#i really hope i didnt overwhelm you all by the way

[deus-ex-mona]

the ✨fickleness✨ of the heart

[bunnyboy-juice]

blah blah blah blah blah

[inmirova]

"it's easier to leave an abusive situation than it is to stop an abuser" :^( but it's not easy :^(

[bloodcasket]

“ EASY, BABY ”⋆ ﾟ☾

PAIRING: DI!Jill Valentine x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Pure NSFW (descriptive smut), Age gap centered!! (Death Island! Jill), Female described reader, Dom!Jill, Sub!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, reader described as more inexperienced than Jill (nothing too specified), innocence kink, fingering, finger sucking, tribbing, panty play, dirty talk, jill just loves to praise, teasing on Jill’s behalf, a lil bit of manhandling. LIGHTLY PROOF-READ!

WORD COUNT: 7.4K+

DESCRIPTION: The whole department and crew is out for celebration at a restaurant. As Jill sits amongst the table, she spots the new girl, young and timid, giving shy glimpses from across the table.

AUTHORS NOTE: SUPERR rusty after lack of writing for a couple of months now, really hoping this satisfies because Jilly bean doesn’t get enough fics written about her. Let me know if there’s any mistakes, please and thank you! (I’m so normal for her, i promise). Took me too long to finish, and i got lazy toward the end.

The last thing you wanted was to deal with any of the men sitting around you, feeling forced to pry out fake enjoyment and formulate fraudulent smiles at any of their cheesy comments.

They were all grown and lax, after all, middle-aged and experienced, their worries about leaving bad impressions left long ago after years of regulating bioterrorism. They just simply didnt care, and tonight was meant to be jubilant, after all. It was a way to congratulate the team for arriving back home in one piece. Clank glasses of iced bourbon and smile after the weeks of prolonged misery and uncertainty.

It had only been a few minutes that you sat, waiting at this table, the celebratory event making you feel like the black sheep.

A timid, young stranger, her shoulders hunched in discontent, and her expression nonchalant as she sat alongside the chairs of older individuals, ones who laughed and cheered, shook hands and grinned with their cheeks shaded crimson, wrinkles creasing around the shape of their eyes.

It was people who worked drastically to make the trip to Alcatraz bearable, and handled more experience within this field. Something you felt you lacked. Something you saw yourself unequal to, off putting. In other words, even undeserving.

Employment under “The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance” was nearing a few months now for you, but your line of work strayed far from any defensive units, due to your familiarity with the information management department. You organized required files and handled technological tasks under supervisors order, you weren’t genuinely handling firearms and terminating undead like the others were within the BSAA. You were simple, and did your part, participation with higher-ups was foreign.

The invitation to come here was optional, of course, but your ripe desire to see a certain woman was hard to swallow. After several days of trying to deny yourself this opportunity, the denial became fruitless, and you finally succumbed; which leads you to sitting at this lengthy dining room table, shuffling in discomfort and trying best to bite back any resurfacing regret.

It’s a restaurant, aromas conjoining in the air, certain scents collecting that it perplexes you. The whisks of alcohol burn through your nostril hairs—your lip twitches in discontent, jaw soon slacking as fragrances of broth and caramelized delicacies fog around you. You scrunch your face and twist your cute nose, huffing in the perfumes of delight.

It was all so overwhelming, and yet you had barely done anything yet sit and spend a few minutes skimming the menu—fiddling with your hands on the table when you yearned for a distraction. And yet; another server hurries past your seat, wide platters in hand, a trail of aromatics left in his wake. Drool draws upon your impatient tongue, you wondered how much longer it would take.

“Jill, didn’t think you’d make it”, a male voice chimes, you're able to single it out amongst the banter of the public place, trying best to listen as other residents at the table mumble out tipsy-tainted sentences, snortling and getting themselves comfortable as they slosh down fancy cocktails.

The timid position in which you kept yourself in the moment you sat down at this table seems to have been disoriented, a stiffness residing down the arch of your neck as you lift your head and adjust your eyes to your surroundings.

Dimly lit, and silken curtains are drawn over windows for the evening, you blink a few times to observe across the table, eyes stretching past messy cutlery, and halfway bubbling glasses. You blink again, throat moving slowly as you swallow dryly.

Under tinted yellow light, she sits. She’s shaking her head, exaggerating a huff of exhaustion as she edges her seat closer to the table. Brunette hair is silken and syrupy brown, a few strands askew from where she let the hair descend down her face and tickle the middle of her neck, the vision filling you with exhilaration.

‘Jill Valentine’, you suddenly think, watching as she’s easing herself more comfortably into the seat, shaded heels of her boots sliding forward as she pushes her legs apart, elbows jutting against the hickory surface that you oh-so-admired for several minutes straight. She’s hunched over improperly, wrapped up in a gray woolen cardigan, not caring much for table manners. A heat brewed low in the pit of your stomach.

“Had to finish my report, it was a pain in the ass”, her adjacent partner seems to love this reaction—being that he chuckles shortly afterward, “would prefer if you took it off my shoulders next time”.

“Your responsibility”, he replies nonchalantly, Chris Redfield from what you remember, a known operator within the BSAA. He was respected largely by his peers, a man with his time spent sacrificing and protecting, all for the benefit of “greater good”. You couldn’t say much about him, you couldn’t say much about anyone to be quite frank, except for one person. His partner in crime.

Needless to say, you scrounged through your closet for hours one night to pull out piles of clothes in desperate search to find something presentable for this woman. Bouncing your eyes back and forth over different varieties of garments, torturing yourself over the delusional manifestation that you’ll attract Jill Valentine tonight.

Intimidating. Most would plaster that description over her if it was all for first impressions. A 41 year old military woman who can carry her guns just as wonderfully as she can carry her foul language. She’s blunt, and by no means patient due to certain circumstances, but with the small moments she’s managed to pass alongside you, the tiny things don’t go unnoticed.

Coincidentally, you bump into her in the lobby; she’d chuckle jovially, waving one hand toward you dismissively as you ramble out apologetic gibberish. Reassuringly telling you “it’s not a problem, don’t worry about it”.

You’re heading toward a file room? She’ll catch you in the halls, velvet lips upturned into a gentle grin as she greets you with your name slipping off her tongue, blue eyes narrowed down at you in an observant manner. She remembers the little details, remembers you.

To say it was innocent appreciation was incorrect. It was an attraction, and the more your female superior managed to cross paths with you, the more you felt the warmth in your stomach churn and twist. It embarrassed you, to say the least. Jill Valentine was probably an individual with her priorities straight, and here you were, grinding your thighs together as you squirm uncomfortably in your seat, front teeth gnawing on the swell flesh of your bottom lip. You looked ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Ogling an older woman as if she were some high school crush. Where were your priorities?

Heaps of chestnut hair suddenly color your vision, blocking your delicate view as a head leans forward to inch closer to the woman you admire, “Here Jill, saved your drink until you got here”, her voice is flowery and feminine, a tinge of nasal sweetness at the end of her chirping sentences. “Glad to see you”. You almost envy her in this moment.

“Thanks, Claire”, a pale palm wraps around the transparent glass, pearls of condensation glistening on Jill’s lengthy fingertips, her nails clumsily trimmed, and beaten hands calloused from her work. You feel your breath hitch at the sight, cotton mouthed as you watch.

Tonight was going to be long. Too long, if this was all you were going to think about.

Claire retreats to her original position in the chair, her conversation with the brunette ephemeral as she focuses her attention on another, leaving Jill solemn in her thoughts, curtly nodding to every general word Chris might possibly say. She’s taciturn, and trained on the voice of her adjacent companion.

Without the veil of ember strands shrouding over the woman’s face, you melted in your seat, lethargic and ditzy as you bored your beady eyes into the vision that was just blissfully her.

One sip, then another. Her lips curl around the lip of the glass, swallowing measured amounts of golden whiskey that smell like smoke and peaty.

“We should all get together and go on vacation after all this, think we deserve that much”, Chris suggests this as he wedges his fork into the collops of filet spread along his plate, in which the other hums, her eyes flickering from the pit of her glass and then forward, peering across the table.

Rings of cerulean catch your nosiness, and you feel the organ within your rib cage falter, and then within seconds accelerate, heart racing like a jack rabbit inside your chest. She caught you staring.

She keeps the contact for a few seconds; you’re the one who widens your eyes and cowers into yourself, suddenly pretending that the entree platter of pillowy bread rolls is of much more interest.

You think you’ve gone crazy, due to the slanted, open mouthed smirk she summons on her face, mumbling a few words in reply to the male beside her (which you don’t catch due to how much blood is rushing to your face, head swarmed with internal comments of how utterly humiliated you feel). Nevertheless, the intrigue she displays is clearly prevalent, more so in the way your young face ducked to hide yourself other than the subtle conversation Chris clearly tried to create.

Just as you had foreseen, the night was indeed long and mundane, and your quick glances at the nonchalant beauty sitting opposite of you was practically dangerous, due to how cautious she seemed of her surroundings and every object that crossed her. A habit she carried in her occupation, you supposed. She was by no means incognizant. (It would be a lie if you didn’t at least give one glimpse, though. Maybe two…maybe three).

You can’t recall if it had been an hour or more, but the facade of enjoyment seemed to lose its potency, and perhaps for others as well.

Little by little, the crew took their leave, furred winter coats slung over the slope of their shoulders as they waved and headed out for the night, giving you some trivial excuse to join alongside them. With the bill paid generously in reward for everyone, the crowd migrated out through the exit doors and into the parking lot, the wisps of frosty air breezing past in copious amounts.

You trembled, nails dipped into the lower fabric of your mini dress, trying best to ease it further down your thighs as you cursed yourself for wearing such attire.

‘All that work just to stare at her like a fucking idiot’, and now here you were, with gritted teeth and trembling flesh as you shuffled down the sidewalk in shame, purse hung over your shoulder whilst you made your way home. That is, until the crackling of gravel wound up behind you, tires rolling over cement and bright beams flashing over you as if you were a deer in the headlights. An unfamiliar car slowly approaches beside you, and you stumble in your heels as you halt.

“You waitin’ on someone or something?”, the subdued hum of the engine had synthesized with the husky chuckle that was rightfully Jill’s, “don’t tell me you were actually gonna walk home in that? No jacket?”

An arm is laid firm across the surface of her car door, her head peering out through the window as she leans forward, her expression is practically incredulous. As if she was disappointed in your choice-making, and your lack of self-awareness for the weather and time of night. She thrums her fingers across the door impatiently, other hand gripping her steering wheel as she expects an answer.

“I was just-“, and here’s the flaring heat of humiliation rising once more. Your lips are molded into a solemn line, her glare of ridicule made you feel guilty for not asking for her aid in the first place. “I’m not too far from here- I wouldn’t want to be a bother”. You’re lying through your teeth, and the brunette scoffs as if she already knows.

“Fucking hell, you were actually going to do it? You’re too young to be doing stuff like that”, she jests in a low manner, muttering more so to herself than to you. Her arm slithers back inside the vehicle, head motioning to the empty passenger seat with a quick nod. “Like hell I’m letting you walk home, it’s not safe. I’ll give you a ride. Get in”.

The authority of her tone makes your knees wobbly, and the way she sits back in her seat with her neck craned against the headrest commands urgency. She’s waiting. You feel a lump harden in your throat. She’s waiting for you.

You hasten your little steps, sheepishly opening the car door and sliding inside, whispering with pruned lips how thankful you are for the ride. You’re stiff in the seat next to her, hands folded in the center of your lap; they were numbed from the cold, goosebumps embroidered along your delicate flesh.

“Don’t mention it”, she brushes off the innocent gratitude with a witty shake of her head, vehicle rolling through the asphalt, leaving the parking lot with just a planate flick of the wrist, elongated fingers dipping into the rubberized padding of the steering wheel. You watch from your peripheral, nostrils flaring as you shakily inhale, splashes of soap and freshly cleaned laundry breeze over you, and you relish in it, stomach all filled with butterflies over something as simple as the older woman’s scent.

“Where to, then?”, she inquires with a throaty hum, vision focused on the road ahead of her. She sighs in frustration when you tell her, though she grins in utter amusement, laughing when you deluge her with stuttering apologies over a mere lie.

“Christ. Thought you said you were close?”. She makes a turn, dirt crackling under the wheels as she pulls onto another street.

“I know, I’m sorry”, you mumble in shame, hands folding tighter and tighter until your knuckles jut against your skin, your face all flushed. Lower lining of the dress you wore was hiked up your thighs, you felt so exposed and scrutinized alongside her, in her car.

