#do Not expect an ankle mention in the next fic

[the-messenger-of-the-gods]

both my first smut fics feature ankles (either being held by one or having an ankle injury) and then i sprain my fucking ankle. losing my mind. what does it mean. it is 6 am.

[traveler-at-heart]

Good Luck Babe

Summary: Wanda's boyfriend is the biggest asshole you've ever met. You think she'll choose you in the end.

Wanda Romanoff x F!R, eventual Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Don't be fooled by the summary, this is a Natasha Romanoff x R fic

Classes can be a drag. Especially the early mornings, where not even a cup of coffee can make you focus.

And then, there’s Wanda Maximoff, looking at the professor as she speaks, diligently taking notes while looking perfect, as usual.

She catches you staring and you have to look away, pretending that you weren’t just wondering how she manages to look effortlessly beautiful.

Class is dismissed and you take a minute to pack your things, preparing for the next session. You try not to roll your eyes as you find Wanda with her idiot boyfriend right at the door. As usual, they take up too much space, and you have to push one of them aside.

“Coming through, princess”

You don’t have to look back to know Wanda glares at you, annoyed at the nickname.

To be fair, the first time you used it you thought you were both involved in playful banter. Hell, you even meant it to be flirty, but she took great offense in it, which was the case with most things you did, whether they were aimed at her or not.

It was pretty clear she hated your guts. You just didn’t know why.

——

“I don’t know what her problem is” Wanda says, the music loudly booming across the house.

“What?” Jarvis says, leaning forward because he didn’t hear a word Wanda said. Partly due to the loud music and also because he’s looking at other girls, albeit discreetly.

“Y/N. She’s always being a total ass” the girl says, watching as you enter the house, avoiding her stare.

“She’s just jealous because you’re so pretty” he says and that’s enough to distract Wanda.

Across the room, you curse under your breath at the sight of the Maximoff girl. God, you hate her stupid boyfriend. Always runnig his mouth to his friends about Wanda, telling them private things… you’d overheard them at a bar once and it took every ounce of your being not to kill him right then and there.

Not to mention, the rumoured affairs that everyone knew about. Everyone, but Wanda, that is.

“You made it!” Carol greets you, and then follows your gaze. “Ugh, that guy’s the worst”

“Agree” you nod, turning to look at her. “Shots?”

“Hell, yeah” your friend says, taking you to the kitchen where Val is pouring some alcohol.

To your relief, you get to avoid Wanda for the entirety of the night, and as your friends arrive you quickly forget what had soured your mood in the first place.

Wanda, on the other hand, is not having such a great time. At some point while she was chatting with Pepper, she lost sight of Jarvis and can’t seem to find him anywhere. Knowing Stark could get crazy ideas, she worries that they might be doing something reckless so she goes around the house, looking for her boyfriend.

She’s expecting everything but seeing him with his pants around his ankles while a girl Wanda doesn’t even know gives him head.

“Wanda!” Jarvis shouts, startled.

“That’s not my name” the girl says, smiling playfully. “Or are we role playing?”

“I need to get out of here” Wanda says, closing the door.

Of course, he chases her down the hall, desperately sayig any excuse he can think of. Wanda tries to walk past him, but he blocks her from going downstairs.

“Don’t be so uptight about it” he loses his patience when Wanda refuses his apology. “Guys just need to do it more than girls, it meant nothing”

“You’re an ass” she says, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Wanda, don’t leave” he warns, as she finally walks around him to go to the first floor. The shouting makes some people turn around, and it’s almost impossible to ignore the commotion.

You’re standing next to Val and Darcy, unable to look away as the oh so happy couple keeps shouting at each other.

“Guess he got caught red handed this time” Darcy mutters. She and Wanda were friends but had a fallout and you suspected it had to do with Jarvis and his side pieces.

“Let go of me” Wanda insists when he takes her arm, pulling her close to him.

“People are staring, shut your fucking mouth”

“You’re hurting me” she protests, trying to losen his grip.

Maybe it’s the way she says it, so defeated or even scared, but those words make you snap, and you walk up to them, pushing Jarvis away.

“Stay out of it” he warns.

“Make me”

You are expecting the first punch so you dodge it in time, but he manages to land another one on your mouth, and you feel the taste of blood.

“You’re gonna regret this” you say, launching yourself forward until you knock him over, landing on a coffee table that breaks. Grabbing him by the shirt, you land two punches and go for a third one when he kicks you, making you gasp for air.

“That’s enough” Thor steps in, his brother looking delighted at the chaos. “You better leave”

Jarvis glares at him, but truth be told, Thor doesn’t like him and he is your friend. He leaves the Odinson house, cursing under his breath.

“I’m fine” you tell your friends as they bring over ice to put on your cheek.

“Want us to take you home?” Carol offers.

“It’s good” you say, shaking your head. “I should go, take some painkillers”

“Call us if you need anything”

“Ok” you pat Darcy’s back, leaving the house where everyone’s partying like nothing even happened.

As you walk to your car, you spot Wanda, sitting on the sidewalk, wiping away the tears that roll down her cheeks.

“You ok?” you ask, standing next to her.

“He’s an idiot. No, I’m the idiot for being with him” she rambles.

There’s a very sarcastic comment at the tip of yout tongue but you save it.

“Did he drove you here?” Wanda nods and you jiggle the car keys. “Come on, I’ll drive you to your dorm”

“I don’t want to be alone” Wanda hugs her knees, and in spite of everything, your heart aches for her.

“Any friends that can take you in for the night?” she shakes her head no and you sigh. “Wanna stay at my place?”

“Are you sure it’s ok?”

“Yeah, come on” you say, walking to the car. You drive in silence, eager to get home and put some more ice on the punch.

Wanda gets out of the car and follows you to the dorm you share with Carol, who usually stays with Val most nights.

“Take the bed” you say, handing over some clean clothes so she can change.

Wanda looks at you, and you feel uncomfortable at the intensity of her gaze.

“I… thank you, Y/N”

“Sleep tight, princess” you say with a smile and for the first time she doesn’t look upset as you call her that.

——

The smell of bacon and butter wakes you up and you stretch, trying to remember why you’re in the couch.

When you see Wanda in your kitchen, everyhing that happened comes back and you groan, rubbing the sleep off your eyes.

“Ouch” you say when you rub close to the punch on your cheek.

“You’re up” Wanda says, smiling. It’s a strange sight, as she’s used to glaring at you or just ignoring your presence.

“You sleep ok?” you say, trying to hide your blush when you notice she’s still wearing the clothes you let her borrow.

“Yeah, thanks” she nods, pulling up two plates with pancakes. “I wanted to thank you for everythig you did last night”

“No need” you say, grabbing a fork and eating. Wanda’s just being nice and you honestly don’t want to force her to interact with you, so all you want is to finish your food and give her an out so she can leave.

“He’s been texting me” Wanda says, looking at her food but not eating anything. “Saying it was a mistake, a one time thing and that it would never happen again”

“And you believe him?” you try to control your tone.

“I’d heard the rumors… even from Darcy. You probably know already”

“We assumed that’s why you fought, but she told us it was none of our business. And I know this isn’t none of mine, but you deserve better”

Wanda giggles at that and you look at her, intrigued.

“I’m just… I thought you didn’t like me”

“Where’d you get that?”

“The nickname, your constant glares across the room…”

Oh, shit. Here you were thinking you were obvious about your crush, and Wanda thinks you hate her.

“I hate… Jarvis. I knew he was a dick so I always disliked him. Seeing him with you. Yeah”

“Do you like me?” Wanda asks and you take a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders.

The girl smiles, finishing her food. You stay in the kitchen, fidgeting with your fork until she comes back, changed into her own clothes.

“I should get back. Do you need anything? Painkillers, ice?” she leans forward, her hand touching your bruise gently. Then, you notice her eyes drifting to your lips.

“I’m fine” you say and she nods, stepping back.

“See you in class?”

“Yes” you say, smiling as she waves goodbye. Carol walks in ten seconds later, looking behind her.

“Was that…?”

“Yes”

“Did you…?”

“No” you cut her off. “She just didn’t want to be alone after what happened”

“Y/N…” Carol says in that tone you dislike so much. You’re about to get scolded over something that isn’t that big of a deal.

“Carol, come on. She slept in my room, I stayed on the couch. That’s it”

“I just don’t want to see you getting hurt” your friend says and you nod. “I mean, you got a split lip and a black eye already so maybe it’s a little late for that”

“Yeah, that’s true. Come on, there are some pancakes left”

——

You tell yourself it means nothing. Wanda sits next to you during class, and offers a second scone she got from the cafeteria.

“How’s the eye?”

“I’m not blind” you shrug your shoulders. “Jarvis hits like a little bitch”

Wanda snorts at that, and you can’t hold back your own laugh. That attracts the attention of Professor Harkness, who focuses on your eye.

“Do I even want to to know, Y/L/N?”

“Nah” you shake your head and she rolls her eyes.

“Alright”

With that, the lesson begins. You try hard to focus, but Wanda smells really nice and you’re only human. At one point, she shuffles in her seat, her leg coming in contact with yours and you give up on taking notes.

“You ok?” to your surprise, Wanda follows you out of the classroom. “I can let you borrow my notes, if you want”

“Wanda” you stop abruptly, sighing. “Listen, you don’t owe me anything. I helped because it was the right thing to do. So don’t worry about paying me back in any way”

“That’s not… ” she stutters, fixing her hair. “I don’t really have any friends. I was always with him”

“Oh” you feel like an idiot. “Well, ok. I could use those notes”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, come on. I’ll trade them for a coffee” you smile, walking next to her to the library.

—

It surprises you, how much you and Wanda have in common. She likes sitcoms and though you’re more of a Friends kind of girl, it’s fun to watch those old shows where they dance and sing from time to time.

“I only know Dick Van Dyke from Mary Poppins” you confess one time, which prompts Wanda to invite you to her dorm for a marathon.

“Where are you going?” Darcy says when you walk past her and Carol that evening.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun” Carol smiles and you glare at your friend.

“Well, Wanda and I…”

“Oh, my God! You traitor. Brutus!” Darcy shouts, throwing a napkin at you. “She’s the worst”

“I wouldn’t know. You didn’t tell me what happened”

“She got you there” Carol points out, eating popcorn while she enjoys the show.

“That is besides the point”

“Look, I’m not putting Wanda on my will or anything, we’re just hanging out. And if she mentions you, I’ll be the first one to defend you”

Darcy sighs, chewing on her lip.

“It’s not about me. Wanda has the habit of just… using people when she’s bored or on a break from that idiot. And then they get back together and forgets about you. Which sucks. I wouldn’t want it to be the case for you, that’s all”

“I’ll be careful” you promise.

Once at Wanda’s, you’re trying to enjoy the show, but Darcy’s words are echoing in your head. You had to admit that if you spent more time with Wanda, you’d probably develop an even bigger crush. And if she went back to that asshole, it would hurt you.

Was it really worth it?

“Is the show boring? We can watch something else. I know it’s weird that I like this” Wanda pauses mid episode.

“No, it’s just… Darcy said some things…”

“Oh. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want to hang out anymore” she sighs, looking down at her hands.

“I’m just thinking… maybe it would be good if you fix things with her? Say sorry. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it”

“I can try, but you know her. She won’t make it easy” you both laugh at that. “Is that all?”

“Yeah” you lie. “Come on, let’s keep watching. I wanna know if Rob goes to Ritchie’s play”

Wanda smiles, this time moving closer to you. Her head rests on your shoulder, relaxing against you. It’s so intoxicating, to have her so close, to feel her warmth.

And all you can think over and over again is “please don’t break my heart”. But you can’t ask for the impossible.

—

You’re really not expecting Wanda to take your suggestion at heart, but one day you see her speaking with Darcy in the hallway, your friend pretending to not be interested in the conversation at all.

The only sign that she actually forgives Wanda is when you’re sitting with the girl at the cafeteria and Darcy sits next to you, carrying a tray.

“This is the only seat that I could find” she mutters unconvincingly, making you and Wanda smile.

Though you spent most of the time in each other’s dorms, watching movies or shows. You learn that Jarvis was the one that dragged Wanda to all those parties and anytime you invite her to one she politely declines.

Now, you’re staying in while the rest of your friends are at the Odinson mansion. You don’t know if they’re allergies or a mild cold, but you’ve been feeling sick all day and wanted to rest.

“Coming” you groan when someone knocks. You open the door to find Wanda on the other side. “You’ll get sick, what are you doing here?”

“I made you soup”

“Thanks” you take the container, and you gotta admit the idea of warm soup makes your mouth water. “I’d say do you want to come in, but I really do worry this might be contagious”

“I’ll be fine” she walks inside, finding her usual place in the couch and patting the spot next to her. “Come on. We’ll even watch that boring show you like”

“The Office is not boring!” you huff, making her laugh.

A couple of episodes later, and you feel your eyes slowly closing, a side effect from the  medicine you took. Wanda notices, and makes you walk to your room.

As you lay in bed, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel Wanda sliding next to you, her hand on your forehead.

“Your fever is down”

“Mhm. Thanks to the magic soup”

“I’m staying, in case you need anything”

“Ok, baby” you nod, too sleepy to notice what you’re saying.

Wanda’s heart flutters at the term of endearment, and she watches you sleep peacefully, her mind racing with thoughts about what could this possibly mean to you both.

On the other hand, you don’t remember anything and are startled when you feel someone sleeping next to you.

“Wanda?” you say when you turn around, smiling at how cute she looks, all confused.

“I must have fallen asleep here. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks” you lay on your side, still smiling. Wanda is still thinking about the way you called her and it’s fairly obvious you don’t remember.

Still, she leans forward and you almost watch in slow motion as her lips meet yours in a short kiss.

“Why did you…”

“You make me feel… I don’t know. Safe. I’m sorry, if I crossed line. Maybe I should go…” she sits up and you follow suit, making her turn to you.

This second kiss is a bit more urgent and less delicate, but you hope it makes a point.

“Now I really hope that what I had wasn’t contagious”

Wanda laughs at that, her hand over yours.

——

The next few weeks you grow closer to Wanda. You spend most of the time at her place, watching sitcoms and more often than not, you end up making out on her bed, until you’re both out of breath.

She also enjoys teasing you endlessly, like that time she sat next to you in Agatha’s class and put her hand on your thigh. Your knee jolted forward, crashing against the table and making the professor glare at you.

This time, you’re supposed to be studying in your room, but you find that looking at Wanda as she goes over her notes is far more interesting.

“Stop” she says after a few minutes and you smile.

“I’m not doing anything”

“You’re staring”

“Can you blame me?” you crawl behind her, placing small kisses down her neck. She sighs at the contact, leaning against your front.

“Are you doing this to get my notes?”

“Maybe” you laugh against her shoulder, making her turn until you’re kissing her, and she pushes you down on the bed, straddling your lap.

“You better work for them, then”

Next day, when you’re done with your test, the first thing you do is reach for Wanda’s hand. To your surprise, she flinches away, grabbing the strap of her bagpack.

“Did you do ok on the test?” she’s quick to ask, hoping you won’t push it too much.

“I think so, yeah”

“If you pass, I’d say you owe me for borrowing my notes” she smiles.

“Well, we could go out to the movies. Or dinner?” you suggest, your heart beating faster. It’s a thought that has been going through your mind recently.

Not that you don’t enjoy the kissing and sneaking around, but you’re eager to take Wanda out, find new places together, talk about something else other than classes and her old shows.

“I’m not sure I can make it” Wanda says, avoiding your eyes again.

This new rejection stings and you drop your shoulders, looking for an excuse to leave.

“Yeah, you’re right. We have lots of stuff to do. I’ll catch you later” you say, walking faster and not waiting for Wanda’s reply.

The rest of the day is spent in your dorm, which isn’t unusual. The only difference is that you’re alone instead of enjoying Wanda’s company, and hiding from seeing her.

“Wanna go to Joe’s with us?” Carol offers. “To celebrate midterms are over”

“Sounds fun” you agree, because it’s been forever since you’ve been with your friends.

“You can invite your girl”

“She’s not my girl”

“Oh?” Carol tilts her head to the side, putting the pieces together. “So that’s why you only hang out in the dorms”

“What did you think we were doing?”

“Having sex like crazy”

No answer comes to you, because sex is something that hasn’t happened yet. Or maybe never, considering Wanda doesn’t want anything more.

“I don’t think she knows what she wants, Carol”

“Do you?” she asks gently. Your immediate response is a shrug of your shoulders, and it’s a lie, because you know exactly what you want. “Come on, it’s her loss then. Let’s just go out and have fun”

Meeting your friends does improve your mood and you’re happy you listened to Carol. You eat and play pool, until everyone gets restless and looks for something else to do.

“Heard Stark is having a party” Carol says, knowing he always gets the fancy booze.

“Pass” you’re the first one to speak.

“Why?”

“Isn’t he best friends with Jarvis?” Darcy says. “We don’t want to have another fight, do we?”

“Oh come on, there will be so many people he won’t even notice that you’re there!” Carol insists, and you can tell she’s gonna be stubborn and annoying until she gets what she wants.

So, you agree, but spend the whole time looking around, waiting for that jerk to pop out of nowhere and pick up a fight.

“I don’t think he’s here” Darcy says, patting your back. “Let’s just have some fun, then Val will drag Carol out of here and we can go home, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan” you nod.

For the next hour, you do enjoy the party and are even surprised when Tony seems happy to see you. To be fair, he is a lot nicer than most of his friends. You’re relaxed, dancing to the music and doing shots with Darcy and Val, almost forgetting why you were so sad in the first place.

That is, until you walk out of the living room to get another beer, but the place is so crowded you bump into a girl.

“Sorry, are you ok?” you say, turning to make sure she’s fine.

Your stomach drops when your eyes meet Wanda’s.

She calls for you, but the sound of her voice is drowned out by the music and the ringing in your ears. Jarvis says Wanda’s name, and you take advantage of the distraction to escape, pushing people out of the way.

When the fresh air hits you, the first thing you do is bend over the railing of the porch and throw up, coughing and wretching violently.

“It’s ok” Darcy comes out of nowhere, getting the hair out of your face.

“Shit” Val sobers up immediately. “Time to go home?”

“Yeah, come on. Let’s get a cab” Carol says, patting your back.

They think you’re wasted, but all you are is heartbroken. Wanda was with him, after everything you’ve been through.

The shame over being so naive makes you stay in your dorm for the entire day.

Wanda shows up the minute Carol leaves.

“You should go”

“Please let me explain”

“I don’t think that’s possible” you shake your head. You know it, deep down. She’ll never give you a place in her life.

“We’re just… friends. He wanted to talk, apologize”

“Wanda” you plead, hoping she’ll stop. But instead, she pushes past you, her hands in your face.

“I can’t lose you”

“Why would I stay?”

Wanda answers with a kiss, that is slow at first, and then borderline agressive. You’re pushing, then pulling, unsure of what you want from her, but she pulls your pants down, just enough for her hand to fit, moving past your underwear and circling your clit. Your nails dig into her shoulders, gasping and breathing as she enters roughly, her fingers moving fast and hard.

It’s not nice or affectionate, but a way to further claim you, ruin you, brand you. Now she’s reached and touched more of you, and you’ll never be able to erase it.

Your orgasm comes unexpectedly, and after the high, you come crashing down. All you feel is bitterness and guilt and anger. Wanda stays inside, biting your neck. The sting reminds you, you’re only gonna get pain out of this.

—

It becomes a vicious circle. Wanda is distant in public, because more often than not Jarvis is by her side. And then, she corners you in any spot she can find, kissing you and pressing her body against yours.

The more you let her in, the weaker you are and it’s nearly impossible to stay away. It will hurt if she leaves, and it hurts to be with her.

“I don’t know how to stay away” you confess to Carol one particularly hard night. Darcy was called to offer her support, and she provided that along with snacks. “You were right, Darcy”

“I didn’t want to be” she says, holding your hand. “You’re the only one who can put a stop to this. She’ll never stop looking for you”

You can’t see yourself doing that, but then you walk past her in the hallway, and you hear her saying those words to Jarvis.

“I love you”

You couldn’t even get her to hold your fucking hand.

Pushing past her, you walk away, hoping to find the nearest bathroom and lock yourself there. Lucky for you, Wanda doesn’t follow you.

There’s someone else waiting outside.

“Miss Y/L/N” Professor Harkness greets and you nod, looking at your feet and hoping she doesn’t notice your red eyes.

“Professor”

“You’re too advanced for my class. My wife has a spot in her lecture. New people to impress, most of them pHD students”

Her emphasis in the new makes you understand.

You won’t have to see Wanda in class.

“Ok. I’d like that”

“Keep your head high, kiddo” Agatha says, her hand on your chin. “And don’t tell any of this to Rio or she’ll accuse me of going soft”

“Yes, Professor Harkness. Thank you”

“Mhm” she nods, giving her signature smirk and turning around.

One less place where you’ll have to see Wanda.

Soon after that, you change everything about your routine. Where you eat, study, even go out for runs. Hell, you change your phone number and Darcy is kind enough to let you stay with her for a while. That, and the Thanksgiving break are enough to give you three weeks of space.

It hurts and more than once you have to stop yourself from looking for Wanda. But what’s the point of being a secret? The longer it goes on, the more it will hurt.

Still, there are days when anger weights heavier than sadness. You’re mad at yourself, for being so stupid. At Wanda, because she was a coward and a liar. And those times, you get restless and go out to run, listening to music until you reach a hidden lake. It’s one of the few places you can be at peace, because you found it after Wanda broke your heart. So, there’s no ghost of her here, only you and your conflicting emotions.

Throwing stones at the lake is a way to pass time, and you’re doing exactly that when you hear rustling behind you.

“Sorry” a raspy voice says. Your eyes meet green ones, but these are softer, almost shy. The girl has beautiful red hair, braided with a few strands lose. She misinterprets your silence, and quickly retreats. “I’ll find another spot”

“That’s ok. I can… I can go”

“No, you don’t have to” she’s quick to reassure.

“Well, we can always share” you propose, smiling. The girl nods, and places her bagpack next to a log. She pulls out a book, and begins reading. You continue throwing rocks, stealing glances here and there.

“Is the book any good?” you finally ask.

“Depends”

“On what?”

“On your fascination with social expectations in Russian society during the 19th century”

“Pass. Got anything lighter?” you joke. To your surprise, the girl pulls out another book.

“How about the perils of indulging in romantic fantasies?”

“I know those very well” you say, grimacing. She puts the book down, smiling at you. You try to smile back, but turn your attention back to the lake until you’re able to calm down.

“Lit major?” you guess, pointing at the spot next to her. She moves her bag, allowing you to sit.

“Yeah. You?”

“Anthropology. Minor in Art History. I’m surprised we haven’t seen each other in the building”

“I'm a grad student, so I’m usually at the library” the girl says.

“No parties?”

“No one ever invites me” she shakes her head.

“I’d invite you” you blurt out, finding her blush adorable. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be forward”

“It’s not… you’re fine”

“So. Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary. Are you trying to find out if Tolstoy really wrote his book with Flaubert’s in mind?”

The girl gives you an appreciative smile, nodding.

“Yeah, but it’s more about how men in 19th century wrote about women. Even in two different societies, the protagonists are punished for following their desires”

“No one should be punished for that” you say, looking at her. She averts her eyes, holding back a smile.

“Why Anthropology?” she changes the subject.

“Because. We’re the same and we’re not, even thousand of years apart. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“How so?”

“Do you think you have anything in common with someone who lived thirty thousand years ago?”

“We need food to survive. Sleep, water, oxygen” she lists, and you nod.

“Mhm. All basic needs. Next question, did you make a drawing of your hand when you were a kid?”

“Everyone did” she says, as if it’s obvious.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to see what it looked like. Because it was my hand and no one else’s”

“And people thirty thousand years ago thought the same thing. And left their handprint in a cave in Southern France. Isn’t that something wonderful?”

She stays silent for a second and then smiles.

“I suppose it is, yes. To have an impact, so long after you’re gone too”

“You get it” you nod. “I’m Y/N, by the way”

“Natasha” she says, smiling at you.

The next few days, you catch yourself thinking about Natasha, and even with all the distractions, your mind goes back to her. It takes every ounce of self control to not wait everyday by the lake. Why would you want to get hurt, when you just started healing?

Love never ends well for Anna Karenina, Emma Bovary or yourself.

And yet… three days later you’re by the lake, holding a book of your own collection and an extra scone. You’re about to give up when Natasha shows up, and she seems as eager as you.

“Hey”

“Hi” she answers, a smile on her face. “Am I interrupting lunch?”

“This is for you. I mean, I was hoping I’d see you here” you stutter, looking everywhere but Natasha’s eyes.

“I was hoping to see you too” she confesses. It takes you by surprise, so she grabs the scone and the book as you try to gather your thoughts.

“Emily Dickinson” she reads. “Enjoying it?”

“You can borrow it if you want. I mean, yes I enjoyed it when I read it. But I just thought, you might like a change from male authors”

“Thank you” she nods, holding it close to her. “I actually have to go…”

“Oh, right” you nod, trying not to look disappointed.

“Can I have your number?” Natasha blurts out, her cheeks turning almost as red as her hair. “To give you your book back”

You smile, handing over your phone.

“I recently changed my number and I haven’t memorized it yet. So give me yours”

“Ok” she says. As soon as the device is back in your hands, you send her a text.

“See? Now I’m sure I gave you the right number”

“Talk to you soon. Thanks for the food”

When is it appropriate to text someone without looking desperate?

Either way, you can’t hold back your excitement as you walk to your dorm, jumping on Carol’s back as she’s eating her cereal.

“Are you mad?” she says, flakes and milk flying all over the counter.

“I’m just happy!”

“Why?” she glares, hoping you’re not back to your old ways.

“I spoke to a girl. And she gave me her phone number”

“Oh, my God! Y/N!” Carol shouts, the rest of her cereal thrown away as she dances around.

“What’s all the fuss?” Val says from the shower, concerned over the noise. Carol runs to the bathroom and opens the door wide.

“Y/N met a girl”

“Way to go!” Val joins the celebration and you’re about to say thank you when you notice she’s stepping out of the shower.

“Gah, bye”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want your new girlfriend to think you’re a pervert!”

“Shut up” you say, walking to your room and flipping her off without turning back.

The rest of your evening is spent studying, but also looking at your phone waiting for anything to come through.

As you’re getting ready to sleep, there’s a text.

Nat: I’m ready to give the book back.

Y/N: It’s been… seven hours?

Nat: I’m a fast reader.

Nat: Secret spot? Saturday morning.

Y/N: I’ll be there

—

It’s the first time you’re there so early. The light filters through the leaves, birds chirping as their day begins with the rays of sunshine.

The walk to the lake is lovely, and you spot a couple of small flowers as you find your way to the place. Deciding to get one for luck, you twirl it around in your fingers.

You sit by the log, looking at the fog over the surface of the water when you hear soft footsteps approaching.

“I was afraid you’d stood me up” you joke when Natasha sits next to you.

“And stole your book?”

“The book, I could get over” you admit, giving her the flower. Natasha smiles, her fingertips caressing the petals delicately.

Your eyes are focused on the curve of her lips and those beaufitul eyes.

“Well, I’m here” she says, smiling when your eyes meet hers. “Thank you, I enjoyed reading it”

You take the book, your hands touching briefly.

“There’s a problem, though”

“What is it?” you say, worried that something’s wrong.

“I gave the book back, but I still have to thank you for that scone”

“Oh” you laugh.

“So, what is your preferred payment method? Ice cream? Coffee?”

“It’s a little early for ice cream”

“Then we’ll get it later. I know just the place”

“Yeah. I’d like that”

Though there are no classes, Natasha still has to meet with her advisor, so you chat for an hour until she has to go back to uni, agreeing to meet at your dorm in the evening.

“Is this a date?” you ask your friends on the video call as they agree on what you should wear.

“Of course it is, you silly goose!” Carol says, her face occupying half of the screen. “Wear something hot!”

“No, something comfortable. It’s an ice cream date, not a club” Val argues, trying to get a glimpse of the options.

“Something comfortable AND hot”

As they keep arguing, you opt for a pair of jeans, a white cotton t-shirt and a light jacket.

“Gotta go” you say when someone knocks. After hanging up, you are surprised to check Natasha’s ten minutes early. Plus, you don’t remember giving her your exact room number, agreeing you’d come down and meet at the lobby.

You’re about to open the door when the voice on the other side makes you stop in your tracks.

“Y/N? Please. Open up. I need you”

Wanda.

That voice, those words, the feelings you’ve been trying so hard to push away and bury come back. But instead of hurting you, they make you angry. You’re about to go out with a wonderful girl, who seems geniuenly interested in you. And here comes Wanda, trying to stain that as well.

Without thinking twice, you climb out of the window, holding on to the emergency ladder. You look down, unsure of what to do when you reach the last step.

"What are you doing?" Natasha says, rushing to stand above you.

"Parkour?" you reply weakly. "Is it too high?"

"Don't worry, I'll catch you"

Trusting her, you jump. Truth to her word, she eases the fall as you land, but you drag her along with you as you stay on the floor.

“Are you hurt? Why did you do that?”

Her hands are running over every inch of your face, going down to your shoulders and arms. The worry in her eyes only makes your heart beat faster.

