. I'd just...turn myself in."

You nod and while the thought of your best friend in prison terrifies you, you are determined to not let it happen.

"Guess it's a good thing I'll be around to make sure you never kill anyone," you grin and rush to give him a hug, completely forgetting he's half-naked. Uhhh...You feel something unusual. "S-sorry."

You take a step back hesitantly, giving him some space.

"I should probably run to the store to get you some pants."

"It's fine," Haechan replies. "You already saw me in my bear form, I don't think seeing me naked is that embarrassing."

"Fair point," you giggle and try your best to focus on his beautiful soft brown eyes.

"I'll understand it if you wanna move out..." Haechan says out of nowhere.

"What? I don't wanna move out. You're everything to me. Being a bear shifter changes nothing about how I feel. Haechan, I trust you. After last night, even more than I already did, but...Um, yes, just remember that I trust you and I love you."

Haechan blinks in surprise, not saying anything for a while. Realizing what you just blurted out, you press a hand against your mouth. As if you could take it back. Scratch that, you don't want to take it back. It was the truth.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that right now," you sigh. "But, it still stands."

"I love you, too," Haechan replies gently.

"You...you don't have to feel forced to say it back!" you insist.

"I don't feel forced," Haechan takes a step forward. "I just thought you should know. The reason why I didn't tell you about being a bear shifter is that I was afraid you'd view me differently. But knowing you don't think I'm disgusting or something...it makes me wanna say it even more."

"Oh, Hyuck," you sigh wistfully and cannot take it any longer, crashing your lips into his in a passionate kiss. "There's nothing disgusting about you. You're perfect and so amazing," you manage to say in-between kisses.

"Yeah?" he smirks sinisterly. "You're even more amazing for not peeing your pants last night..."

"Hey, I thought you didn't remember anything!" you call him out.

"It's slowly coming back to me," Haechan confesses. "Care to remind me what else we did?"

"Hmm, maybe this?" you grab his wrist and this time you're the one pulling him to lie down on the muddy ground next to you. "And then, this?" you wrap your arms around him in another sweet hug.

Haechan gets rid of the jacket you gave him, remaining fully naked once again. You want to look away but he seems to have another idea in mind. He squishes your cheeks with one hand, sending goosebumps down your spine.

"Wanna try something different?"

"Sure, anything," you say dumbly, trusting him more than you probably should.

"I didn't get to eat you last night. But I will now," Haechan smirks cruelly and wastes no time in getting rid of your comfy jeans. Oh. Fucking hell...He tears your panties apart carelessly and dives right in, truly devouring your pussy in every sense of the word. You don't think you've ever been so wet in your entire life. But honestly, even if he did literally eat you, you'd probably be happy to die by his hands. Or his mouth. Shit, your brain doesn't work anymore. As Haechan drinks from your juices, you think that this is probably the only man you'd let do something so crazy. And with the vivid memories of last night, you truly can't imagine trusting someone else so completely. Before you realize, you're falling apart against his tongue. He holds you down with his strong arms as you are thrashing and begging for him. You don't know what you're begging for. But he seems to know you better. Because he gives you just what you need, exactly how you need it.

You pull him up towards you and kiss him again and again.

"Fuck, Hyuck, you really wanna kill me, huh?"

"You have no idea," he sighs and buries his head in your shoulder. "I hate to ask this of you but can you run to the store and get me some pants like you offered?"

"What? Right now?" you sigh regretfully. "Weren't we going to...you know?"

"Trust me, honey, there's nothing I'd like more. But, me not having any pants does, unfortunately, include me not having any condoms, either."

"Oh. Fuck that, I don't care. You can fuck me raw, I mean if it's okay with you. No pressure or anything," you blurt out without thinking.

"Are you sure?" Haechan asks in amazement.

"I'll grab a pill after, it's fine. Seriously, I don't mi-" you haven't even finished your sentence when Haechan buries his cock inside of you. Fuck, he's so huge.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn't resist any longer," he grunts, as he fucks into you like a wild animal. Well...he kinda is. But he's your wild animal.

"Hah, it's okay," you manage, kissing him again in the process of trying to adjust to his size. "You're kinda enormous."

"Kinda?" Haechan repeats smugly. Oh, that bastard.

"I love you," you want to say it over and over again, you don't care.

"I love you more," Haechan responds fondly, while his cock pierces through your insides.

"I love you the most," you are competitive even in this.

"Yeah?" he laughs. "We'll see about that."

"Hyuuuckles," you moan, the pleasure and the warmth and the slight but bearable (pun-intended) pain being too much and yet not nearly enough.

"Hyuckles, huh?" he chuckles, the sweetest sound in the universe. "I think I like that."

"I'll call you whatever you want, whenever you want," you promise.

"Aww, baby, did my cock make you go dumb already?" he mocks you gently.

"I've always been dumb for you," you admit.

"I think I'll cum soon," Haechan warns. "I can still pull out if you-"

"Nooo, don't," you beg him recklessly. "Cum inside, please."

"Say no more," Haechan rushes through his words and apparently he was already holding himself back, because his release arrives right away, filling you up to the fullest. You come again almost at the same time, gripping him tightly, not wanting to let go. Not yet, anyway.