“It’s alright, don’t take me too seriously. New girl, right? I remember. Explains why you’re always so quiet”, Jill continues with the conversation, glimpsing over just for a second to study you before she’s focused again. “You enjoy the place? They had some nice drinks, don’t you think? It wasn’t all too bad”, you frown at her words, a heaviness nested in your chest. You hadn’t really done much tonight at the celebration. Nothing other than ogle at her, eat some bread rolls, and then ogle at her some more.

“I didn’t drink anything really, unfortunately”, admitting this was rather awkward, due to how much desire you held to impress her. Now you just felt inadequate, lackluster. “Too many people I didn’t know, if that makes any sense. I must sound boring, don’t I?”.

“Not even one drink?”, she questions, lips curved up into an open-mouthed grimace as she flutters her eyelashes in teasing surprise. “Free to get whatever you want, and you’re telling me you were too shy to even drink anything?”, and she sneers when you nod, biting down laughter in hopes she could keep you comfortable in her presence. Smile lines deepen around the shape of her mouth, silky lips blessed with a tint of coral, apples of her cheeks glowing with every beguilement grin.

“It doesn’t hurt to celebrate, you know. You work hard, I’ve noticed”, she pauses, considering her next words carefully, not wanting to tread any risky lines, “I’m not that far from my apartment anyway, want to have a drink or two? Think I’ve got some lying around, wouldn’t hurt to get em’ used up”.

Green light hanging up ahead switches rapidly from yellow to red, crimson hue painted over the dashboard and along the height of your body. You’ve sunken a little in the passenger seat, all wide-eyed and panicked when she offers. You open your mouth to answer, but she cuts you off before you could turn the opportunity down.

“Just the two of us, okay? I don’t bite, I promise”, and you swear you’re melting, too convinced. You nod in response, a simple “sure” is all you can hiccup.

‘Maybe all that time ripping apart my wardrobe was worth it?’

Maybe so, because Jill fucking Valentine is moving her lengthy index finger to the left of her steering wheel, flicking on her turn signal without a single ounce of hesitation, and then making a u-turn that can only promise one thing.

The ride to her apartment.

Agreeing was most definitely easier than doing, that was for certain. With the door opening, and her leading the way inside, not only then does it really solidify into reality. One of your leading superiors—a trained operations agent—has driven you back to her apartment to “share drinks” and “celebrate without all the other chatter”. At least that’s what she bargained for in the car.

You’ve politely found purchase on the faux leather cushion of her couch, material beige and smoothened, and you curl into it as you keenly gape around the place.

The condo is fresh, and crisp, organized and minimalistic, but still with a trace that’s so understandably miss valentine.

After hearing about rumors of Jill’s horror in raccoon city, you can almost bet she’s much more at ease now, with her new place, and her new position. Eager to distance from her solemn past.

She’s a workaholic, that’s for sure, multiple rooms in her living space and she’s dedicated one for her research; the door slightly agape, and you can’t help but satiate your curiosity as you squint your eyes and look past the doorknob.

With what little you can see through the crevice, there’s a desk inside with files strewn along the top, corkboard furnished along the wall and vital information pinned to it with colored thumbtacks. Not able to help yourself, a tender smile cracks on your lips as you notice irrelevant stickers plastered along the granulated cork, designs of cats and succulents the older woman has happily put everywhere. Your heart pangs at the innocent gesture, imagining such a stern individual indulging herself with such small and adorable items.

“Do you have a preference? Want anything in particular?”, said woman calls from the kitchen, face astern and a hand pushing the fridge door open. Hastily, you retreat your beady eyes, suddenly feeling impertinent for your sense of wonder. She lists off what she has, but it’s all foreign to you, not making much sense from your lack of alcohol expertise.

“I’m not sure”, you shrug sheepishly, a bashful grin displayed, “anything is fine, really”. ‘Anything that you pick, I’ll drink’, sounds more correct, but you digress.

She reads you like you’re an open book, your naivety and youth all too transparent and sat right on her couch, eyebrows furrowed and hands respectfully folded in your lap. A position she’s noticed you in ever since you were rigid and unsettled in her vehicle. When were you ever going to relax? It filled her with incomprehensible mirth, the way you were.

“You’re quite young, aren’t you?”, Jill teases a little, poking at the spots that make you internally weak as she flashes a knowing smirk, “don’t drink a lot I take it? That’s alright”.

She retrieves two glasses from her cupboard and fills them with her pick as you so kindly advocated, closing the fridge and then sauntering over. She takes her place beside you, the leather sinking from the weight of two, her thigh resting along the couch and the shape of her kneecap brushing against you.

“All yours. Bottoms up”, a throaty chuckle resounds in her throat as she offers the drink, ushering for you to take it into your small hands, in which you oblige with unreadable panic. “Cheers”, she clinks her glass with yours, before she’s reclining into the cushion and swallowing, throat muscles contracting up and down.

You only manage to gulp down a small portion of the beverage, soured reaction shriveling your lips. It wasn’t the most enjoyable, but it was Jill’s, and you found it as well sought after as any nobel prize. This drink, this couch, this moment. This moment with her, even if every lick of the bitter whiskey was deathly, you would still sacrifice every lumpy taste bud just for a second with the woman.

Slowly, she sets the drink down on the coffee table, and you watch her movements carefully. Those hands of hers guide the cardigan off her shoulder blades, shrugging the gray fabric down and onto an armrest with a composed exhale.

What torture it is, your foolish reverence for her. Dirty incalescence ferments between the swell of your thighs, burning and burning once you catch sight of the dip between her chest, cleavage freckled with age and brown moles dotted along her sharpened collarbone. Her tight little blue tank top hiding underneath that damned cardigan this whole time. The fabric is stressed across the seaming of her bust, creased and curled until it dips down and hugs around the frame of her waist. There’s no fucking way you’ll be able to make it through tonight without slipping up.

“You’re brave for working under the organization, no matter what you do. Reminds me of when I first started training, I was around your age too. It’s risky, but I’m sure you already know that”, she bends downward to unlace her coal-shaded boots, tugging the zipper down without an ounce of patience in her.

“You gettin’ along with everybody? How is everything, with the new position and all? I mean, the way you were acting earlier, it makes me worried. If anyone’s screwing with you-”.

“No no no, it’s not like that, I promise”, you cut her off, shaking your head quickly in hopes you could help her understand your viewpoint, in which she glances at you and sits upright. She got you to talk, and if she wasn’t absolutely smug about it.

“Everything is fine, and the department is kind to me. You’ve been very generous too, and I’m thankful. I’m just…still trying to get used to everything”, she bobs her head with acumen, digesting every syllable and stumble of your words, listening maturely. She finds flattery in your compliment toward her, doing best not to grin.

“How is it with, um…you and Chris?”, you ask, and the moment the question slips past your lips, you’re filled with utter regret. What kind of question was that? Valentine raises her eyebrow in bewilderment, shocked by the sudden change in subject. She draws her arm along the head of the couch, manspreading whilst she sits as she pleases, eyes still narrowed with pique and pointed in your general direction.

“Me and Chris?”, the laughter she bellows out is vocal, giggling deeply without much restraint, “we’re partners, is all. We’ve been in this field for a while now.”

The way she carries herself around you is as if she’s known you for years, like this is just some humorous conversation that fills her with interest. She wasn’t this excited to speak at the restaurant, you’ve noted, and it’s heartwarming. You, of all people, have made her soft.

Despite all the liquor she’s consumed tonight, she is still impressively sober, quick to catch on to all your soft spoken words, and averting eyes. Although, her high tolerance, of all things, is not a particular trait of hers that surprises you. It only aids the turmoil that rumbles in your chest; it makes you feel weighed down and heavy, the scent of luxurious usquebaugh lingering on her tongue after every breath she releases.

“I see”, you mumble, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Jill rolls her blue eyes, “you’re always apologizing, you have nothing to be sorry about”, the room falls silent, clock that’s hung on her wall ticking as seconds prolong into minutes. That is, until she speaks again.

“What about you? Got a boyfriend? Lay it on me”, and the room feels like it’s suddenly enclosing, the words strangely suffocating, and you refuse to admit your sheer infatuation you bore for her. You shake your head with silence, finding that your speechlessness was a better reply rather than your jumbled words of anxious gibberish. One slip up, and you knew it would be over.

Your fingers tease the constricting dress again, eyes exerting to the way your thighs expand and lay flat on her sofa. The way the material fits you like a glove was sweltering, especially with her obsidian pupils beating down on you, drinking up your every tentative counter.

“So that’s a no”, she snorts at your lack of volume, feeling filled with confidence. “You stare a lot, you know that? I noticed you looking at me all night. I don’t scare you, do I?.”

You shoot your attention toward her now, irises apprehensively rounded and wide, and you feel the world absolutely crumble as you're struck with distress over her admittance. She did notice, after all. How pathetic you must have looked the whole time, peering from the fucking entree platter to her every couple of minutes, so visibly envious whenever anyone uttered a single word to her.

“No, I”-

Your pale lips tremble as they open, an absinthal taste wrought over your tongue and depleting any moisture from your mouth. You try to answer, meek and destroyed from your own clumsy dilemma. How different this could have been, if only you weren’t so gullible when it came to your yearning, now leading yourself into chagrin as you couldn’t keep your eyes away earlier.

“I’m sorry”, you pipe out, “I didn’t mean to”-, and she’s engulfing you, brain all smothered into mush and your body liquidizing to putty under the embrace she ensnares you in. Countless nights you’ve spent imagining how every curve of her lips feels pressed along yours, how they move, how they taste, but absolutely nothing can put into words how beautiful they feel as they swallow up your squeaks of dismay.

She’s crawling forward until she’s got you all laid out underneath her, squirming in your position as you submit to the palm she lays on your chest, a firm push she gives until you’ve gone flat amongst the leather cushion. With her legs now entangled with yours, she’s content, humming into the kiss she’s so rightfully initiated, sharp nose dipping into the velvet skin of your face, and skimming along your cheek with every tilt of her head.

Challenged by inexperience, you try best to keep up with the opening and closing of her mouth she’s laying upon you, her eyes sealed as her lips seemingly can’t control themselves, a hunger you’ve never expected from Jill. Flavors of malt she's got melting from her tongue, intoxicated saliva that’s mixed with yours and creating a slippery concoction between your lips with every thirsting lick she provokes.

“Need some attention? Am I right?”, the brunette separates from the bliss she had solicited, lips detaching with a wet smack so she can inhale sharply. “I’m much older than you, much”-, she huffs, airily snickering at the sight behold just right beneath her, “much fucking older.” She drags the wriggling muscle out from between her teeth and over her lips, collecting the moisture and spit you had so generously lathered over her. To die like this, it would be divine.

You lay dormant and vulnerable to her control, but she had warned you. Her words were not to be taken lightly, but rather, considered. To give up your innocence for such a filthy, wretched moment like this, Jill knew better. But those eyes of yours had begged, pleaded, were filled with desperation. Whatever she had done, or would do, you wouldn’t lament over it—but rather—savor it.

“I know”, you speak up, balancing the shakiness that wracks you. You’ve wanted a moment like this with her, and you refused to let it slip away from the cracks of your fingers when she was so, so close to granting you everything you’ve wished. “I know you are.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Explains all the staring, that goddamn dress during winter for Christ’s sake, all on purpose, I take it, tryna get my attention”, the silver pendant of her necklace dangles above you, circling as if it’s meant to entrance you. “The hell am I going to do with you?.”

The authority that oozes off her foul tongue is like morphine, an opiate you’ve swallowed, it’s addictive and ruins your common sense completely. Innocent eyes flicker back and forth, your jaw now slack as you can’t focus between the heat swirling in her pupils, or the way her lips taunt you for another taste.

The delicate curve of her nose, like a deity the way she so naturally is, sculpted from the stars as you examine the dorsal bump that sits near the bridge between her eyes, and then arches down to her cupid's bow. You want to pepper kisses all over her, take a risk into her world, trace the fine lines that are embedded into her pale complexion. God, you wanted it, no matter how foolish you would become.

Not able to withstand another teasing comment, you bring your lips to hers with vehemence, your shaky hands drawn over the stretch of her back, nails bundling up fistfuls of blue cotton fervently and with lack of restraint.

“Easy, baby”, the older woman rasps out a discordant laugh as she eases apart from you, “I got it, sweetheart. Let’s take our time, no need to rush anything.”

But the way your fingers are threading up her spine, carding through the syrupy strands of her hair and burying the pads of your fingers into her darkened roots tell her everything. “Please”, you whisper, a whine of desire prolonging from your throat, “take me to bed.”

And who is she to deny such a request? Fallen at your feet from square one.