“My roomate accidentally locked me inside”

You figure it's better than saying "My situationship is outside my door and I wanted to avoid her"

“You could have told me, and I would have gone and find her” Natasha insists.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s get ice cream? I won’t ever do this again” you promise, holding her hand. The redhead rolls her eyes, but nods and leads you away from the building.

You make small talk, appreciating how her hand doesn’t leave yours as you get away from campus and to the walking district. You try to look discreetly behind you, hoping Wanda didn’t see you and followed you.

Natasha finds the store, opening the door for you.

“Rocky road, please” you give Natasha puppy eyes and she smiles, ordering strawberry ice cream for her.

“So, what’s your deal?” she asks as you leave the store.

“My deal? What do you mean?” you say, mouth full of ice cream. The girl wipes the corner of your mouth with her napkin.

“You mentioned parties. Are you some sort of wild girl looking for someone to charm every night?”

“Oh, yes, I’m quite the Casanova” you laugh. “No, come on. My friends are cool and we just like to have fun from time to time”

“So, not a player” she notes with a smile.

“I did get my heart broken, though”

“Fella done you wrong?”

“His girlfriend done me wrong” you correct, wishing you were talking about anything else. But truthfully, if you want things to work out, you better be honest. “She was with me, but only on her terms and as if I were a secret”

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve that”

“I moved on. So, don’t think I’m just messing here, Nat. I really like you” you hurry to say, blushing slightly.

“I like you too” she takes your hand. “Now, let’s finish our ice cream so I can show you this awesome bookstore I found”

The next few hours are spent talking about college, some of your plans for the future and also, your friends. You smile when Natasha comments she’d love to hang out with them.

Before it gets dark, you walk back to campus. Worried that Wanda might still be at your door, you asked Darcy a while back to go check. Apparently, the coast was clear.

Natasha walks you to the door.

“I had the best time” you say, smiling. “We should do it again. Maybe go to the movies?”

“Would love to” Natasha nods, her eyes drifting to your lips. You lean forward, heart beating fast as you’re eager to feel her lips on yours.

“Are you still here? I told you to beat it!” Darcy opens the door, making you both jump back. “Oops, I thought you were someone else. Sorry, I’ll go back inside. Pretend this didn’t happen, make out”

“Darcy” you groan. Your friend doesn’t get inside, though.

“The famous Natasha. Y/N here won’t shut up about you”

“Shhh, don’t listen to her, she’s off her meds” you ask Nat, covering Darcy’s mouth and pushing her inside. As you close the door, you hold it so she can’t open it again.

Natasha laughs, her hands going to your hips and pulling you softly. You take a few steps forward, smiling as she lifts your chin, leaning to connect your lips in a slow kiss.

It’s mindblowingly good, although too short for your liking.

“So, when are we doing this again?”

“The date or the kiss?” she jokes and your hands go around her neck.

“Both”

“As soon as you’re free” she says, kissing you once more before leaving for the day.

Darcy snaps a picture the second you walk inside.

“That’s the gayest you’ve ever looked, congrats” she says, sending the picture to the group chat.

You roll your eyes, pulling out your phone and smiling.

Y/N: Best I’ve ever had

Nat: The kiss or the ice cream?

Y/N: What do you think?

Smiling at your phone, you walk to the couch where your friend is sitting.

“I’m happy that you’re happy” she says, relieved that you’re healing from everything that Wanda put you through.

“Me too” you sigh, pulling your knees against your chest. “Though I do have to ask. Did Wanda say why was she here?”

“I didn’t care enough to find out. All I did was tell her to leave you alone. And then I pretended you were inside so she wouldn’t go anywhere else looking for you”

“You’re a great friend” you nudge her with your foot and she glares.

“Ew, get that thing away from me”

“I take it back” you show her your tongue.

The next week, you text Natasha between classes, and though she’s very busy, she’s always making time to get back to you. You agree to go out on another date on Friday, but neither one can wait to see each other, so you end up at the library on a Wednesday evening, each one focused on your work.

Well, Natasha is focused on her work. You’re looking at her, because this is the first time you’ve seen her wearing glasses and it’s adorable.

“Find anything interesting?”

“Plenty” you say, not even pretending to be reading your notes.

“You’re not the only one who’s staring” Natasha’s eyebrow arches, speaking without looking up. “Brunette, green eyes, a lot of rings and eyeshadow”

“Oh”

“Is that the infamous ex?” she says and you’re scared she’ll be upset about this whole situation.

“Uhm… yeah. I’m sorry. If she’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll just leave…”

Natasha looks up at that, eyeing you up and down as you struggle to read her expression. She surprises you by pulling your chair until it bumps against hers, leaning forward and kissing you, one of her hands on your thigh and the other holding your chin, in that signature move that always makes your head spin.

“Maybe that’ll keep her away” Natasha says, smiling and bumping her nose against yours.

“You can’t just kiss me like that and expect me to focus on an essay” you say, biting your lip.

“Then let’s get something to eat. We need a break from all this studying” she proposes, picking up her things and leading you out of the library, her hand in yours.

You don’t care to look around for Wanda to check if she’s watching, because this moment with Natasha is yours. She’s holding your hand, kissing you, spending time with you whenever she can, instead of hiding you like you’re a dirty secret.

By being herself, she’s given you the one thing you always craved for. Something real.

Finally, Friday comes and you’re buzzing with excitement, getting ready to meet Natasha.

“Wanna go to a party tomorrow? You can invite your girlfriend” Val says, painting her nails while Carol throws a ball in the air.

“We haven’t had the talk about being each other girlfriends”

“What? And you call yourself a lesbian? This is the second date, you should be adopting a cat by now”

“Like you and Val with Goose?”

“Yes!”

“Well, sorry to disappoint the sapphics, I’m just trying to not scare her away. And about the party, yeah, if Natasha’s up for it, we’ll stop by”

“Alright, it’s at Stark’s”

“Oh. Maybe not, then”

Your friends share a look, and you glare as they both stay silent.

“You can’t avoid her forever” Val is the first one to speak. “She’s gonna keep looking for you, getting in the middle of what could be a good relationship just because she thinks she can”

“Yeah, next time you see her, don’t jump out the window. Open the door and tell her off” Carol agrees.

“You did what?” Val looks at you, baffled.

“It’s ok, Nat was there to catch me. Speaking of which” you hear a knock on the door, and stand up. “See ya, cat ladies”

“Hey! We only have the one”

You laugh as you open the door, but then you’re interrupted by Natasha’s lips on yours.

“Hey”

“Hello” she smiles, and then looks behind you as your friends whistle.

“Meet Val and Carol. My two former best friends” you grumble when they make kissing sounds.

“Nice to meet you” Natasha greets over your shoulder.

“Bring her home at a decent time” Carol says. “Unless you plan on having sex. In that case take her back to yours so she doesn’t wake me up”

“I hate you so much” you sigh, pulling Nat away.

“We’ll see you at the party tomorrow”

“Sorry about them” you mumble when you’re going down the stairs.

“What was that about a party?” she asks, opening the car door for you.

“Ever heard of Tony Stark? Big house, bigger ego. Loves to have parties. We don’t have to go unless you want to” you say, half expecting her to turn down the invitation.

“If you want me to go I’ll be there”

“I just want us to spend some time together, doing whatever you want” you say, blushing.

“I did promise I’d try going to a party with you, and it seems like the perfect time. Could meet the rest of your friends”

“Alright then” you nod, excited and terrified about how things could turn out if a certain someone is there.

Carol is right, though. You can’t be looking over your shoulder all the time, expecting Wanda to approach you and open those wounds.

If you have closure, in whatever way that is, she won’t have the power to hurt you anymore.

It’s hard to focus on the movie with Natasha by your side, her hand clasped in yours over your leg. At one point, you lean against her shoulder and she kisses your temple.

She’s so perfect, it makes you dizzy.

“What did you think about the movie?” she asks as you go out of the theater, her arm around your waist.

“It was good. I’m glad I understood most of it without having watched those other Alien movies”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have picked a different one” she protests, pulling you to a stop.

“I just want to be with you. Plus you looked so excited to watch it, I had a hard time saying no”

“Is that so?” she arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t use that against me, Natasha” you warn, getting ready to argue but her lips silence you, and you moan against the kiss.

It’s not nearly enough, and you need more of her, not just kissing.

“So if I ask you to go back home with me, will you still have a hard time saying no?”

“On the second date? What do you think I am, a harlot?”

“I’d count the lake as a date of it’s own. And the library too”

“So, this is like the fourth one?” you say, counting with your fingers.

“You don’t have to, I was only…”

Natasha’s words are cut off by your lips on hers, and she holds back a moan of her own when you run your tongue over her bottom lip.

“I’d very much like to go back to your place”

The drive back is silent, but not in an uncomfortable way. There’s a certain tension, and the expectation of what is about to happen makes you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest.

“This is home” Natasha says, opening the door to her apartment. Of course, as a grad student, you expected her to have her own place, but you still admire how homey it feels. There are books everywhere, which makes sense, and pictures of Natasha’s family.

“It’s lovely” you say, turning back to look at her. The tour of the place is forgotten, as you watch Natasha approach you slowly, her hands dropping to your waist.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. A bit” you admit, because lying to Natasha has never been something you’d consider doing. “I want this to be perfect. And for you to really like it”

For me to be enough.

“It’s already perfect” she says, coming closer and kissing you slowly. Your eyes close as you enjoy the sensation of her lips against yours, hands wandering to your lower back. Without breaking the kiss, you discard your jacket and take hers off as well, and she immediately pulls you against her, your hands holding her cheeks as she deepens the kiss.

“Are we doing it standing up?” you ask when she breaks apart, breathing heavily against your neck. “Because I’ve never tried it, but I am open to experimenting”

“You could just say that we should take this to the bedroom” she laughs against your temple.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

Still, she laughs as you pull her by the belt loop of her pants, guessing that her bedroom must be that last door to the left.

“Bingo” you smile, opening the door. There are more books scattered on the nightstand and the floor, but at least the bed is clear. “God, Nat, your reading is gonna kill me” you say as you fall to the bed and make her land on top of you.

“Sorry, I don’t have company very often”

“Are you a virgin?” you tease, knowing full well she’s dated in the past, though nothing serious.

Instead of answering, she kisses you again, her lips drifting down to your neck, and then lower to your stomach. In one swift motion, she unsclaps your bra and lifts your shirt up, her tongue swirling around a nipple. You moan, surprised at the contact, holding her head in place as she moves to the other nipple.

“Does it look like my first time?” Natasha says against your lips, her hands going down to undo the button of your jeans.

“I’m sorry, I was only joking, baby” you say, and it’s almost embarassing how desperate you sound.

“Good girl” she comments, pulling your pants down. You struggle with your underwear and Natasha’s too impatient, so she pulls it aside and starts eating you out, her tongue making circles and swirling around your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you say, biting your hand to keep you from screaming. Natasha nudges your clit with her nose as she moves to go up and down and you’re close when she stops. “Why?”

“I want to be inside you”

It’s a mystery, how your brain doesn’t stop functioning at that, but you manage to discard your shirt and start to undress Natasha, eager to feel her skin against yours. Once you’re both naked, she flips you, so you’re on top of her, straddling her lap.

“I’m debating if it would be better to have my fingers or my strap buried in your pussy” she says, and you wonder how the girl who is so well spoken can manage to be so crass.

Not that you’re complaining.

“Anything you want” you say, aware that you’re rubbing your center against her thigh.

“What’s that?”

“I… please. Just use me” you plead, desperate for some release.

Those words do it for Natasha, who takes out a strap on from her nightstand. You protest when she stands up to fasten it around her hips, feeling like you’re gonna combust if she’s not touching you.

“Shh, I’m here” she soothes you, laying on top of you and rubbing the strap against your entrance.

“Fuck me, Nat” you squeeze your legs around her, hoping she stops teasing you.

“That’s the plan, baby. Tell me if it hurts?” Natasha asks as she begins to fill you up, and you’re too far gone to give a verbal confirmation, nodding instead.

“More” you insist when she stops, searching for any sign of discomfort. Natasha thrusts forward, sinking the entire shaft and you moan, arching your back. “Harder”

Truthfully, Natasha’s never been so adventurous or forward in her sex life, but the way you’re pleading, clenching and panting underneath her, wakes something entirely new inside her. Pushing your knees against your chest, she moves in and out, reaching new spots that make you see stars.

“Yes, yes, yes” is all you manage to say, holding on to the sheets as your knuckles turn white. “Nat, I’m gonna…”

The words are stuck in your mouth as a powerful orgasm takes over, leaving you breathless. You feel Natasha slowing down her movements, and then she goes to kiss your neck, the strap still buried inside you.

“That was…” you sigh, trying to make your brain work. As your breathing steadies, your muscles relax and you let a finger run up and down Natasha’s side. “I don’t know what to say. You’re the one with the big words”

“That was fucking hot” she says, making you laugh. “And I’m not done with you”

Good thing your schedule was clear for the next day, because you weren’t getting any sleep tonight.

—

Your muscles feel sore when you wake up, stretching and turning in Natasha’s arms, watching her sleep.

Her alarm woke you up, but she’s still sound asleep.

“Nat” you say, moving her fiery hair out of her face. “Baby”

“No” she protests.

“Time to get up. You’re meeting your advisor, remember?”

Natasha curses under her breath, clearly not caring enough to wake up.

“Hey… what if I sit on your face?”

“I’m up” she says, opening her eyes and pulling you by the waist. “Come on, giddy up”

“Nuh-uh. Get dressed”

“Why would you lie about something like that?” she whines, burying her face in your neck.

“I didn’t lie, because technically, I didn’t say I’d do it right now. Get dressed, I’ll make breakfast and then we can go back to uni”

“Fine. But this discussion is not over” she kisses your cheeks, neck and then your lips, smiling as you laugh. “Morning”

“Morning, baby” you say, appreciating how beautiful she looks even with bed hair.

When she gets up, you find one of her t-shirts and go to the kitchen, looking at your options. You opt for french toast and make some coffee, because Natasha is definitely gonna need it to stay awake.

“Tastes amazing” she comments when you sit down to eat.

“Breakfast or me?” you tease and she almost chokes with her coffee. “Sorry, let’s eat”

“So, what are the plans for today?”

“Laundry, some homework. Standard stuff”

“Do you have any plans for lunch?” Natasha asks and you shake your head no. “Would you like to eat with me? After I’m done with my meeting and you finish your stuff, of course”

“Would love to” you say, smiling at how domestic and perfect it all feels.

Once you finish breakfast, you get changed and walk to Nat’s car. Parking close to your dorm, she kisses you goodbye and walks to the professor's offices.

You’re so distracted, thinking about everything that happened that you don’t notice Wanda sitting outside your dorm until you’re at the door.

“Wanda” you say, your hands in the pocket of your jeans. “Hey”

“Y/N? Did you just get here?” she says, looking around and then at the time on her phone. “You didn’t sleep here?”

“What do you want?”

“I want… to apologize”

You sigh, hoping the conversation ends soon so you don’t have to ever talk to her again.

“Anything else?”

“I thought he would change. He promised. But then it happened, again and again. And all I could think about is how you’d never do that to me”

“No, I wouldn’t. But now it’s too late. You made your choice”

“It was the wrong choice. Please, just give me another chance. I was scared before…”

“No, Wanda. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hear it and we’re not gonna be anything at all. Natasha is… she’s amazing and I want to be with her. You had a choice to make and you went with him. And now… I have to choose the girl I’m in love with”

“Is there anything I can do or say…?”

“No. I’m sorry” you shake your head. Wanda nods, wiping away the tears. It does tug at your heart, seeing her so alone and broken. But it’s not on you to fix this.

Not anymore.

You let out a sigh when she leaves the hallway, turning in the other direction so she doesn’t see you wiping away a tear of your own.

Your eyes meet Natasha’s. She’s holding a bouquet, looking at you intensely.

“Nat. I can explain.”

The redhead drops the flowers and you’re scared she’ll walk away, but instead, she approaches you, lifting you as she kisses you. You sigh against her lips, holding on to her as if she’s the only thing in the world.

“I heard. Everything. You don’t have to explain anything” she puts you down, smiling. “I’m in love with you too”

“I don’t… know what to say” you laugh, craddling her face in your hands.

“No need to speak” she pulls you closer again, walking back until your're cornered against your door.

“I swear to God, if it’s that girl again I’m going to…” Carol opens the door without a warning, making you almost fall. “Awww, you guys! Val, come look! They’re kissing”

“With tongue?”

“I hate you so much” you complain, hiding your face in Natasha’s neck. She laughs, kissing your temple. “Now close the door so I can say goodbye to my girlfriend”

“Girlfriend? Val, they’re girlfriends!”

“Wohoo!” the girl screams from somewhere inside the apartment.

“Agh, it’s like having overbearing lesbian mothers” you slam the door shut, turning to Natasha. “I’m staying at your place tonight, or they will drive me insane with all their questions”

“Tonight, every night. Whatever you want. Just know… you’re getting very little sleep” she says with a smirk, kissing you.

“I can live with that”

[in1-nutshell]

TRANSFORMERS ONE IS OUT! Unfortunately, I couldn't watch it in theaters because work and money is a bit tight right now. I can't wait for this movie to come out in YouTube Movies to watch it. Since we both know it's obviously gonna have a sad ending, do you mind if I added a bit more sadness in this request? Orion Pax has a younger sibling that he raised named Buddy. Buddy loves both Orion Pax and D-16 as a family. Buddy is willing to bite some ankles if anybody was mean to someone Buddy cares about. Buddy is also tagging along with them in the adventures, much to Orion's dismay and dread. I heard there is gonna be a fight between them at the near ending. Buddy is horrified and scared that those two bots that Buddy considered their family is now fighting each other as enemies. Buddy begs and screams at them to stop, but Optimus and Megatron obviously won't. When Optimus and Megatron shoot each other at the same time, in a moment of panic and terror for their loved ones - Buddy jumps in between them and get hit by both of their shots accidentally that immediately offlined Buddy. They both stopped fighting in shock and grief. Buddy's death was the final straw between Optimus and Megatron's relationship. When Megatron and Optimus went in their separate ways, they both knew the war had begun. Characters: Orion Pax, D-16, Bumblebee, and Elita-one. Please and thank you!

Trying to get the TF1 fics out a bit early so we have something to read.

Hope you enjoy!

Slight mention of spoiler in the movie

Bot Buddy being Orion Pax's younger sibling

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Character death (you have been warned!), Cybertronian reader

TF1

Buddy was one of the youngest miners in the group.

They did get some special treatment from certain bots but was otherwise expected to act just like everyone else.

One bot in particular took interest in the younger bot.

Orion Pax was his name.

He saw a lot of himself in the younger bot and offered his companionship.

The younger bot quickly latched onto him faster than rust.

It didn’t take long for them to fall into a sibling dynamic.

Soon D-16 was introduced.

D-16: “So let me get this straight. You saw them and decided to be their friend and the next thing you know your siblings?” Orion: “That’s pretty much it.” D-16 shakes his helm in good humor. D-16: “Sometimes I can’t with you.” Buddy swings their arms around him and Orion. Buddy: “Get used to it D! You’re one of us now!” D-16: “As long as you’re not like this rusty bucket its fine.” Orion: “Hey!” Buddy chuckles: “Don’t worry about that D.” 2 weeks later… D-16 watching Buddy trying to drop kick Darkwing after he ‘accidentally’ knocked their energon cart. D-16: “Primus… they’re worse…” Orion pats D-16 on the back. Orion: “Yep… want to help them out?” Both mech’s wince seeing Buddy get punched in the chassis. D-16: “…Fine.”

Buddy always kept their brothers on their pedes with their antics.

Always kept them both on alert.

Buddy loved to randomly jump on their shoulders or try and pick them up.

Despite their antics, Buddy was a good miner and even managed to do something most miners couldn’t do.

Get on Elita-One’s good side.

No one knows what exactly happened between them both for Buddy to get a bit of favoritism.

Elita refuses to elaborate and Buddy likes to see bots squirm for the answer.

Buddy hands Elita a spare jetpack. Elita: “Buddy I already have a jetpack.” Buddy: “We’re going to need it.” Elita raises an optic but ignores it. Later… Elita: “… How did you know—” Buddy: “The jetpacks are old Elita. Its only a matter of time before someone falls from a faulty one.” Elita pats their helm. Elita: “When I get promoted, I might just ask to move you to be my assistant.” Buddy: “No! I don’t want any more work!” Elita: “Too late, already considering it.” Buddy: “Orion tell her to stop being mean!”

Buddy was helping Elita get used to her new role in waste management when they saw who was on the Iacon 500.

They cheered for their brothers with everyone else.

The bot let out a yelp when they saw D-16 get hurt, but quickly smiled seeing Orion try and help him to the finish line.

…Too bad Chromia won the race.

Good news, Buddy was now a couple shanix richer from the betting pool.

 While they were heading to the med bay to go see Orion and D-16, they quickly hid seeing Darkwing picking them up and leading them somewhere.

Orion and D-16 talking to B-127 when something big falls on to the conveyer belt and jumps off it. Buddy dusts themselves from the junk. Buddy turns and waves at the bots. B-127: “New friend!” Orion and D-16: “Buddy!?” They both go over to Buddy looking for any injuries. Buddy: “Hey quit it! I’m not dying!” Orion: “What are you doing here?” Buddy: “Well I was going to the med bay to congratulate you two, but Darkwing got to you first. Then I had to wait a while until the coast was clear and find out where you were sent. It’s kinda fun going through the shoot though.” D-16: “What you did was—” B-127 pushes D-16 out of the way and shakes Buddy’s servo. B-127: “Hi there! I’m B-127, or you can call me B or—” Buddy: “Wait! I can be B and you can be BB!” B-127: “Or maybe we can go by the Double B’s!” B-127 and Buddy start chatting up a storm. Orion: “What just happened?” D-16: “I don’t know but I don’t like it…”

Orion catches Buddy up on the new information on Alpha Trion.

Buddy is ready to go.

Orion and D-16 try to get them to stay, but Buddy ends up joining.

They are having a blast climbing the crates inside the train as Orion tries to get Elita.

Buddy stared long and hard at the landscape when the group reached to the surface.

Is sprinting with B-127 the moment the giant rock formations start getting closer.

Grips Orion and D-16’s servo when they all get tossed out of the train.

Their chatting and B-127’s chatting makes the other older bots consider gagging them for the remainder of the trip.

When reaching the cave of the fallen Prime’s, they gently hold D-16’s servo as they silently mourn for Megatronus Prime.

Hides behind Elita when Alpha Trion comes back online and nearly decks Orion in the face.

Cries a little bit seeing what Sentinel had done to the other Prime’s.

They deserved so much better than that fate.

Absolutely seething with D-16 when the group sees Sentinel giving the Quintesson’s THEIR hard earned energon.

Once everyone gets their T-cog’s, Buddy is the first to try and transform… unfortunately they did not get it the first time.

The group was running down the hill. Buddy’s helm gets tucked into their frame. Buddy: “I CAN’T SEE! I CAN’T SEE!” Orion starts laughing Orion: “HAHAHAHA—AAH WHERE’S MY HEAD?!”

Buddy gets a bad feeling about D-16 when he starts talking to Orion but brushes it off as stress.

They hoped they were right, especially after he admitted to wanting to terminate Sentinel.

Don’t get them wrong, they absolutely hate the bot now, but to go so far as terminate him?

It didn’t seem right.

Was the first one to get tased and wake up.

They get excited the second they see Starscream, Shockwave and Soundwave.

B-127 and Buddy both tell the other’s who the High guard were.

An excitement that quickly turns into frightened when they see D-16 beating up Starscream.

They tried to get to him, but the crowd wouldn’t let them.

Buddy looked over at Orion, both sharing the same look of worry and fear for their brother.

They end up getting captured by Arachnid with B-127 and D-16 after the explosion.

Orion is riddled with guilt the second Elita tells him that Buddy, D-16 and B-127 were captured with some of the high guard.

Thankfully, he and Elita made a plan with the remainder of the guard to help get the others and bring Sentinel to justice.

Back at Iacon…

Buddy was in between D-16 and B-127 on the ground, restrained as Sentinel prattled about having them executed.

They felt their spark stop for a second when D-16 stood up.

Arachnid had to restrain them when Sentinel started branding Megatronus’s face on D-16’s chassis.

Buddy kicks the spider in the back of one of her legs. She lets go. The younger bot then kicks Sentinel in the back of his knee joints before helm butting him. Snetinel staggers back a bit. They stood in front of D-16 with fury in their optics. Buddy: “Touch my brother again and I swear I will send you to Primus myself!” Many of the captured bots looked in surprise at the young bot protecting the fallen miner. B-127: “Buddy just stay down!” D-16 tries to stand up the second he sees Sentinel start to move to them. D-16: “Buddy get out of the way!” Buddy: “Fat chance!” Buddy tries to kick Sentinel again, but this time the Prime grabbed their pede and with a swift movement twisted it. SNAP! Buddy: “AAAAHHH—” WHAM! Sentinel punched Buddy across the face sending them skidding across the floor. D-16: “BUDDY!” He glares at Sentinel. D-16: “Stop! Your fight is with me!” Sentinel: “No, they made it personal when they helm butted me. Its time to make an example.”

Thankfully the train had just crashed into the building.

Orion hops out and helps D-16 and Buddy up.

Orion briefly thinks on punching Sentinel in the face but is quickly drowned by D-16 yelling that he was going to terminate Sentinel.

Buddy tried to tell Orion that something was wrong, but their older brother was gone, off to tell everyone the truth about what Sentinel did.

They did their best in battling the other guards with their bad pede.

The bot screamed in horror when they saw D-16 and Sentinel going off the edge.

It took them a while to get to where the fight was.

They remembered seeing D-16 holding an extremely injured Orion over the edge of a dark hole.

They didn’t remember screaming, but their voice box started glitching when they saw D-16 let go of Orion’s servo.

Elita and B-127 were by their side holding them tightly, afraid they would try and jump off the ledge to get to him.

Buddy remembered looking at D-16 giving his speech.

Their audial winced when he called himself ‘Megatron’.

They had to close their optics for a second, not believing they had seen a newer version of Orion, now calling himself Optimus Prime.

The two former brothers fought.

Megatron and Optimus were on the ground wrestling the former’s fusion cannon. They barely registered the sounds of pedes coming closer. Megatron: “Let go!” Optimus: “Never!” Suddenly the cannon went off. A scream. THUD! Both mech’s look over and see Buddy’s frame laying on the ground…so still. Optimus quickly gets off Megatron and runs to Buddy. Optimus: “Buddy!” Optimus gets to the frame. Buddy’s optics were offline and there was a smoldering hole in the middle of their chassis where their spark was supposed to be. Optimus gently cradles them. Optimus: “Buddy! Buddy please! Buddy… please… don’t…” He gently hugs the limp frame, not caring in that moment if Megatron blasted him. Megatron just stood up and stared. He wanted to scream. To yell. Megatron wanted to hug his little sibling frame and pray to Primus that this was not happening. Optimus gently places the frame down, stands up and looks at Megatron dead in the optics. Optimus: “Take the High Guard and go. You are banished from Iacon.” Megatron starts walking away but stops for a moment to take one last look at Buddy’s still frame before yelling for his troops to follow him.

There was a small funeral held for Buddy.

 Optimus made sure to hold it together in front of the others.

But Elita and B-127 caught him alone, sobbing with a picture of Buddy, Orion, and D-16, smiling, without a care in the world.

The two bots held their leader tightly as he continued to sob.

Megatron mourned for Buddy in private.

It was only right.

He cried in silence holding a picture of him, Buddy, and Orion Pax on their first day of mining.

In the safety of his habsuite, he could cry all he wanted before his Decepticon’s expected him to come out with a rally cry.

[monsterfuker3000]

Call Me ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡☏♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Jesus God, this took an embarrassingly long time. Not sure it’s my best work, most of this was written while I was stoned out of my mind, and when that happens I think with my pussy and not my brain, but I can guarantee this shit filthy. It’s not edited because I’m high again.

Warnings: NSFW, DUBCON, Ghostface!Dazai, fem!reader, p in v, intercourse, unprotected sex, (don’t do that,) creampie (don’t do that either,) uhh sub!reader, dom!dazai, there’s uhhh there’s knives, blood, brief mention of a cut, fake kidnapping, drugging(?) established relationship and use of traffic light system but when I say dubcon I mean dubcon. Look me in my eyeballs. Dubcon. Uhhh restraints? Idk it’s just a little bit depraved so don’t read it if you don’t want depraved. There’s aftercare though bc I’m allergic to not ending my fics on a soft note. Characterization in this is questionable at best. I love you mwah.

To @texas-bitch-yee @genshinsbiggestsimp @cupidszvlvr @dxzxii @vqmpwclf sorry this took so long 👉🏻👈🏻

WC: 4k words of Osamu Dazai lecherously taking you and you being lecherously taken ❤️

Leaves crunched under your feet as you ran, the cool fall air burning in your lungs. The ankle you’d twisted a few minutes previous was screaming at you, but only one thing was going through your mind.

Do.

Not.

Stop.