"Can we go again?" you pout, as Haechan does his best to clean you both up with the tissues he found in your bag. Because, yes, you went into a forest all alone with a bag full of your phone, tissues, your lipbalm and some water. Very responsible, yes.

"Girl, give me a break," Haechan moans, half-complaining, half-satisfied and already anticipating your next adventure.

"You love me," you giggle, feeling so happy to be here, with him.

"I do," he admits.

And that is why, you would always choose the bear.

The End

[nebulaad]

I don't think the original tweet is trying to imply that this is a new scam, but as above said, more or less highlighting how SEO scams are functionally acerbated by the prevelance and sloppy implementation of AI search. People on the internet, by and large, don't realise that people lie online (or assume that people who get scammed online are stupid). Friends of my parents are frequently caught up in scams purely from misclicking because they don't understand the utility of someone getting access to their computer, because they don't know how to use it and therefore don't understand how another person could find any utility in having access to it.

If the google AI search function is pulling results via google's shitty algorithm that these scams have already been playing for years and years and years now, it only makes their job easier because people without any computer savvy are primed to believe that the AI is a special service that is somehow more correct than regular search results (like googling a business and getting a google business card at the top of the screen, you know? except that is, at least in theory, maintained by the business owner, whereas the AI is just picking out algorithmically "correct" content without being able to perform its own critical research).

This has, fundamentally, been the issue with the AI search all along. I've said this on my blog before, but the AI isn't "stupid" because it isn't capable of being stupid. It's not giving you a result that says it's okay to eat a poison mushroom because it's dumb or because it's being mislead or misunderstood something, it's because it's searching algorithmically for multiple terms outside of even so much as like, inter-term context. "mushroom variety" "eat", plus algorithmic content that points it at mushroom recipes being more prevelant than foraging guides...it's compiling a bunch of different info into a small information blast that ends up being wrong because it pivoted contexts without knowing or ever having been built to be able to know.

This, therefore, is the risk with this technology. Your mom who wasn't a regular computer user until 2020, your grandpa who might've only been confident with computers back in like '98, your coworker whose phone is mostly games that are scraping their data, your boss who's so dumb you're continually surprised that they're even still fucking alive? They are all primed to believe that the AI search is more correct than regular search and never ever attempt to do their own research, which doesn't only routinely expose them to blatant misinformation, but makes them more vulnerable to the kinds of SEO scams that were already targeting them.

[mattsfavoritestar]

ICEBREAKER , chris sturniolo

synopsis… inbox request !

warnings… toxic!chris, exbf!chris, hockeyplayer!chris, mentions of violence, mentions of cheating, minor mention of bloody injury, degrading, little bit of manhandling (good way dw), hair pulling, spanking, rough fingering, rough sex, unprotected p in v, lowkey public sex

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

“my ass feels like it’s going to fall off” you say as you rub your hands together for warmth. you already knew how cold the ice rink was yet you still decided to wear a skirt, thinking that your fleeced tights would keep out the frosty air. “i don’t know what’s more stupid, the fact that you wore a skirt or the fact that you’re wearing it for ch–“.

you quickly covered your friends mouth as you felt blood rush to your cheeks. “i'm not wearing it for him! i just thought it looked cute,” you grumbled. that was a lie. you did wear it for chris. you remembered how much he loved seeing you in one (as much as he loved the easy access). “okay, look at me.” your friend says as she grabs your shoulders.

“we caught him texting other girls, remember?” she says. you frown at the vivid memory. he had you wrapped around his fingers with that stupid smile and his baby blue eyes. you found countless of nudes (which weren’t yours) in his camera roll along side the many dirty texts to multiple contacts, yet he still somehow looked somewhat innocent in your eyes.

“now c’mon, we’re here for your brother not him” she says before walking towards the entrance. as you followed behind, you gave yourself a mini pep talk on how you were gonna completely ignore his presence and focus on your brother. you were so caught up in your head that you didn’t realize someone walking into your direction. right as you collided into his chest, the stranger quickly steadies you by your waist.

“careful” he says with a smile. you noticed the jersey being a number 12 with the opposing teams color. with a quick apology, you removed yourself from his hands and made your way to the arena. little did you know a fuming chris caught the whole interaction with a deathly grip on his hockey stick.

“another goal for the boston bruins!” the announcer shouts as the crowd roared. you were jumping as you clapped for the team. so far, the game was going smoothly with barely any penalties. a glimpse of chris’s number 3 jersey catches your eye. you watched as he rushed to the puck with determination. on the opposing team, number 12 surpasses him and hits the puck to the opposite direction.

it seemed like chris didn’t care for the puck anymore as he raced towards number 12. a series of gasps follow as chris harshly shoves him to the floor. the game pauses as the players watch chris rip his helmet off and toss it. he climbs on top of 12 and takes off his helmet then delivers him a punch to the face followed by another. and another.

the referee blows the whistle multiple times but the screeching sound fell deaf to chris’s ears. you saw your brother as well as number 2 race over to pull chris off him with a slight struggle. chris pushes both of them away from him then gets off the ice with an angered expression.