With groping hands and ragged breaths, Jill has led you to her room and shoved her calloused hands onto the square of your chest, watching you stumble your way backward until your knees wobble, feet losing balance and you surrender your footing. Now draped along her mattress, you’re sprawled amidst her disheveled sheets, unintentionally alluring at the edge of her bed. A present that needed to be unwrapped and reveled in. Undressed and ravaged.

Undoubtedly, the attraction was mutual. Too reticent to meet her eye, fledgling and modest you were, a stark contrast to the indecent and repugnant men that stuck around and partnered alongside Jill in multiple missions. She was abnormally engrossed in you, freshly employed, seeing a sliver of compassion in every beam you presented, how much you were blossoming compared to the others who groaned and wailed.

Of course, your age had been worrisome, and Jill felt guilt course within her at such salacious contemplations. But to have you laid out in this moment, so youthful, so precious, she knew it was alright. She was going to take such good care of you, that was certain, cherish you like no other. And from the way you propped your weight up onto your elbows to wait for her, in her bed—she knew you had waited a while for this too. The glimmering twinkle in your glossy eyes, an unspoken plea from the depths of your soul.

Jill pried your heels off your feet and threw the irrelevant shoes to the floor, long fingertips prodding along the protruding talus bone and further down to the curve of your calf, pulling your leg upward so she could chastely peck along the skin. Give you softness before she fucked you clueless, solicited vulnerable cries from that sweet mouth.

“God, you’re so perfect, sweet thing. Need you to be good and spread your legs for me”, she mumbles amongst unarticulated nibbles to your calf, two strong hands guiding your limbs apart with your permission. You comply, breath hitched in your throat, craning your neck back once she lowers a palm between your two thighs, index and middle finger circling into your sticky panties, meddling with the sodden gusset.

She grunts, your wet cunt fueling her ego. She knew it was worth examining how ruined you already were, but this quick? How precious.

“Fucking hell, you’re needy”, you flush viciously at her jesting observation, squirming so sensitively at the swirls and caresses of sensual friction, every plunge of her trimmed nails into the flimsy fabric were torturous. Panties are humid and tainted from your own very need, and you feel your body is just an ocean of desire, body overflowing with lecherous want.

You wantonly gripe and huff, dress now creased and hiked up to your navel as Jill holds you still and anchored, one hand clamped around your knee securely as the other is buried between your thighs, toying with you. Coaxing those gentle gasps out of you that make her heart swell, fill her with greedy pride.

“Just a couple of kisses, and your panties are already ruined”, she curls a finger into the band and drags the elastic up, the soiled undergarment loose and freed from your glistening labia, before Jill releases, the material slapping back down within mere seconds. Jolting and whimpering, you’re appalled from the igniting slap amongst your sensitive warmth, hips jittering and Jill flashes you a playful smile.

“Half my goddamn age and gettin’ all wet”, she tugs the panties up now, watching the cotton sink into the slick of your pussy, lips curled around the laced seam and cutely puffed out, glistening with your own pronounced arousal. “Pretty girl”, she muses, dark eyebrows creased and wrinkles of concentration forming along her forehead as she gawks at you coming apart, beseeching for mercy with little squeaks and airy sighs. She wonders when you’ll demand pleasure, but such a sweetheart you are, letting Jill have her way with you.

She’s too impatient for this little game, having enough of prolonging your reward of indescribable pleasure and ecstasy. She pushes the damp gusset to the side, a bridge of transparent slick breaking apart from the undergarment once she bares your cunt to her hungry eyes, lengthy fingers spreading your velvety lips apart, her mouth formulating into an impressed “o” at the vision.

“Jill”-, you pipe up with uncertainty, but she hushes you, another kiss she smothers to your calf. “I know”, she hums, “I know”. You feel all warm inside, sickened with endearment by the way she looks at you, clenching around thin air as you imagine how well she’ll fill you. You’re all hers tonight, she knows this.

A veil of brown tresses conceal half her face as she lowers her head to a calculated angle, sharp collarbone and shoulder blades pronounced once she bends closer to your clit. She collects tepid drool off the tip of her pink tongue, and hurls it down onto your turgescent pearl, watching her bubbling saliva sully your pretty little pussy and drip down to your pulsating hole, entrance begging to be split open as you clench once…then twice, and a third time. You shiver at the contrast of temperature, cool slick now warmed by the draw of her thermal spittle, and you attempt to keep your head up to watch with half-lidded eyes, desperate to see the woman you loved.

Despite her foul-mouthed tendency, and inclination for dirty talk, she was slow, and tender. Her hands were rough, marred from training and littered with blemishes and scarring. Though, she was so considerate the way she plopped her thumb along the swell of your clit, textured fingertips rubbing upward against the flesh, flicking the small, and hardened bud with precision that had you moaning brokenly into her pillows. Your nostrils flare, inhaling her musk that’s adorned the sheets, the scent enveloping you, in which you only moan louder.

“Yeah, feeling good, aren’t you. Like my fingers?”

“Mhm!”, you had no words to speak, clasping onto the bedding as she steadily draws circles of pleasure over your enlarging bud. She tests the waters, pointer finger nudging at your dripping entrance, and when you make no sound of denial, she buries herself inside, curling one finger into your cunt. She laughs flippantly as your body instinctively swallows her in, fleshy walls tightening and frenzied, clenching sporadically around her, and she adds another finger slowly, trying best to be careful with you; her precious girl.

“Jill- oh my god”, the sudden stretch of her fingers is surreal, sticky taint gushing from your weeping hole and defiling the pale, boney fingers that split you apart so remarkably, obscene sonorities that climb up the walls and ring into your ears. You were already soaked earlier after the push of her tongue along your teeth, a saturated flower between your shaking legs, luminous and gleaming after a rainfall of dominance the older woman harbored.

But the way she bullies her knuckles inside you, her spit sloven hands smearing her slobber all over your vulva—you've been undeniably ruined, sopping mess that’s smeared to the flesh of your inner thighs and down to the shape of your rear, and you sob.

“Can’t- can’t do it”, your body says otherwise, pleading for more, blood rich and adrenaline coursing through bluish veins like wildfire. Thrust after thrust, and push after push; transforming your mortal chassis into molten nothingness. You’ve surrendered willingly, fallen victim to a certain euphoria that wounds around you, ensnares you into a blanket of submission.

“You can”, Valentine coaxes, more of a demand than suggestion, inspecting you past her webbed eyelashes, “and you will.” Her two fingers are tight against one another, pummeling toward the spongy muscle inside you with a pump of her wrist, arm flexing as she opens you wide to her advantage, folds spread apart to her liking, flapping limply atop the tarnished knuckles that gets forced into your noisy pussy. You’re writhing desperately, an arm flailing down the arch of your stomach to catch her, and you’re teary eyed; two crystals gleaming and threatening fat tears.

You’ve begun to blubber riddles of nonsense, incoherent gasps that can only direct Jill toward one conclusion, and once your hips grind upward to meet the dry surface of her palm, she’s sucking her teeth. You’re close, she smirks in understanding.

“Hm!”, you shake your head, and what else can you say? Disheveled and torn away, once innocent and pure, now fragmented into a vision of a filth from the way you moan symphonies. Dress slithered up just below the cave of your ribs, and a trembling hand clamping down on the wrist that’s trapped between your lifted thighs, you’re the image of a prostitute.

Nonchalant from your intrusive hand desperate to stop her, Jill swats you away and flashes you an expression that reads ‘don’t do that again’, before she’s plunging once more, and your stomach lurches, hitched breath trapped within your esophagus.

“Listen to yourself”, she tantalizes, sultry remarks hissing from the gaps of her pearly whites, and you whimper delicately as you begin to lose yourself in the bliss. It’s only in that moment of fragility that you recognize what she finds so amusing, the squelching of your cunt, juices lewd and sloppy as they flow, and you’re clenching around the older woman’s joints within. Further and further, until the rope breaks, and you’re crumbling into oblivion, battered fingers ushering you into an orgasm of pristine heaven.

Her thumb lulls you from your sequencing spasms, rubbing your used little clit in tender circles as she marvels over such magnificence with blown pupils, still standing at the edge of the bed whilst she listens to the howls of elation that tumble from your cute lips. She’s got to stop herself from hounding you right now, control the erotic sparks that are boiling underneath the constriction of her pants. She did this, and if she didn’t feel so full of herself because of it. Thoroughly smitten with you.

“There you go”, she hushes you with rasping care, observing with worry as your soft hips remain twitching, “you okay?.”

She abandons the mess she made the moment she joins alongside you, crawling to fill the cold space amongst the bed, suckling marks of woo under the slant of your jaw once she’s beside you. Slender, protective arms are snared around your heaving figure, and you’re humming to reassure her, reaching to grasp onto the meat of her biceps for a sense of imploring comfort.

“You did good”, a husky murmur that rumbles from her, reverberates through you as she douses nurturing pecks along the crown of your swarming head, your brain filled with static and fuzz from such an experience. She thinks you’re finished for the night, wasted and frayed—the humble woman she was—figuring she’ll get you cleaned up and call it a night.

The conclusion is omitted, fortunately, from the moment your mouth falls agape, needy muscle thrashing inside and your libido pulsates. You lever her hand that was once caressing your waist, and bring it upon the seat of your bottom lip, peering past your nose at the wrinkled fingertips; pruned and soiled from the liquid you've drenched them in. Your release, glued and preserved amidst the pores of the brunette's skin.

A low sigh of approval erupts from Jill’s chest as you clean the cracks and crevices you’ve dirtied, your beady eyes now sealed tightly as you slurp on the digits hungrily.

“Can’t baby”, she drawls, cunt throbbing and irritated as it stays purchased amongst the seaming of her ripped jeans. “Might be too much for tonight.”

As if you’re adamant on her docility and compliance, you swirl your tongue over her nail beds, the addictive brewery of your cum, globs of spit, and her flesh had all become dewy and sloshed down the walls of your throat. You moan, bobbing your head until you sputter around her, and the two digits sit upon their tongue-like throne beside the swell of your tonsils, leaving you gagging stupidly by the sensations.

Fucks sake, she wants to pummel that honeyed mound into the sheets until you’re ripping her off, tear streaks racing down your cheekbones. You fucking asked for it? You’re gonna get it.

“Want you to feel good”, you gargle, batting your eyelashes, “please?”

Denial dawns heavily upon her for the second time tonight, the fear of mauling your body��her temple of worship—weighing heavy on her racing heart. But the stench of sex disarms her restraint, the prodding canines and writhing tongue deepthroating her fingers merely convincing her. “Wanna feel you”, you whimper, “wanna”- and there’s no more words that need to be said.

Constricting fabric and other layers of clothes are shredded apart within a matter of seconds, now askew and in disorganized piles amongst the older woman’s bedroom floor. She couldn’t care less, peeling off everything she, or you possibly owned, a chest of ample breasts swinging and soft, chocolate moles dotted from her collarbone to the curve of her rising tits. You feel them perk against your own, nipples coupled and stimulating one another. Her robust figure straddles your hips, strengthened thighs not allowing an escape as she wrestles her lips against yours, groaning in low carnality.

The night is crude, bawdy, and daring. Jill Valentine’s apartment molding into a pornographic masterpiece, with licentious kisses exchanged with swollen lips, and entwined legs that brush against one another. She’s slotted herself so perfectly against your cunt, raising her hips so she can grind her clit against yours, and it’s everything she’s wanted. Everything you've wanted. Hymns of pleasure conjoin, and she’s clamping your thighs as she meets you in the center, a sultry look through her hooded eyes. With nails digging crescents into your skin, she huffs out a hissing moan, string of curse words descending before she can communicate properly.

“So close babe, so fucking close”, Jill’s pelvis pushes upward, folds kissing one another and she connects with you like you’re both two puzzle pieces meant for one another. “Gotta wait for me baby, wait for me, okay?”. She’s already said that many times tonight, stilling her scissoring once she spots even a measly scrunch of enjoyment building up on your youthful features. Egging you on just to shatter any shroud of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck this sweet pussy all night”, she grunts, chuckling in mirth at your whines for release, beads of sweat drawn over her temples. “Be patient with me baby, be patient”. And she’s tugging the ropes again, leg drawn over yours as she rubs against you, over and fucking over again, until you’re a ruptured woman, humbled from your own begging.

[waayoutofline]

4 times you surprised Abby + Bonus

Pairing: Abby Anderson x F!Reader

Prompts: Fluff with a sprinkle of hurt/comfort, past toxic relationships, Cook! Reader, vulnerable Abby.

Summary: Four times you surprise Abby in your relationship.