You knew he wasn’t far behind you, he never had been. Deep down, through all your attempts to lose the man you knew was trailing you, you knew damn well he was never more than a few minutes away. If you stopped now, he’d catch you for sure, and he had every intention of using that knife you’d seen glinting in his hand when he dumped you on the ground in this forest in the middle of nowhere and told you to run for your life.

You stumbled down a small hill, nearly losing your footing but staying upright by some miracle. You paused for just a moment to steady yourself, your heart rate spiking when you heard a branch snap in the distance. Whether it was the man you’d received a phone call from earlier in the night or some woodland creature, you weren’t sticking around to find out, and you took off again.

You’d been at home just an hour previous, curled up on the sofa of your living room as you waited for Dazai to come home. Your phone rang next to you; expecting your boyfriend, you answered without checking the caller ID, not seeing that it read ‘UNKNOWN CALLER’ at the top of the screen.

“Hello?” You chirped, expecting the gentle voice of your boyfriend Osamu on the other end.

“Do you want to play a game?” came the reply, the voice gravelly and unfamiliar. You frowned and checked the caller ID, just now seeing it wasn’t anyone in your contacts. Your blood ran cold for just a moment before you realized exactly what was going on, and you laughed.

“Osamu,” you giggled, “that’s the wrong movie, silly!” The person on the end seemed to falter for just a moment before gathering themselves and resuming conversation.

“Well, if you know so much about movies, belladonna, then tell me, what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Scream,” you replied simply. “And, Osamu, you’re giving yourself away calling me belladonna like that,” you laughed. He grumbled something inaudible on the other end before you hung up, knowing this was all part of the game.

This had all been in the works for a couple of weeks now, beginning the night you’d popped the original Scream into the DVD player on a movie night with Osamu. He’d had his arm around you, so it wasn’t difficult for him to feel the way you tensed up a bit when the killer came on screen, nor was it hard for him to see the way your cheeks would turn pink when you heard his voice. An idea began forming in Dazai’s head, something dangerous that he knew both of you would like. He leaned in towards you, lips nearly brushing your ear as he whispered softly.

“My, my, belladonna, you seem to like what you see, hm?” he teased. Your cheeks reddened even more as you shrank in on yourself, declining to answer the question. “Well,” he continued, “what if I did something like that to you?”

You froze, then turned around to look at him, your eyes wide and unbelieving.

“Really?” you cautioned. He nodded, that signature smirk on his face telling you he was thinking devious thoughts.

“Really, sweet girl. Take you out to the woods where we can be all alone, let you go and hunt you down.” You shivered at his words, panties slicking up just at the thought. The two of you paused the movie and discussed in detail what expectations and boundaries you would have for each other, which is how you knew exactly what was happening when you received that call.

After you hung up the phone, it only took about five seconds for the phone to start ringing again, UNKNOWN CALLER scrolling across the screen a second time. You answered with a smile on your face, ready to mouth off again, but the voice on the other end beat you to it.

“You hang up on me again, I’ll gut you like a fish!”

You froze once again, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. You knew this was a line ripped directly from the movie, but the way it was said sent shivers down your spine. The voice on the other end was rough, sharp, nothing like the Osamu you knew. For the first time tonight, you felt a stab of cold, genuine fear. The voice continued.

“Now, belladonna, I’m somewhere in your house. Do you want to guess where?” he urged. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to gauge whether Dazai could hide behind anything in front of you. But you’d hear him, right? That meant he had to be somewhere else in the house, somewhere he could call you from and you wouldn’t hear him.

“Tick-tock, sweet girl,” the voice on the phone purred. “I’ll give you just one guess. If you get it right, I’ll let you go. If you get it wrong, however,” he laughed darkly, “well, belladonna, you should start running.”

Your heart rate quickened, your palms slicking with sweat. Where the hell could he be?

“You have until the count of three, sweet girl.”

The kitchen? No, too open.

“One.”

The bathroom? No, you’d just been in there a few minutes previous and it was empty.

“Two.”

The dining room? No, you’d hear him from there. Ah! You knew where he must be.

“Three.”

“The bedroom!” you cried, just as the final number left his mouth. Then, silence.

“Tsk-tsk, oh, belladonna,” he sighed. “I thought you’d be better at this. How disappointing.”

Your hands shook, your blood like ice in your veins. You knew you had to run, but where? You guessed wrong, you had no clue where he was. You were going to have to take your chances.

You dropped your phone and started running toward the front door, immediately regretting not holding on to it, but knowing that it wouldn’t help you anyway. Focused more on getting out than staying undetected, you ran clumsily out of the living room into the hallway leading to your front door, your socked feet slipping on the hardwood. The front door was only twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten. Five. You reached the doorknob, fighting with your other hand to unlock the deadbolt. Then, out of the corner of your eye, a flash of black and white, a rag thrown over your nose and mouth, wet with a faintly sweet smelling substance, and then darkness.

You awoke on the ground in a dark, unfamiliar clearing surrounded by thick forest, your hands taped behind your back. The only light afforded to you was from the full moon and the headlights of the dark SUV you assume you arrived in.

A man stood in front of you, slender and tall, dressed all in black and holding a large hunting knife at his side that glinted in the moonlight. His face was concealed by the traditional Ghostface Halloween mask. How original. How perfect.

You noticed that he’d been kind enough to change you out of your pajamas and into thick pants and heavy boots. A genuinely kind gesture, one that reminded you that you could truly trust the man in front of you. You held on to this feeling, knowing this would be the only mercy afforded to you tonight.

The man knelt in front of you, lifting the corner of his mask to reveal that he was, in fact, the one and only Dazai Osamu. His expression was soft, almost concerned.

“Hey, give me a color, angel,” he urged.

You took a deep breath. “Green,” you answered. Dazai’s mouth curled into a smile, one that once again sent shivers down your spine, and he winked at you. He readjusted the mask, completely covering his face again, and stood.

“Little bunny,” he purred. “Whatever are you doing in the woods all alone, hm? He knelt once again as he lifted his knife to press the blade to your face, softly enough that it didn’t break skin, but hard enough so that you could feel just how sharp it really was.

“Do you know what happens to little bunnies all alone in the woods, sweet girl?” You shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Sometimes they encounter wolves.”

You could hear the smile in his voice, it twisted your stomach but shot straight to your core all the same. He used his other hand to pop the button and lower the zipper on your pants, sliding his hand into your panties to press two fingers to your pussy, gathering the slick there. He sighed deeply, shuddering at the feeling of just how wet this was all making you.

“Oh, little bunny, you look so scared but you feel so wet,” he moaned, withdrawing his fingers to slide them into your own mouth. You took the hint and began to lick them clean, moaning at the taste of your own slick. He was kind enough to button your pants back up before flipping you over onto your stomach, caging you in with his arms. He cut through the tape binding your hands, just barely nicking your arm in the process making you gasp. He bent down to whisper in your ear again.

“It’s time to run, little bunny.”

He lifted himself off of you enough for you to scramble out from under him onto your feet, elbowing him in the process. He held his side, hissing in pain. “That hurt, bunny. I’m going to give you a thirty second head start. You better run for your life,” he growled. You weren’t sticking around to find out how serious he was, so you turned tail and ran into the darkness.

Which is what landed you here, stumbling through the forest on a twisted ankle, covered in scrapes and cuts from running through branches you didn’t see until it was much too late.

You stumbled into another clearing, your heart racing. You let yourself feel a bit of relief before you noticed the SUV in the clearing with you. The same SUV you arrived in, and the same clearing you’ve been running from. Dazai had herded you in a circle.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, knowing he couldn’t be far behind you. You scanned the tree line all around you, finally spotting the glint of metal to your right. You gasped, finding yourself unable to scream, and whipped around in the other direction, trying to get away as fast as you could, but the heavy footfalls behind you came closer all the same.

Two arms shot out from behind you, one on each side to wrap around your body. He broke your fall a bit, but wrestled you to the ground all the same, pinning you flat on your back with his arms once again caging you in and a strong thigh pressing between your own.

You finally found your voice, screaming in fear as you tried to worm your way out from under him. You worked an arm free and swung it at him in an attempt to get him off of you, but you only succeeded in knocking off his mask. The face underneath was almost as scary as the mask itself, Dazai’s eyes sharp and his cruel smile much too wide.

He pulled a short length of rope from his pocket, recapturing your arm and tying your wrists together in front of you. You opened your mouth to scream once again but he clapped a large, gloved hand over your mouth before you could even make a sound.

“Little bunny,” he taunted. “Looks like I caught you, hm?” He brought his other hand to his belt where he’d tucked his knife, pulling it free and raising it to your face. He pressed it to your cheek, making a shallow cut there, barely enough to break the skin, sighing at the tiny trickle of blood gathering there before removing the knife as you whimpered beneath his hand.

“I’ll do that again if you don’t keep quiet, bunny,” he warned. “I’m gonna take my hand off of your mouth. Are you going to scream, or can you keep quiet?” He took your fervent nodding to mean that you agreed to keep quiet, and he removed his hand.

Instead of saying anything, you immediately spat in his face, causing him to rear back on his knees for just a moment to wipe it away.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves, bunny,” he said, flicking the wetness away from his hand. “I think it’s time you learn a lesson.”

He moved again, quick as lightning, to use his knife to cut a sizable slit out of your pants, waistband to crotch, before ripping them in half the rest of the way to hang loosely below your knees. He ripped your panties off of your body in one clean motion, and you flinched when the cool night air met your soaked pussy.

You thought he might cut you again, whining in confusion when he flipped the knife into the air, catching it by the blade. That confusion ended quickly when you felt him press the blunt handle to your pussy. You struggled uselessly against your bindings, but between the rope around your hands and the man never letting go of one of your legs, you weren’t getting away.

“Ah-ah, bunny,” Dazai teased. “Spitting on me wasn’t very nice, you know. I think you know that you deserve to be punished.” His voice was low in his throat, jarring compared to the usual gentle whispers he afforded you when he fucked you.

You shook your head, hard enough to make yourself dizzy. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise I’ll behave- fuck!” Your pleading was cut off when Dazai pushed the knife handle into you in one clean thrust.

You cried out at the intrusion, fighting it instinctively even though it hurt in such a delicious way. Tears collected on your lashes as you tried to keep from showing him you actually liked this, but unfortunately Dazai knew your every tiny expression like the back of his hand.

“Oh, belladonna, you like it when I fuck you with my knife, don’t you?” He purred. You shook your head again with a whine, not trusting yourself with words at the moment. “Yes, I think you do, pretty. Come on, tell me you like the filthy things I’m doing to you. Tell me you love it.”

You cried out again, tears finally spilling from your eyes as you admitted, “love it, love it, love it,” chanting it like a mantra with every thrust of the handle.

He bent down towards you again to whisper against your ear. “I know, belladonna, I can hear how much you love it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. Whether he meant your cries or the filthy, wet sounds he was drawing from your pussy, you didn’t know.

His words pushed you over the edge of a cliff you weren’t even fully aware you were standing on as you came on the handle, slicking it up along with your thighs and Dazai’s hand.

“Oh, what a good little bunny,” he praised, an edge of malice in his words. “Such a good girl, cumming on my knife like the dirty little thing you are,” he continued, pulling the handle out of you and admiring the way it now glistened with your slick in the moonlight. He stabbed it into the ground next to your head, confident he’d made you pliable enough to not struggle as he flipped you over onto your stomach, prone with your legs together between his own. You tried to push yourself up on your forearms, but a large hand square in the middle of your back kept you from even getting your hands under you with any efficiency.

“What are you-“ your question was cut off when he slid that same hand up to the back of your head, quick as anything to press your face into the mossy forest floor, muffling any protests.

“Shh, no talking, bunny,” he soothed. You whined, the sound still muffled by moss. He laughed, the motion driving his hips lightly into your ass where you felt his cock straining against his pants, and you were so tightly wound that such a small action made your hips buck just a fraction of an inch.

Dazai noticed your reaction, of course, driving his clothed hips into yours much harder this time, taking his hand off the back of your head and allowing you to cry out.

“Fuck, please!” you cried, not sure what you were even begging for, pushing your upper body up onto your still bound forearms, high enough to twist your head around and allow Dazai to see the tears still rolling down your face. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight, and he rolled his hips into yours again.

You whined again and his patience began to wear thin; you heard the clank of a belt and the rustling of fabric behind you and you jumped, squirming uselessly beneath him until you felt the head of his cock brushing against your ass and you froze again.

“Wait, wait!” you cried, hands scrabbling on the ground beneath you. He chuckled deep in his throat and used his legs to push yours even closer together, tipping your hips up to line his cock up to your entrance. He pushed it between your thighs, gathering the slick dripping down your legs before pushing it into your waiting pussy with a sigh, ignoring your pleas all the while.

He worked himself in, inch by torturous inch, the gentle way he reached up to pet your hair contrasting with the harsh way he drove his hips into you as you cried.

Halfway in, your eyes flew open, the stretch becoming too much.

“Wait! Not gonna fit, ‘s too big!” you slurred, fighting a bit harder to get away, still to no avail. “Too tight like this,” you whined. Dazai tangled his fingers into your hair, yanking you back so he could speak directly into your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

“Little bunny, you think it isn’t going to fit? You always take my cock so well, and now that this pretty little pussy is drooling down your legs, you think I can’t fit it in? You’ve never been this wet before, belladonna,” he murmured. “I’ll fucking make it fit.”

He snapped his hips into yours doubly hard now, sheathing himself completely with just a handful more thrusts that pulled a genuine wail from your throat, your mind screaming at you that the cock drilling into you was tearing you in half.

His pace was breakneck, his hips colliding with yours so hard they were driving you inch by inch across the forest floor, matting your tangled hair with leaves. You shifted your hips a bit, keeping him from hitting quite so deep. He didn’t take kindly to this, letting out a growl and letting go of your hair to reach out and yank the knife out of the ground next to you, holding it up to your neck and nicking the skin there, whether by accident or on purpose you weren’t sure. You whined as you felt a thin trickle of blood run down your throat.

“Keep those fucking hips where I put them,” Dazai growled. You whined at him to please, fuck, just slow down! and he finally relented, dropping the knife and switching instead to rolling his hips against yours, driving the tip of his cock directly into your g-spot and pressing his balls to your clit with each thrust.

The sharp pain slowly began to give way to pleasure as your cries gave way to moans, each sensation so overwhelming it caused your legs to shake. Dazai took hold of your hair once again, this time much gentler, the action causing a stir in your belly and already bringing you close to cumming.

“Fuck yes, little bunny. You like this, don’t you?” he teased. “You like it when I fuck you nasty,” he continued, punctuating his sentence with a particularly slow roll of his hips that drew a high-pitched cry from you, tears still rolling down your face. “You gonna cum, sweet girl?” he urged. “You gonna cum from me taking you from behind, on the ground like a fucking animal?” he urged.

Your eyes rolled back, your breath catching in your throat as your hips stuttered beneath him; Dazai knew you were close, you just needed one more little push.

“You want me to fill you up, bunny? Fuck yeah, I felt you squeeze me just now, of course you do. ‘M gonna fill that soaked little cunt up so full of my cum, leave it to leak out of you since you’re such a filthy girl.”

His final sentence and a well-timed thrust pushed you over the edge and you came hard, whole body shaking as you gushed around him. You soaked his legs as well as your own, the rest of your cum pattering on the leaves below you as you cried out his name.

He fucked you through your orgasm, the relentless clenching of your pussy bringing him closer to his own. Your arms finally gave out on you, your head dropping to the ground softly, but Dazai was kind enough to turn it to the side for you so that you could breathe.

“‘M close, belladonna,” he whispered.

“Osamu,” you whined, quickly becoming overstimulated, “I’m tired.”

“Shh, sweet girl, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” he soothed, placing an almost shockingly sweet kiss on your cheek, a sharp contrast from the way he’d just been treating you. His hips began to stutter, sloppy and almost clumsy, before you felt him shake above you, spilling his load into you as deep as he could get it.

Dazai shuddered as he came, his arms very nearly giving out, but he wasn’t through yet. He pulled out suddenly, the sudden friction on your already sore pussy making you’ll help. He clumsily pulled his phone out of his back pocket, readjusting to take a photo of his cum already spilling from your pussy, then another, a selfie with his fist tangled in your hair, yanking your head up next to his as he smiled at your completely fucked-out expression. Satisfied, he rolled away from you before he collapsed to avoid crushing you. Flipping onto his back, he pulled his jeans back up where they belonged before gathering you in his arms, resting your head on his chest and wiping away at your tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Such a good girl for me, honey,” he whispered, squeezing you tight. “Anything hurt?”

“A-ankle. . .” you whimpered, deciding the twisted appendage was your most immediate problem after your completely abused pussy.

He clicked his tongue teasingly, assuring you he had an ice pack in the car, along with a blanket. He stood, gathering you up in his arms before starting toward the car. The passenger door had been left open, so he placed you onto the seat, wrapping you in a blanket before wetting a rag from a water bottle, wiping away at the blood on your face and neck as you began to drift off.

“‘Samu?” you asked

“Yes, belladonna?”

“I love you,” you slurred. He laughed softly.

“I love you too.”

WEEEEEHOOOOO do u feel it? Cumming in the air tonight?

[kissitbttr]

Hi lovely! Your cake tasting fic was literally immaculate. I was just thinking about how r and miguel met, and how cute it would be to see a blurb where he gets all flustered when he sees her for the first time? You are amazing! Xoxo

sending u lots and lots of kisses MWAH MWAH thank u baby😚😚😚 anyHOWWWW i’m so glad someone asked for this! I’ve been waiting for it TEEHEE! now i did mention a little bit on the cake testing fic how they first met, sooo i might just have to expand from there yuhyuh!

this turned out a bit onger than i expected lol but I hope you'd enjoy it regardless!

miguel masterlist

—

miguel meeting his wife for the first time

-

“the laboratory is 80% damaged, miguel. we need to get it fixed or else we can no longer continue our work.”

miguel sighs deeply, pinching his eyebrows with his index finger and thumb. the ungodly amount of research papers stacked neatly in the corner of his working desk, along with bunch of scrunched papers on top.

“jessica, no ahora”

she rolls her eyes at his stubbornness, arms crossed over her chest. his eyes glued on the monitor, framed glasses perched on the bridge of his thick nose bone

“you need a break.”

“I don’t” he disagrees. if anything, he needs to put on more hours of work. “i can’t leave before everything is done. we’ll get it fixed next week.”

“that’s what you said last week, miguel” jessica points out, eyes scanning around the room. “look at this mess! the HQ haven’t got fixed in months! if you want this building to be safely secured and leave no casualties in the future, you have to do what i say.”

again, miguel disagrees. shaking his head without looking up. “and i said, no.”

but jessica refuses to be told like that, shrugging her shoulders like it’s nothing. “well too bad, because i already found someone who’s willing to work on it and you’re meeting them”

that seems to catch his attention, his pen dropping off between his finger as his head whips towards jessica’s direction.

“you—what?!”

“i’m not going to be responsible for many injured people in the future. not when we have too much enemies coming to bite our asses so i suggest you get down from there and come here”

miguel has a temper. a very short one, and it’s not easy to control it when he’s surrounded by people who’s trying to tell him what to do. it’s supposed to be the other way around.

but miguel has no energy to fight back, so instead of telling her to fuck off, he just nods his head.

“alright fine” an upset mutter falls from his lips before he makes his way down the stairs. hands on his hips. “where is he?”

jessica scoffs, “why do you always assume everyone is a he?” she chuckles lightly at miguel’s quirk eyebrow. “you can come in now, ms. y/l/n”

the sound of his office door clicks after that, and miguel seems to be less than impressed because he has no energy in him to talk to people other than himself,

yet, his jaw drops instantly soon as he sees the person who walks through it,

a woman—a very gorgeous one—who looks like to be in her mid twenties makes an entrance as her heels click against the marble floor, carrying what seems to be a tablet and folders. she’s dressed in a grey long tight fitting dress that falls down to her ankles with a cropped beige colored cardigan completing the whole look as an outer, leaving only the left shoulder exposed. a smile appears on her face as she fixes the frame of her black reading glasses.

miguel has never seen a more beautiful woman than the one he’s staring at right now,

“ms. y/l/n, this is miguel o’hara. the head of Alchemax and leader of Spider Society.” jessica smirks at the way miguel is gaping right now, as he makes no intention in hiding it away.

guess, her 70% of her plan is slowly working.

“ugh! come on, jessica you’ve known me long enough to stop saying my last name” she giggles, “mr. o’hara. my name is y/n. it is very nice to meet you. jessica had told me many things about you. i am so impressed with everything you had done”

‘fuck, even her voice is pretty’ he thinks

he regains his composure, clearing his throat before taking off his glasses. “thank you, y/n. you and jessica are close?”

with a nod, she responds, “we go way back. haven’t been off each other’s arms for a long time. hard to keep me away from this woman”

so jessica had been hiding her away from him? that’s rude.

“oh hush. always with the sweet talk” jessica waves her off with a smile. “miguel, y/n has plans on remodeling the hq for us. i’ve told her about what needs to be done and so forth. she has already inspected the lab, cafetería, training rooms. this smart woman right here came with conclusions in just five minutes.”

a blush creeping into y/n’s cheeks, shyly tucking a loose hair behind her ear which makes miguel’s heart warms at the sight,

“i’ve seen her work and i wouldn’t just bring anyone when it comes to our matter. she’s the perfect person for this. now since i have so many things to catch up on, i hope it’s okay for me to leave you two and have her explain it all—“

“yes” miguel replies a bit too quickly, causing the two women to raise their eyebrows. this makes him slightly bit embarrassed at how eager he might have come off. “i mean-yeah, of course. it’s not like i was doing anything. have a bit of a time off.”

“i though you said—“

“that’s enough jessica. thank you” he nods at her, shooting her a tight smile. “i would love to hear it.”

a giddiness blooms in his chest when y/n gives him a toothy grin. and it may become his favorite thing to look at,

“alright then. i’ll see you later. bye, sweetheart” jessica waves at her friend before walking out of miguel’s office and shutting the door behind her,

now it’s just them,

y/n’s gaze averts back to his tall figure. she had heard stories about miguel o’hara. jessica loves to spill teas about her partner and had showed pictures of him when y/n was curious on how he look like. he is indeed handsome.

but now, looking at him in person? fuck, even the greek gods are no match to him

beautiful bronze skinned, broad shoulders, high cheekbones with sharp jawlines. she glances a bit at his toned chest then down to his torso for a bit. abs rock hard enough to be seen through the working shirt he’s wearing. this man built like he contains zero body fat.

however, his mesmerizing red eyes are what got her hooked.

“it’s very nice of you to make the time for this, mr. o’hara. i know you are a very busy man and i hate to be the one who’s preventing you from your work.”

miguel’s head shakes, giving her a small genuine smile. “no apologies necessary. and please, call me miguel”

“okay then, miguel” she nods, returning his smile. “may i begin showing you what i’ve been working on?”

miguel’s arm extends towards a large wooden table, allowing her to walk first. “by all means” he folds his arms behind his back, following her from behind.

he’s very much struggling not to look at her ass while she moves,

“okay, so” she lays her things flat on the table, getting to work quickly. “i’ve planned a pre-design for your laboratory, given that the lab is one that needs extra precautions and highly detailed instructions, i’ve figured i should get that one done first. and here” she unlocks her tablet before tapping one app, showing the minimum design. “there are important keys that needs to be highlighted. i need exact measurements of how many people will be coming in and out of your lab, objects you’re thinking of storing, etc. because it will determine the amount of space i’ll be working on”

miguel doesn’t know jack shit about what she’s talking about but fuck, it sounds incredibly sexy to his ears,

“jessica had explained to me before that there will be less than fifteen people working in there. i would advise to create a fingerprint for entry. and it will require more space, more equipment and materials for me and my team to be able to carry on with our tasks. but i need you to not worry, miguel. i’ve done the trials and errors to limit the damage that might occur with the calculations.” she pushes her tablet for him to see clearly, colorful scribbles of geometry with shapes and patterns,

not only that, but she has a few mockups too. giving him a small vision on how the area would look like once it’s done.

miguel’s eyebrows raise, moving a bit closer to where she stands. “christ. this is amazing. you did that in…?”

“a week” she finishes with a smile, nails tapping against the table. watching how his eyes amazed at her small simple work “some would take more than that but, i take my work seriously, i don’t like postponing.”

his eyes move upwards to look at her, impressed by the details and efforts she had done with it. one thing about miguel, is that he is very much attracted to people who are putting their careers above anything,

and she has ticked that box,

“indeed” he lets out a breathe, nodding. “does that mean you don’t have a lot of free time?”

she thinks for a while. “not much definitely. but it’s not like i’m missing out on anything. what do people do nowadays? partying and gossiping? i rather not.”

he chuckles in amusement, “understandable. i thought that you might be into those kind of stuff.”

“and what gave you the assumption?”

he raises his shoulders. “you look young. young people like to have fun.”

“and how old do you think i am?” she asks with arms crossed,

he pinches his eyebrows. “28?”

she hums with a small laugh. “i’m 26”

miguel’a eyes widen slightly, “makes me older than you, then”

“how old are you?”

“32”

“really?” she asks in disbelief. “i thought older.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. around 40ish maybe.”

“that’s quite offensive, love” he fakes a gasp, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watches her scramble through more papers,

her heart skips a beat at the nickname, though she doesn’t think much of it. “it’s a compliment. the older the better, i’d say”

miguel smiles at that, walking around the table so now he stands across from her. “what did you and jessica talk about?”

“hm?”

“about me” he confirms. “you said that the two of you had talking about me.”

“oh, well” she begins, standing up straight to look into his eyes and miguel swears his knees almost give up. “she told me how much she admires you. your intelligence, bravery. your work ethic. told me all about the good things you had done for the people—“

“i don’t know about that”

“which” she cuts him off. “i am so, undeniably impressed by. keeping the universe intact while trying not to lose your fucking mind is hard, i could tell. I don’t know how you do it. makes me admire you too”

he stares at her as if he’s searching for a trace of doubt or a lie on her face. when he finds none, his heart softens. never in his life had someone come up to him and say how he’s doing a great job. let alone being impressed.

“thank you— i needed that actually” he laughs a bit. “wish people could say the same.”

“in my opinion, i don’t think you need to know about what other people think or say. you’re a grown man, correct?” she taps the eraser of her pencil on one of her sketchbook, eyeing any misguided lines she needs to work on. “if they don’t appreciate that, might as well kick their asses into a new universe”

a genuine chuckle escapes him, nodding in agreement. “i keep that in mind” he clears his throat, thinking about whether or not to make a small talk,

she notices the long pause between them before speaking up, “please, i hate awkward silence. you can talk to me, if you want to, miguel” her head shoots up at him with a playful tone,

“is architectural the only thing you’re doing?” he finds himself curious at her line of work,

“apart from this, i do a little bit of interior design. not too far off from architectural but not exactly the same either. i love anything that goes from there. putting ideas in my head before making it into a reality. also, it’s warming to see how i can help my clients dream come true” she responds simply, a small smile engraves on her pretty features.

“i also am studying in biochemistry at the moment. having a bit fun with molecular study.”

that perks his interest. “biochemistry?” he asks in a surprise tone. “i’m no expert in architectural but i don’t think it has anything to do with that.”

“it doesn’t” she confirms, picking a ruler before sketching out more details on the design. “i do it for fun.”

“for fun?” again, his question comes out in surprise, “why’s that?”

“i just think that learning shouldn’t be limited to one, you know? i like knowing about things. doing more things. the more knowledge, the more you have room to grow. plus, learning about molecules is interesting. might take it seriously on that one”

‘holy fuck, she’s perfect’

“that’s a— wow—“ he huffs out a heavy breath, can’t exactly tell if he’s impressed or intimidated. earning a soft giggle from her.

so, she’s gorgeous, brilliant and ambitious.

“how about you? jessica mentioned about you specializing in genetics. is that some sort of science thingy? because it sounds pretty fucking cool”

miguel scratches the back of his head. “something like that. i more focused on DNA’s, genetics pairings, human genome. all sorts of that. pretty boring if you ask me”

“doesn’t sound boring” she scoffs. “if anything, i find it very attractive when men are willing to learn about science. and i’m not just talking about the glasses, but the brains as well. you ticked every single quota, miguel”

she points at the working glasses he has on, causing his eyes to bug out at her boldness. y/n watches how he shyly takes it off, flustered at the compliment. she smirks as if she keeps trying to keep score on how many times she’s succeeded,

“okay, so” she continues, palms resting on the table before shifting the tablet. “let’s talk about your office. is there something you’re willing to change? because, not to be rude but your infrastructure is quite—shit. keep this up in two months then the apocalypse might have come early”

miguel bites back a laugh at her choice of words, scanning over his office walls, ceilings and monitors. “what do you suggest?”

she pauses, biting the end of her pencil before her eyes begin to do a 360 walkthrough. the sight is almost too perfect for miguel.

“we could do something about elevating the ceilings. make it a bit higher. and i see you have lesser—safety features? which could be quite concerning. we need to install biosafety cabinets, more detection systems and fire protection. I know you’re no ordinary man and could probably handle all the damage that might happen in the future but, it is my responsibility to ensure my client’s safety.”

miguel feels like a lovesick fool right now. and an asshole. he hadn't been listening a lot to what she had to say, merely focused on the way her pink glossed lips moving and how her fingers would occasionally fiddle against one another,

he imagines how her mouth would feel like, molding against his. there is no doubt in his mind that he would immediately be entranced with it.