his coach meets him at the gateway as he yells at chris for attacking the opposing teammate. the entire time his coach is lecturing him, chris was looking around the bleachers. then his eyes locked on you. his face was flushed from the cold mixed with heated anger and his hair was damp with sweat. a small smirk found its way to his lips as he watched you practically check him out. you couldn’t lie, your body was providing you with a warmth that went straight to your core.

chris breaks eye contact as his coach tells him to go cool off in the locker room. “alright ladies and gentlemen— we’ll be back after a brief intermission” the announcer says as players start to exit the rink. you looked over to your friend— who was distracted by trying to get a close up of number 12’s bloody bruised face. you slipped out of the bleachers then left the arena in search of the locker room.

your heart hammered as you slowly opened the door. you haven’t spoken to chris in a week, which was the longest you’ve gone before giving in. the lights were dim and the room was quiet. you knew chris was in here since his gloves were laying on the bench in-front of you. “chris?” you called out cautiously.

you jolted as you heard a locker door slam shut followed by a heavy sigh. as you drew closer to the sound, you saw a trail of chris’s gear leading up to where he stood. he was leaning on the lockers with his head tilted up as he breathes rapidly— as if he was trying to catch his breath.

“miss me already?” he says as a devilish smirk forms on his face. you said nothing as you pad over to him and analyze his hands—which were closed into a tight fist. you take one of them into your own and lift it to eye level. his knuckles were bruised and dried with blood, you were unsure if it was his or the other guys.

“why’d you do it?” you ask in a soft voice. chris scoffs then snatches his hand away. “why? you worried ‘bout him or somethin’?” he rebuttals. you sigh as you meet his eyes and search through them. you could never understand chris or why he does things like this but you sure as hell try to.

“saw you gettin’ familiar with him earlier so i thought i’d introduce myself” he shrugged. a frown painted your face as you recalled the countless of times that chris has gotten friendly with other girls in front of you. “but chris— we’re not together anymore” you reminded him.

you watched his eyes darken as an angered expression formed onto his face. you gasp as he harshly grabs your waist and pulls you closer. “yeah?” he says as he leans closer to your face, “didn’t i tell you that y’can’t ever leave me?”.

he flips you both over and roughly pushes you into the lockers. you’re body burned more then ever but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or arousal. probably both. “chris m’not here for this” you say trying to convince yourself more than him.

“no?”, he leans down to your neck and trials kisses up to your ear, “then why’d you follow me in here?” he whispered. you give him no response. a shuttered breath leaves your lips as chris continues to attack your neck with kisses and occasional bites. your fingers curled into his jersey, pulling him closer and causing him to smile against your skin.

you gasp as he suddenly flips you around to face the locker. you felt him tug your tights down along with your underwear. the cold air against your skin made you shudder but it quickly surpassed as the harsh contact of chris’s palm connected to your skin making heated blood rush to that area. “said y’not here for this yet here you are in a skirt f’me— fucking slut” he scoffed.

you whined as he roughly grabs your hair and forces you into an arched position, your bare ass against fully clothed pelvis. you felt two of his fingers swipe through your folds then slowly enter you as he towers over you, watching your expression as he tucked his his bottom lip between his teeth.

your eyelids dare to shut as your jaw hung open with not so quiet moans leaving your throat. “did y’think he could make you feel this way?” chris snarled. you replied with a near scream as he picks up the pace. your legs shook as an unexpected orgasm came over you. you didn’t know if the blood in your cheeks was from embarrassment of cumming to quickly or pure desire as you felt your body yearn for more.

chris laughs as he delivers you yet another sharp slap to your ass. he removes himself from you completely but before you could turn around, you felt his hands grip your waist tightly. you felt his throbbing cock prodding at your entrance, slicking itself with your arousal. you tried pushing yourself closer to him but he held you in place.

finally after what felt like ages, chris sinks into you slowly. “fuck baby— i needed this” he groans. your cheek was smooshed again the cold locker which contrasted to your burning skin. chris didn’t waste a second as he immediately picks up the pace, going deeper inside you everytime.

chris places one of his hands beside your head while the other nearly forms a bruise under his grip tightening. “look at you letting me use you— but y’not here for this, right?” he mocks your words with a small chuckle. your jaw hung open, your cries fell deaf to your own ears while a buzz replaced the lewd sound. with a slight whine, chris delivers one final harsh thrust then roughly pulls out.

he jerks himself off as ribbons of white painted your bruised ass. your legs shook with a dull ache, you were sure they would give out any second. you didn’t realize that he pulled out before you could finish but regardless, you wouldn’t really care anyways considering the lingering high from his fingers. loud banging at the door startled the two of you, “yo chris, coach needs you back on the ice!” a teammate shouted from the other side.

you were shocked on how you made it back to the bleachers on your own with your weak legs. “hey where’d you–“ your friend did a double take before taking in your appearance then giving you a disappointed look. a hockey jersey with ‘c. sturniolo, 3’ printed on the back that stopped mid thigh covered your clothes, leaving only your fleeced tights on display.