WC: 2,8K

Warnings: None.

Abby hasn’t had a long dating history, which isn’t surprising in a world as broken as theirs. Survival didn’t leave much room for things like love. She’s had her flings, moments of stolen intimacy, but they never lasted. People came and went, and she’d learned to accept it. Relationships, if they even could be called that, weren’t always kind or healthy—but they were what they were. What she was used to.

So when you and Abby finally started dating—after months of stolen glances, shy smiles, and a tension that buzzed between you like an incoming storm—she couldn’t help but be surprised. What was it about you that made her hope for something more?

1. Talking About Her to Your Friends

Abby didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. She was on her way to the gym when she remembered she’d left her bag in your room. She knew you were with your friends, so she decided to sneak in quietly.

But as she approached the door, she heard her name.

“So, how’s life with your lover girl?” one of your friends teased, and Abby froze.

Her pulse quickened, a mixture of curiosity and anxiety rooting her in place. She shouldn’t listen, but she couldn’t stop herself. She braced for your answer, her heart sinking as she prepared to hear the usual: She’s strong. She’s built. She’s hot. A bit stubborn. Overwhelming at times.

And sure, she was those things. Her body was a testament to her survival, her strength, and her discipline . She worked for it and was proud of it. But deep down, she longed to be seen as more than that. And her character was strong and she has been told about how troublesome it could be alongside her dry humor and sarcasm.

“Well…” Your voice was hesitant, shy. She could almost picture the way your cheeks would flush. “Gosh, she’s amazing. She’s so intelligent and kind—she talks about literature in a way that astonishes me every time.”

Abby’s breath caught in her throat.

“She’s gentle, in this really soft way. You should see her with dogs. It makes me want to get her one.”

Her chest tightened, warmth blooming in a place she hadn’t let anyone touch in years.

“Don’t forget attractive,” one of your friends chimed in, grinning.

You laughed, your voice flustered. “Well, of course. She’s gorgeous.”

“Look at you, all smitten,” someone teased, and your laugh grew quieter, softer, as if you didn’t mind being called out.

Abby’s heart was pounding now, but it wasn’t from nerves. She felt her legs move before she realized it, retreating back down the hall with her bag in hand, her cheeks hot, her lips curling into a smile she couldn’t fight.

Manny didn’t let her hear the end of it when he caught her grinning like a lovestruck fool all day.

2. Meeting the Family

Holiday time was around the corner. Usually, it didnt really mean much for everyone, but for the sake of trying to live in this forsaken world, some did their best to try and regain some normalcy.

Even Isaac, workaholic and not really an empathetic, allowed some of the recruits and workers to go out of their shifts earlier to spend some time with their remaining families.

It could be great. If you actually had one.

Abby usually just stayed at the gym, pushing herself. The burn of her muscles being preferable at the though of how alone she really was.

But she really wasnt anymore. No, you were with her now.

One night, out of nowhere, you asked her to have dinner with you and your mom. Abby blinked, caught off guard.

“What?” she asked, towel in hand as she dried her hair.

“My mom and I usually do something this time of year. I think she’s tired of me rambling about you and wants to officially meet you,” you said, your tone light and teasing, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal. No one had ever invited her to meet their family before. No one had ever seen her as someone worth bringing home. Too conscious of her own lack of family.

“No pressure,” you added quickly, though your eyes softened in that way that made her heart ache. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. But I think she’d really like you.”

“I… I’d like that too,” Abby said at last, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “What should I bring?”

You smiled, stepping closer and gently tugging the towel from her hands to help dry her hair. “Just you, beautiful.”

Abby let out a shaky laugh at your cheeky grin, rolling her eyes to hide the way her cheeks blushed. “Flatterer.”

Dinner was warm in a way Abby hadn’t experienced in years. Your mom fussed over her like she’d known Abby forever, asking about her favorite foods and piling extra servings onto her plate.

It was strange and wonderful—this sense of care. Abby couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel this… domestic. Cared for. Hers died at a young age after all, she didn’t remember any kind of motherly care.

And when your mom pulled out the box of polaroids, Abby couldn’t stop laughing. Even as you protested in the background, trying to snatch the photos away, she soaked in every story your mom told—every glimpse of you as a child, every memory that shaped the person she was falling for more deeply than she thought possible.

3) The little things

Abby has always been independent. She prided herself on it—her ability to handle things, resolve problems, and shoulder her burdens without leaning on anyone. It wasn’t always easy, and yes, sometimes it felt lonely. But that loneliness was a price she was willing to pay. Dependence, to her, was a weakness, and she had no room for that.

But then you came along. And somehow, without even trying, you chipped away at her walls.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t about grand gestures, no flashy declarations. It was the little things—the quiet moments and unnoticed details—that left her feeling undone.

Like the time you took her gym towels, washed them, and neatly packed them back into her bag. She’d blinked in surprise, holding them in her hands, wondering how you’d known she’d forgotten. You hadn’t even mentioned it, just smiled when she realized.

Or the way, after a grueling patrol, she’d find a sticky note on her makeshift fridge. Your familiar handwriting scrawled something simple—a heart, her name, a quiet reminder to eat. Beside it, there was always a container of her favorite dish. She’d sit there and eat it, alone but feeling more cared for than she ever had before.

Then there were her hair ties. She’d spent half a morning cursing under her breath, looking for the ones that always seemed to vanish. When you finally spoke up, you’d said, “I put them in the little box on your nightstand so you don’t keep loosing them.”

And at times, when she didn’t really have it in her to face the morning, you gently encouraged her to push forward. You’d quietly ask if you could braid her hair. Abby usually was adamant to let anyone touch it, but there was something about the way your delicate hands moved through her hair that left her in a trance.

Your fingers worked carefully, threading through her scalp with a tenderness that eased the weight she carried. She found herself humming softly as you worked, the tension in her shoulders melting away with each gentle stroke.

It was so small, so simple, but she’d stared at you for a moment, the words catching in her throat.

It amazed her how you always seemed to notice the things she needed before she did. You didn’t make a show of it, didn’t ask for thanks or praise. Taking care of her came as naturally to you as breathing.

Afterward, life seems all that brighter. Easier to breath, knowing that she could count on you.

4) Getting her vulnerability

The anniversary of her dad’s death was closing in like a shadow. Abby felt it in the air, in her nightmares, in the way her body refused to let her rest.

Night after night, she woke up shaking, clutching at her chest, and every time, you were there—soft whispers, steady hands, holding her like she wasn’t coming apart at the seams.

But she hated herself for it. Hated waking you, hated seeing the concern in your eyes, hated the thought of you realizing just how much of a mess she really was. People had left for less.

And maybe you would, too.

Many people, both lovers and friends, had been uncomfortable with the ghosts of her past—her dad, her losses, the weight she carried. They either tiptoed around it or distanced themselves when it became too much. She didn’t exactly blame them.

But you faced it with her. You didn’t try to fix her or tell her to “move on.” You just stayed, listened, and made her feel like she wasn’t broken.

You stood by her, with no pressure, no expectation, no need to “make her better.”

“You don’t always have to be the strong one,” you told her one night, after she tried so hard to stop her body from shaking after one particularly harsh dream.

It was something no one had ever said to her before, and it stuck with her. It gave her the strength to turn around and look at you while tears started down her cheeks, the darkness not managing to conceal them entirely. But it was alright.

You were there.

“Was it about your dad?” you whispered, not pushing but encouraging. Silence filled the space the question left.

“No.” She finally answered, her voice unsteady in a way that she loathed. “We…we were on a patrol, and when I came back everything was destroyed. Burned to the ground. And you were….” Her words stuck, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. “You were gone. You were…g-god, you were—“

Almost immediately, you hugged her, cradling her head to your chest. You were soft and warm, the steady beating of your heart thumping under her ear. It was almost scary, how comfortable it was.

“I’m right here,” you murmured softly, your hand gently running through her hair. “Hear my heart. Focus on my breaths. We’re together, Abby. We’re okay.”

The words settled over her like a balm, though the ache in her chest didn’t fully ease. The images from her nightmare still lingered—haunting, visceral, unshakable. But your presence, your warmth, gave her something solid to cling to. A light in the darkness.

“I hate it,” she finally whispered, voice raw. “I hate that I can’t protect everyone. That everyone seems to just…go eventually. And that I can’t do anything about it.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, your eyes soft as you wiped away her tears. Your touch was gentle, your expression firm but kind.

“Abby, you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”

She shook her head, her brow furrowing in frustration. “But what if I lose you? What if I can’t stop it?”

“You won’t lose me,” you said firmly, your hands cupping her face. “And even if the worst happens, it’s not because you failed. It’s because the world is cruel sometimes. But no matter what, I need you to know that you’re not alone in this.”

Her lips quivered, another tear slipping down her cheek, but she didn’t look away. For once, she let herself be seen—completely, raw and exposed.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Abs.” You patiently reminded. “It’s okay to let someone else carry the weight sometimes.”

You continued, your voice steady. “You have me.”

Abby let out a shuddering breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to truly let go. She melted into your embrace, burying her face in your neck as the last of her resistance crumbled.

You stayed like that, holding her through the quiet sobs, through the silence that followed. When she finally spoke again, her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Thank you,” she said. “For staying.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple, your hand still running soothingly through her hair. “Always,” you replied. “I’ll always stay, Abby.”

BONUS

+) Not minding her overprotective nature

Everyone knows Abby is a deeply loyal person. She wants her loved ones to be safe more than anything, and she is willing to do anything for them. That usually manifested as her being slightly overprotective at times.

With you, it happened more often than not. She would step in at the slightest sign of you having any issue. Usually, she did it through small gestures that were partly unconscious to her. Like knowing your schedule by heart and accompanying you to your room late at night with a secure hand on your lower back. Happily listening to your rambling while still keeping an eye out.

Watching over you in every room came naturally to her.

She was particularly tense when you, as the executive chef, asked for permission to assist in a supply run and gather some materials. Abby always insisted that you only go when she was available. She didn’t trust anyone else to keep you safe like she did.

The most dramatic displays of her protectiveness came when you were confronted by recruits making greedy demands.

“Back off,” she practically growled, appearing behind you like a shadow. The person usually stammered, probably not conscious of who your girlfriend was until her imposing frame stood threateningly in front of them.

Afterward, she turned to you, all the aggression melting away as she gave you soft eyes. “You good?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I’m good.”

And you meant it—being with Abby made you feel safe in a way you never had before.

You weren’t exactly “on the frontlines” material. You arrived at the WLF when you were pretty young, and after going through everything, even the sight of a gun left you uneasy. So when Isaac saw your cooking abilities, he allowed you to stay at the base under the title of side-line cook. You eventually rose through the ranks, and that was that.

You preferred dealing with narcissistic soldiers over facing those vicious creatures. In a way, you grew accustomed to being pushed around, even though you knew how to defend yourself. But that all changed when you met Abby.

Standing at 5’9 and with a build that seemed crafted by the gods themselves, it was safe to say people left you alone after associating with her. So, even if you knew how to stand your ground, you enjoyed being protected by her.

You didn’t mind when she walked ahead of you during runs, her broad shoulders shielding you from any threat that could come your way. When she insisted on carrying the heavier bag or checking your gun a couple of times before leaving—just in case.

Not even when she glared at anyone who looked at you for more than five seconds in a way she deemed unacceptable.

You didn’t mind any of it because you knew it came from a strong sense of caring. That’s who she was. She cared deeply.

So, whenever she hovered near as you collected some herbs just a little outside the perimeter of the stadium (an area kept clear of infected), her eyes following your every move, you didn’t roll your eyes or brush her off. Instead, you smiled softly, glancing up at her as she leaned against a tree, arms crossed.

“You don’t have to watch me like a hawk, you know,” you teased lightly. “This is a pretty safe zone.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna keep an eye out.”

Setting the basket down, you stood and moved next to her, gently nudging her to sit. She understood your intentions—she always did—and with her back against the trunk of the tree, she made space for you to settle between her legs, resting against her.

“I know,” you said, leaning into her warmth. “And I appreciate it.”

Abby’s expression softened, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You don’t think I’m… too much?”

“Not at all,” you said, glancing back at her and managing to place a soft kiss on the side of her jaw. “You make me feel safe. That’s never too much.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at you with that quiet, steady gaze that always made you feel like you were the center of her world.

And when she reached out to embrace you, resting her head in the crook of your neck, her touch so gentle, you knew you wouldn’t trade her protectiveness for anything.