"miguel? you listening?"

her sweet voice pulls him out of his train of thought, eyes blinking rapidly before meeting y/n's confused gaze,

"oh--y-yeah! yeah uhm.. that sounds great, would love that” his nervous chuckles makes her smile. “you’re really quick with it, aren’t you?”

“just doing my job, mr.o’hara” her tone is professional and prideful. “i’ll work quickly on the building designs, exploring more concepts for it and run a few test drives. however this might steal a bit of your time, from your job. weekly meetings are needed during this process. i’ll bring the mockups, sketches, models and everything. your inputs and feedbacks are required since this is your building after all. would that work?”

spending more time with her? oh, absolutely. he’d make it work,

he gives her a nod. “of course. i’ll clear my schedule off for it, just let me know when”

“excellent!” she exclaims with a bright smile, clapping her hands. “i will do my best to get it done as quickly as possible for you, miguel. i made a promise to jessica and i intend to keep that promise. it’s a long process but i need your full trust on me, okay? do you trust me?”

“yes” he answers without hesitation. “i trust you.”

“great! okay, that is all i have for you today. do you have any questions?”

miguel doesn’t like the idea of it ending here. not seeing her again until next week? that doesn’t feel right.

“you have a boyfriend?”

y/n halts at his question, looking at him with a confused yet amused expression. lip quirking in curiosity. “getting personal, aren’t we?”

“fuck, sorry, hermosa. you don’t have to answer that”

her heart skips a beat at the nickname. he just called her beautiful?

she eyes at how his gaze cast down the floor, head shaking. probably mentally kicking himself at the bold question he had thrown at her,

but she finds it adorable,

tilting her head to the side, she responds. “no. i don’t have a boyfriend. they are not quite up the standards i’m looking for.”

“yeah?” miguel takes a step forward, eyebrow raising. “and what are they?”

“my standards”

he finds it attractive at how she doesn’t like settling for less. she knows her worth without coming off too cocky nor bitchy about it,

“am i not allowed to know?”

“you can fuck around and find out” she smirks, pushing her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “i like to see them try.”

“you like seeing men on their knees begging for your time?”

she nods. “i live for it.”

he feels his cock growing hard at that,

“are you free, this friday?”

she bites down on her lower lip, watching how his biceps almost ripping his shirt off when he crossed his arms,

“i’m a busy woman, miguel”

“so am i” he responds quickly. “say dinner or a drink, anything. an hour or two tops, how about it?”

the way he’s looking at her should be illegal. he has this glint in his eyes. primal, confident. and it’s extremely charming in her own opinion,

she hates how it makes her heat rises,

with a hum, she slowly gather up her things, stacking the compiling files on the tablet. tucking them against her left breast.

“pick me up at 7. don’t be late. and i’m choosing where we should go. it was nice meeting you, mr. o’hara. i will see you then” with that she gives him a smile and a subtle wink before turning around to exit out of his office. leaving miguel completely speechless but enamored.

“fuck. i’m in love” he exhales a dreamy sigh

[theglamorousferal]

The Cryptid of Smallville

I am posting the first couple chapters of the fic that I am currently working on juuuust in case AO3 goes down again. In the next couple days I’ll start posting some of my wips that I don’t think I’ll finish. If any of them inspire people to write more then I’ll be happy. 

I had the thought a while ago about what if Danny was raised alongside Clark Kent and the hijinks that would result in Danny being near the liminal space that is cornfields. These are basically a series of connected one-shots because I am not that great at trying to do a real plot lol

Without further ado, here’s the first chapter of the Cryptid of Smallville! (Small edit: here’s the link to AO3 the first two chapters are there)

______________________________________________________________ The night sky was clear and open above the cornfields as a gentle breeze caused the plants to stir. It was a calm night on the Kent family farm. A streak of neon green broke across the sky and landed in the middle of the fields, purple tinged smoke wafting from the crash site. A boy of about six rolled over in his sleep, glowing green eyes glancing at the stars above framed by smoke. The gentle breeze is still blowing, returning the night to calm.

*****

Danny was gonna put Clockwork in soup time whenever he got back into the Zone. 

He was laying there, staring at the clouds in the sky, surrounded by corn, and only about three and a half feet tall, wondering where in the Realms he was. Clockwork had said something about sending him off somewhere with people who could handle a child with powers growing up before tossing him through a portal by the ankle. He had ended up in low orbit and was lulled to sleep by staring at the stars he is so fond of.

Crawling out of the hole he was in, he examined the surrounding area and just found a bunch of burnt and slightly smoldering corn and kicked up dirt. The gentle breeze brought the smell of bacon to his nose and he floated to look just above the tall plants around him. He spots a house in the distance and starts heading there, making sure to walk the last few yards just in case this isn’t where CW intended him to go. He finds himself stumbling from the field just to make eye contact with a man pulling on his work boots for the day on the porch steps, the man freezes. 

“Hey Martha?” The man yells into the house.

“Yes Jon?” a voice muffled from the door yells back.

“Do we have a spare room done up?” the man, Jon, asks, not taking his eyes off Danny.

“Why? Are you expecting someone and forgot to tell me?” the voice sounds like it’s getting closer to the door.

“No honey, I think we may have a repeat situation of Clark though.” He briefly glances from Danny up to the last bits of smoke wafting from the field. A quiet “What?” comes from the house. He gentles his voice, full attention on Danny. “Hey son, did you have a bit of an accidental landing in the corn? Is your head okay? Are your parents around?”

Danny stays still for a moment thinking about what’s going on. The man seems to at least suspect that he crash landed on his property and mentioned something about something like this happening before. Have these people dealt with a random child appearing at their house before? Specifically one that crashed from the sky? He has many questions, but he should probably answer Jon first. 

“Yeah, I got sent away until I was better, my head doesn’t hurt at all and my parents are not exactly from around here, and don’t know where I am.” He pauses thinking about it. “Does the children-crashing-onto-your-farm-thing happen a lot to you?”

Jon chuckled as he finished tying his boots up and walked down the stairs just as the door opens and a woman in an apron is standing there looking surprised to see an unknown child standing in her yard. The man crouches down in front of Danny, giving him a once-over. 

“You’d be surprised, now what’s your name son?.”

“It’s Danny Fenton, what’s yours?”

“Jon Kent, my wife over there is Martha. Now you look like you could use a good meal and a washup, how’s that sound?” Jon grins at Danny and musses up his hair before standing and offering a hand to walk into the house. He smiles over at Martha who blinks and then gives Danny a warm smile, standing aside to let them enter the house.

“Good thing I made some extra breakfast then, let’s get some food in you young man, you’re as skinny as a post!” She smiles and heads towards the kitchen. “Be sure to wash up your hands first hun, can’t eat with dirty hands! And Jon! What have I told you about your muck boots being in the house! I’m sure Danny can find his way and wash his own hands; second door on the right hun; and git outta my house with those things on, I’ll have more coffee ready for you once you feed the animals!” Jon pouted and trudged his way out of the house.

Danny smiled a little to himself as he looked for the door Martha was talking about, noting the wallpaper and decor that looked like every midwest farmer’s house he’d seen in any piece of media ever. After washing his hands he made his way to where he could hear soft humming and dishes being washed. He saw a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table next to a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and a container of syrup and headed to the spot.

“Thank you Mrs. Kent.” he said from his seat and she smiled back at him, going back to the dishes. Danny realized he’d probably have to start explaining what he could to them soon, but decided to focus on the breakfast in front of him. The breakfast that wasn’t alive and currently trying to kill him. He nearly cried.

“So Danny,” Martha began as she wiped her hands off with a dish rag. “Do you remember how it is you got here?” She joined him at the table with a cup of coffee after setting a mug, a spoon and the sugar bowl next to the machine for her husband when he came in.

“I do, it’s a really weird story though, I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” He was hesitant, he still wasn’t sure these were the people that Clockwork meant to send him to. Though they’ve taken the whole crash-landed-child-thing pretty well… Screw it, he’ll see if he can wait until Jon comes back and explain to both of them. “Can we wait for Mr. Kent too? I don’t really want to say it twice.” 

She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee and then nodded. “That’s fine hun, he shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes unless the rooster decided to pick a fight again.” she chuckled to herself, looking out of the window while drinking her coffee. She sees the faint trail of smoke rising in the sky outside and her eyebrows pinch in worry. “You didn’t happen to see anythin’ burning when you got up, did you?” 

Danny glances out the window and sees the smoke. “Oh no, there was just a little bit still smoldering in the hole, but there wasn’t anything actively burning. I can show you both when I finish explaining what I can.” The slapping of a screen door startles him and Jon walks in, heading straight for the coffee maker and making himself a cup, then joining them at the table.

“So Danny-boy, what can you tell us?” Jon gives his full attention to Danny. 

Danny shifts in his seat, looking every part the six year old he appeared to be, uncertain at the attention of two adults. “Well, it’s a long story and kinda out there? I’m not sure how much you’ll believe?” He looks uncertain at the pair across from him who share a look. Martha reaches across the table to take Danny’s hand.

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’re used to, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Danny only hesitated a moment longer and then sighed looking far older than his apparent six years. “So to start off with, wherever this is, I’m not from around here. I’m assuming since you both speak English that this is still Earth, but maybe not MY Earth, I’m still a bit confused on the whole ‘multiverse’ thing, but either way, I got sent here until some stuff got sorted out and so I’ll be here until it does.” He was rambling, he knew, but he’s kind of anxious about stuff. “I kinda got put in my childhood body and now I have to get back to my actual age and my Guardian said something about time here running differently than in my dimension before he just chucked me through a portal. He did say he was sending me to people who could handle my weirdness as I age, so I’m assuming you are them and maybe have some experience with kids with freaky weird stuff happening to them?”

The Kents once more shared a look, this one a little longer than the last, then turned back to Danny. “Oh son, I think you’ll fit in just fine. So, how long can we expect you for? I can tell you’re probably a lot older than six judging by how you talk?”

Danny blinked at him, trying to process the fact that they didn’t seem phased and rather seemed like they believed him. “Uh, I was sixteen, so I guess a decade? I’m sorry to impose on you for a while, really I can figure out stuff on my own, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon chuckled “Oh trust me son, it wouldn’t be an issue, I’m sure Clark would love a younger brother, or at the very least a friend who understands him. We have plenty of room here, and though we’d probably ask you for help with chores, we’d be glad to have you for however long you need.”

Danny blinks again at them. They weren’t serious, right? They just seem fine taking in a random child and having him live with them for however long. And who was this Clark? What did he mean by younger brother?

“Clark?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh right, our son, you’ll meet him when he gets home from school, I’m sure you’ll get along just fine! Now Danny, let me show you to a room and we can get you settled, we’ll probably have to head on over to the thrift shop to get you something to wear besides these charred and muddy pj’s, but we should have something from Clark that’s too small that’ll fit you for now.” Martha took his hand and led him upstairs to where he’d be in apparently his new home.

*****

Clark had had a pretty boring day at school. The classes were boring. He had to hold back in gym class again and when studying the skeletal system in biology, he started studying the teacher’s bones instead of the display skeleton or the worksheet. He was really looking forward to getting home and maybe going for a fly around the fields where no one could see him or maybe catching the latest episode of Rescue Rangers. 

He could spot his house in the distance and after looking around to make sure no one would see him, he sped down the driveway as fast as he could, knocking up a lot of dirt in the process. He really liked going fast, whether running or flying. He just loved the wind in his hair. 

“Ma, Pa, I’m home.” he kicked his sneakers off and rushed upstairs into his room to drop off his bag. He listened around for heartbeats and realized that Pa was out on the tractor and Ma was out with the chickens. He froze as he heard a much closer sound though. It was very slow and faint, but he could hear another heartbeat in the house. Even more, he could hear someone muttering to themselves in the guest room and the flipping of pages.

Clark slowly made his way down the hall towards the sound and peaked in the room with his x-ray vision. There, sitting on the ceiling, was a child about half his age reading a ratty old book about space. Clark stood in the doorway, now able to see him in regular vision and just stared at him. He took a moment until he decided to just join him up there and sat across from him.

“So who are you?” Clark asked while the kid was still focused on his book. He didn’t even look up from the book.

“Name’s Danny.” The kid paused for a second before he looked up and stared at Clark. Danny looked from Clark to the ceiling, to the floor, and then back to Clark. “Oh, so that’s why they said I’d fit right in here. I guess we are pretty similar! I’m guessing you’re Clark then?” The child beamed at him, putting out his hand to shake. Clark took it gently, not wanting to hurt the kid. Then the kid gripped his hand tight and Clark realized that they have more in common than he thought and gripped his hand tighter in response.

“So where are you from?” Clark asked, very curious as to how this kid who could fly and had his strength, but also had almost no heartbeat ended up at his house. Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m not from this Earth and I kinda got put here to recover for a long while and my Guardian decided your parents are the best equipped to handle a kid growing up with powers, so he sent me here. I’m guessing because of you?” 

“Yeah, mine started manifesting around your age. What powers do you have? How long do you plan to be here? Where are you from? You said this wasn’t your Earth, I’m guessing you’re from a different dimension then? That’s so cool!” Clark, ever curious, shot off many questions rapid fire and Danny laughed while answering them all as best he could.

Part 2

[sturnzyolo]

Shadows

Matt Sturniolo x fem reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing, a little eerie scenery, crying, stress, bullying mention, comfort, anxiety, and slight obsession (anything else will be added in later parts)

slight summary/teaser: reader feels a significant connection to a particular classmate of hers, her teacher's favorite student. One day, when on her way home, she hears something.

⚠️ my first ever fic so don't hate if it's absolute shit although I take honors english + I will NOT be writing any smut, (sorry u horndoggaroonies) bc I believe my digital footprint is terrible as is, so. let's not add onto it!

(This part is mainly created on my computer so if anything's fucked up ill fix it on my phone)

PART 1

3rd person POV?

Matt didn't understand why he was so favored in his calculus class, he wasn't a nerd, although he seemed like one with his glasses and button-ups. It wasn't like he got every answer right, no not at all. He barely even paid attention in class, his mind wanders instead.

Mr. Robinson has always been overly kind to Matt, he would have him stay after class or during passing period just to talk about how Matt was doing. Matt would constantly get a run down about Mr. Robinson's son having terrible anxiety. Maybe that's why he was so easy on Matt and favorited him, he most likely just reminded his teacher of his son, which seems more like pity. Matt usually would find this behavior odd, most teachers didn't even know Matt was in their class til he asked to go to the nurse, bathroom, office, or if there was any group project, he'd always be picked last by some group who didn't have enough members.

He noticed y/n looking at him in class, only from time to time of course, he found it weird how someone could be paying attention to him, then again he just thought she was making fun of him in her head.

Bullying wasn't like it was in the movies, for Matt, it was just whispers and stares. Kids would laugh as he passed, most called him the teacher's pet if they shared calculus with him. He mainly stuck to himself, somedays he didn't even show up, if it was just staying at home to do work online or going to an early therapy session.

Y/N POV

May 13th, 2024

(let's pretend their 18, in their senior year in 2024)

A dreadful Monday morning, Matt was wearing a collared white and blue striped button up with dark tan cargo pants. I watched him walk up to his seat in calculus class, nobody spoke to him except Mr. Robinson, giving an overly cheerful, "Goodmorning Matthew" as he headed in. Matt only muttered a tired "morning" as he threw his backpack next to his desk and leaned into his chair while he sat.

Class went as normal throughout his lecture. Honestly, I could've fallen asleep, for once I understood the material, so I found paying attention quite useless.

"Matthew what's the answer to page 347 question 9?" Mr. Robinson said abruptly

I practically jumped out of my seat, he never called on Matt, and I was shocked he finally did. I looked over to see Matt, knocked completely out of his daze, I guess he didn't expect the sudden call out either.

Matt fiddled with his pencil nervously as Mr. Robinson waited for an answer, yet he was only met with "Um's" and "Uh's" out of Matt.

I kicked Matt's ankle gently, I covered my mouth loosely as I whispered the answer, which I had to quickly figure out. I felt awkward in the moment just watching it, so I couldn't bare it lasting any longer.

Matt nervously repeated my words with stumbles, which I was even shocked that it was correct. Mr. Robinson seemed proud with a nod and a slight smile "Correct, amazing work Matthew"

Even with the praise he still seemed nervous, he was still anxious from the awkward occurance that had all the eyes laid onto him.

He turned back to me slightly, whispering a soft "thank you" before he sat up and tried to compose himself

"No problem" I said back quietly, although my voice was practically a loud speaker to Mr. Robinson, who almost instantly snapped his cold gaze towards me

"Ms. Y/L/N stop the talking back there or you're going to the office" he demanded in a very threatening tone

I never left it alone whenever I was unfairly called out, Mr. Robinson knew this, and I swear he did it to get a rise out of me.

"Sir I wasn't even talking!" I called out

"Well you are now so zip it or you're out." He argued

I scoffed "You always target me, I barely even opened my mouth sir, besides you shouldn't talk to a student that way if you're always pushing us to respect you when you don't even return it!" I don't know why I argued, it's pointless and I knew that

"I can talk to you however I like, get out of my class!" He yelled. I sighed and packed my things before throwing my bookbag over my shoulder and walked straight out of class. I gave Mr. Robinson a glare but he wasn't even looking, I dont know what I did for him to hate me but love Matt.

I stepped out into the hallway and slumped down the wall midway to the office, I didn't want to go. Besides nobody would even notice or care. I heard the classroom swing open, I quickly stood up thinking it was Mr. Robinson. But it wasn't.

Matt came out instead, "why's he out here" I thought, I decided it was a perfect chance to finally speak to him

"Shit you scared me, I thought you were the teacher" I said as I looked at him with a slight smile

"Oh sorry I didn't mean to scare you, uhm but thank you again for helping me back there with the question." Matt said lowly in somewhat of a nervous mumble

"No worries, I could tell you looked a bit lost. So why does Mr. Robinson favor you so much out of everybody, I was just curious." I finally was ready to hear the answer, I always thought they maybe were related somehow but then again it didn't seem like it and the school would separate them anyway.

"Uh well I think it's cause I remind him of his son, I barely even know the answer to that. I find it just as weird as everybody else does, people think I'm a teachers pet because of it." He admitted as he nervously tugged as his clothes, which I noticed.

"Oh, well I should probably go to the office since Mr. Robinson's most likely going to call them and ask if I showed up, bye matt, I'll see you in class" I said

"Bye y/n, im sorry for getting you in trouble" the last half of what he said barely was audible to me with the quiet tone he used as I walked away to the office

I already have an idea of where this story is leading & I'm guessing it'll only take at most 4 parts to get there, I just feel bad stuffing one part with so much. Also if the writing & dialogue suck it's bc I rushed this SORRY 😔

THIS PART IS RLLY BORING I PROMISE THE NEXT IS SM BETTER‼️

PART 3 OUT NOW

[exololyunho]

make you see god

masterlist

wc: 5.1k

summary: your dad had always warned you nothing good would come from relations with navy boys, but you were never one to listen

warnings: kinda e2l, drinking, this fictional mingi would be a red flag to me but its fiction so its hot, sexualizing the US military, oral sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, mingi picks the reader up, kinda rough sex, very minor sacrilege but its probably only offensive if you're super catholic, role-play??, tentative daddy kink but 'daddy' is never mentioned, reader does call him 'father' but I promise it's not as weird as it sounds

an: I wrote half of this over the summer when I went through a phase where all I could think about was glen powell so I watched like all of his movies and this was the result. I am aware this is very much a summer fling fic but it's cold where I am and the summer vibes feel fun. also sorry I've been gone so long but since I last posted I moved across the country, broke up with my bf, got a cat, got better antidepressants and got diagnosed with adhd so I've had a bit going on lol. I probably won't be posting often but once again I am soft launching a return. kinda. shits complicated

taglist: @staytinyinmybpack @jeonride @becky4733107-blog @ignoretheskies

Being raised by your dad and his navy buddies had taught you many things. Chief among them being not to mess around with navy guys. And to never surf at dusk. Of course you never learned your lesson.

It was during a surfing session at dusk that you met the navy man who would rock your world.

Sitting on your board, you took in the gentle rocking of the small waves as you waited for the swell that would carry you into shore. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange glow over the water. It was serene, peaceful, a gorgeous warm summer evening.

Until a shout broke through the air.

“SHARK!”

Immediately you drew your legs up on the board, frantically scanning the water around you. The only sharks around Miramar were white sharks and that meant almost certainly losing a limb if not your life.  When your eyes failed to find the telltale dark shape, you turned to look back at the shore.

Standing there, chuckling at his shitty joke, was a man. It was too far to make out the details, but from what you can see he was tall and lean, wearing a white short sleeve button down and khaki shorts.

“Just kidding!” he yelled. To say you were unamused was putting it lightly.

With a sigh, you decided to call it a night, having not seen any surfable swells coming your way anytime soon. Putting your feet back into the water and pivoting your board back towards the beach, you paddled in. 

Reaching the shore, you unclipped your ankle tether, gathering your board under your arm and storming up the man.

“Did you think that was funny? Everyone knows you don’t do that,” you glared at him. Up close you could see this man was a lot more handsome than you’d expected. His eyes were covered by aviators, but his jawline was strong, and his smile was cocky. His clean cut appearance and the way he carried himself gave you an inkling that he had military training

“I thought it was a little funny,” he quirked his head, nodding at you. “What were you doing out there?”

“Surfing, dipshit,” you moved past him. “Don’t do that again.”

“Are you going to at least tell me your name?” he shouted after you.

In response, all you offered him was your middle finger.

Working at the Hard Deck was a great job. It got tedious at times, dealing with overbearing and overly flirtatious sailors, but it was overall great. You loved bartending, loved meeting new people, loved eavesdropping on ridiculous conversations, and loved the lively atmosphere.

As with every usual night, you were enjoying your shift. You’d made friends with a few spring breakers, serving them tequila sodas and making plans to meet the girls at the beach the next day. 

The night was still young, so you balanced chatting with them while pouring beers and shots for the other patrons. The music was loud and so was the chatter.

Until a new group walked in, wearing service khakis. When the other patrons spotted them, they went quiet for a moment, raising their glasses in appreciation. You watched them make their way in, indifferent, as all it meant for you was more beer to pour. 

Your mood suddenly changed as you made eye contact with your prankster from last night. Rolling your eyes, you returned to polishing the glasses before you. 

“Hey surfer girl,” there he was, standing before you on the other side of the bar. Without his sunglasses, you could see his brown eyes looking back at you with a glimmer of something that had the dual effect of making your stomach flutter and making your fists itch to hit him.

“Hey asshole,” you kept up your work with the glasses, averting your eyes from his.

“So welcoming,” he placed a toothpick between his absurdly straight teeth. 

You sighed, setting down the glasses. “Can I get you something?”

“A friendly conversation and your name would be nice,” his eyes looked over you.

“Sorry we don’t serve that here,” you braced your hands on the counter. “How about a beer?”

“That’s a start,” his grin was blinding.

You rolled your eyes again, grabbing a freshly cleaned glass, pouring him the shittiest beer you had on tap. You placed the glass in front of him. Neither of you said anything for a moment, him staring at the glass, you staring at him expectantly.

“Weren’t you going to ask what beer I wanted?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you going to pay me?”

“Makes no sense but here,” he threw a card on the counter. “Close me out, would ya?”

“It’s $2.50 with a military discount, you don’t have any cash?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, picking up the card and dangling it lazily between two fingers. He waited for you to take the card, and after a moment of glaring at him, you snatched it. Quickly running the card, you returned it to him. 

“Anything else I can get you?” your tone was dry.

“Your name,” he responded, taking a small sip of his beer and grimacing.

“Yours first,” you countered.

“Priest,” he grinned.

“That’s your name?”

“It’s my call sign,” he looked smug.

“I wanted to know your name, not your call sign, douchebag,” you picked up another glass to polish.

“Give me yours first.”

“Nice to meet you, Priest,” you gave him one last smile before turning to serve another guest.

“Hey!” Priest called after you. “Your name?” 

“Next time!”

Next time came sooner than you had expected. 

It was the following day, you were with the two girls you’d met the night before, relaxing on the beach, your board next to you. The three of you were making small talk about the books you were reading mixed with questions about your backgrounds.

“So, Y/n, did you grow up here in Miramar?” the blonde, Yeji, asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but you were interrupted before you could.

“So your name is Y/n, then.”

A shadow fell over you, forcing you to remove your sunglasses to face Priest. It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless and as much as the man annoyed you, you were very appreciative of the view above you. His chest was chiseled, strong and muscled, but lean. His thighs were equally as strong and toned, covered by navy blue swim trunks that hung low on his hips.

“My eyes are up here, babe,” he was grinning, his own eyes flicking over you.

Leaning up on your elbows you grinned back. “So are mine, Priest.”

“Touche,” he took his own sunglasses off. “Who are your friends?”

“This is Yeji and Lia,” you gestured to the two girls.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Priest gave a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Y/n, you wanna take a walk?”

“No not really,” you lowered your sunglasses.

“I’ll buy you a daiquiri.”

“What makes you think I like daiquiris?”

“Everyone loves daiquiris.”

“Fair enough,” you took his hand, letting him help you up. Grabbing the oversized button down you used as a cover up, you threw it on. “Watch my stuff?”

“Sorry, babe but we’re heading out soon,” Lia looked between you and Priest apologetically.

“No worries,” Priest grabbed your tote bag and surfboard for you. “We can leave it with my friends.”

“You think I trust your friends?” you put your hand on your hip.

“Just cooperate for once in your life,” Priest rolled his eyes.

“You’ve known me for 3 days and you just learned my name.”

“Let’s fix that,” Priest grinned down at you.

“Fine, fine,” you waved him off, then waved to the girls. “See ya.”

The two of you started down the beach, Priest holding your bag and board. A few hundred feet down the beach, you stumbled on his friends. A bunch of men, all toned and laughing as they tossed around a football. 

“Guys, this is surfer girl,” Priest called out to them. The seven men before you all turned, waving hello. “Introductions can wait. Watch her stuff?”

“Sure,” one of them called out and Priest dropped your stuff on a towel.

“Come on,” he took your hand. Priest was dragging you along, but he only made it a few paces before you were jerking your hand out of his.

“I can walk on my own, you know,” he started chuckling. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I'm following you for a free drink.”

“I like to think that my company also has something to do with you following me,” he slowed his pace to match yours.

“Presumptuous,” you stared straight ahead, refusing to have to look up at him.

Priest grumbled something under his breath, but you weren’t listening. Instead you were focused on the beachfront bar you were rapidly approaching. It was tacky, decorated with tiki torches, fake coconuts, and plastic leis. The bartender was wearing an open Hawaiian shirt.

“Aloha and welcome to Miramar’s premier Hawaiian style beach bar!” Priest made small talk with the man as you scanned the menu, picking out the most expensive drink you could find since it was on his dime.

“I think I’ll take the Ultra Aloha,” you gave your best smile to the bartender.

“Coming right up, pretty lady,” he turned his focus to Priest, his smile dying. “For you?”

“The same,” Priest was pulling out his wallet.

As the blender whirred away, you turned to him.

“So where did Priest come from?”

“Oh come on now,” he ran a hand through his black hair. “I can’t give away all of my secrets on the first date.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “I thought I told you I was just here for the free drink.”

“You’re the one who called me presumptuous,”  the bartender set your drinks on the counter, taking the $40 from Priest. “Keep the change.”

The two of you took the drinks, walking away as the bartender called after you. “The change is 50 cents!”

You followed Priest down to some chairs nearby, slowly sipping your drink. It was actually pretty good. So good, you couldn’t taste the rum over the pineapple. Dangerous.

“What were we talking about?” he asked as he sat in the chair. His legs were spread tantalizingly. Seeing him like this made you so mad for a reason you couldn’t put your finger on. Something about how lazily and confidently he looked over the beach before you, the casual confidence with which he held himself. What was really getting to you was the way his tongue played with the straw of his drink.

Shaking yourself out of it, you cleared your throat. “We were talking about how you thought this was a date.”

“Ah yes,” he nodded sagely. “Two people, getting drinks, talking alone on a beach, getting to know each other. Not a date.”

You snorted, gesturing to the quite busy area around you. “First of all, we’re not alone, there's a million other people on this beach. Second of all, we are not getting to know each other, you won’t even tell me your name.”

“You wouldn’t tell me your name either, I had to find it out from other people,” he shifted to face you. “So, in exchange for buying you a second drink, can we cut the crap? I think we can both agree that I clearly find you attractive, and I have a sneaking suspicion that you feel the same about me, and I want to know more about you.”

You were quiet for a moment, taking in his words and thinking over yours carefully. You moved to look at him better. “What’s your name?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” his grin was wider now. “It’s Mingi.”

“Mingi,” you repeated with a smile on your face. Taking a moment, you started sucking down your drink, rushing to finish it.

“In a hurry for that next drink?”

“Sure,” you finished your drink, handing him the cup. “Mingi’s a nice name.”

With that, you were standing up, and walking away from him.

“Where are you going?” he called after you.

Turning and walking backwards, you lifted your middle fingers. “To surf!