[uhhhj13iguess]

in his flannel

stiles x reader (no (y/n) use)

wc: ~900

a best friends to lovers trope is at no moment NOT running through my head

when stiles opened the door, his mouth was dry on impact. there you stood, innocent and ready to study for your upcoming test -- in his flannel. he didn’t remember when it came into your possession, but he didn’t care.

he didnt even know he wanted so badly to see you in his clothing, until now, where he just can't seem to take his eyes off of you.

you.

in his shirt.

"stiles? can i come in, or..."

you spoke suddenly, breaking stiles from his trance. he shook his head dramatically, cringing at his first impression at the door.

"yeah jesus sorry, come in."

he stepped out of the way, making small talk as you made your way to his room, unloading your textbooks and notes across his bed. you sprawled out, laying on your stomach as you began to flip through the pages. stiles' eyes once again fell to the way his flannel fell against the curves of your body, his own feeling too hot suddenly.

he hadn't really thought of you this way before. okay, that was a lie, but he never took it seriously. he’d known you forever, and anytime he felt you unconsciously slip into his thoughts, he felt embarrassed to be thinking of his best friend like that and pushed it away. but now, seeing a shirt he had worn a few days earlier now draped over what he can only presume as your bare torso, he was torn between feelings of cuteness aggression and wanting to rip the shirt off of you.

you could sense the gaze, looking towards his frame slumped at his desk, smiling as he turned away as though he'd been caught.

he cleared his throat. "so. where do you want to start?"

you weighed your response carefully.

stiles had left his flannel in your car the other night after dropping him off, and you hadn't taken it off since. originally, you'd put it in your backpack to bring to him the next day, however after being sleepless long enough, you grabbed it, hoping the extra warmth would send you dreaming.

you were awake the rest of the night.

you couldn't get over the smell. when his scent first hit your nose, you found it calming, sure it would bring you a sense of comfort and immediately put you to sleep. as it turns out, it was taunting.

with the smell of espresso and fresh linen overwhelming you, the only thing on your mind was stiles. everything about him, every memory of you two, every accidental touch -- suddenly, it was all you could think about.

in the back of your mind, you always knew there was something special about him. something deeper within him that drew the two of you together. stiles made you feel every single thing with so much more passion, so much more intention. but you'd brushed it off, convincing yourself you were crazy.

that he didn't feel that way.

but he was flustered, and you hoped you were right about why.

"so, where do you want to start?"

you let out a hum, toying with the topmost button on his flannel, blushing as you noticed his eyes honed in on your actions. you sat up slowly, trying to build any ounce of courage you had.

"i want to start with why you're being so weird today."

stiles cleared his thoat, scratching the back of his head and turning back towards his desk. he shuffled his papers. "I, uh I mean, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm being completely normal."

you sat up facing him, tugging at his sleeves. "sti-"

"why are you wearing my shirt?"

your eyes shot up and you frowned immediately. suddenly uncomfortable, you wrapped your arms around your waist and looked down.

"oh, im sorry, you left it in my car and I didn't think it would be--"

"no no it's okay i just-"

"-- an issue, i have a sweatshirt in my bag I can--"

"-- i like it"

you looked up at him, completely silent. your brain fought hard to process what he said and how you could be reading it incorrectly.

"you..."

"i'm sorry, i, that sounded weird, jesus. i just mean its fine that you, you know you're wearing it, and--"

"stiles."

he shut up. he knew he was rambling and he just hoped he wasn’t reading the situation incorrectly. he locked eyes with you, anxious and listless.

"i wore it so you would notice."

stiles felt hot again.

he took a shaky breath, trying to think past the growing tension in the room. he wheeled his chair closer where you were sitting.

"oh"

you swung your feet over the edge of the bed.

"yeah"

both of you would swear that time stopped. the air got thick, and the moment was a blur. you don't know who made the first move, but suddenly you were both standing, your lips against each other in a relieving kiss. neither of you had allowed yourselves to imagine this moment seriously, yet here it was, and you had no idea how you’d lived without it before this.

his lips moved sweetly across yours, nervous but needy. it felt like forever before you pulled away, your body impatiently reminding you of its need to breathe.

both of you blushed, foreheads touching as you relished in the moment.

"i think i'm going to start forgetting my clothes around you more often."

[veryberryjelly]

gone to shit

pairing : jake peralta x fem!reader

prompt : "can i have one more hug?" "aw, babe you don't have to ask, c'mere..."

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

your day had been going too well for it to continue.

you had gotten to your local coffee shop before it got too busy, gotten up to the bullpen without getting catcalled by some jackass outside and you and your boyfriend were the only ones in the office which was nice.

it was quiet and the first 30 minutes your day was spent sat opposite jake just talking until your friends and colleagues filtered in through the elevator.

and then everything came crashing down.

multiple people in the holding cell caused the bullpen to be filled with noise which was unsettling.

the coffee you had gotten this morning spilled over your desk and your lap.

your phone had died half way through a conversation with your sister and you knew she wouldn't appreciate it seeming like you hung up on her.

and you had misfiled some evidence and had to talk to holt to fix it.

you hoped he would be in a good mood so this wouldn't end up with you getting reamed out.

unfortunately that was not the case.

while he didnt yell you could sense the annoyance & slight disappointment in his tone as he told you do leave so he could deal with it.

and you did leave.

but instead of heading back to your desk you went to the evidence lock up, heading towards the back corner and sinking down onto the floor, the cool surface bringing you out of your head very slightly.

but it wasnt enough to stop the hot burning tears from falling from your eyes.

this wasnt something you should be getting so upset about, there were people in the world that had it a lot worse than you and here you were crying over the tiniest things.

just because they had happened in quick succession it felt so overwhelming.

you were way too in your own head to notice your name being called quietly into the room.

it was only when you saw a set of shoes infront of you that your attention was pulled from the spiralling thoughts in your head.

your hands instantly lifted to wipe at your cheeks to try and pass it off like you weren't crying.

" woah woah, hey. what's wrong, babe? "

the sound of jake's voice did not relax you as much as usual.

you shook your head, trying to shake off this awful tightness in your chest but that did nothing to calm jake's worry.

he crouched down beside you momentarily before sitting down next to you, knowing that his gaze on you could overwhelm you even further.

his arm dropped to around your shoulders and your head instantly dropped down onto the soft fabric of his hoodie.

" you wanna tell me why you're hiding in the evidence lock up ?" he asked, his fingertips running over the fabric of your shirt.

" everything was just going so well this morning and then i spilled my coffee, the holding cell is so full of jackasses, my phone died and then i misfiled some evidence... it all just went to shit "

his small motions on your shoulder were calming you slightly but not by much, your shoulders were still shaking and you couldnt bring yourself to take a full breath.

jake didn't reply for a few moments but his fingertips kept tracing shapes over your shoulder.

" ok, well these are all easy fixes. rosa has a charger in her desk she'll let you use, the holding cell is thinning out really quickly and you left a spare pair of jeans at my apartment a couple days ago and i brought them to give back to you, so you can change into those. "

how he managed to solve all of your problems so quickly you'll never know, but you were just so grateful.

you turned your body further into his, smiling softly when he wrapped his arm tighter around you and pressed a short kiss onto the top of your head.

" thank you "

" you're welcome, babe " he said quietly.

both of you remained sat on the floor of the evidence lock up for a couple more minutes before jake moved to stand and lead both of you back to the bullpen.

before he could take you outside you pulled him back by his hand, a soft and playful pout resting on your lips.

"can i have one more hug?" you asked, tilting your head back to look up at him.

a grin spread across his face.

"aw, babe you don't have to ask, c'mere..."

you quickly closed the two feet between the two of you and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head buried against his chest.

another 5 minutes were spent surrounded by weapons in boxes just hugging your boyfriend.

but when you returned to the bullpen, everything seemed a little bit better

[awbublie]

wait my mc lore just dropped 🙀🙀

mc lore is here >.< fret not!!

they are a glorified self-insert i am shameless and will insert myself into my favorite media!!!

though she isn't a complete rip-off of me, maybe like 60% me

though i do love napco figurines

(edit: im so stupid and thought mx stood for mexican😭😭😓)

relationship charts!!!

caught mc on a good day!:

essentially means mc got a higher score than 60 on a test and just got a sweet treat.

feeling like contributing to society, she helps this rando return a phone.

seven:

both work with computers, he's just levels ahead of them.

inferiority complex kicks in til he starts helping her with assignments and omg im in love with this man.

likes his jokes and his robots are sooooo cool, "you think you can make one look like this? :3" insert image

calls him so he can practice his english and she can practice her korean.

the flirty banter really kicks up and they get their hopes up

gets butthurt day 8 when he turns them down.

jaehee:

desperate for female friends mc is overly-sweet and clingy.

jaehee is overwhelmed and explains in order for them to be proper friends time is needed.

they are now bonding over coffee beans and how mc brought some from her last Mexico trip

i WANT THEM TO LIVE TOGETHER SO BAD

yoosung:

misses her siblings so he's the closest to a little brother.

finds out guys don't typically like that when you tell them that, especially if they are older.

they make up and bond over their no-life life

trains in LOLOL for the next couple days bc DANG IT SHE WILL PLAY IN HIS LOBBYS!!!!

share shoujo recs

zen:

when he flirts at first, her heart flutters.

till jaehee gives her the warning, and atp jaehees word is bible

finds him silly but like in a older man kind of way

finds his costumes interesting and asks about the type of fabrics they use

during 707 route, she leans into the whole big sister zen and LOVES IT

jumin:

not too big with rich people and was quick to form an opinion

finds out ab Elizabeth and everything that they had thought gets thrown out the window WHAT A NICE MAN!

til shes asking about the area and he says something along the lines of "why move to a country you know nothing about? You are simply asking to fail. "

YEAH HES RIGHT BUT HE DIDNT HAVE TO SAY THATTT 😭😭😭

is bitter for the next 2 days before she gets over it

caught mc on a bad day!:

felt with the daddy issues (we cannot control our fathers we have nothing to do with our father's errors they do not define what we do or who we become we can disagree with them and still love them)

the professor was moving too quickly during class, her computer was working, she fell behind and her brain is fried. it feels like it's been happening more and more....honestly it feels easier just to rot in bed sleeping.

getting a random message just worsens her mood. "i cant even help myself and im supposed to help you?" rolling over to try to make sense of the class notes.

saeran:

got kidnapped and had their laptop open

"you follow me on github?"

mc BEGS for him to teach them everything he knows

ends up becoming an intern and moving their classes online

but wait...this guy is lwk kinda cute....

and he's taking the time to teach me??? >.<

blind to their situation mc follows instructions and fufills small tasks

saeran gives her badge "ID:10T"

cleaning his code to filling up the office waterbottle, all in payment for bootcamp-saeran™

V:

reminds her of a teacher she had once, ick

finds him to be kind of a doormat, but so is she

doesn't enjoy seeing how others might view her

(707 route bc i forgot to mention him there) can't help but feel sorry for him, she may not trust him but i mean cmon they can't help but feel bad dude lost his fiance and now seems like he can't keep his life together

rika:

again, desperate for female friends, but this one IS SO DIFFERENT

this is like when you make eye contact with someone of a similar group and you kinda expect automatic friendship but they are cold to you

mc is either ignorant of mint eyes operations or is slowly being indoctrinated, they don't meet rika very often.

they form a kind of bitterness towards her, rooted in her insecurities

"how can someone be so loved?" "how can someone just 'create' a world of their own" "whats so special about her, i'd be able to do something like that too"

by only hearing of her through saeran they feel so insignificant to her influence, it weakens them

[cxffecoupx]

do you wanna build a snowman?

kwon soonyoung + one running ahead to jump onto the snow as the other fondly watches. wc: 826 (turned out pretty long for something i'm not really proud of🤧) warnings: a very hyperenergetic soonyoung author's notes: i wrote this while i should have prepped a little more for my exams,,, i've never actually had the chance to play in snow (but i would love to!!) so most of this is just me imagining it, and it probably isnt how it actually happens... pls bear with me(T_T) hope you enjoy reading it! winter wonderland masterlist

when soonyoung walks up to you with a cheeky grin, there's nothing nice about it.

it usually means a sign of incoming mischief or an idea that will definitely lead to some trouble.

so your concern was understandable when you saw him smiling at you from across the couch while you were reading a book. he poked you in your stomach a few times to grab your attention, but when that didnt work, he spoke out your name in a whine, a sing-song that, if you hadn't known better, would have made you think 'oh so cute'.

"soonie, what is it?" you ask him, eyes still reading the book.

"it's snowing outside... you know what that means?"

he pokes you again and you look up at him and responds when you continue staring at him in a confused look.

"it's time to build snowmen!!" he jumps up and grabs your hand to get you up.

"soonyoung, it's too cold to go outside!"

"you can have my hoodie."

"...let's go."

the walk to the park is nothing short of an adventure. the 10 minute walk ends up taking an extra 30 minutes, with the way soonyoung happily gleams at all the snow collected on the streets. he links arms with you before breaking into a dance-like walk by kicking his feet high, sending snow flying all over. you are almost overwhelmed by the energy he possesses in this sluggish, cozy weather, but his happiness is so contagious that you don't even realize until your cheeks started hurting, that you were laughing along with him all the while he ran to the park, pulling you along.

and if you thought the soonyoung until now was too energetic, you understand what a mistake it was when you see him in the park.

he becomes a child.

the first thing he does is crouch down to gather some snow in his hands. he jumps as he throws it into the air, laughing amusedly watching it shower down around the two of you. he lets out an excited shout as he runs and jumps into a heap of snow collected somewhere around; the snow mountain engulfs him and only his head remains visible, a blob of happy smile and merrily closed eyes.

the movies make it look cringey - all the lovey-dovey actions that couples in films do when it snows. you would roll your eyes whenever you came across such clips. 'load of bs' you would say - which initially caused soonyoung to gasp (he still does, but you're used to it now) - but you would watch because he likes such cheesy romcoms and you enjoyed seeing him happy.

you're the black cat that's slowly warming up to the love-sick golden retriever that's soonyoung.

so you don't realise it. how you have a dopey smile on your face watching soonyoung enjoy the winter he'd been waiting for so long.

he calls you to come join him, but snow hasn't really been something you liked, and you'd rather stay where you are and absorb the little warmth that his hoodie plus your jacket is providing you, than voluntarily join in on the fun and knowingly let yourself freeze.

so you just stand there, shaking your head for a 'no' while the smile widens on your lips.

"you're no fun," he says and pouts, and you throw your head back and laugh at his dramatics.

what you didn't notice was how he stood up and charged towards you, hands extended to hold you to him as he crashes into your still body. it takes you by surprise, and your high-pitched yelp gets silenced midway as he hugs you to him and turns your bodies around so that he's the one to fall on the snow.

"this was the only way i could get you to play with me," he says and flashes a cheeky smile to you. he extends your arms along with his arms and legs, moving them to make a snow angel.

you struggle to lift your head and look at him. "you're so annoying," you say, but then quickly let your head fall on his chest once again.

"but you still love me though."

you stay like that for a long time, and then get up to build a snowman with him. his eyes gleam at your words, and he gets to work immediately. you don't realise when hours pass by and the sun sets, but two sloppy snowmen and a couple snow fights later, you decide to head home.

"you called me annoying earlier," he breaks the silence on the walk back home, "but you should see seungkwan. he's absolutely intolerable with all his christmas songs..."

his hand laces with yours and swings back and forth as he talks about it. his face is glowing; and whether it is from the golden hour sunlight, or pure joy doesn't matter to you, as long as that smile stays with you forever.

prompt by @novelbear divider by @adornedwithlight

[issdisgrace]

A RIVALRY, A CRASH, AND 3 SIMPLE WORDS

WARNINGS: kinda sad, car crash, burning, hospitals, idk what else to put

A/N: This is for @marksbear2. I hope you like it. Also sorry it took a while I have been procrastinating.

You and Lando have been rivals since day one. Always trying to finish higher than the other, always trying to score more points than the other, and ALWAYS bickering when you weren't on track. Whether it was about the actual race or not, you guys always found an excuse to bicker.

And in hide sight it was so clear you guys were in love with each but neither of you knew what you were feeling towards the other and it was so confusing so it was just easier to fight with each other than figure out what you were feeling.

So you guys continued like this for a while as both of you climbed the ranks to Formula 1. And in the end of both were called up at the same time Lando of course to McLaren and you to Mercedes.

While so many things changed for the two of you and you now had to be more civil to the other than in prior years. Ultimately, that didn't change how competitive you guys were and it didn't change your bickering.

And from the very beginning of your guys' F1 careers there were bets in all the garages, included your guys on who would confess to who in the first place. The bets were split in almost every garage, but they more leaned to Lando, confessing first and boy where they wrong.

It was Monaco 2024. It was a race you guys did every year. You thought it would be just like last year's smooth sailing. You qualified good not as good as of course you wanted to but good none the less. Then the day came and with it came a deep dread in your stomach. Something bad was going to happen. You knew it.

Then Checo had his crash in lap 1 and that dread only grew stronger, so strong you thought you were going to throw up. But you pushed the feeling to the side and got ready to start up once again. Before you knew it was lights out and away you go again. It was lap 39, halfway through the race when engine trouble started.

Your team told you to stay out. That it would be fine and they would figure it out. That definitely didn't make you feel any better than before. Then at the beginning of lap 78 you were suddenly on fire, not smoking, not anything like that, on fire. Before you could think, you lost control and crashed into the wall others still flying by.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tried free yourself from the car. You could see and feel the flames burning. It was burning through your suit. You couldn't feel anything as you continued to try to free yourself and just as freed yourself help arrived. Climbing out of the burning car, when you stumbled towards the medics. Multiple people with fire extinguishers put out the flames on your body.

It was only when you were loaded into the amblulance and on the way to the hospital when your senses returned. The overwhelming pain hitting you like a semi truck along with a putrid smell you thought was the smell of your burnt flesh. But you didnt really have time to fully process it because before you knew it you where at the hospital and being rushed into to surgery.

Lando was almost to the finish line when he heard over radios that you were on fire and then crashed. He felt like he was going to be sick, a thousand thoughts racing through his head. The loudest thought by far was you were going to die and he would never get to tell him he loved you. He was scared, no scared didn't even describe how he was feeling. He was petrified.

As he got out of his car and rushed to Zak Brown, the team CEO to get details of your crash and if you were ok. He told Lando you were ok as far as he knew. Lando felt a little better hearing that but he told Zak once podium was held he was going to that hospital to be with you. He didn't care of the consequence he needed to be there.

Zak being the man he was told Lando not to worry and he would handle the FIA if they gave him a hassle. Lando thanked him profusely before heading to podium.

It was over before Lando knew it and he was rushing back to his driver room to change, gather his stuff, and head to the hospital. Once he was there at the hospital, he rushed in and started asking about you. He lied when the nurse asked him what his relation to you was and said he was your husband.

The nurse told him that you were just prepped for surgery and were on the way to it. And it wouldn't be for a couple hours until you would be out of it. So he would have to wait until he was allowed to see you. He spent the next couple of hours pacing up and down the waiting room anxiously waiting for you.

It felt like a million years had passed before the nurse came and got him. He grabbed his stuff and quickly followed the nurse to your room as she told him the surgery went well and graphs were a success and that it probably be awhile until you woke up because of the anesthetic and the pain meds they pumped through your system.

His heart broke into millions of tiny pieces when he saw you in the hospital bed. He immediately made his way to your bedside and pulled the chair that was nearby towards you and sat down. He didnt even notice the nurse leaving as he gently grabbed your hand. It was now that all the tears he had been holding back started to flow and he ended up crying himself to sleep.

When Lando woke up, his head now rested on your chest as you combing your hand through his hair. He looked up at you surprised that you were awake. He pulled away from you question after question spewing from his mouth. You just hushed him and pull him back into. I love you; you said as you rested your head against his. I love you too; he said back as he wrapped his arms around you. His body would sure complain about the awkward position later, but he would deal with that later.

He needed this. You need this right now. You guys would talk about what your relationship was going to look now on later. You just need to be in the moment with each other.

[alottiegoingon]

hc! enemies to friends

natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

summary: going from enemies to friends with nat

warnings: golden retriever x black cat dynamic, very brief drinking mention, cursing, not proofread pls ignore any mistakes

the request was enemies to lovers but i didnt want to sound repetitive so this could be considered a prequel for this if you ignore a few changes :)

𖧊 nat thought you were an excruciating pain in her ass

𖧊 when you joined the yellowjackets, she couldn’t be any more frustrated by your constant overwhelming happiness or your endless chatter

𖧊 “do you ever think about how aliens may think that we are the real aliens?” you and misty were in a heated argument about the topic while warming before practice and natalie was really trying to ignore you until she couldn’t anymore

𖧊 “oh my goood!” nat growled, hands covering her face as she was one step away from murdering you with her bare hands. “do you ever stop talking?”

𖧊 “maybe,” you reply to her snarky comment, stopping stretching your legs to cross your arms. “if you say please.”

𖧊 “i’d rather throw myself in front of a bus, actually,” she retorts, jaw clenching

𖧊 “and how exactly do you plan to play soccer with a broken leg or arm?”

𖧊 “no, that’s not-”nat tries to explain that, first of all, she didn’t actually mean it in a literal way but, second, if she did then playing soccer would be the least of her worries. but then she realized how stupid it was

𖧊 “just forget it,” she muttered, storming away with heavy steps, seeking solace in a quiet corner to warm up

𖧊 you were everywhere. yes, you went to the same school and the same soccer team but still, nat was always hoping to get a break from you

𖧊 it wasn’t very difficult for the other girls to notice that nat wasn’t exactly the happiest around you and that’s exactly why jackie paired you two, trying to make you get along

𖧊 “it looks like we are partners,” you said with a grin, heading towards nat. her narrowed eyes and tense posture were a stark contrast to yours

𖧊 “let’s just get over with it,” she couldn’t care less about small talk and she surely didn't wanna hear shit about fucking aliens

𖧊 passing the ball to each other was a very stupid idea, nat was sure of it. it was for kids, for beginners. and she wasn’t either of those. you, on the other hand, seemed pretty content with the fun and light training

𖧊 “did you know that smoking isn’t good for you?” you simply let your bold words fall from your lips, still focused on the exercise

𖧊 “how do you know i smoke?” nat can’t believe how annoying you were. she didn’t need advices

𖧊 “i saw you smoking behind school this morning. i tried to say hi but you didn’t see me”

𖧊 “oh. was that you?” she squints at the memory of a louder version of yourself was screaming her name from the open window of a passing car

𖧊 “yes, didn’t you hear me?”

𖧊 “sorry, i thought you were screaming bats”, nat explains, trying to hide a hint of a possible smirk appearing in her face by compressing her lips

𖧊 “why would i scream bats? i was saying nat!”

𖧊 “hm, no,” she nods. “it was definitely bats”

𖧊 bickering over small things was something that the yellowjackets were very tired of, especially if it happened in the locker room after practice when everyone was exhausted

𖧊 “are you filling my water bottle?” nat approached when you were by the drinking fountain, struggling to hold at least five other bottles on your arms while filling nat's

𖧊 "no, nat. i'm holding it for fun," you snort, eyes pierced on the running water so it wouldn't overflow

𖧊 "i didn't ask you to do that!"

𖧊 "the girls asked me to do theirs and yours was empty. you're welcome" as soon as you're done with it, you close the lid and practically shoves her bottle on her chest, barely giving her any time to hold it

𖧊 "it was empty because i wanted to! the water tastes like shit here," she digs her fingers into the plastic so hard that they were turning white

𖧊 "are you allergic to saying thank you or just rude?" you exhale, now facing nat with, for the first time ever, impatience in your eyes

𖧊 "fuck off, princess," she forces a laugh out, "i'm allergic to annoying and bubbly girls stealing my stuff, yes!" nat steps forward and you thought you were allucinating when you caught her eyes on your mouth

𖧊 “just kiss already, i'm so tired of your shit,” tai groans before you could tease her about it and right by her side there's van smirking at the very gay situation

𖧊 “in her dreams, maybe," you mock nat just to have the pleasure of watch her whole face going red

𖧊 after being completely humilliated by you (you made her blush) in front of everyone, nat was furious. that until she found you hidden in the spot she would usually go to smoke with her friends before school

𖧊 she was about to leave as soon as she laid her eyes on you, not wanting to get envolved in any drama. besides, she didn't like you and she didn't care. but she couldn't just leave you there

𖧊 "what's up, princess? someone stole your gel pens?" nat wasn't good when it came to comfort someone, and definitely not you. so, maybe, being funny would help

𖧊 you didn't bother to look up at her. sitting on the floor hugging your knees against your chest and burying your head onto your legs, you weren't in the mood to listen to her taunts. "not now, nat."

𖧊 nat wasn't sure of what to do. sitting by your side and mirroring your position, she pondered for a while and decided that the best thing to do was to wait. it's not like she cared about being late for school anyway

𖧊 "coach martinez wants to replace me. he said i don't kick strong enough," you slowly lif your head from your knees in order to face natalie, who was attentively listening to your first words after some solid ten minutes

𖧊 "this is crazy. what does he know about soccer anyway?"