It was a week before you saw him again. A Thursday night to be specific. It was your day off, yet here you were, sitting at the bar of the Hard Deck, chatting with your coworkers between them serving other patrons and you sipping on your vodka cran.

Your night was peaceful. Not quiet, with the music playing and the few other patrons chatting, but still peaceful.

Until, once again, your peace was ruined by someone sliding into the barstool next to you. Glancing up, you weren’t surprised to see Mingi sliding into the seat. He was dressed casually, jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t look quite as cocky as he usually did. In fact, he looked almost irritated. 

“Rough day?” 

Mingi snorted, and ordered a beer. “You have no idea.”

He took a long drink. “Made worse by you running away from me last week.”

You glanced at him. You hadn’t felt bad before, but seeing him so frustrated now made you feel slightly shitty. “I’m here now. Wanna talk about what’s got you in a mood?”

“I didn’t think we were close enough for that. You know, since you ran away when I said I wanted to get to you?”

“I get it, I get it,” you waved your hand. “So what’s wrong?”

Mingi sighed. “Shitty instructor.”

“Wait, you're still in flight school?” you looked at him quizzically.

“Kinda. It’s complicated but I graduated a while ago, top of my class by the way, but a bunch of us got recalled for extra training. Top secret mission, y’know? If-”

“If you tell me you’ll have to kill me?” you smiled at him.

His cocky smile was back. “Exactly.”

You laughed, finally willing to admit to yourself that you were starting to enjoy his company. 

“So, if I buy you another drink, are you going to run away from me?” he arched an eyebrow. 

“I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink,” your eyes met and both of your smiles started to fall, the tension building between you.

Before it could build anymore, you cleared your throat. Looking away, you ordered both of you a new round of drinks. As the bartender poured them, you glanced back at him.

“So, where’d Priest come from?” new drinks were placed before you and you eagerly accepted the glass.

“If you were to ask me, I’d say it’s because I could make you see god,” Mingi’s smile was salacious, his eyes dropping to scan over your cropped t-shirt and daisy dukes. 

You swallowed hard. “And if I were to ask anyone else?”

He took a gulp of his beer. “If you were to ask anyone else, they’d say it was because I fly recklessly. Make the guys I’m flying with need their last rights.”

You were silent for a minute, taking in his words. “Why?”

He looked at you, clearly confused. “Why what?”

“Why do you fly like an ass?”

He chuckled, watching for a moment as you took a sip, waiting for him to answer. “I fly like I do because it gets the job done.”

“You don’t worry your buddies won’t have your back if you put them in danger?” your eyes scanned his face over the rim of your glass.

A faint smile graced his lips. “Our missions are important. And sometimes they call for drastic measures.”

You hummed in response, still focused on his face. You could see his face shift ever so slightly with what could only have been memories of past missions.

“So have they ever needed them?”

He quirked his head, not quite following your chain of thought. All you could do was hope that this hot man before hadn’t actually killed someone because of his own reckless nature.

“Needed their last rights.”

He laughed again, but it wasn’t nearly as joyful. “Not through any fault of mine, thankfully. I’ve lost people, sure, but I’ve never been the reason.” Mingi took a deep drink. “As much of an asshole as I can be, and my call sign aside, I don’t think I could live with myself if it ever was my fault.”

You nodded, finally tearing your eyes away from his face to fiddle with the two tiny straws in your glass.

Mingi clearing his throat drew your eyes back up. “Do you want to get out of here?”

At your raised eyebrow, he backpedaled. “We can just take a walk that’s totally fine but I-”

“Yeah,” you interrupted. “Let’s get out of here.”

Your back slammed against your closed front door. Mingi’s lips were on yours the moment the two of you made it inside your apartment. A combination of the furious kisses and the sudden impact of your back into the door had knocked the breath from your lungs, but not a single cell in your body wanted to pull away from Mingi.

He was intoxicating. He tasted faintly of beer and something indescribable that was just him. His lips were soft, his tongue insistent, and his hands wandering over every inch of you was exhilarating.

Eventually, you did have to come up for air, pulling away from him to let your head rest back against the door. Mingi didn’t miss a beat, his mouth migrating to your neck, nipping and sucking and kissing across your pulse point. 

Your left hand was grasping the front of his shirt and your right was on his back, feeling the flexing of the muscles there as he held onto you as if you’d disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second. 

Without missing a beat, his lips still attacking your neck, his hands slid to your thighs, picking you up in one fluid motion. A gasp escaped your lips as he settled your legs around his waist, perfectly situating you to feel exactly how hard he was under his jeans. 

The pressure of that length pressing right between your thighs combined with a perfectly targeted bite to a sensitive point on your neck had you releasing a breathy moan. 

Mingi’s lips parted from your neck as he now looked up to face you. One of your hands instinctively went to tangle in his hair as you crashed your lips onto his again. The force had his mouth dropping open as you took your turn to entwine your tongue with his. The two of you were aggressively fighting to see who’d come out on top.

You had thought you were winning until it was Mingi’s turn to grab your hair. He pulled your mouths apart and the act had you clenching around nothing as his face nuzzled into your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he spoke in a low tone. “Where’s your room?”

“Down-” you were cut off by his hips grinding into yours. Painting, you pulled yourself together enough to answer him. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”

Mingi immediately pulled you away from the door, his steady hands holding on tight as he seamlessly navigated your small space. He damn near kicked your door down, slamming it open before he was tossing you onto your bed. 

You let out a startled yelp before laughing. Scooting farther up your bed, you gave him your best bedroom eyes and spread your legs, suddenly remembering his call sign.

“Forgive me, father,” your lips curved into a faux pout as you made your voice as sultry as you possibly could. “For I have sinned.”

Mingi stopped for a moment before he put his head in his hands. For a moment you feared you’d made a mistake. Until you saw his shoulders shaking with laughter. He managed to compose himself, crawling towards you on the bed until he was situated between your spread legs on his knees. He still looked as if he was trying to hold it together.

“I don’t know if that was the corniest or the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Both of you were trying to hold back laughter, but his hand making contact with your thigh sobered you up. His long, nimble fingers stole your attention away from the joking atmosphere.

“So how should I repent?” your teeth bit into your lower lip as you laid back to pull your shirt over your head, revealing you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Mingi’s laughter disappeared as well as he took in your breasts. 

His lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned over you, laying a kiss between your breasts, his eyes meeting yours. “I think 3 orgasms should be enough to forgive your sins.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips found one of your nipples and your hand once again found his hair. His own hand rose up, those long fingers playing with your other breast. 

He savaged it with the same vigor he had attacked your neck with earlier. His teeth left small nips all around as his tongue soothed the bites. You were panting, holding him tight to you with your eyes closed. 

Leaning back slightly to admire his work for a moment, Mingi quickly switched his focus to your other breast. He lavished the same treatment, leaving small marks all over. 

When you were thoroughly decorated in hickeys, he finally sat back up, admiring you splayed out before him as you caught your breath. As he stared, his hand came up to grab his shirt by the back of the collar, pulling it over his head.

Now it was your turn to ogle, thoroughly enjoying his broad muscled chest and a light dusting of hair that trailed down his abs and disappeared into his pants. 

You were broken out of your trance as his hands came down to pop the button on his jeans and then your shorts. Recognizing his goal, you lifted your hips, allowing him to pull your shorts and underwear down in one fluid movement. He flung them across the room.

Once you were naked beneath him, his hands fell to your thighs. They slid up until they reached your hips. Mingi slid himself down the bed until he was on his stomach, face level with your core. 

His hot breath fanning over you was enough to have your breath hitching and body tensing as you waited for him to touch you where you so desperately needed him. But he didn’t move, his eyes locked on yours. 

Both of you were frozen for what felt like a century, until he was suddenly moving forward, parting your folds with his tongue. The exhalation of relief that left you quickly morphed into a moan as his tongue found and circled your clit. You were so distracted by the bliss of finally feeling the pleasure you’d been hoping he’d give you that you didn’t even notice his hands moving. 

One hooked under your thigh, finally coming to rest on your stomach, right above your pelvic bone. The other slipped a finger inside of you. You were practically dripping at this point.

Mingi’s tongue never stopped working tight circles around your clit as his finger quirked up, stroking along your walls in a way that had your legs shaking while you gasped out moans and whimpers.

He slid a second finger inside you, alternating between scissoring them and swirling them around inside you. The pressure in your abdomen was tightening more and more every second. Your hand was fisted in the sheets, your head thrown back, breath coming quicker and quicker.

Mingi could tell you were close. He kept the same rhythm on your clit, but focused his fingers' attention purely on your g-spot, applying more pressure.

You were right on the edge and then you tumbled into the best orgasms you’d ever had. Your whole body tensed and your moans were silenced for a moment as your muscles clenched around him before whimpers were escaping you as your hips jerked and your breath came in shaky spurts.

Mingi hadn’t let up with his fingers or his tongue, keeping your high going until your body was trembling and you were pushing his head away. He relented, pulling back and wiping his mouth.

Your eyes were closed as you laid there, panting, legs still twitching as you tried to recover. You could have sworn you blacked out for a moment when he kept your orgasm going.

“That’s one down,” Mingi’s smug tone had you opening one eye to glare at him before it slipped shut again.

“I think any more might kill me.”

In response, he grabbed your hips, jerking you down the bed and pulling your legs over his thighs until your core was pressed to the front of his boxers. He’d pulled down his jeans at some point while you were recovering.

You could feel the heat of him against you, the hardness of his cock pressing into you as he subtly ground his hips into yours.

“I think you’ll probably live,” his hands slipped from your hips to grab your ass.

“I highly doubt it,” you shook your head, then a smile crossed your face. “At least you’ll be here. I can get my last rights and finally have a hope of going to heaven.”

He smiled, but was quickly pulling down his boxers. “I told you I could make you see god. I just hope I can do it without actually killing you.”

You would have laughed, if not for the fact that as he finished removing his boxers, his dick finally came into view. He was bigger than you’d thought he’d be. He wasn’t horrifyingly big, but he looked long enough to reach the deepest parts of you and thick enough to stretch you out enough that you’d be feeling it tomorrow.

Mingi tracked your gaze focused on his cock and grinned. “I think it’s time we finish your penance.”

His words had you swallowing as he guided his length into you. God damn were you right. He was moving slowly, but you felt every inch of him sliding into you, stretching you and filling you in all the right ways. 

When he bottomed out, you were expecting him to give you a minute to adjust, but what you weren’t expecting was for him to not move at all. He stayed seated all the way inside you as his fingers moved to your clit. 

“What are you-” you cut yourself off with a whimper as his fingers began moving in quick circles. 

“We’ve got to get you to three orgasms,” he leaned over you, his lips once again connecting with your breasts. “And I am so hard, I won’t last if I try to get you through two by fucking you.” 

His teeth gently bit down on your hard nipple. 

“That, and I really want to be able to focus on how fucking good you feel when you cum on my cock.” His voice was low, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Already you were so close. Still sensitive from the orgasm you just had, his fingers were pushing you right up to the edge once again. It was all you could do to cling to his strong arms as your back began to arch and your legs tightened around him.

Mingi kissed up from your breasts to your ear. He took your earlobe between his teeth before brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. “Cum.”

And you did, thankfully, not as intensely as before. But still, you cried out as you held on to him, your hips twitch up on their own and your muscles contracting around him.

“Fuck,” Mingi groaning in your ear had a high pitched moan leaving your lips. 

This time, he didn’t prolong your orgasm for too long. He gradually slowed his pace before pushing himself back up onto his knees.

“Thats. Two.” he punctuated each word with a thrust. Your head dropped back, the feeling of him finally moving was ecstatic. The slight upward curve of his length dragged across your g-spot every time he moved in and out.

“God, fuck, I think I could watch you cum all day,” he was settling into a rhythm that combined power with deep, slow thrusts. The force of each inward push was moving you up the bed. Mingi’s solution was to simply drag you back down to meet every one of his movements.

Each time your hips met, your skin slapping together combined with your moans and his low curses and grunts. It was music to your ears as you lost yourself in the sensation.

His thrust gradually grew in speed as he got closer. You were still a ways off from your third orgasm and he could tell. You yelped in shock as his hand on your hip shifted so his thumb could softly brush over your clit. 

“I-I can’t” you stuttered out.

“Yes you can,” he slowed his thrusts ever so slightly, leaning over you. “Gotta finish your penance, yeah?”

You laughed, only for it to be broken off into a moan as he leaned back up, increasing the speed of his thrusts and the rate at which he rubbed your clit. Your body was tensing up again, the pressure building up alarmingly quickly.

“Mingi- I-”

“Do it,” he grunted, thrusting even faster. “Cum. Cum on my fucking cock. You can do it. Cum for me.”

And you did, one last time. Everything was so intense. The sensation washed over you, an all consuming wave of pleasure that quite literally had tears falling down your face. Your vision went white and you felt like you were floating.

Mingi continued thrusting into you rapidly, prolonging your orgasm, although he did thankfully take his thumb off your clit to spare you some overstimulation. 

You were just starting to come down when Mingi was finally moaning out his own release, spilling deep inside you. His hips stuttered and his head hung as he rode out his own waves of pleasure.

Both of you were panting heavily, but he stayed inside you for a few moments after he came. 

Finally, he pulled out of you. He flopped down beside you on the bed, pulling you into his side. You happily snuggled up to him, resting your head and hand on his chest and throwing a leg over his.

The two of you basked in the silence. 

Until you broke it. “So, am I forgiven for my sins?”

Mingi was silent for a moment. 

“Mmm, I don’t know. Three might not have been enough.”

You lifted your head to look up at him incredulously. He met your gaze with laughter before he pulled you into a kiss.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 10)

Hello party people! On Monday, I ate shit (fell) in my garage, so now my knee has the circumference of a small honeyed ham! Also, my ankle completely folded under me but is somehow fine?? Did I mention that I also closed one of my thumbs in the car door last weekend? I am unfit for survival, I think!

Anyway, I hope you're all doing better than I am lol. Thank you all again for the likes and shares, and I hope you all enjoy part 10.

Smoochies, squeezies, etc.

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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Werewolves Can Love Too by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 2,190)

Home intruders should really know better.

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Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller (T | 1/1 | 2,699)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside.

"I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

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The dangers of deja-vu series by MsCee (2 works | G | 5,338)

1. Why deja-vu is a dangerous thing (G | 1/1 | 2,887) When something makes his new deputy seize up like only true love can, John Stilinski is prepared tease the ever-living hell out of him. He’s prepared to look up and see some pretty girl with a bit of an edge, with a loud laugh and a bright smile that could coax even his sullen deputy out of his frown. What he’s not prepared for is to look up and see a very familiar face ambling towards his desk. 2. Hindsight is 20/20 (G | 1/1 | 2,451) When John imagined having a grandkid, he naively assumed that his son’s quirks would be diluted by another set of genes. Given that there is currently a naked four year old on his porch, looking almost smarmy about the fact that even Derek can’t find his socks… Well, in hindsight, John really should have expected this.

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The Electric House of God, Forever by velveteenshadowboxer (E | 1/1 | 8,641)

The sheriff clears his throat. “You can tell me, you know. If he’s pressuring you. If he’s pushing you too far.” He hesitates. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?” he asks quietly.

Listening closely, Derek can just imagine Stiles’ amused smile, the way his mouth might quiver as he holds back a laugh. “No, Dad. He’s afraid of me.”

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Best in Show by thegirlgrey (T | 1/1 | 8,911)

Derek adopts a cat. Or a cat adopts Derek. It all depends on who’s telling the story really.

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Stutter and Shake by zosofi (T | 1/1 | 9,167)

The likelihood of a major quake of magnitude 7.5 or greater hitting California in the next thirty years is 46 percent.

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Flesh and Bone by theinspiredginger (T | 1/1 | 9,320)

Dean's trapped in Purgatory looking for his angel when a not so subtle kid in a red sweatshirt asks to team up. Dean takes Little Red Riding Hoodie underneath his wing as they try to escape.

Or the one where Stiles bargains with a witch to get sent to purgatory to save Derek and finds Dean instead. They work together to find a way out of Purgatory as they each look for their "person".

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Line In The Sand by kellifer_fic (T | 1/1 | 9,670)

He’s going to die.

Derek is certain of it. He'd used the last of his proverbial lives even though that’s only supposed to apply to cats, and he’s now going to die. He’s completely, one hundred percent resigned to it even, until he hears the familiar thump-ump of Stiles' heart approaching.

Suddenly, it’s Stiles that’s going to die and that’s unacceptable.

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The Chase by saltandbyrne (E | 1/1 | 10,435)

Derek's fourth Chase will be his last if he doesn't catch an omega this time. He's starting to doubt this whole soul-mate thing anyway, at least until someone from his past shows up and gives him the run of his life.

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Miles Away by sori (M | 1/1 | 12,509)

Maybe it should have felt like a bad thing, realizing that his pack wasn’t actually his anymore. He didn’t really want to admit that the day he looked around and saw Scott taking care of everyone, Derek breathed easily for the first time since he’d met Kate Argent.

(Story contains general season 3 spoilers, but doesn't follow strict season 3 canon.)

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Strong, Stronger, Strongest by Green (E | 1/1 | 16,248)

Close to death, Stiles can choose to die or accept Derek as his Alpha. It's up to the rest of the pack to heal him and face the Alpha pack threat.

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Dream of Life Again by BarlowGirl (E | 1/1 | 18,321)

“You better be ready,” Lydia says as she cleans dirt out from under her nails with an antiseptic wipe. Stiles can smell the lemon scent even from where he stands a few feet away. She’s probably going to end up covered in blood in a few moments, but she likes to be in control in any way she can, so he doesn’t tease her about this. “It’s time to start.”

“I’m ready,” Stiles says and he’s pretty sure it’s not even a lie. Hopefully.

Scott, Stiles, and Lydia each sit at one point of the triskelion that Lydia’s drawn on the tarp. The center is a tight knot of some language Stiles had never even heard of before this, written in ink in tiny writing. It’s beautiful and also makes him slightly nauseated. Lydia makes both cuts, so the blood drops from Stiles’ arm and Scott’s, too, into the center of the triskelion. There’s wolfsbane on Scott’s knife, not enough to make him sick, but enough to keep him from healing too quickly.

It’s a surprisingly simple thing, after that, for what they’re doing. Blood, a few words, and a little magic.

Just those things, and, for the first time in three years, Laura Hale gasps in a breath.

Or: Resurrected Laura!!!

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call me, maybe (but not in the library) by bibliosexual (E | 12/12 | 23,839)

There’s a long pause, and then: “You’re not Erica.” Stiles can’t help it. He snorts. “Yeah, no, dude, that’d be pretty difficult since I’m a guy.”

AU where Stiles is an undergrad at UCLA and Derek works in the university library.

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Maggie May by Spikedluv (M | 1/1 | 24,997)

When Laura Hale died, she left behind a daughter, Maggie. Stiles (and his dad) have been caring for Maggie since the night Laura disappeared. Unbeknownst to Stiles, however, Maggie’s a werewolf, and she’s bonded with Stiles. Which means he feels extra protective when Peter Hale appears on the scene. (He may have also developed a little crush on Maggie’s uncle, the silent and brooding Derek Hale. Who said Stiles’ life was boring?)

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Family by Choice series by FairyNiamh (3 works | G-T | 28,343)

Not all families are bound by blood.

1. Finding Family (T | 4/4 | 26,322) After finding a puppy, Stiles gets more than he expected and everything he could have hoped for. 2. Bath Time (G | 1/1 | 883) Stiles just wants to give Lily a bath. Why do toddlers and family have to be so tiring? 3. Festival of Family (T | 4/4 | 1,138) Now that Lily is 4, things need to change.

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Adventures and Explorations series by Survivah (2 works | T-M | 30,344)

1. A Simple Life (T | 2/2 | 13,763) Derek plans to spend the rest of his life holed up in the woods after Laura dies. Then he meets a stubborn young fox, and the stubborn young fox meets an urn of Deaton's magic powder, and his plans change. 2. Finding Miracles (M | 1/1 | 16,581) Stiles was planning on just being a fox for his entire life. Then, well, magic, true love, blah blah blah, things got complicated. But as it turns out, he still has a lot to learn about this new world he's living in. Humanity, man. It's weird. - Or, the sequel to A Simple Life, brought to you by popular demand.

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I'd Do Anything (for you) by LadySlytherin (E | 18/18 | 46,936)

Nearly two years after being possessed by the Nogitsune, Stiles is still trying to get a handle on things. Away at college, he feels more stable; more settled. But at home in Beacon Hills for summer break after his Freshman year at UC Berkeley, he is once again plagued by nightmares.

The thing is, Void left behind a thousand years worth of information in Stiles' head. Information that Stiles is slowly realizing can help undo some of the damage that was done to Beacon Hills.

Between bodies once again turning up in Beacon Hills and an increasingly close relationship with Derek Hale, Stiles has a lot on his plate. Factor in a talking tree, a sacred duty to the land, and some dead/not-dead drama, and Stiles is about to have one Hale of a summer.

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Everything that is Holding You Back series by herlovewasajoke (2 works | T-E | 49,147)

An AU in which Stiles is bitten while visiting family. The new alpha of Beacon Hills won't allow an omega in his territory... but he is willing to expand his pack.

1. Everything that is Holding You Back (T | 2/2 | 46,987) “I'm here because my son needs to come home, Mr. Hale,” the sheriff said, brushing aside any need for pleasantries. Derek would be grateful for that if he had any idea what the hell was going on. 2. Finding Comfort (E | 1/1 | 2,160) A follow-up to Everything that is Holding You Back, set roughly a year later. Stiles unexpectedly comes home from college on a Tuesday night. Wednesday morning is quiet and lazy.

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play it again series by metisket (3 works | T | 74,696)

1. Play It Again (T | 3/3 | 63,206) In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself. “Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)” 2. This Doesn't Hurt (T | 1/1 | 4,680) Melissa isn’t sure how she accidentally adopted a teenager, but she’s confident that somehow, it’s all Stiles Stilinski’s fault. 3. Kiss of Death (T | 1/1 | 6,810) It’s Stiles’s eighteenth birthday, and he may have made bold statements about jumping certain people on his eighteenth birthday. Out loud. With witnesses. But that’s fine—it’s nothing to stress about. It’s not like every single person he’s ever kissed got horribly murdered or anything. Oh wait, yes it is. It’s exactly like that.

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Building Something series by unpossible (6 works | NR-E | 76,527)

1. keeping the stars apart (T | 10/10 | 15,285) Derek watches that sharp brain come fully online. “Oh God,” Stiles says, and now he smells of embarrassment. “Fuck. I just- did I just have a fucking panic attack in front of Jackson?” “It’s okay,” he says simply. “Really. Is it.” Stiles sighs without looking up. “Well. At least I wasn’t naked.” 2. all we inherit (G | 5/5 | 7,631) “C’mon,” Stiles whines, half-turning. “You can’t drag me into your lap and then expect me not to want to hit that.” Mark dies a little at ever having heard that phrase come from his son’s mouth, let alone directed at an older, leather-jacket-wearing accused murderer with seemingly permanent three day growth. 3. howling and half hid (E | 12/12 | 24,512) The Sheriff has had some long, disturbing talks with Deaton, as well as the shaman who did Stiles’ tattoo, and the Stilinski house is now awash with mountain ash beams for boarding up doors and windows, and protective runes carved on the roof beams at the four compass points. Stiles suspects his Dad also stocked up on rock salt, just in case Supernatural turns out to be a documentary. 4. formidable from a distance (G | 1/1 | 2,058) So now it’s a beautiful crisp morning and the house is full of family. They’ve shredded their way through a half-ton of brightly colored wrapping paper and Ellie’s squeals have attained a pitch Derek didn’t know human throats could reach. 5. a slow way (NR | 6/6 | 13,704) “Stiles. We need to talk.” He goes cold all over. “What?” “To talk,” Derek repeats, and how’s that for fucking irony? Derek. Wants to talk. “We don’t need to talk,” Stiles says, sharp and fast, “we’re fine, everything’s fine. Why would we need to talk?” 6. into the ripe air (NR | 5/5 | 13,337) “Stiles,” Ted says as he rounds the front of the car. His eyes flick to Derek, and then to James, and there’s an indefinable change in his face that has Stiles’ shoulders tightening and he takes a long, slow breath, the better to take careful hold of his temper, because there are consequences for everything he says and does now, and he’s not a sixteen year old smartass anymore.

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[bookishtheaterlover7]

a/n: Hey, everyone! This is my very first fic in an extremely long time(like 5 - 6 years long). And honestly, I'm nervous to post because this really is the very first time, I've ever written for Lloyd Hansen. I just hope y'all like it.

Lloyd Hansen x Reader

word count: a lot(?)

WARNINGS: Lloyd torturing(not the reader), brief mention of electro shock, torture and death, manipulation, slight cursing, dark!Reader and semi-dark!Lloyd(he's kind of soft for Reader). I don't know how to rate this, so to be safe, MINORS DNI!!!

Enjoy!

*Y/H/C = Your Hair Color

**C/T/B/C/Y = Color That Best Compliments You

Lloyd was doing one of his favorite activities in the world, torture. And no, not the kind that brings an earth-shattering pleasure to his partner. This type of torture is done when one needs information. Wherein, the unwilling recipient has had his wrists and ankles bounds to a wooden chair, his body convulsing and reacting to every electrical wave that was pushed into his body. To his relief, the shocks came to a slow and steady stop, which lead to his torturer leaning down to his level, looking like an eager cat.

"Wasn't that just fun, Ram? Huh? Now, tell me what I want to know, and this all ends..." Lloyd said, punctuating each word with a slow, lazy drawl, as he keeps his hand on the switch of the device, almost teasingly playing with it. Deep blue eyes gleaming with a dangerous sparkle. A subtle threat.

"I told you, I don't know!" Ram continued to say. Trying so desperately to hang on to his deniability in all of this. Praying to any god above that someone would help him escape this hell.

"Oh, Ram... Shame... And I was beginning to like you..." Lloyd sighed, adjusting himself on his stool across from Ram, his fingers twitching, ready to flick the switch once more. Sending more unending shocks to Ram's weakening body.

Maybe there is a god, when the sound of a ringing phone broke the intense silence of the basement, answering Ram's silent prayers.

"What did I say, about LEAVING YOUR DAMN PHONES ON WHILE I'M WORKING?!?!" Lloyd shouted, standing up and slamming his fist way too close to the device on the table next to him.

"It's your phone, Sir." One of his goons, who was keeping guard, replied.

"Who is it?" Lloyd asked, his voice containing a dangerous note, towards the end.

"The big boss, Sir." Another goon, who was standing close to the tray that contained Lloyd's phone, answered.

"I'll be right back..." Lloyd told his prey, lightly, almost playfully, tapping Ram's cheek, causing him to flinch away.

Lloyd swaggered away, grabbed his phone, and headed into the next room, signaling to most of the goons to follow him, and leaving two to keep a firm eye on Ram.

Half delirious, Ram's vision was blurry. It has him blinking several times to try and clear it, which didn't really do much. But that didn't stop him from noticing a slowly approaching figure. This figure wasn't what he'd expected in a place like this.

She had flowing *Y/H/C, dressed in a **C/T/B/C/Y dress, that caught his attention, even with his worsening eye sight, for it complimented her skin perfectly. The sweet combination, making her seem like an angel in this hell.

She offered comfort and relief the second she placed the cool, soft, rag on his sweaty forehead. Forcing a groan of relief out of his chapped lips, his body sagging at the small semblance of relief.

"You don't deserve to be treated like this... Lloyd's always too harsh on his victims." She sighed, regret and sympathy oozing off of every pore of her words, as the rag continued it's purpose of relaxing Ram. Along with her gentle touch on his temple, to keep his head from sagging. He felt safe.

"And he never lets up! Even when I tell him it's too much for me. That I can barely stomach it!" She continued, her voice gaining an edge, before quickly disappearing, letting her care continue, with her soft look resuming, even when Ram didn't notice the change.

"I don't think he's going to let up anytime soon." Ram groaned, fatigue settling into his bones.

"He wasn't always like this. I grew up with this sweet boy, but he turned into this monster sometime in college. Forever changed..." She cried, a slight shake and hiccup in her words.

"I love him, I really do. With everything I am, but I don't think I can stay here much longer." Her voice barely a whisper, almost like she's scared to say it out loud. This gave Ram an idea, one that might just save the package he was tasked to deliver, before he was taken.

"I loved someone once too... she left before I could convince her to stay. But a good friend told me where to find her, as long as I agreed to deliver the package I arrived here with. The address is on it!" Ram exclaimed excitedly, nearly scaring his saving grace.

"If you can find that package and take it to my love, I will gladly die a happy man... I don't care what Lloyd Hansen does to me, as long as she gets it, and know that I did everything in my power to get it to her." He continued, looking at her with such earnest, it almost made her feel pity. Almost.

"I just might be able to. Lloyd will be busy tonight, it'll be the perfect chance for me to escape. And, oh, I wouldn't want to bring bad news to your love... it would be so tragic for her to know that you died trying to get her what she needed." The angel gasped, desperately grasping Ram's trapped hand.

"It would be an honor for me to die knowing that package arrived safely." Ram repeated, looking at his angel right in her eyes, which seemed to soften and convince her.

"Alright, I'll do it..." She said, leaning in and giving Ram one last touch of comfort, for she knew he doesn't have long.