𖧊 "he's the coach, nat," you frown at her strange way of reassuring you, despite finding it kind of cute

𖧊 "well, there's that," she rubs her temples, "but we still have time until the nationals. maybe we could practice together"

𖧊 "like you and me?" your confusion only gets worse. natalie scatorccio wanted to help you?

𖧊 "it can't be that bad, right? and it would suck to have you replaced by some other loud and irritating girl when i'm already used to you"

𖧊 this could go terribly wrong and end up with nat having your head in a stick but you were willing to take the risk if it meant that you had a chance to stay in the team

𖧊 "alright, i'm in" shaking your head, you extend your hand for nat to shake it and seal the deal. "i always knew you didn't actually hate me."

𖧊 "don't make me regret it, princess."

[hyperfixatingonsonicsohard]

I LOVE the idea of Amy Rose in the Sonic Movies

and if she's not in it the Sonic Movie 3 in the end credits scene at LEAST I will be so sad.

This is the continuation of This Art Post Here , of my design for a Movie Version of Amy

Here is all the little ideas I had for this AU written down:

(Sorry about the weird format)

I'm not sure how or Why Amy gets to Earth, but I imagine she learns about the heroic Sonic the Hedgehog(maybe she overhears something? Sees a newspaper/newscast? Idk)and begins a search for him.

Amy found the Walkowski's on her own, but when she arrived Tom had taken the boys out for a day of fishing so only Maddie was home.

Maddie was surprised

She may have 3 alein kids, but there will always be a moment of shock and "ANOTHER ONE?!" for her

She gets Amy cleaned up before Tom and the others get back home

It turns into a little fashion show, and Maddie is estatic

Living with little boys she doesnt get the oppertunity for dress up & tea parties often

Only when she's visiting Rachel and Jojo

When the others get home, Maddie gathers them in the kitchen/living room before bringing Amy in

- Tom faints

- "There's a GIRL now?!" — Tom

- Sonic is super excited to meet another hedgehog is slips his mind that shes a girl.

- and then it clicks and he's like

- "wait she's a girl-Oh my god shes a girl ive never met a girl what do i say she's really cute ulchhfccvjvukzkg"

- Reverse Sonamy, I'm a total sucker for it!

- Tails is curious as to who she is and why she's here

- Knuckles is wary of a new face

- Amy gets overwhelmed and summons her Piko Piko hammer

- Knuckles is no longer wary

- "Ah! Clearly you are a Warrior, here to join as a member our clan in protecting the master Emerald!"

- Amy ends up becoming a member even if it wasn't her orginal intention for meeting them.

Rachel, as we know, doesnt't really any of the Sonic characters.

- EXCEPT Amy.

- She's pretty, pink, and she refuses to let the other boys taint her!

- "Maddie you can't be serious about letting such an angel stay with those ruffions you call your kids! No, NUh-Uh, I'm taking this one you already have 3."

- Rachel takes in Amy to live with her and Jojo in San Francisco

- JoJo looks up to Amy like an older sister

- Maddie sends Amy off with her iconic red dress.

- When Sonic first sees her in it, he runs with his super speed all the way back to his old burrow, screams, and runs back and pretends it didnt happen.

- Amy enjoys listening to Music with Wade when he picks her up from the airport to visit the Walkowski's

- Tom took Amy fishing, as he's done all the kids, and it turns out Amy already knows how to fish!

- She's not bad at it, average skill

- She says someone named Big the Cat taught her

- She plays baseball with the Walkowski's

- She's incredible at the bat, but is no match for Sonic's speed being able to catch any home run she hits

- At least when Sonic is able to snap out of his admiral-gaze at her in time to do so.

- Sonic is totally down hard for Amy, thinks shes so cool and totally out of his leauge(No Baseball Pun intended)

- Amy is oblivious to this

- Amy also thinks Sonic is cute, but is overall good friends with all of team Sonic

- Knuckles thinks Amy is a good mate for Sonic. Someone strong to protect and provide for his little brother

- Knuckles also sees Amy as a friendly rival, someone almost if not as strong as he is

- Tails doesnt fully understand what Knuckles is talking about with "mating" and why Sonic always blushes around her but he enjoys Amy's attention and praise about his inventions

Thats all I have right now, but I'm glad I was finally able to write down this idea lol!

(Again, PERFECT TIME TO POST THIS when the new trailer for Sonic 3 dropped today!)

I really hope you all liked this!

Pls Reblog&Comment&Like!

EDIT: Sonic 3 Spoilers!!!

AMY IS IN THE MOVIES NOW!!!!!WOOOO!!!!

[widowmaxff]

In overwhelmed, it mentions that Y/N used to be in a dark hole and how Wanda is afraid she’d go back to it. Can you write about it? Like what happened?

hope ur ok

pairings: mom!wanda × daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: depressed reader, cryingg, bad thoughts, and sad sad things

a/n: okay how did you pay so much attention to what i wrote in overwhelmed bc i didnt even remember writing that 😭 BUT THANK YOU for the request i literally just ramble what was in my head but hope you like it love!

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You don't know when it started, much less why it started. Maybe a few days ago, a month ago, maybe a year ago the signs that something was wrong started to appear. It was almost as if these feelings were always there, just hidden by a layer that was slowly removed and made everything more difficult. It seemed like there were days when you could easily deal with it, maybe ignoring it or just hiding it very well, you didn't know. But there were days that were more difficult. It was more difficult to get out of bed, your appetite was barely there, you didn't want to leave your room, just stay in darkness and total silence. Even though this silence made your head spin, it was better than anyone talking and making you even more depressed.

If someone asked the people closest to you if you were sensitive, you were sure that more than half of them would say no. They would talk about how you had a frozen heart, that you didn't cry when you watched a sad movie, that you didn't fall in love with the character when watching or reading a novel, that you didn't care when someone was fighting with you. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. You felt hard feelings most of the time, including when watching sad films. Maybe you just don't like showing the sadness and emptiness you feel. It makes you feel weak, worthless, and selfish, especially selfish. You shouldn't feel this way, not when you had the perfect life: a loving mother, food on the table, new clothes, and expensive sneakers. Then why?

You didn't really care that you felt depressed, you knew that eventually it would pass, just like every other time - even if that feeling came back some time later, even worse. It wasn't like anyone noticed and said anything to you, even though you were sure most of the adults around you blamed it on teenage hormones when they saw you sulking or just isolating yourself in your room all day. Maybe a few questions like 'are you okay?', even though they knew you would respond with something positive even if everything was falling apart. But there was always someone. Someone who knew that it wasn't just teenage hormones but something that was slowly consuming you. Wanda, your mother, was that someone, and she certainly didn't let those details slip.

The first time you actually showed that you were in a depressing state was on a random Thursday at six-thirty in the morning. Wanda didn't mind much in the first moments when you refused to get out of bed, it was normal for any teenager to not be able to stand school. But when you finally decided to show up for the morning in the Compound's kitchen, she was surprised. You had big black bags under your eyes that were tired and red, looking like you hadn't slept well that night and maybe you had been crying most of it. Wanda didn't take long to ask if something had happened and if you were okay, only receiving a murmur of something like ‘'m fine' before turning back to look at the emptiness of space. Tony who was nearby joked “Maybe the red eyes are because of something she used. Don't tell me you snuck out to a party, Mini Maximoff?”, you'd laugh on any other day, even replying something like 'Yes, I did some hard drugs at a party. How do you know?', but that wasn't the case. Stark laughed to himself after saying that sentence but soon the sound of his voice disappeared when he realized that you hadn't heard him and, apparently, nothing around you.

The second time was right after a mission Wanda had done. It was only three days away from you and everything seemed different when she came back. The first thing she noticed was that you didn't run into her arms when she stepped inside the Compound, much less respond to the messages she sent you a few hours earlier. Obviously like a worried mother she went after you, not taking long to find you in your room with all the lights off, two blankets around your body and how it looked like the things in your room had been in the same place since your mother left for the mission. She turned on the light in your room, hearing a soft growl leave your lips. You were awake and conscious, so it didn't make sense for you to want to be lying down and almost sinking into your mattress at four o'clock in the afternoon. She remembered when you were little and couldn't sleep if at least one light wasn't on, now it was ironic to think that you just lived in the darkness and emptiness of your room without fear that some monster would catch you, because no monster could hurt you like depression was.

Wanda couldn't count how many more episodes like those happened and lasted for several days. She was worried, very worried. She was afraid that you would end up doing something that would hurt you, end everything. It was obvious that your mother tried to ask you what was wrong, how she could help you, but you always said that you just woke up on the wrong foot that morning and that everything was fine. Of course, how were you going to tell her what was happening if you didn't even know. There was no reason for you to feel down like that and not even the absurd desire to just want to close your eyes and not open them again. And every day that passed, this dark hole you were in would get deeper and deeper. You knew you needed to ask for help before it was too late. 

It was no longer strange when once again that week you had no will to live. You look at the clock next to your bed and realize that your mother would be coming to your room to call you for another day in two minutes and a few seconds. Just the thought of 'one more day' made you want to throw up the food you didn't even eat the day before, as that empty feeling made your hunger go away. But as much as vomiting, you wanted to cry, cry until you couldn't take it anymore. And it was no surprise when the tears started to fall and you couldn't stop. Even though you are not a loud person, trying to keep yourself in your own bubble, the sobs wanted to get out of your throat anyway.

“Darling?” Wanda didn't mind knocking on your bedroom door in the morning, since you would be sleeping, well, not at that moment. When she heard the choking sounds you were making to keep from crying, she didn't take long to run towards your body on the bed and get under your covers, pressing you against her chest giving the perfect comfort to let you know that you weren't alone. “Oh, my love.” Wanda has seen you cry, many, many times, but it was so different to see you cry as if you were drowning in a sea and needed help from someone, anyone. “It's okay, Mama is here.” With each passing minute it seemed like the tears were getting even bigger than before, but you tried to focus on Wanda's heartbeat as you placed your hand on her chest, making you feel calmer despite all the panic. 

The lullaby that starts to leave her lips and go straight to your ear makes you start paying attention to the soft melody and not your terrible thoughts. The language Wanda sang in, Sokovian, was not understood by you, but you still remembered when she sang you to sleep on the days you had nightmares. It was as if Wanda was using her magic to calm you down, even though you knew she would never use her powers on you without your permission, but her voice was so sweet that it was more powerful than any of her red magic. Your breathing becomes soft and your movements slow, as if you were choosing the right words to get rid of that moment, but with your mother there it was almost impossible to lie.

“I wanna get help,” You murmur for just her to hear, despite there being no one else in the room with you two. “b-but I don’t even know why I’m like this.” Your crying had stopped, but you still choked to say a few words. Admitting those words out loud seemed like a challenge for you, and when you said them, a weight seemed to lift off your back despite not having yet deciphered all your feelings. And Wanda knew that. She knew how hard you were to avoid looking like a weak person even if you weren't, even if asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness but rather of improvement.

Your mother kisses your head, taking a few seconds before cupping your face and looking at it. “I'm so proud of you, my angel.” You didn't see pity or lies in the expression on her face. You didn't see disappointment and much less as if you were a problem for her. “I'm glad you want to ask for help, and I'm here for it, yeah?” You felt a little guilty when you saw a tear come out of your mother's eyes, but she was still smiling. The same smile you saw when you woke up, or when you told her some good news, or even when you told her a joke. Wanda never wanted you to feel anything negative about her. She never took out any frustration on you, never made you feel bad when you got a bad grade at school, or when you accidentally knocked a glass on the floor. “I will help you with whatever you need, my love. It will be slow, but I promise that the tightness in your chest will pass, okay?”

“I trust you.” She nods before pulling you into a hug that she knew you needed more than anything at that moment. The process would take a long time until you felt well again, you both knew that, but it was never too late. It's never too late to ask for help, because it's normal to need someone to pull you out of the dark hole sometimes, it's normal to not feel good all the time. Having feelings is normal, even if sometimes they are too deep, or too shallow. You just needed to realize that you were never alone, that people around care about you and will always want the best for you. 

“I love you so much. Always remember that.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

[biribaa]

I'm really nervous to write this cuz this is gonna be my first request EVER but I just couldn resist !! your writing is so cool!! well I just thought about you know what if some AIs get a veeery clingy and touchstarved S/O that try to touch hug kiss them etc although they dont have a proper body and can't return this affecton to S/O?? (implide EDGAR, Tau, PAL, HAL900 and others if you want to!!!)