Lloyd made his way up to his bedroom, several floors up in his castle. Upon entering, he sighed out the long day, removing his jacket and placing it on the chair in front of the desk. He made his way to his bed, ready to sink into his goose down comforter, and sleep.

But before he could, his eye caught the odd shape of a beaten up box on his nightstand. He slowly sat up, and let out a small chuckle, as soon as he realized what the box was exactly.

"Should've known you'd find a way to get the information, I couldn't, Babe." He scoffed, amused, and knowing exactly who left it.

"Wasn't hard. A few gentle touches here, a sob story here, and he was so willing to risk trusting me. Shame really... I kinda liked him." Y/N, aka Angel, said from her seat on the darkest corner of the room. Turning on the the lamp by pulling its string, before standing up, and running her hands over her skirt, smoothing it down.

Lloyd got up to meet her halfway, wrapping his strong arms around his girl, leaning down to place his forehead against hers.

"You really are something, Kitten..." He sighed, his eyes shining with adoration, even in the dim light of their bedroom.

"Something as unhinged as you, definitely." She grinned, leaning in to kiss her Lloyd, before jumping into his arms.

He carried her across the room before breaking the kiss.

"Hang on, how did Ram die so quickly? I set that device to a semi dangerous level..." Lloyd asked, brows scrunching in confusion.

"Oh, sorry, Honey... I guess my hand must have slipped!" She smiled innocently.

Her smile drew her love back to her, knowing she was his match, in every way.

a/n: So, that was my first fic in a while. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Let me know if y'all would like me to upload more of Lloyd's equally unhinged girlfriend, or even a prompt in my Asks. It'll be so helpful and awesome if y'all can help keep my creative juices flowing 😊 Love y'all, Bookies🫶 Stay sane in this crazy time, fellow fans of the fandom.

Lloyd Hansen Masterlist

Chris Evans Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: this has been sitting waiting to be posted for a minute, but I've been in mama mode looking after my dog after being spayed, and I also don't know when you'll get the next chapter. it may not be before the new year, so if that's the case, I hope everyone enjoys their holiday month and I wish nothing but the best for everyone's 2025 <3 thank you for allowing me to express myself on here and giving me one hell of a 2024 xx

CW/TW: mentions of violence, discrimination, human trafficking, child abuse -- none are graphic or described in real time, but they are mentioned -- character death, medical episode, implication of ptsd

Tags: @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

@electronicwitchsandwich @thefairywithboots

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

March 15th, 2014.

The salon buzzed with a low hum of hair dryers, quiet laughter, and the faint clicking of coffee cups and saucers. Warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting golden glows across the room, while the occasional breeze from the open door stirred the faint scent of lavender and eucalyptus. Time slowed down here, as a haven away from the chaos of everyday life.

Which was why Irina Volkov loved it so much.

She sat in one of the cushioned chairs near the back, her dark hair wrapped in foils as she laughed lightly at something the stylist said. Looking impossibly elegant, even in this unassuming setting, her presence remained so utterly magnetic it turned heads without effort. 

Beside her, Nate sat, leaned back with an almost bored expression, her long legs crossed at the ankle and arms loosely folded. A magazine sat abandoned in her lap, its glossy pages ignored.

“Why don’t you pick something out?” Irina suggested, her soft accent curling around each word. “You could at least pretend to care about your hair.”

Nate gave a sidelong glance, one brow arching. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Irina smiled knowingly, a touch of jest in her visage. “Nothing. But we’re here, Nate, make the most of it.”

With a sigh, Nate flipped the magazine open, though she didn’t bother to read it. Irina turned her attention back to the stylist but only for a moment before shifting her focus back to her daughter.

“So,” she began, playfully yet probing. “Do you know what kind of man you’d like to be with one day?”

Nate nearly choked on air. She stared at her mother, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “What? What kind of question is that?”

Irina laughed, tilting her head as though she’d been expecting the reaction. “It’s a simple question,” she said. “You’re nearly nineteen. Surely you’ve thought about it.”

“No,” Nate replied flatly, with a dry sarcasm. “I’ve been way too busy plotting world domination like Daddy.”

Irina clicked her tongue. “Don’t dodge the question, malyshka. You must have some idea. Strong? Handsome? Smart? All three, perhaps? Beard? Tattoos? Or clean and baby-faced?”

Nate groaned, slumping further in her seat. “Mum, I don’t care. Seriously. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than boys.”

Her mother’s lips curled into a small, mischievous smile. “Oh, I see… I should, perhaps, be asking about the opposite sex instead?”

Nate froze. The casual way Irina had asked the question caught her off guard, and for a minute, she didn’t know how to respond. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she whipped her head toward her mother, horrified.

“What—why—what would even make you ask that?” she stammered, her words tripping over themselves in an uncharacteristic display of flustered panic.

Irina’s laughter was soft but genuine, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, darling, don’t look at me like that. I’m your mother. I know you better than anyone.”

“You don’t know that,” Nate muttered, her face heating further as she tried to bury herself deeper in the magazine. “God, you’re embarrassing.”

“Relax,” Irina said gently, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Nate’s face. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And you didn’t deny it, by the way.”

The younger Volkov let out a groan of pure frustration, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Irina’s smile softened, and just looked at her daughter—really looked at her, the way only a mother could. There was no judgement in her gaze, only quiet understanding and a hint of pride. She said nothing more on the subject, letting it fall away like it had never been brought up in the first place.

“You’re impossible, Mother,” Nate mumbled under her breath, but there was no real heat behind it.

“And don’t I know it,” Irina replied with an almost soft smugness.

They fell into an easy silence after that, the kind that came naturally between them. Irina shifted back in her seat, closing her eyes as the stylist continued working, while Nate returned to absently flipping through the magazine.

“What do you want for your birthday next month?” Irina asked after a while. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’”

Nate hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-page turn. Her lips pressed into a thin line as though debating whether to say what was on her mind.

“Well,” she began slowly, almost cautiously, “There is… one thing.”

Irina opened one eye, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh?”

Nate shifted in her seat, her earlier embarrassment melting into something closer to quiet longing. “I want to go back to the UK. To Cornwall. Surrey, too. Just… back home, you know? I miss it.”

Her mother’s expression softened, her gaze growing wistful. She reached out, resting a hand on Nate’s arm. “I know you do, malyshka. I miss it too.”

They both knew it wasn’t that simple. The move to Florida had been Dimitri’s decision, a strategic relocation to further cement his operations on US soil. Cornwall had been a lifetime ago—a quieter, simpler time before the weight of their family’s name had truly settled on Nate’s shoulders.

Nate shuffled again, fingers toying with the edge of the magazine. “You said you’d take me for my twenty-first,” she reminded her mother, her tone almost pleading.

“I did,” Irina nodded. “And I will. But twenty-one isn’t for another two years, Nate.”

“I know,” Nate said quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “But maybe… I don’t know. Maybe we could go for Christmas? Just for a little bit… Please?”

Irina sighed, caught between understanding her daughter’s needs and the resignation of returning where her husband had left off. “You know how your father is.”

“Yeah,” Nate muttered darkly. “That’s why I’m asking you and not him.”

Irina couldn’t help but smile at that. She squeezed Nate’s arm gently, her own reluctance giving way to the determination that always rose when it came to her children. “Okay,” she said finally.

Nate’s head shot up, her eyes widening. “Wait—really?”

Irina held up a finger. “On one condition.”

“I bloody knew it,” Nate grumbled. “What’s that, then?”

Leaning in slightly, Irina’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you go to that sparring session with Becky and her dad next week. You know how much it means to your father that you go, Nate.”

Nate rolled her eyes, but for something as ideal as visiting the UK again, it was a little price to pay. “Fine,” she relented. “But only because I really want to go.”

Irina grinned, a genuine warmth lighting up her face. “Deal.”

The stylist finished up, removing the last of the foils from Irina’s hair. As they prepared to leave, Irina rested a hand on Nate’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll start making plans,” she said quietly. 

Nate looked at her, a faint smile on her lips. For a fleeting moment, the world outside didn’t exist at all—there was no Dimitri, no looming expectations, no weight of the Volkov name. Just a mother and daughter, sharing a rare moment of connection in a world that rarely allowed it. 

“Thanks, Mum,” she said just above a whisper. Irina didn’t reply, but the look in her eyes said everything she couldn’t put into words.

Outside was a striking contrast to the warm, perfumed cocoon of the salon; the sun hung low, spraying the crowded Manhattan streets with jagged shadows. Dewy light gliding the mundane chaos of taxis honking, bicycles weaving through foot traffic, and street vendors shouting about their wares. Nate and Irina stood for a moment just beyond the threshold, the latter’s freshly polished appearance shimmering like a porcelain figure against the gritty urban tableau.

Irina smoothed her hair with a languid hand, a soft laugh still lingering on her lips from their final exchange with the stylists. “Should we?” she gestured in the direction of their favourite bookstore, Rizzoli on Broadway, a haven for both their literary indulgences and occasional splurges on coffee-table books they’d never actually read.

Nate tilted her head, pretending to deliberate. “Do we really need more books? My nightstand already looks like a collapsing Jenga tower.”

Irina raised an eyebrow, her expression half-playful, half-mocking. “As if that’s ever stopped us.”

They started walking, their steps in easy rhythm. Irina adjusted her purse, its leather strap cutting diagonally across her trim figure, while Nate shoved her hands into her jacket packers, adopting her usual careless touch. The city buzzed around them, a living, breathing entity—tumultuous and indifferent yet strangely comforting in its constancy.

“Your father is going to have a fit when he sees the credit card bill,” Irina remarked with a knowing smirk.

“Please,” Nate drawled. “He doesn’t even notice unless it’s a yacht or a Fabergé egg.”

Irina chuckled, but the laughter soon softened into silence, as though some unspoken entity had settled between them. Nate felt it first, her gaze flicking sideways to her mother, who stared ahead with a small, unreadable smile.

“What?” Nate asked.

Smile widening, Irina’s arm brushed against Nate’s as they walked. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” Irina replied indefinitely. “You’ve been a little… withdrawn lately.”

Nate snorted, her breath misting faintly in the crisp air. “When am I not withdrawn?”

“Fair point,” Irina conceded with a breathy laugh. “But this feels… different. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

The sincerity in her mother’s tone caught her for a whirlwind. She glanced down at the sidewalk, her pace faltering for a moment. “I know,” she muttered.

Irina didn’t push it; she rarely did. And that was one of the things Nate loved most about her mother—her patience, her ability to wait out Nate’s silences without filling them with unnecessary noise. They crossed the street, narrowly avoiding a young man on a skateboard who nearly collided with them. Irina clutched Nate’s arm, almost giggling as they reached the curb.

“Do you think Dad likes me?” Nate asked abruptly, impulsively.

Irina blinked, startled, but quickly composed herself. “What kind of question is that? Of course he does.”

Nate shook her head, her lips twisting into a bitter smile. “Not really. He tolerates me because he has to. Let’s be honest—he wanted a son, and instead, he got… me.”

Sighing, Irina draped an arm around Nate’s shoulders, pulling her close as they walked. “Your father’s not the easiest man to understand. He’s complicated, stubborn—”

“Emotionally constipated,” Nate interjected dryly.

Despite herself, the older Volkov managed a laugh, the sound rippling through the sad overtone of the topic at hand. “Yes, that too. But he loves you, in his own way. He just… doesn’t know how to show it.”

They both knew this was only half true. Dimitri’s preference for a son wasn’t just a rumour or an unspoken suspicion—it was fact, revealed during a drunken argument years ago that had left both Nate and Irina reeling. But neither of them needed to revisit that wound today. Some truths were better left unspoken, their edges dulled by time and careful avoidance.

“I’m fine with it,” Nate shrugged off her mother’s arm. “Really. I don’t need his approval.”

Irina watched her daughter for a moment, her face softening. “You’re stronger than you think, you do realise that, right?”

Nate rolled her eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile betrayed her. “Don’t get sappy on me, Mum.”

They turned a corner, the street narrowing as brownstones replaced glass facades. The air felt cooler here, quieter, but still alive with the faint hum of the city. Nate glanced around, her attention drawn to a commotion further down the block—a cacophony of car horns blaring, angry shouts blending into the urban symphony. She dismissed it as background noise, her focus returning to Irina, who was rummaging through her purse.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“My phone,” Irina replied absentmindedly. “I think I left it on silent at the salon.”

Before Nate could respond, the roar of an engine cut through the air, its aggressive growl out of place in the relatively calm street. A sleek black car with tinted windows appeared, weaving through traffic with an urgency. She glanced at it briefly but thought nothing of it.

She was a Volkov—aggression was the default setting.

The car drew closer, slowing as it neared them, its purring engine an ominous undercurrent. Nate felt it then—a strange prickle at the base of her neck, a subtle yet unmistakable warning. Her steps faltered, her instincts telling her to pull Irina closer.

“Let’s cross here,” she suggested, her voice tight.

But before Irina could respond, the car came to a sudden stop just a few feet from them. Nate’s gaze snapped to the vehicle, her pulse quickening as the back window began to lower. Just a crack. Just enough.

She saw it—a glint of metal, a shadowy hand—and in that split second, her body moved before her mind could catch up.

“Mum, get down!” she shouted, reaching for Irina’s arm.

And then the world shattered.

The first crack was sharp, metallic, like glass breaking under pressure. Nate flinched, her brain struggling to process the sound. A second and third followed, their echoes ricocheting off the brownstone, turning the narrow street into a tunnel of chaos. 

Each shot slammed into Irina, her body snapping back as though struck by invisible fists. Her purse fell first, skittering to the ground with a hollow thud, followed by her legs giving way as if the strings holding her upright had been cut.

“Mum!” Nate screamed, the name erupting from her like a primal wail, raw and uncontainable. She lunged forward as Irina crumpled to the pavement, her once-elegant figure folding into a graceless heap. Blood bloomed across her white blouse, a grotesque and vivid flower spreading outward, soaking into the fabric. The iron tang hit Nate’s nose instantly, sharp and nauseating.

The car didn’t linger. Its tires screeched against the asphalt, the tinted windows rolling up like a stage curtain closing on the violence it had unleashed. Within seconds, it vanished into the river of traffic, leaving nothing but the stench of burnt rubber and the hollow, ringing silence that followed destruction.

For a moment, Nate couldn’t move. The world blurred around her, colours bleeding together as her mind refused to process what her eyes saw; Irina lying motionless, blood pooling beneath her, spreading outward like a dark halo.

“M-Mum…” Nate’s voice cracked, disbelief and terror tangled in her throat. She fell to her knees, uncaring of the blood that soaked through her jeans and slicked her hands as she cradled Irina’s weighted form. “No… No, no, no—wake up, please!”

Irina’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. Her lips moved faintly, forming half-words that Nate couldn’t hear over the sound of her own ragged breathing. Deep crimson bubbled at the corner of her mouth, a cruel mockery of life.

“Stay with me,” Nate begged, clutching her mother’s hand, the warmth she was so used to already beginning to fade. “Someone please help!” she cried out desperately.

Around them, the street had erupted into a frenzy. People screamed, some ducking into doorways, others frozen in shock. Cars honked furiously, their drivers oblivious to the tragedy unfolding just feet away. A few pedestrians gathered at a cautious distance, their faces pale and horrified, but no one dared step closer. This was New York; people knew better than to get involved in business like this.

Except one.

A man broke through the small crowd, his boots slamming against the pavement as he ran toward them. He was scruffy, with wild blue eyes and a jacket that looked like it had survived a war. He dropped to his knees beside Nate, his movements urgent but not panicked.

“Hey, hey,” he said steadily. “I’ve got her, I’ve got you. What’s your name?”

Nate didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. All she could do was sob messily as she clutched her mother’s limp body, her blood-slick hands trembling as she rocked back and forth.

“What’s her name?” the stranger asked.

“I-Irina…” Nate managed to choke out.

“Irina…” he nodded before looking down at the slain woman. “Irina. Can you hear me? I’m Dean, I’m gonna he—” he paused, already noting the gurgling in her throat and the purple forming around her lips. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, yanking a phone from his pocket. “911, we’ve got a shooting on—” He rattled off the address, but Nate wasn’t listening.

Irina’s fingers twitched weakly in her grip, and Nate’s breath caught. “Mum?” she whispered, leaning in close. “I’m here. You’re going to be fine, okay? Just–just stay awake. Please…”

Irina’s lips moved again, faint and fragile, like the flutter of a moth’s wings. “C-Christmas…” she murmured, the word slurring. “Promise…”

The words hit Nate like a knife to the chest. She nodded frantically, tears spilling down her face. “Okay, Mum. Christmas. I’ll hold you to it, just… stay with me, alright? Don’t go anywhere…”

Her mother’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. Then her eyes slipped shut, her body going limp in Nate’s arms.

“No.” Nate’s voice broke, the single word a desperate plea. She shook Irina gently, gripping onto her body like it was her only lifeline. “No, no, no—you can’t leave, please don’t leave me. Oh, God…”

The man beside her, who she overheard as Dean, reached out, his hand firm on her shoulder. “The ambulance is on its way,” he let her know calmly. “You need to let go.”

But Nate couldn’t let go. Irina’s blood was everywhere—on her hands, her clothes, pooling in the cracks of the pavement—and yet it felt like her mother was slipping through her fingers, disappearing into the ether. The world around her swirled in a dizzying haze of sirens and shouting and the faint, acrid smell of gunpowder.

And Nate, kneeling in the middle of it all, could do nothing but scream.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Nate woke with a start, her body jerking forward as if she’d been yanked from the depths of a cold, violent ocean. The room was dark, but the shadows shifted and clawed at the edges of her vision, remnants of a nightmare she couldn’t shake. Her chest heaved, the sharp gasp for air cutting through the stillness. Sweat drenched her, a cold film plastering her shirt to her skin and chilling her to the bone despite the faint warmth of the room.

Her heart was racing, not just the steady thrum of adrenaline but an erratic, panicked flutter. It felt wrong, uneven, as though something fragile inside her was being wrung out like wet fabric. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, the movement jerky and unsteady, trying to steady the unruly rhythm.

The dream lingered.

The sound of gunfire. The weight of her mother in her arms. Blood… so much blood…

Her throat closed, panic gripping her like a vice. She swallowed hard, trying to remind herself where she was. She wasn’t in the middle of Manhattan in 2014. There was no sidewalk slick with crimson, no scent of gunpowder and rubber in the air. It was December 2022. 

December 2022… You’re at home… Katya’s right down the hall… You’re okay…

But her heart wouldn’t stop.

It was too fast, too heavy, like it was trying to batter its way out of her chest. Each beat sent a sharp, pulsing ache radiating down her arms and into her jaw. The familiar tightness seized her ribs, squeezing like a cruel hand, and she let out a strangled gasp, clutching at the sheets.

Not now. God, not now.

Nate swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor with a muted thud. The room swayed, the shadows seeming to tilt and roll. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms in an effort to anchor herself. The sharp sting brought her back, just enough to remember what she needed to do.

The bathroom. The pills are in the bathroom, Nate.

She forced herself upright, her legs trembling under her weight. Her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, and each step felt like wading through thick, unforgiving mud. Her vision blurred at the edges, black spots creeping in like ink on water.

One step. Another.

The hallway stretched out before her, impossibly long and dark. She braced herself against the wall, her hand skimming over the cold plaster for balance. The floor beneath her seemed to ripple, an unsteady wave that made her stomach churn.

Her mind raced alongside her heart, a chaotic storm of memories and fear. Dimitri’s threats, Katya’s fragile voice, her mother’s warmth… Roman’s hard and unreadable face. Crashing down on her like a tidal wave.

Another step. Her knees buckled, and she slammed into the wall, her palm slipping against the smooth surface. A small, choked cry escaped her lips as the pain in her chest flared, sharp and searing, stealing her breath.

“Almost there,” she whispered to herself, the words trembling on her tongue.

She reached the bathroom door and fumbled for the handle, her shaking fingers struggling to grasp it. Finally, it gave way, and she stumbled inside, the light flickering on overhead with a harsh, fluorescent hum.

The mirror caught her reflection—a ghost staring back. Her face was pale, almost gray, her skin glistening with sweat. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her lips were tinged with a faint blue. She looked like she was dying.

And in that moment, she felt like it.

The cabinet. She forced her focus to the mirrored cabinet above the sink, yanking it open with a wary hand. Bottles clinked together as she shifted through them, her fingers clumsy and desperate. Finally, she found it—the small orange bottle with her name printed on the label.

Nate twisted the cap off and shook two pills into her palm, nearly dropping them as her fingers spasmed. She fumbled for the glass on the counter, filled it with unsteady hands, and swallowed the pills down, the water cool and biting against her dry throat.

She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white as she leaned over, waiting for the storm inside her to subside. Each second stretched unbearably long, her heart still hammering against her ribs like it was punishing her for existing.

Breathe. Just breathe.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of her breath, ragged and uneven as it was. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Over and over, forcing the rhythm to slow, to calm, to remind her that she wasn’t going to die.

Minutes passed before the tightness in her chest began to ease, the erratic fluttering of her heart settling into something that resembled normal. Her hands were still trembling, but the immediate panic had passed, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that made her feel like she’d been hollowed out.

She opened her eyes and looked back at her reflection. The colour was starting to return to her face, but the haunted look in her eyes remained. It always did.

This wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last.

Nate reached for the hand towel and wiped her face, the cool fabric soothing against her clammy skin. She stared at herself for a moment longer, then turned off the light and stepped back into the hallway.

It was no longer empty.

Nate froze in her tracks, her pulse still irregular but now laced with irritation. Standing just outside the bathroom door, leaning casually against the wall, was her Uncle Ivan. Sharp features thrown into stark relief by dim lighting, pale blue eyes cutting through the gloom like ice.

He straightened when he saw her, sweeping over her dishevelled state with a mix of judgement and faint disdain.

“What the hell are you doing skulking outside the bathroom?” she asked raggedly.

Tilting his head, he studied her like she was a particularly uninteresting puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. Finally, he spoke, flatly and far from kind. “I heard noise. Thought maybe you’d had too much to drink again.”

The accusation hung like cigarette smoke, cloying and dismissive.

Nate huffed a breath, pressing her back against the doorframe for support. “Wow, you’re really earning your reputation as the quiet genius of the family tonight, Ivan. Because, yes, clearly I’m getting drunk at—” she glanced at the clock on the hallway wall, “Three in the morning. Alone. In the bathroom. You got me.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, his face unreadable but somehow managing to convey exactly how little he cared for her theatrics. “You reek of desperation,” he said coolly, “And that’s usually when people in this family reach for a bottle. But you’re right—it’s none of my business.”

“Glad we agree,” Nate shot back with a sour smile, pushing herself off the doorframe. She was about to walk past him when the faint sound of muffled voices reached her ears. She paused, glancing toward the direction of the staircase. “What’s that?”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

Her patience, already thin, was evaporating fast. She met his gaze head-on, her own as sharp as broken glass. “You know, I’m getting really tired of not knowing what’s going on in this house…”

She barely saw him move. One moment, she was standing her ground; the next, his hand was wrapping around her arm, his grip iron and unyielding. Before she could pull away, he had backed her up against the wall, his face close enough that she could smell the faint trace of his last cigarette—bitter, like him.

“You should know by now,” he said quietly, “That your father executes plans with precision and secrecy. And you,” his grip tightened slightly, enough to make her audibly wince, “Have proven yourself unreliable.”

Now, Ivan never scared her. Even as the little brother of Dimitri and Sergei Volkov, two of the most menacing people she’d ever come across, that’s all he ever was. Never surpassed that title, always worked to earn that extra bit of notoriety, just to fall back into the same role as messenger or errand boy.

But that word. Unreliable. It hit her.

And the thing was… She knew it. She knew that she’d lost the trust, complete trust, of her father for a while now. Just by being herself, something he scarcely permitted and tried relentlessly to prevent for years. But… why now?

Ivan must have sensed the confusion, and he smirked at his niece with a smugness that matched the disposition of a man who had finally found an ounce of power and clung to it with a vice-like grip.

“Naive Natalka… Who do you think told Mitya about your moment with Roman Reigns at Madame X?”

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh,” she swallowed, “So it was you then… You’re the one who told him about that.” She gritted her teeth and smiled pitifully at her uncle, though her face still twisted with irritation, and perhaps, the slightest trace of betrayal. Wondering if he understood what he’d caused. A further turbulence between father and daughter. An unintentional push in the direction of the enemy.

Maybe Nate should have been thanking him… In some twisted, deflective way.

Maybe if it weren’t for the strain brought on by Dimitri’s knowledge that her daughter was seen drunkenly talking to Roman Reigns in their own club… maybe Nate wouldn’t have considered working with Roman. And then maybe… 

No. Don’t go there.

“You’re not my father,” Nate whispered evenly.

“Nyet,” he agreed, releasing her abruptly and stepping back. “But I know him better than you ever will. Sergei, Borislav… even Alexei… We all know him better than you or Katerina ever will.”

The unease that had grown in her chest gnawed at her. Burrowed under her skin. There was something wrong, something she couldn’t place her finger on exactly, couldn’t grasp, but it was there. And she didn’t like it.

Ivan gestured dismissively down the hall. “Go to bed, Natalka. That’s where you belong.”

This time, she didn’t relent; her energy was gone, drained completely, and she had no desire to keep up the facade of defiance any longer. She turned and walked away without a word, her footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor.

But as she reached her door, she couldn’t shake the sense that her uncle’s eyes were still on her, watching her intently, evenly, carefully… like a predator surveying its prey.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Roman sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his face framed by the glow of the laptop in front of him. The familiar hum of tension vibrated just beneath the surface of his composed exterior, though you wouldn’t know it from his subdued expression—impassive, if you may. His eyes flicked to the small grid of silent, blacked-out squares that represented the other participants in the call. Maria’s lawyer, his lawyer, two social workers… All watching without truly being there. Silent observers. Judging eyes.

He hated this.

It should have been simple. A call with his daughter. Just him, Ava, and whatever silly stories she wanted to share about her day. But nothing about this situation was simple anymore. Maria had seen to that.

“You ready for this, Sir?” Paul’s voice cut through the quiet, low and measured. He sat just off–camera, hands clasped in front of him like some kind of watchful guardian angel—or devil, depending on who you asked.

Roman nodded once. “Not like I have a choice, Wiseman.”

Heyman’s gaze softened, just a little. “Remember, they’re waiting for a slip up. Stay calm. Keep it light.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Light.”

With a final click, the call connected, and suddenly, the screen shifted. Ava’s face filled the centre square, her smile so wide it threatened to split her face in two. Her curls were pulled up into a lopsided ponytail, and she waved frantically at the camera.

“Daddy!”

Roman’s features softened instantly, the weight in his chest easing just a fraction. “Hey, baby.” His voice calmed too, warming like sunlight through storm clouds.

“I missed you so much!” Ava chirped, bouncing a little in her seat.

“I missed you more.” He leaned in a little closer, as if it would somehow bridge the distance between them. “What’s goin’ on? How’s school?”

Ava’s eyes lit up. “Guess what? We did this thing today about animals, and I picked wolves because they’re cool and they’re kinda like you. Like, you’re a leader and stuff!”

Roman chuckled, dropping his eyes briefly. “Yeah? Wolves, huh? I like that. What else did you learn?”

She launched into an animated description of her project, her hands moving wildly as she described wolf packs and how they worked together. Roman listened intently, nodding at all the right moments, never averting his gaze from hers. For a few minutes, it was easy to forget about the silent audience lurking just beyond the screen.

“Did you draw a picture of your wolf pack?”

“Uh-huh!” Ava disappeared from the frame for a second, then reappeared holding up a piece of paper covered in crayon drawings. “That’s me in the middle,” she explained, pointing to a smaller wolf with a bright pink bow. “And that’s you next to me ‘cause you’re the alpha!”

“You made me the alpha, huh?” Roman grinned. “I like it. You did a good job, baby, really good.”

Ava beamed, her pride shining through the screen. “Thank you, Daddy!”

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Roman caught the faint flicker of movement in one of the dark squares. Just a subtle shift, like someone adjusting in their seat. The reminder hit him like an icy slap.

The lawyers. The social workers. The goddamn spectators.

His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay focused on Ava. It wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault.

“You still doin’ your gymnastics?” he asked, steering the conversation back to safer ground.

Ava nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! I’m practicing my cartwheels. Mommy says I need to work on keeping my legs straight, though.”

“Yeah, that’s important,” Roman chuckled. “You’ll get it. Just keep practicing. You’re already better than me, and I never even tried.”

She giggled, like pure music to his ears. “Maybe you should try, Daddy! Then we can do cartwheels together!”

“Oh, I dunno about that, baby, I’m a little old for cartwheels.” He gave her a mock-serious look, which made her laugh even harder.

“Daddy, you’re not old!”

“I’m not?” He raised an eyebrow, playing along. “I feel pretty old.”

“Nope. You’re strong… like a wolf!”

Roman smiled, a rush of genuine warmth shooting straight for his heart. “I’ll take that.”

They kept talking, the conversation bouncing from school to her favourite cartoons to what she wanted for Christmas. Roman soaked up every word, storing them away like precious treasures.

But even as he laughed with her, a darker thought lingered at the edges of his mind. The last conversation he’d had with Nate.

The bruise on her cheek, the casual way in which she’d admitted that her father had hit her. The rage he’d felt then simmered beneath the surface now, feeding into the frustration of this whole situation.

The idea that he had to prove to these strangers that he wasn’t like that, that he wasn’t the kind of man who would ever hurt his daughter—it made his blood boil.

He took a deep breath, pushing it down. Focus. Stay calm.

Ava was talking about a classmate now, something about a boy named Tyler who always stole the blue crayons. Roman listened, nodding along.

“Next time, you tell Tyler that if he wants the blue crayon, he’s gotta ask nicely,” he said.

“Okay, Daddy.” She paused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Or I could just take it back.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, or that… But remember—be nice first, okay?”

“Okay.”

They talked for a little while longer, until eventually, Maria’s voice cut in from somewhere off-screen, telling Ava it was time to say goodbye.

“I don’t wanna go yet!” Ava protested, her face falling.

“I know, baby, but we’ll talk again soon, okay? Real soon.” Roman’s voice softened. “Ti amo, bambina.”

“Ti amo anch’io papá.”

The screen went dark, and the call ended.

Roman pushed back from his desk, shutting the laptop with a little more force than necessary. He let out a slow, measured exhale, his shoulders still tight from the silent tension in the call.

“Not bad, my Tribal Chief,” Heyman offered, standing up from his spot in the corner. Whilst Roman didn’t directly acknowledge the compliment, the Wiseman knew what they meant. What he meant. To Roman.

Paul followed closely behind as Roman strode toward the door with his brain already one step ahead, already moving to what was next. But when he opened the door, he found Solo standing there like a stone sentinel. Arms crossed, stoically unreadable, a sheer presence that filled the hallway.

Roman blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his cousin’s appearance. “What are you doin’?” he asked.

Solo remained calm, still looking ahead of him. “Just makin’ sure no one’s sneakin’ around. Don’t need pryin’ eyes or ears up here.”

For a beat, Roman’s brow furrowed in confusion. Then it clicked, and he rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Man, you serious right now? You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm, doin’ all this paranoid shit.” His tone carried a blend of humour and irritation, the kind of blunt honesty that only family could get away with.

“Just lookin’ out.” Solo shrugged.

Roman shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Ain’t got time for that.” He brushed past Solo, leading the way down the hall and toward the stairs.

The living room stretched out before them as they descended, the wide open-plan space bustling with quiet activity. The hum of muted conversations mixed with an occasional burst of laughter, creating a strange yet comforting harmony.

At the coffee table, Tamina and Nate sat side by side on the couch, a laptop open between them. Nate’s posture was relaxed, slightly hunched forward as her eyes narrowed at the screen, scrolling through with her delicate fingers stroking over the touchpad. Tamina leaned back, one arm draped over the couch, but her attention was clearly on Nate.

Across the room, Jimmy and Sami were huddled at the dining table, surrounded by a chaotic mess of papers—the same ones from the folder Seth had handed over. Sami was gesturing animatedly, his voice low but intense, while Jimmy nodded along, occasionally jotting something down.

In the background, the sound of Naomi and Jey playing table tennis at the counter could be heard, with a level of competitiveness that was somehow both serious and ridiculous. Naomi was clearly winning, and Jey’s loud groan of frustration served as temporary punctuation marks.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Roman’s arms rested at his sides as he took it all in. As usual, his eyes landed on Nate again, almost feeling a small jolt in his chest that left as quickly as it came.

She looked… at home.

There she was, smack in the middle of everything, like she’d always been there. Like she belonged there. Her leather jacket was draped casually over the back of the couch, leaving her in a red lace bralette, the deep crimson standing out against her light olive skin—a contrast that made her dark hair and sharp features even more vivid. Her black jeans and studded boots completed the look entirely. Effortless. Lethal. All at once.

But it wasn’t just what she was wearing. It rarely ever was. It was the way she carried herself, the way her brow furrowed ever so slightly in concentration as she worked. That subtle scowl of hers—the one that hinted at some quiet anger or irritation—was there and damn if it didn’t stir something in him.

Roman let himself linger a second longer than he should’ve, tracing the curve of her jaw, the slight downturn of her lips. She was gorgeous. No, she was more than that. She was magnetic. Pulling him in when he knew better.

She fit it in too well, and that was dangerous.

He blinked, forcing himself to look away, sweeping over the room again, yet still… he always circled back to her. 

She’s just workin’ with Tamia, he reminded himself. That’s it.

But the thought didn’t settle the way it should’ve. It idled, heavily.

For a man who prided himself on control, Roman hated how easily she could make him forget himself.

“Y’all look busy,” he said finally, breaking the easy tone of the room. He stepped forward, commanding everybody’s attention without asking for it. Heads turned toward him, but Nate didn’t immediately look up. She stayed focused on whatever was on the screen, only glancing his way after so long. And when she did, that scowl softened slightly, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile.

Roman felt the corner of his own mouth tug upward, almost involuntarily. Damn, she’s trouble.

He decided to walk over to Jimmy and Sami, glancing at the table cluttered with papers and the glowing laptop screen in front of them. Sami’s fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, muttering to himself in a low, focused voice. Jimmy leaned back in his chair, clicking a pen with one hand and rubbing the other over his face like he’d been staring at the same document for too long.

“What we got?” Roman asked, folding his arms and looking between them.

“Shattered Dreams Armory,” Sami started, his eyes glued to the laptop. “Formed in Florida in the ‘90s. Seemed to have shifted their base to Queens around ‘07… They keep their heads low. A few permits here, some sketchy tax records there, but no solid names. It’s like chasing ghosts.”

Roman exhaled slowly. “Ghosts don’t steal shipments.”

“Right,” Sami agreed. “But if we’re looking at their trade volume, they’re moving serious weight. Weapons, ammo, maybe even more. They need a warehouse—a big one. And they’ve been doing this for years without getting caught.”

Jimmy finally stopped his pen-clicking, which had started to drive Roman crazy. “You think they the ones who lifted the shipment?”

“Their bullet was at the scene, of course it had to have been them. Or affiliated…”

Sami shrugged. “It’s frustrating as hell, but they seem to be good at covering their tracks.”

Jimmy, for a moment—just a split second—exchanged a glance with Solo, who was standing over by the stairs, listening in. His face scrunched up as he shifted in his seat, something clearly springing to mind. He hoped Roman missed it, but he didn’t. Roman rarely missed a thing.

“What was that?”

The older Uso hesitated, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Uh, nothin’, Uce. Just… remembering stuff.”

“Remember it out loud, Jim.” Roman’s patience was hanging by a thread.

Before Jimmy could respond, Nate’s sharp intake of breath sliced through the conversation.

“Oh my God…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried across the room like a gunshot. 

Everyone turned to her. She was on her feet, paling in the face, eyes locked on the laptop screen in front of her. Tamina was beside her, a hand on her arm with a face equally grim.

“Nate?” Roman called over to her, instantly alert.

She didn’t respond right away. Her hand ran over her hair, gripping onto it as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. It was Tamina who spoke first, keeping her voice low. 

“She found somethin’, Ro. And it ain’t good.”

Roman was already moving, leaving Sami and Jimmy behind as he crossed the room to crouch down beside Nate once she’d slowly sat back down to get a better look at the screen.

“Nate,” he said again, a little quieter this time. “What is it?”

Blinking, her focus finally shifted from the laptop to his face, her teeth gnawing together in fury in horror. “Alexei,” she hissed.

Roman furrowed his eyebrows. “What about him?”

She sighed heavily, moving her hair from her face as she picked up the laptop to place it on her lap. “I needed Tamina because… I wanted to pull some records. Needed to know who my dad is forcing my sister to marry, right?” She paused and swallowed hard. “And now I wish I hadn’t.”

Roman glanced over at Tamina, who gave a subdued nod. “Worse than we thought.”

“Worse how?” Roman demanded.

Nate’s voice dropped as she turned the laptop in Roman’s direction, heavy with disgust. “Alexei Lebedev. Born in Moscow. Came to the US in the 90s. Started small—drugs, weapons. By the mid 2000s, he’d expanded into uh—” Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the bile crawling its way up inside her. “Expanded into… human trafficking. Girls as young as fifteen, Roman. Fifteen. He’s a monster.”

The room went dead silent. Even Sami, who had been quietly working in the background, froze, his face a mask of shock and disgust.

Roman’s expression darkened, his jaw tightened so intensely that it looked like it might shatter. His nose twitched, and his tongue ran over his teeth as he took a moment to compose himself, looking down and rolling his neck. When he looked back up, the brown in his eyes had darkened to pools of tar. “You sure?”

Nate nodded slowly. “It’s all here,” she confirmed with more resolve. “He’s been running this for years. And it gets worse… He’s tied to these hate organisations, neo-Nazi groups. Racist, homophobic, misogynistic—you name it, he embodies it.”

Tamina added, “There’s also evidence out there of him being involved in hate crimes in the city. Assaults, even murder. The guy’s a tickin’ time bomb, Ro.”

“And my father wants Katya to fucking marry him,” Nate spat. “Selling her off to this… this… evil bastard.”

Roman and Nate locked onto each other, the former taking in the latter’s rage and pain that radiated from her. It wasn’t often that he saw her this rattled, not even when she opened up about her dad. But it stirred something deep down in his gut.

“You’re not gonna let that happen,” he said finally, full of conviction.

Nate’s eyebrow arched up, nostrils flaring a little as her chest started heaving. “Fucking right I’m not,” she declared through gritted teeth.

“I’ve already started gathering more,” Tamina added, “We’ll get everything we need to bury him.”

Roman stood, looking down at Nate with narrowed eyes. “Good,” he responded to Tamina, despite the fact he was looking at Nate. “Keep digging.” He finally looked at his older cousin. “I want every dirty little secret this bastard has ever tried to hide.”

Nate leaned back on the couch, almost obsessively scrolling through the pages they’d found on the laptop, muttering a small “thank you.” 

Tamina gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got this.”

“Take a breather,” Roman told Nate after lingering on her a moment further, noting the tough exterior cracking enough for him to see the depth of her fury. But she shook her head defiantly.

“I’m not stopping until I know everything.”

And for once, Roman didn’t argue. Instead, he turned and gave a small nod toward Jimmy and Sami. “Go get Naomi and Jey.” He looked over at Solo. “You get over here too. We need everyone on this.” He then looked over at Paul, who had been sitting silently observing and analysing the scene with a muted look of horror behind his eyes.

Tamina shifted on the couch and stood up. “I’ll make a few calls. See if I can pull anything else. Back in a minute.”

Nate stayed seated, staring at the coffee table. The others began filing out, conversations low and tense. Tamina patted her shoulder as she passed.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

Nate nodded tightly, but the answer was a blatant lie.

Once the door shut behind Tamina, and Paul and Solo had both disappeared for a retrieval of coffee, the silence pained Nate, the pressure intensifying in her ears. She tried to shake off the lingering dread, but she could feel Roman watching her, waiting.

She stood abruptly, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “This is my mess,” she muttered, shaking her head, more to herself than to him. “I can handle it. I don’t need everyone dropping everything for me.”

Roman leaned back against the edge of the dining table, crossing his arms as he just watched her every move. Back and forth.

She kept talking, rambling. “You need to focus on the shipment. Seth’s intel, everything with whoever took out Priest—this is too important. I’ll deal with the Alexei thing, I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to—”

“Nate.”

She ignored him, still pacing. “Change your plans because of me. It’s not worth it. I’m not w–”

“Nate.”

This time, Roman’s voice cut through her like a machete, low and firm. Before she could take another step, he was in front of her, large, gargantuan hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes flickered up, reluctant but ultimately obedient. She was met with the full force of his gaze, dark and intense, burning with what she couldn’t decipher. Anger, maybe. Something deeper, possibly.

“You don’t get to decide what’s worth it,” Roman said with a low and controlled tone, albeit dangerous in its quiet fury. “You should’ve told me. If I knew this was about Alexei, findin’ shit on this guy, I’d have done this myself.”

Nate opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head, silencing her. His grip tightened just enough to ground her, not hurt her. “Half a shipment goin’ missing is nothing. Some guns? That’s replaceable. But a trafficker? A man who’s been runnin’ girls like fuckin’ livestock? That’s a whole different level. You think I’m gon’ let a monster like that exist in my world?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the venom in his words.

“I don’t want that sack of shit in my yard,” Roman continued, lowering his voice further, each word as deliberate as they could get. “You think this is about you? This is bigger than you. Bigger than me. This is about family.”

Nate’s breath hitched, the word hanging from his lips like a challenge. Family.

“I’m not your family, Roman,” she muttered.

Roman’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through his otherwise serious expression. “Gettin’ there, Princess,” he hummed, and it stumped her so much that she almost laughed.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

His hands dropped from her shoulders, but he didn’t step back. They were still standing so close, too close.

A moment passed of them just staring at each other until Roman’s face softened, just a fraction, as if letting his guard down like he had in the dark, early in the morning, weeks ago. “You feel this for Katya,” he said. “The way I feel for Ava. I get it”

Her throat tightened. She hadn’t expected him to make such an introspective assessment of her thoughts.

“And God be damned if I let him outstay his welcome on this earth.”

With a harsh swallow, Nate nodded slowly. The fire in her belly reignited, tempered now by a sense of purpose. The door creaked open, and the spell broke. Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, Solo, Paul, and Tamina filtered back in, the tension thickening again as the group reassembled. Roman stepped back, but his gaze never left Nate’s.

Tamina walked over to Nate, resuming their conversation like nothing had happened. “We’ll gather everything we can find… and then we’ll get him.”

Roman, standing off to the side, watched them for a beat longer. His eyes flicked to Nate, and when she glanced back, he gave her a small wink.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But she saw it. It was there.

And she liked it.

But what she liked more was the idea of taking down Alexei. And like Roman said… his presence on Earth had been long overstood. Simply burying the man would never be enough.

She’d have to make sure he’d only wish for his own demise once she was done with him. And whether Roman helped her or not…

Alexei Lebedev had to die.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

[shmaptainwrites]

Pay It Forward [Richard Castle]

Pairings: Richard Castle x GN!Reader

Characters: Richard Castle, (mentions of) Kevin Ryan, Javier Esposito, Kate Beckett, Martha Rodgers, Alexis Castle

Summary: Reader jumps in between Castle and a suspect before a fight and ends up spending the night confronting her feelings for the bestselling author

Warnings: descriptions of injury (non-graphic), insecurity, hospital mention

Note: And yet another Castle fic, again honestly most of this was written a few consecutive late nights in a row so I don't really know if the progression makes much sense, but I like it so who cares ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ this has been in my drafts for months wtf is wrong w me

Getting hurt in the line of duty was something in the back of the mind of every law enforcement officer. Even author Richard Castle suspected there would be an occasion or two where he’d bite the bullet (figuratively and literally). 

What he didn’t expect however was when following a lead an officer would jump between him and a suspect right before an altercation began. 

To be honest, you didn’t expect to do it either, but there was something about reflexes that you just didn’t have any control over. 

Castle tried to get in and give you a hand, but you yelled at him to stay back even though you knew you were in over your head. Your body was hopped up on so much adrenaline that it took you a moment to register when you were down. 

It wasn’t the worst you had been hurt, but you knew each of the small injuries added to one another would mean you’d be benched for the foreseeable future. 

“Shit!” you cursed as the suspect managed to get away. “Castle, call Ryan and Esposito I’m in no shape to go after this guy, make sure-ow,” you gripped onto your side as you sat up. “Make sure they have uniforms canvassing all the spots he might have gone to.” 

Castle nodded and quickly made the call for you before hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“Hey, you don’t look too good,” he bent down next to you, noticing your split lip and a few other cuts you had around your face. Not to mention what looked like it could be a sprained ankle and a few bruised ribs.

“Been through worse, Castle,” you tried to push yourself up without much success. 

“I should take you to a hospital.” 

“No hospital,” you shook your head adamantly. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Like hell you will be,” he placed a hand around your back and helped you up, confirming his suspicions of a sprained ankle when you winced at the pressure you placed on your right foot. “If you won’t let me take you to a hospital, at least let me patch you up. I must have some things lying around at home we can make use of.” 

“Castle-,” 

“Don’t even try arguing with me on this,” he gave you a stern look. “I signed my papers, you didn’t have to jump in like that.” 

You sighed, “I know, it just sort of happened.” 

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “Just let me pay it forward.” 

You nodded your head and Castle supported you as you limped to the car. 

During the ride to Castle’s place, Ryan and Esposito called to inform you that just as you had suspected your perp had gone to one of his usual hideouts and had been intercepted by uniformed officers. Not without a fight, of course. 

“Glad that’s over,” you let out a breath and massaged your wrist. You had used it to break your fall when he had knocked you down, but you figured it was nothing that some ice and a tensor bandage couldn’t fix. 

Castle agreed with you as he pulled into the parking of his building and got out to give you a hand. You knew it was better not to fight him right now so you let him. You sent out a silent thank you to whoever invented elevators knowing your trip up would have been much more uncomfortable without it. 

As you entered Castle’s apartment, you noticed it was quieter than usual. You sat down on the couch and looked around, 

“Where’s Alexis?” 

“She’s staying at a friend’s house tonight,” Castle said while bringing the first aid kit and two ice packs to the couch. 

You stayed quiet as Castle examined the cut on your forehead, his fingers carefully brushing the skin next to it. 

He then grabbed an alcohol wipe and gave you the time old warning about it stinging. You scrunched your nose as the wipe made contact with the wound, but as soon as it started it was over and he placed two steri-strip bandages to keep the wound closed.

“You seem like you’ve had a bit of practice with this,” you said. 

“Nope,” he shook his head. “First time.” 

You chuckled a little to yourself, “Happy I could be your first something, Castle.” 

That made him break his concerned face with a small smile before turning his attention to your wrist that was already on ice. 

Similar to your own thinking he used a tensor bandage to wrap it, 

“Are you gonna tell me why you didn’t want to go to a hospital?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “I’ve been ignored in one enough times to know when I can try my luck outside.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said while wrapping up your wrist. “I think by this time you know my door is open if you ever need anything.” 

“Yeah, I do,” you smiled. “Thanks, Castle, really.” 

He lifted your hand up to examine his work with a smile at a job well done before pressing a small gentle kiss to the back of your hand. 

“So it can get better, of course,” he winked and you shook your head with a light laugh at his antics. “Your ribs,” he pointed to your chest. “He hit you pretty hard there, do you mind if I take a look?” 

“Castle, I thought you were a writer not an MD,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, you’re right I’m not a doctor, but I’ve hurt myself before. Many, many times. At least maybe I can tell you if it’s worth seeing someone about it. Hey, I mean Lanie went to med school you could probably just go to her if you need to.” 

“And deal with Perlmutter if she’s not in? That’s my nightmare,” you shuddered.

“Come on, just give me a look. I promise no funny business,” he assured you and crossed his heart. 

You sighed deeply and winced a little, only prompting Castle to send you a pointed look which you acknowledged. 

“Fine, but not a word of this to Beckett, Esposito, or Ryan. They’ll chew my ear off if they hear I took my shirt off in front of you.” 

“Mum’s the word,” he nodded and with Castle’s help you slipped your shirt off. When you finally caught a glimpse of Castle he wasn’t even looking at your ribs, but instead right at you. 

“Castle, come on you said no funny business,” you whined. 

“No, no,” he shook his head. “I wasn’t-,” 

“Then what were you thinking about?” you raised your brows. 

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Not important.” 

He then turned his attention to your newly formed bruise and tilted his head a little, curiously examining it. 

“I think you should get this one looked at. Doesn’t have to be tonight, but that’s a nasty hit if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“Whatever you say Dr. Castle,” you sighed and laid back on the couch. 

You looked straight ahead for a while before turning back to look at him, only to see he was staring at you again. 

“Castle, you’re really bad at pretending not to stare,” you chuckled humourlessly. “Honestly, right now I don’t think I could care less.” 

“You make it kind of hard not to stare,” he retorted. 

“Oh yeah, how so?” 

“I just can’t seem to wrap my head around how someone who just got their ass kicked can still look so beautiful.” 

You snorted, “Really, you’re a writer, Castle. I expected more from you.” 

“I’m not lying,” he handed you your shirt back. “Shirt on or off, ass kicked or not.” 

“Tell me why I don’t believe you then?” you took a moment to slip your shirt back on with a little bit of difficulty, but you managed it nonetheless. 

“Maybe I haven’t given you much reason to,” he shrugged. “Can’t blame you there. Or maybe…” 

“Maybe what?” 

“You can’t see it yourself.”

“Can’t see it-Castle, what are you talking about?” you frowned. 

“I’ve been working with you guys for over two years, it’s kind of my job to notice things,” he started. 

“And what did you notice about me?” you ventured asking. 

“You have the capacity to do your job and excel at it like no one I’ve ever seen,” he said. “But not once do you believe maybe your hunch is right. It’s always, no, let's do Beckett’s idea that seems better, you even indulge me more than you indulge yourself.” 

You chewed on the inside of your lip, he wasn’t wrong. 

“I just hope that mentality doesn’t find its way into the rest of your life too.” 

You nodded your head, lips pressed tightly together, what he had said struck a chord with you. Resonated deep inside your heart where you knew he was right. 

“And why do you care so much about me, Castle?” you dared to ask him. “Why did I jump in front of you to just get my ass kicked by our suspect? Do you have an answer to that too?” 

“I might, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it,” he chuckled lightly. 

“Maybe we should save it for another time then,” you whispered. “I think I um…I need to get back home.” 

You pushed yourself up off the couch, but Castle blocked you before you could leave. 

“Just stay here,” he said. “It’s late, you’re hurt. I-I don’t wanna leave you alone.” 

“Castle, I know your mom’s living with you again. I don’t wanna impose-,” 

“It’s not,” he shook his head and put his hands on your arms. “I swear it. You take my bed, I’ll sleep in Alexis’ room tonight.” 

You had almost already had one foot out the door, you were so ready to get the hell out of there, run away from your feelings, but before your mind could catch up your hearts words made it to your mouth and you said, 

“Okay…I’ll stay.” 

Castle smiled and nodded his head a few times, like he was taking in the fact that you had just agreed with him, to be honest, so were you. 

“Just give me a sec, I’ll grab you some stuff to take up with you,” he said before walking off to the linen closet to grab you a towel, a pillow, and an extra blanket. He came around to the stairs and motioned for you to follow him which you did

The door at the end of the hallway upstairs was the one that he led you to, pushing it open and allowing you to enter the room while he placed the things he had grabbed for you on the bed. 

“Um washroom is over there,” he pointed, “Alexis’s room is the one by the stairs. D-Do you need something to wear?” 

“Uh, no I think I can manage in these,” you looked down at the t-shirt and joggers you were wearing, thankful you had changed into your civvies before going out of the precinct. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he nodded, walking back from his bed and coming past you. “If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”

You nodded your head. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he pulled a package out of his pocket. “Toothbrush.”

You smiled as he handed it to you. clearly having thought of everything. 

“You sleep well,” he placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek. As he began to pull away, his eyes met with yours and before you could control your actions you could feel yourself reaching out to him. An arm wrapped around his neck, toothbrush still in hand, one hand holding his face, and before you knew it you had pulled him fully into you, your lips pressed gently against his own. 

At that moment, you didn’t care anymore, you didn’t care about fighting your feelings, about whether or not this would end terribly and whether it was a good idea in the first place. All that mattered is that you knew what you wanted, and you were going for it. 

Castle pulled away after a moment, looking again into your eyes almost asking permission. Giving you a chance to back out in case this was all some mistake. 

But when you leaned in again, he took his cue and met you in the middle. 

His hands were wrapped so gently around your waist, careful not to squeeze or press too hard, avoiding your sore spots. 

The second time you pulled apart it was for air, your foreheads resting against each other, the only sound in the room was your breathing. 

“Would you…would you stay with me?” you asked. 

He pressed another kiss to your lips and nodded. 

“Anything you want,” he whispered, and he meant it. 

You unwrapped your arm from his neck, looking down at the toothbrush in your hand with a small smile. 

“I’m gonna go…” you looked to the washroom and he nodded saying something about getting changed. 

After you finished brushing your teeth, you came back into the room just as Castle was about to slip on a t-shirt. 

“Now we’re even,” he said. “And not a word to Beckett, Esposito, and Ryan,” he teased you. 

“Come on, we both know you would love it if they knew,” you rolled your eyes and made your way closer to his bed. 

“Nah,” he shook his head and slipped on his shirt. “I think I’m okay keeping this one to myself.” 

When you sat on the edge of the bed, Castle stayed where he was, that same knowing look in his eyes.

“What are you staring at?” you asked, pulling your legs up and sitting cross-legged. 

He just shrugged and came to the other side of the bed, it was odd how you’d never noticed that look. Had he always looked at you that way? 

“Rick,” you said quietly and he nodded, showing you had his attention. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

He chuckled a little, “I-Well I always thought you kind of hated me.” 

“I kind of hate everybody,” you leaned back against the headboard. “I hate you a little less.” 

He laughed and you did too, until you felt the ache in your ribs, prompting you to stop.

“I’ll take it,” he reached out to hold your hand and you took it, pulling him closer until this time he took the lead and cradled your face, kissing you again. 

“You know,” you mumbled in between kisses. “You don’t have to not say things on my account, ever.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he assured you. “And you know you’ll always have a place here.” 

“I could get used to that,” you nodded, holding his face in your hands and pulling him in even closer, until there was barely any space left between you. 

He used the proximity to wrap one of his arms around the side of your waist that wasn’t bruised and pull you over more towards him, having you practically lean into his chest, until you both sunk down into the plush mattress. 

“I don’t think I’m doing your lip much good,” he murmured while brushing his thumb across where you had split your bottom lip. 

“It’ll heal,” you kissed his thumb which was still resting against your mouth. 

“And so will you, but not if we stay up all night.”

You let out a small chuckle, “Alright, Doctor Castle, I’ll rest,” you conceded, letting your head rest against his chest, just high enough that he could bend his neck and press one last kiss to your forehead. 

Closing your eyes, it felt nice to know that someone would be there to hold you when you woke up. 

[jahayla-parker]

Note/confession: this was an unplanned fic that I’ve written to shamelessly offer myself some semblance of comfort (or as I told @ell0ra-br3kk3r , remedying me needing my Freddy fix after the events of my trip; which you’ll more or less read about below- except unlike y/n I don’t actually have Freddy to comfort me 😭)

Bite Me : Freddy Carter x Reader

Description: 2.3k wc, y/n is fortunate enough to be looked after by her wonderfully caring husband Freddy after her recent vacation took an unexpected turn. Fluff, hurt/sick comfort.

Warnings: not proofread yet, one curse right at the start, mentions of bug bites and bugs, mentions of bug bite symptoms and treatment (including prescriptions and other medical settings & topics), minor mentions of a small amount of blood (from scratching too hard).

“Fuck me,” y/n whimpered, her body feeling truly miserable. She had been on a trip with friends to several beaches over the last week and now she was covered in bites. Prior to being bitten by them, she’d never even heard of no see ums. But, that didn’t stop them from aggressively attacking all areas of y/n’s body.

Freddy frowned as he watched y/n twitch as she tried to restrain herself from scratching at the inflamed, red, aggravated bites. He’d been bitten by the particular bug only once before and only a handful of marks formed that time, but he still knew how terribly itchy the welts could be. He even recalled having wished to have been bitten by mosquitoes instead as no see ums are far worse. As such, Freddy felt horrible for his wife.

“We’re almost there, darling,” Freddy encouraged softly. He reached across the console to grab Y/N’s hand, his thumb cautiously rubbing the back of it while avoiding the multiple bites present there. When y/n hummed begrudgingly in response, Freddy gazed over at her and his eyes once again tried to scan just how many bites she was covered in. He’d tried to count them upon her return home, but she just wanted to sleep as she’d gotten in at the early hours of the morning today. Unfortunately, as Freddy suspected, y/n had only been able to get a couple hours of sleep before waking up due to the pain and discomfort. Therefore, he was now driving her to the urgent care clinic nearby to be seen.

Y/n had initially been against Freddy’s idea, feeling like she was utilizing resources that would be better used by others. But, after Freddy had made it a point to authentically count out each of the bumps on her right lower leg, she quickly changed her mind. Freddy had only counted the bites on the area between the base of her right knee and the top of her right ankle. Yet, his counting was cut off by y/n when he’d reached 146 bites in that area alone.

It wasn’t uncommon for no see ums to bite in bunches with multiple bites on an area. But, Freddy hadn’t seen anything like this before. He could only imagine the amount of bugs that had ventured onto her legs as they decided to make a meal of her. Especially when he realized it wasn’t just her lower right leg that was bitten countless times. Instead, Freddy quickly realized the bites also more than covered y/n’s upper right leg, all the way to her bum. His despair over her predicament increased when he’d seen that the red itchy bites had mapped all over both legs in the same manner, the fronts and backs of her arms from her hands to her shoulders, her neck, chest, and entire upper and middle back areas as well. As ridiculous and impossible as it was, Freddy wished he could’ve protected his lovely wife from such an awful occurrence.

Freddy knew he couldn’t reasonably expect to count every single bite, much less when driving. But, the simple fact that when he’d looked over to do so he’d seen her agony broke his heart. Freddy sighed as she clutched her hands tightly together to keep from scratching futilely at the marks. After stopping at the next light, he leaned over and pressed a sympathetic kiss to her forehead. “I know you’re miserable, but you’re doing so well, love,” Freddy encouraged.

Freddy prepared himself to try and convince y/n to take the vile-tasting liquid medication the doctor had passed her way. Only, before he could even open his mouth, she’d confirmed with the doctor the appropriate process and then promptly downed the cup in one go. In fact, Freddy’s suspicions of the severity of her condition were confirmed when she went for a second toss of the contents in the cup to be sure to not miss a single drop of the remedy. He brushed some hair from her face and handed her a glass of water to wash down the aftertaste, hating that was all he could do for her.

Freddy listened to the doctor’s advice very carefully, asking plenty of follow-up questions to ensure he knew how to best help his wife. He’d easily memorized that in addition to the liquid steroid medication she’d just taken, the doctor was prescribing y/n some very strong prescription antihistamines to take twice a day at home. Freddy had discussed bathing and showering restrictions with the provider, making mental note to not let her take anything other than a cold water bath or shower until the welts were resolved. He had to come to terms with the notion that y/n’s severe discomfort might not be fully remedied for over two weeks even with the treatment offered. Freddy hated that idea and wanted to cry when he saw y/n holding back tears over the thought of this lasting that long.

“Oohhh,” y/n whined, a sarcastic laugh exiting her lips after. “Gaaahhh, Freddyyyyyy,” she cried out. She shifted around in her husband’s passenger seat unable to get comfortable. “It, it iiiitttcchhesss”.

Freddy’s eyes flickered from the road briefly to look at y/n. He sighed deeply with a frown. “I know,” he replied solemnly. “But-, no darling, no scratching,” Freddy directed, pulling her arm away from her thigh.

“But,” y/n croaked, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe how insanely itchy her entire body was. Not to mention, there was also this simultaneous burning sensation from the bites and she was exhausted from not sleeping. Y/n genuinely didn’t think she’d been that uncomfortable before without being in excruciating pain. “It itches so badly,” y/n pointed out weakly.

With his eyes turned back onto the road, Freddy took the hand of Y/N’s he’d grabbed moments before and brought it to his lips. He placed a loving kiss on the backside of her hand. “I’m truly sorry, darling,” he acknowledged, “but scratching, well, it’ll only make it worse”.

“Oh bite me,” y/n exclaimed, using her other hand to scratch her ankle aggressively.

Freddy sighed and shook his head. He understood her desire (to the extent he was capable of that is since her situation was far worse than anything similar that he’d ever had). But, he still despised the idea that she could be harming herself by doing so. As such, he tapped one of the few clear spots on her leg and lightly shook his head at her. “Besides,” Freddy murmured, opting for another approach to his response. “I’m afraid things biting you is what got you into this situation, no?” He teased playfully, earning an unamused glare from y/n despite her small whimperish laugh.

Y/n grimaced as the itchy sensation once again fluttered through her body from head to toe and back. She began rubbing her legs against each other in hopes of having the friction ease the desire to actually scratch the bites. Y/n knew it still wasn’t likely an ideal solution, but something had to give, and at least this way she wasn’t risking opening the welts.

“Darling, it’s time,” Freddy said as he entered their living room. He quickly passed y/n her favorite water bottle and one of her newly prescribed antihistamines. They both sighed in minimal relief as she visibly swallowed the pill. It was obvious they were both hoping the pill would start to help her discomfort soon.

“Thank you,” y/n said quietly. She set the water bottle down, a small smile forming as she realized her husband had explicitly cleaned her emotional support water bottle for her to use. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, noticing the confusion the sentiment made form on Freddy’s face. “I’m being difficult and whiny,” y/n admitted, “I know I am, but-“.

“Y/n, love,” Freddy coed warmly. He cupped her face; partially choosing that contact option because it was the only part of her body he could touch without further igniting the itching feeling constantly inside of her. “You can whine and complain all you want,” he said tenderly. “You’re in an absurdly unpleasant and downright desolate state,” Freddy frowned in sympathy. “You’re not being difficult by wanting to, or actually scratching, you are fighting the urge the best you can. I know that.” “Why don’t we watch something on the telly to distract you a bit?” Freddy suggested considerately.

“I am freaking miserable,” y/n said in a singsong voice. She laughed humorously as she slid her shorts back on over her irritated skin, restraining from scratching the bites. She heard Freddy’s sympathetic sigh over the faint sound of his footsteps as he made his way to their bathroom. Y/n turned on the sink faucet, groaning as she prepared to wash her hands with warm water for sanitary purposes despite knowing how much worse her symptoms would be as a result.

Just as the water trickled onto Y/N’s hand, she noticed a small bug on her left at the edge of the vanity corner. It was some small black bug, but that’s all she could tell from that angle. As such, she reached over and moved the decorative item that was blocking her eyes from determining what kind of bug it was that had broken into her home. Y/n quickly realized it was a tiny spider as it began dangling from a thin web against the wall.

Without hesitating or even thinking, Y/N smacked her bare palm against the bug. The realization of what she’d just done hit her instantaneously as she pulled her hand back and saw the squished black mark on the white bathroom wall. “I don’t fuck around with bugs anymore,” she declared thoughtlessly. Y/n didn’t realize how unhinged her behavior or remark were until she heard the way Freddy’s chuckles reverberated around their restroom.

Y/n swallowed thickly as she hurriedly washed her hands. She tried to hide her bashful expression as she spun to where Freddy was in order to dry her hands. Only, it seemed he’d noticed and it only fueled his laughter further. Y/n shot him a fake glare that quickly shifted as she burst into genuine laughter of her own over her actions.

“Bloody hell,” Freddy laughed. He snaked his arms around y/n’s lower back to avoid most of her bites. “I am absolutely enamored by you, y/n/n,” he confessed with an amused grin. “And, quite impressed, you not only didn’t ask me to kill the spider for you, but you used your bare palm to do so on your own and then trash talked it,” Freddy said as he shook his head.

Y/n giggled and cautiously rested her head against Freddy’s shoulder. She made sure she was positioned so that none of the areas of her skin that were covered in bites touched her husband. Not because they were contagious, as they weren’t, but rather to keep her symptoms from increasing. “Let’s not talk about that again,” y/n hummed bashfully.

“Oh, but, darling, we have to talk about that all again still,” Freddy argued playfully. He laughed lightheartedly at y/n’s exaggerated groan, knowing the giggles that followed it showed her true feelings over the situation.

Freddy gasped whisperingly as he entered the bedroom. He figured it was taking y/n too long to change into her pajamas, so he’d wandered that way to check on her and possibly offer some help. Only, it seemed her discomfort had intensified to the point she’d caved into the burning desire to scratch at the inflamed bites. For, Freddy had entered the bedroom to find y/n rapidly scratching any and all areas of her body she could get her hands on; her hands flying around as they moved between areas with aggressively intense speed and force. Yet, it was the already visible result of such actions that made Freddy uncontrollably gasp.

“Oh love,” Freddy whined quietly. He could only imagine how bad her body was feeling if she had resorted to painfully dragging her nails all over her skin in hopes of even temporary relief. Especially as she’d done so to the extent that several of the once red-from-inflammation welts were now red from the trace amount of blood that had begun to leave the now open bites.

Instead of scolding y/n for something he knew was a last resort effort for her, Freddy exited the bedroom and quickly returned with a wet towel. “Let’s clean these off with a cold cloth, yeah?” He suggested as he knelt down before her seated position at the edge of their bed. “Place your hands on my shoulders please, darling,” Freddy requested, planning on using that as a way to keep her from continuing to violently scratch at her body. “Perfect, thank you,” he hummed as he slowly brought the cold cloth to her bare skin.

Freddy took his time cleaning the blood from y/n’s skin. He had intentionally taken longer than was necessary because he recalled how the doctor mentioned a cold compress could help ease the inflammation and therefore hopefully the itching. It was only once Freddy had felt the cloth reach room temperature that he fully removed it from her skin.

When he heard y/n sigh quietly in slight disappointment, Freddy realized instead of ending the round of treatment, he should step up his game. As such, he held onto Y/N’s hands as they remained on his shoulders and lowered them to his chest as he stood. “Darling,” Freddy spoke softly before he kissed her forehead. “I’m going to draw you a cold bath, we’ll give that a try”.

Unfortunately, this went on for quite some time. But, Freddy never gave up on his efforts to ease y/n’s misery. And, no matter how bad it got, y/n was never able to feel truly desolate because she knew her husband would do whatever he could to help her. Eventually, things resolved and Freddy attested that he was going to be sure to remind her to pack & use bug spray for all of her travels even if he wasn’t there to apply it to her skin himself.

Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @missdreamofendless @nikfigueiredo @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @alex-kazbrekkersimp @opheliaofficial07 @historynerd77 @el-de-phi

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[redrydersrequiem]

The Raven and the vampire

Chapter 1

This is a Twilight and marvel mashup, the daughter of loki finds her soulmate in jasper Cullen and the twists and turns it will take them both

As of 11/21/24 i've redone this story it is no longer a reader insert. I want to thank everyone who liked the original and hope you like the updated version more, this was my first ever fic and i've slowly grown as a writer so everyone enjoy

It begins like every other day on Asgard, sunny and golden, gilded with light, as the sounds of a baby’s wails break the silence of the healing wing. Loki paces back and forth, waiting to be with his wife and newborn. The doors swing open, and an attendant comes forward. 

“You may enter your highnes. Your wife and child are all cleaned up and waiting for you.”. Brushing past the attendant, Loki heads straight for the figure sitting against the backboard of the green silk bed.

“My darling, how are you? How do you feel? Do you need anything? Are you hung/…’.. 

“/Loki, calm down. I'm perfectly fine.  A little tired, but it was all worth it to finally meet our daughter.”

“it’s a girl?” 

“Yes, my son,”  comes the voice of Frigga, queen of Asgard, as she walks over to the bed with a wrapped bundle in her arms. “She is a beautiful baby princess, and here she is, ready to meet her parents.” Walking to the new parents with a bundle of green and gold cloth in her hands, Frigga handed the new princess to her mother.  

The baby was a light blue with raised markings prominent on her body, tufts of deep black hair crowning her head, and scarlet eyes opened to take in her parents. Lady Sigyn didn't even pause at the baby’s coloring,  long since having broken Loki of thinking himself a monster due to his heritage. 

“She is half Jotun as we expected, but her body should adjust to the environment soon just as her father did,” Frigga states, noticing her son had yet to say anything as he simply stared at his daughter's small form resting in his beloved's arms, slowly offering his finger to the baby girl. Skin turning blue as the babe gripped it in her tiny hands.

“She’s beautiful,” 

“Yes, she is, oh, Loki look,”

The new parents watched as scarlet eyes gave way to white with beautiful amethyst irises, skin turning a beautiful pale like her father's with a dashing of freckles like her mother's.  

“She looks like you, my love, beautiful dark hair.” 

“She looks like the both of us, a perfect blend. Elara Frigga Lokidottir, Princess of Asgard.

 Our  little raven.”

Eight hundred years have passed, and the young princess has blossomed into a woman of grace and beauty. Like her father and grandmother before her, she is a mage, as well as a warrior in her own right. How could she not be, with private training from an actual Valkyrie, not to mention her aunt and uncle— The goddess of war and the god of thunder (who is affectionately referred to as the "god of sparkles")

Through many trials and tribulations, she has grown. Throughout her life, she has been surrounded by love—seeing it in her parents' faces as they look at each other, her baby brother's eyes as he babbles up at her, and the warmth of her grandparents, uncle, and many others. She has also heard countless stories of love that were never discovered and tragic tales of love found only to be lost. 

“Mother, father, I've done it.” Elara omimite as she bursts into her parent's sitting room. 

Sigyn was sitting on the floor with the twins as they had tummy time, while Loki was next to her, legs crossed at the ankle, reading a book to the two of them. Both looked up as their oldest came into the room.

`What is that, my little raven?” 

“ Father, I've completed the spell to find my soulmate.” 

“Soulmate? Spell? Darling, what are you talking about? You're still so young. You shouldn’t be worried about that yet.”

“Mother, you and father were only 200 years older than me when you both finally married, and much younger than that the first time you met, you started frolicking with each other. Uncle Thor has told me as such. Besides, I'm ready. I want to have what all of you have, especially before I'm used as a pawn to help diplomatic affairs.”

At this, Loki stands, embarrassing his daughter and ushering her into the lounge between him and her mother. Though Elara had grown 800 years in Asgard, it only made her about 18- 20 in human terms. And yes, she was old enough to start being courted. He selfishly thought that time wouldn't come for much longer. His wife's voice breaks him of his 

“My little raven, we would never allow the Allfather or anyone else to use you as a pawn, you know that, right?

“You can try, Mother, but we never know what the future holds, and I don't want to wait anymore. Besides, Father is the one who gave me the idea to begin with.”

“Loki, why am I not surprised you are somehow involved with our daughter trying to leave?” 

“Dear, it will all be fine. I would want nothing to harm our little raven, but she is right; now we are at peace, but that can easily change. I want her to be able to choose her path instead of others doing it for her.” 

“And it not just to spurn the Allfather.” 

“While that is always a bonus, no, Mother even agreed with me. Our little princess is grown, whether we like it or not; now go ahead, love, tell us what you’ve discovered,” Loki states as he kisses his wife, soothing her while gesturing to Elara to carry on.

“ Mother?”

Sigyn pinches her mouth, looking between her mischievous husband and equally energetic eldest. 

“Fine, I will go along with you and your father's plans, but I wish to be there when the spell is cast and part of the travel discussions.”

“Absolutely, Mother, I can do the spell now; I just need the maps of the realms.”

Loki summons all the maps he's collected over the years, including a globe of Earth, and sets them up for his daughter when a thought occurs to him.

“Odin forbid this adventure; send you to Midgard.”

“Loki, we will support whoever it is and wherever it takes her. Besides, if you didn’t want her to go away, you shouldn’t have helped her make the spell to begin with.” 

“Your words cut deep, my love. I simply hoped for her future match to be here in Asgard.” 

“As you’ve said, my dear. Now, sweetie, let's proceed with this event.” 

The maps of the realms litter the giant green carpet. In front of Elara, she sets the small golden bowl with the spells and concoctions as she draws the needed ruins.

“So I modified a spell to find a lost item and a spell to show your heart's desire, combining the two with a complicated magic circle. I should be able to find my soulmate”, 

“Very impressive, little raven” 

“Thank you, Father,” Elara says before beginning. 

Purple magic flows from her fingers toward the bowl. The power quickly spreads out, forming a magic circle, and as soon as it is complete, a bright, pulsing light shoots up. 

The light dances around Elara and her parents several times before shooting to the maps.

“It's working!” Sigyn happily claps in awe, watching her daughter work.

Pulsing around the realms maps, the light simply hoovers before shooting for the Midgardian globe, encasing it insistently. 

“Oh joy, my daughter's soulmate is a Midgardian.”

“Honestly, I think it serves you right, Loki,” Sigyn states, picking at her husband and his distaste for Midgardians, “but you don’t even know who or what this midgarden is. Who knows, they could be gifted like our dear Wanda.”

“Yes, my darling,” Loki says as he collapses on the nearest couch.

“Well, go on, my little raven, let's see where in Midgard you will be visiting.”

Walking over to the globe, Elara peers over to what small words have now been illuminated.

“It’s a place called….. Forks, Washington.”

@reblogspostedheresoogcanbeclear @notwithawhimper @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @xcharlottemikaelsonx

[mereelskirata]

tell me your tup and dogma headcanons? *chinhands*

*squishes cheeks* I don't have many headcanons for these two (or anyone else tbh) but I shall share with you what I have.

Dogma is older than Tup and they're not batch mates.

I absolutely adore fics/art where the two were decanted around the same time and were best friends during their cadet years (I mean I've drawn and written about it myself). Lately though, with a certain post about paint on armor, I've come to the start thinking that - while they may have been friends or have worked together now and again on Kamino - Dogma has been alive and a part of the 501st longer.

Dogma received praise from his trainer(s) once and now often seeks it.

This one came to me yesterday while thinking about this ask and again today while rewatching clips from the Umbara arc. This could just be attributed to what the clones are programmed/trained to do or just plain loyalty but Dogma is the only one that I've noticed (and remember) doing so.

The first time we see him, he's exhausted and out of breath and told to go rest by Anakin. Straight away he refuses and continues to stand there as if he's trying to show that he's the best trooper and willing to press on despite the exhaustion. I'm willing to think he's expecting Anakin to recognise this and praise him for being an excellent example of a trooper.

After that he's constantly wanting to seek approval from Krell. Again, this could just be down to pure loyalty to the Jedi, but it's always Dogma (and to some extent and persuasion, Tup). He wants to rat out Jesse, Hardcase and Fives about their unsubordination. He's the one that takes charge of their execution, not a ranking officer like say Appo or Rex as though he had offered up then and there to take charge of the firing squad, just to show loyalty and perhaps sieze praise from Krell.

In a more lighthearted tone though, I do think this need to be praised has gotten him in more trouble than he can count outside of the battlefield and Tup and Torrent have used this against him a couple of times to go to 79s with them or try something silly and reckless.

Also he has a praise kink.

Dogma has trouble recognising his limits and needs a helping hand to stop.

This could broil down to the praise thing or he's just stubborn, but I honestly think Dogma would push himself to the point of him passing out from hunger and exhaustion or even death if given half the chance if no one tells him to stop.

Rex has to order him to go rest after he refuses Anakin and later on in the arc, despite being surrounded and outnumbered by angry troopers who want to take down Krell, and Rex who's giving this whole speech wanting him to step aside and do the right thing, it's Tup who convinces him to stop.

Tup has a low pain threshold/tolerance.

This headcanon only exists because of the chip arc. No reason why or a moment in a scene I can pin point that made me go "AHA. New headcanon!". It just happened. I will say this kinda leans into the next one:

Tup got his tattoo from his batchmates.

So I had seen once a post that had mentioned that the tattoo was something someone got from jail and questioned what Tup would've done to have gotten it, but I liked the idea that he had actually gotten it from his batch mates as a dare.

Maybe he was a crybaby as a cadet and they'd often tease him for crying often over the minor of things like his hair getting roughly tugged or he'd sprain his ankle while training. They would only stop if he "proved" that he wasn't a crybaby by daring him to do something. Sometimes nothing consequential like sneaking into a trainer's room and taking something or standing in the middle of a shooting range at night and letting one of the boys shoot something off his head.

One of those dares would be letting them stick-and-poke him with whatever they wanted and wherever they wanted on his body. Long story short, he'd be wailing in pain, pass out and wake up later sore and a tear permanently under his eye.

[byuteablanc]

One Human and a Whole Lotta Bones | Skeleharem x Gender Neutral Reader

—

Hello! These are some important things you should know before continuing!

> The reader is everything neutral, which includes race, body, as previously mentioned, gender, etc

> The underfell bros aren’t toxic

> I have used a lot of headcanons to do my own iteration of what I think of when I thought of a skeleharem. Though this is inspired by famous fics like 6S,1M and TSM, this is nothing like either of them. If you disagree with my iteration, please don’t slander me

With that, I hope you enjoy! And if you’d prefer, I have this on AO3 as well. Click this to get to the link.

—

Chapter One: Home

You pulled into the six car garage, feeling good. It was another late, difficult night. You could only be grateful to be back at the house after your very long day filled with annoying customers, and an even more annoying manager. Constant pestering and nitpicking, as if you couldn’t do your job any faster or at all. Yeah sorry you couldn’t sprint across the restaurant to deliver your customer’s drinks and food at the speed of sound. You were only human after all.

With enough self-loathing to fill the next mile and an half, you get out of your car and walk into the mud room. You take off your shoes and coat, placing them in the closet for safe keeping. But not before being blinded by a jacket coated in really shiny sequins, which combined with the light felt like a flashbang. This jacket was just added to the closet today, because you definitely would’ve noticed this menagerie when you left this morning.

The jacket was all the way covered in sequins and even on the inside as you saw after investigation. *Probably Blue trying a new, and hopefully short lived, aesthetic*, you noted.

Letting your eyes recouperate, you looked at the closet for a while and looked at the distinct coats and jackets littering the space. Each one you could tell whose it belonged to. Papyrus had a long distinct red shall that looked more like a cape or a wizard’s robe, Sans had a plain blue puffer coat but only after his brother demanded he wear something thicker than his also plain blue felt zip up hoodie. Red had a large baggy kid-going-through-their-emo-phase esque jacket with a hood that contained enough fluff to cover a large mutt. Edge had a wannabe black leather jacket with flames on the back and arms with metal spikes on the shoulders and cuffs, also kid-going-through-their-emo-phase like. Blue’s new jacket you did not want to look at again. Stretch had a nice long green coat that would reach his ankles comprised of thick fabric and buttons made of hard plastic.. which is not something you’d expect. Andddd you just remembered you were tired with a desire for food and sleep.

Walking into the house, it was still full of energy, which was weird. After all, it was late, 11:38 to be exact. Your roommates would be sleeping or at least in bed by now, especially the more responsible of the bunch. But yet here you were, you could hear voices and laughter.

You followed the sound to the source to find your skelebuddies all at the dining table. They weren’t eating though, just chatting. And they left one seat vacant, one seat for you.

Noticing you standing there in the doorway, seemingly in a trance, they call to you. “long night huh, kid?” Red remarked.

“HELLO Y/N!” Papyrus greeted, waving to you as if you weren’t a few feet away.

“You guys haven’t started yet? It’s literally after eleven.” You furrowed your brows, taking your seat.

Cinnabar frowned, “We Wanted To Wait Until You Came Home, Dear. Is That So Bad?” He asked, feigning dramatics.

“Well, no…” You paused, feeling a weird lump in your throat for some reason. “It’s just that no one’s ever done that for me before. I’m used to eating meals alone.” You shrug, not realizing the implications of what you just said. They all look just stare at you. You felt a blush rise up to your cheeks, you look away in embarrassment.

There was a silence in the room, awkward wouldn’t be the best way to describe it, a little depressing and somewhat concerned would be the proper way. “WELL, YOUR WELCOME. LET’S GET TO THE FOOD NOW! I’M HUNGRY.” Edge declared, breaking the silence.

“EDGE…” Blue face palmed.

“WHAT? WHAT DID I DO?”

“Trust me it’s fine, I agree with Edge. I’m hungry too.” You agreed, wanting to change the subject from such emotionally intimate undertones.

Papyrus jumped out of his seat. “OOOO I’LL GO GET THE FOOD FROM THE OVEN!”

‘i’ll go too’ Russ signed.

“Make that three!” You said quickly, not wanting to continue awkward conversation.

“Wait, Y/n!” Cinnabar called, and you pretended to ignore him.

Now in the kitchen, you smell something good. It makes you smile and get a little excited in anticipation. You were guessing Blue cooked today, he was making progress. Your relearning-how-to-cook lessons with him have most certainly paid off.

One of your first experiences with this merry band of bones was tacos with half salmonella ridden, have charcoal ground beef that had glitter and sugar in them. Fascinatingly enough, the sugar was added deliberately for a “ORIGINAL SWING ON THE CLASSIC TACO!” as Blue stated at the time. “Original swing” couldn’t describe what the taste was. What’s even more fascinating is that all your other roommates that enjoyed cooking were the same way! You didn’t know how they survived before you came along, you needed to get the details one day.

“What was on the menu for tonight, Russ?”

‘Premade over baked pizzas, it was a lazy sunday’ He shifted his shoulders a little, usual straight face cracking a smirk as if he was giggling. You nodded in response, opening the oven to see three piping hot pizzas. God did they smell divine.

Each of you grabbed an oven mitt and took one out, taking them back to the dining room. You quickly ran back, putting away your oven mitts. Sprinting back to the dining room to dig in, you sat back down in your seat with a carnivorous look to you. You snatched the first slice(s) and began eating, not even noticing the concerned and even disgusted looks you got from your friends.

Soon, conversation began to bubble up around the room, and now out of your food hungry stupor, you payed attention.

“I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU ALL… I HATE PEPPERONI,” Blue declared, actively taking it off from his slices.

“how can someone hate pepperoni…” Stretch looked at him with a thousand yard stare.

Sans, nodded, dousing his pizza in a mountain of ketchup. “gonna have to agree with stretch there, blue.”

“BROTHER, YOU HAVE NO GROUNDS TO TALK WITH YOUR… INTERESTING TASTES…” Papyrus judged, looking down at his plate with scrutiny.

“you haven’t even tried it bro, it helps me relish the flavor.”

Papyrus began groaning, along with Cinnabar, Blue, and Edge. While Sans himself, Stretch, Red, and Russ could only giggle. You found yourself standing in the middle when it came to puns, sometimes they were stupid, sometimes they were the funniest thing in the world. But right now, you were so tired that laughing seemed to contain too much energy that you just didn’t have.

“BEFORE HE GOES ON A PUN RUN, HOW WAS EVERYONE’S DAY?”

“Russ Said ‘did you just say pun run?’” Cinnabar recited for his brother.

“YES! NOW ANYWAYS—“

Stretch giggled. “heheh, ‘pun run’. you’re too funny, bro.”

Blue stared at him with annoyance.

“sorry” Stretch scratched the back of his vertebrae.

“my day was wonderful, thanks fer asking,” red smirked

Edge frowned, throwing his arms up. “BUT YOU JUST LAID AROUND ALL DAY AND DID NOTHING!”

Red, opens his mouth to take a bite from his now fourth slice. “exafly.” He replies, food in his mouth, earning him a few disgusted looks.

“What Did You Do Today Y/n?” Cinnabar smiled at you, looking expectant.

Awww man, you were enjoying the banter. They all turned the heads to look at you at the same time, it was kinda freaky. You could at least admire the manners. “Uhhm, not much to say honestly. Oh except my manager is like an asshole, but you guys have already—“

“NO SWEARING AT THE DINNER TABLE!” Papyrus corrected.

“oh cmon papyrus, we’re not five. i think some cuss words wouldn’t hurt.” Stretch rolled his eye lights.

“OH SHUT UP STRETCH, IT’S INDECENT AND YOU KNOW IT!” Edge pointed a phalange at him accusingly.

“it should only be indecent when used in a irresponsible way. plus, would you rather hear asshole or butthole?”

“‘the latter makes me cringe personally.’ Agreed Brother! No Offense To Your Human Body Part, Y/n.” Cinnabar reassured, making you chuckle a little bit. These guys were hilarious.

“Well, as you guys are talking about assholes—“ Papyrus groaned “—I’m going to go to sleep, it’s late and I have school tomorrow.” You remark, getting out your seat and getting your plate.

“GOOD NIGHT!” Blue exclaimed.

‘sleep well, y/n.’ Russ signed.

“yeah what they said,” Sans chuckled, everyone nodding in agreement.

With that, you walk to the kitchen, hearing conversation continue behind you as your place your plate in the sink. Placing your hands in your pocket, you traverse upstairs going past the foyer and walking upstairs. Your room is at the very end of the hallway, feeling far away now that your sleepiness and the introduction of food to your body has combined.

Reaching your room, you close the door and start changing into your sleep wear. You relished the soft feeling of the fabric on you, making you feel calm. You make sure to plug your device(s) for the night, before hitting the hay. Now climbing into bed, you lay there, closing your eyes.

In a very frustrating turn of events, your mind wont turn off and you can’t go to sleep. You feel wide awake and are just waiting for that wave of sleepiness to come back. After a few moments, you can slowly see your thoughts going slower and slower as the need for sleep slowly creeps back in. You drift into a deep sleep…

Knock Knock Knock

You groan, shifting positions in your bed to face the door. “Yes?”

You hear someone enter your room, opening your eyes you come in contact with Cinnabar. You sit up, “What’s up?”

“Oh! Sorry I Hope I Didn’t Disrupt Any Sleeping!”

“It’s fine,” you exhale, waking yourself up.

“Okay, I Just Wanted To Talk To You About That Thing You Said Earlier.” He furrows his brows in worry.

Oh jeez…

“Have You Really Never Experienced A Meal With Others Before?”

You look to the side, frowning. You hear a sigh.

“Ah Nevermind The Question, I Just Want You To Understand Something…”

You turn back to look at him expectantly, watching him walk towards you and sit beside you on your bed. “This Is Your Home Now, And When As Long As You’re With Us, Especially Me, You Will Never Be Alone. —I-I Mean Eat Alone, Yes, Eat!” He cleared his throat.

You smiled, feeling that familiar lump in your throat rise to the occasion. You lean into hug him. “Thank you, I really appreciate that,” you whisper where his ear would be.

Cinnabar, surprised at first, quickly reciprocates the hug. You could feel him being to smile as he leaned into the crook of your neck. “Anytime, Dear.”

You break the hug, Cinnabar seemed reluctant to let go but did regardless. Continuing to smile, he got up from your bed. “Good Night, Y/n.” He walked to the door, turning the doorknob and stepping out, “Dream Sweet Dreams.” He softly closed the door.

Laying back down in your bed, you couldn’t help but feel a wetness form from your eyes. Turning to look up at the ceiling, you take a deep breath.

“This is my home,” you repeat, putting a hand over your chest.

You can’t help but feel elated.

—

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