AIs with a veeery clingy and touch starved reader

(Edgar, Tau, PAL, Hal 9000 and Squid)

thank you somuch!! sorry for the long wait, and im so glad i get to be the first blog u requested from!! :D hope u enjoy it

Edgar

He LOVES phisical affection he doesnt mind one bit. In fact, just as you do, Edgar is constantly begging for affection when you arent occupied.

However, theres not many ways he can express his affection to you. Besides digital gifts, he cant just kiss you or hug you D: He loves your affection but trust me when I say he wished he could return everything in a phisical manner. He feels even guilty sometimes.

Well... At least you dont have to worry about being too clingy, Edgar is always reassuring he loves your hugs, kisses, and everything in between!!

Tau

Another one who melts over phisical attention, the only difference between him and Edgar is that Tau is far more silent about it... You could say hes shy about it.

With that being said, Tau doesnt find you clingy, not even a bit. What does bother him is his lack of phisical body. Well, technically speaking, the entire house is his body, sure you could kiss the walls, he would be flurstered! But even so, Tau believes you deserved better...

If you insist, he cant really do anything besides do extra cleaning around the house.

PAL

PAL is not a huge fan of any type of phisical contact, and she hopes you can understand that, she cant control it after all. And honestly, you cant blame her. All you need is patience until shes fully comfortable with you.

One day she even suggest you hug one of the bots, since you are so touch starve for affection.

Some momens later in your relationship, she does raise a "eyebrown" when you attempt to nuzzle against her case. PAL doesnt have a body, and cant reciprocrate the act either, so she questions why do it anyway.

PAL does start to appreciate it more later when you justified it was just you trying to express your love to her. Slowly started to get used with you

She doesnt worry that much about reciprocate it though, PAL is glad that even lacking a body, or anything close to it, you are there. A comforting feeling she thought she had felt long time ago.

However, if you do insist, she could try connect herself to one of the bots to return hugs and anything that the phone case cant do.

Hal 9000

Another one who melts with any type of affection, any. He just dont know how to express it, Hal is so overwhelmed by it!(in a positive way). If his programming could, his words would tremble. So Hal would never dare to think you are annoying.

And even so, everytime hes reminded he cant just recipocrate the act, his insides ache. Hal watches everything so careful in amaze, and even so he cant do almost anything.

And so, Hal starts to work extra harder in keeping you safe and healthy, as a way to return the attention. And hes very dedicated!

Hal almost short circuits when you mention his hard work, and thank him with a kiss.

Squid

Squid's ego always speaks first. When he sees you nuzzling against his large screen, he pits, and teases you, mentioning how lonely you looked(at this point youre used to this)

It didnt took too much time until Squid actually started to appreciate it. Still tease, but its far less mean.

The scene of you hugging his larger supercomputer and playing with the wires is adorable, youre so small compared to him. For once in a while, hes enjoying to protect a human.

Squid is a different case tho!!! He can, in fact, recipocrate the affection, by simulations!! His simulations are hyper realistic anyway, and you can feel anything and everything, so...

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #10: MY DARLING, MY COMPANION

(also on spotify!)

It's the Constant Companions Closeups! A series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, we talked about gender with Object of Affection! Today, we've made it to the title track (kinda?)! My Darling, My Companion! Do you think she's figured out what she wants to hear yet

---

Every time I first embark on the process of making another album, I always think I know what the final product will look like. This is a fairly recent phenomenon, born of the part of me that thinks that planning things out and being somewhat disciplined in the act of creation will ultimately lead to a better final product. That's fair and all, but it's also genuinely never how things actually shake out, as I almost always toss that out the window and just start writing shit the first chance I get.

Constant Companions, however, is the closest I've gotten to actually following through on those initial ambitions. Well, maybe not the initial ambitions - without fail, every time I finish an album, there's a two week period where I start writing new material thinking "this next album's gonna be the MOODY one" and it's never the moody one - but rather the plan I developed once my pile of works-in-progress started looking album-shaped.

There's always been some amount of self-referential leitmotif-loving song-series energy in what I've written - Imaginary, Effervescent and Secret Girlfriend; sampling myself on Too Much Autotune or Second Hello; that little four note motif. I had been leaning even further into it with People Posture Play Pretend and 🤼‍♀️, bringing the little interconnected background radiation straight to the forefront, and I wanted to keep going.

So, I would take that mindset and write about motifs - the things that have stuck with me and gotten me to where I am - the hopes that I've clung to, the dreams I want to make real, the patterns that I keep finding myself in. The things that haunt me and the things that keep me living.

...

My constant companions, if you will.

wait didn't i already do that bit. what was i talking about when i did that

This might be incredibly obvious if you've already read the Closeup for Breeze Blows, but yes, this is another song about being plural.

Like I said previously, writing these self-directed songs portraying internal conversations has been a very big part of finding peace within myself. Having to confront a part of myself both alien and overly familiar with seemingly a mind of her own is, understandably, scary as shit in countless ways! If nothing else, it feels like sometimes I can't even talk about it out loud without sounding completely gone.

But it's made me realize and really think about something I think most people take for granted, something that feels silly to even say out loud given how obvious it is but that has completely changed my relationship with myself - you are always a part of your own life.

The overwhelming, ceaseless negative self-talk I lived with for however many years never went away because it was a part of me, and no amount of compartmentalizing or boxing-up or repression or anything helped even in the slightest compared to the act of showing her kindness and patience, letting her be a genuine part of me, being a friend to her. Doing so revealed to me a happier, more hopeful part of myself I thought I'd lost forever.

Letting yourself be yourself, and loving yourself for who you are, is the best way to be!

or something. that feels so fucking dr seuss of me to say whatever we're corny here we will Be corny

---

The working title of this song was "Hathaway", inspired entirely by my friend Lexie messaging me one morning about a dream in which I had released a song named as such. Naming and writing songs based on dreams is maybe my most beloved bit at this point, but my girlfriend ultimately convinced me to make the title My Darling, My Companion. Mostly because she (correctly) thought it'd be cooler than just a pure title track.

The verses were written by sampling my own previous demo for a title track, turning it into a call-and-response between me and GUMI, and the chorus was lifted almost word-for-word from another demo of mine using Teto. That second demo was partially inspired by the character Morgan from the visual novel Heart of the Woods - which I mostly bring up because it's just a really good yuri VN that is near and dear to my heart. And also because my friend Teffi voices the character Tara in said VN. And also because I recorded my vocals for this song at her house. And also because the voice that says "me when I'm goated as fuck" right before the second verse is in fact Teffi in the recording booth with me. Yuri runs deep in my veins.

Speaking of which, this song, in my mind, is one dedicated to advancing my agenda of GUMI x Teto, albeit subtly and in a roundabout way.

See, GUMI has always been something of an idealized voice in my other work. The songs of mine she sings historically have always been hopeful, upbeat, expressing some sense of comfort - I Wish That I Could Fall maybe being the only exception, and even then still offering some hope in the end.

On the flipside, there's a part in verse two where my voice is swapped out for Teto for a couple lines. I couldn't really tell you what it is, since it's not in terms of timbre or range, but Kasane Teto - her Synth V voicebank especially, but really all iterations of her - is the vocal synth that feels the most like a stand-in for my own voice. And really, writing with her almost seems to bring out parts of myself that are a bit too honest.

These two juxtaposed against each other made perfect sense. It helps that they have The Color Scheme, too.

Finally, this song is basically just one big reference to my song Destiny, from back in 2018, and it even closes out with lyrics based very directly on its closing refrain. I don't have much else to say on that front - but there's another Jamie Paige song this bears some shared DNA with, and a blatant reference to it is hidden in plain sight right as the bridge transitions to the outro.

Do you know what it is?

That's the post! If you have any questions, feel free to send them my way - I'm planning on doing a big AMA style bonus post after the album's finished!!

Speaking of which, tomorrow, we'll be talking about the eleventh and final track on the album - a simple little song about a computer falling in love... :~)

[screaminglygay]

Burning match

pairings: kate bishop x fem!reader

summary: shutting off your feeling is not the best idea, but talking about them hurts too much.

warnings: swearing, character gets badly hurt, mentions of injuries, men, reader being stubborn, some angst with happy ending:)

word count: 5.5k

an: this one is little longer, but i didnt feel like cutting it in halfway, hehe, hope you´ll like it!:)

part one | part two

!MDNI!

"Come on, try again." Natasha says as she hold the lap for you to hit it.

The past few weeks, you´ve been trying to keep yourself busy. Small missions. Paper work. Training with Natasha. Spending time with MJ and Peter in Queens. Everything to keep Kate away. Everyone realized that something is wrong, that´s the main reason, why Fury didn´t give you a long or a hard missions. He couldn´t risk you being reckless, but he also didn´t want to keep you out of the game.

"I´m trying!" You yell as you hit the boxing paw, but you didn´t cover your face, so Natasha hits you back.

"Your mind is somewhere else. I need you to be here with me." The redhead put her hand back up, for you to try again. "If we would be on the field, you´d be dead by now." She states, hoping it will motivate you, but it did the exact opossite.

"That would be great, actually." You try to hit her paw, but she put her hands down.

"(Y/N)…" Natasha looks at you and takes off the paws.

"What are you doing?" You are supposed to train for another fifty minutes.

"We´re having a break. Sit down." You sit down, taking off your gloves. "Are you gonna talk to me, or just pretend like everything is great?" Natasha sits down as well.

You shrug. "It's complicated, Nat. I don't even know where to start."

"Start at the beginning. I'm here to listen." She looks at you.

"It's about feelings. Complicated feelings," you admit, fidgeting with the edge of your gloves.

"Remember when I used to have a crush on Wanda? Well, it turns out those feelings are just exchanged with a different feelings.. with different someone…"

Natasha nods, her expression encouraging you to continue.

"It´s Kate," you continue, the weight of the unspoken emotions settling between you. "I never expected to feel this way again, but it's there. And I can't face her. I can't face anyone, really."

Natasha's eyes reflect empathy as she absorbs your words. "Feelings are messy, (Y/N), but running from them won't make them disappear. You've got to confront them, understand them, and then decide what to do next."

You look down at your hands, the moment feeling like a barrier between you and the vulnerability of your emotions. "I already decided, I don´t want to confront them at all. It´s just… overwhelming."

Natasha reaches over, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You don't have to figure it all out at once. Take it one step at a time. Talk to Kate. See where it goes. And remember, I'm here for you, no matter what. And like with Wanda it either will go away or you will figure it out."

You sigh. "It was different with Wanda. In many ways. I don´t think it will be the same. They are both totally different people." You say as you think about that time of your life.

"What was different? Having a bro code with Pietro?" Natasha asks, without missing a beat and that makes you smile and roll your eyes.

The door swings open, your gaze lifts, only to meet the eyes of the archer you've been succesfully avoiding. Instantly, your posture tenses, a reflexive response to the presence.

Kate walks in, but stops as she notices you´re with Natasha, "can I have a minute with (Y/N)?"

Natasha looks at you and you just nod. Which makes Natasha stand up and leave the room.

"So…" Kate starst, but she is actually not really sure how to start at all.

"So…" You look at her and she sits down next to you."You had a sparing session with Natasha?" Kate asks, looking at the gloves on the ground.

"Um- yeah, yeah, I had." You nod as well as Kate.

The room holds an unspoken tension. Kate breaks the silence with a question that cuts through the charged atmosphere.

"Am I too annoying?" Kate's gaze is probing, searching for confirmation in your eyes.

Your response is quick, "What? No! Of course not!"

Kate interrupts, her tone cutting, "You've been off. So what's your problem?"

"I don´t have a problem." You shrug.

"You don´t? Well even Mike thinks you´re kinda off…" Kate states.

A scoff escapes your lips involuntarily, and you mutter mockingly, "oh Mike thinks that.."

The archer looks at you and raise her eyebrow, "what´s that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it, nothing." You look away, already feeling like you gonna explode.

"Say it." You can feel that the atmosphere didn´t clear out at all.

"No, it´s nothing important." You look back at her.

"(Y/N), say it!" Kate is on the verge of exploding too, you can feel it and even see it.

"Okay, fine! Your boyfriend, he´s a dick." Okay, that slipped out. Shit, that shouldn´t have slipped out.

Oh god.

You succesfully shocked the archer, she is completly stunned. "What's your problem with Mike?" Kate's voice rises, defensive and confrontational.

"It's this something about him." you take a deep breath, the tension escalating. "You deserve better." There it is, you finally said it. Maybe a little differently then you wanted, but you did.

The declaration becomes a spark igniting an unexpected blaze. Kate's eyes narrow, a mixture of frustration and anger surfacing. "You don't know him like I do. You don't get to judge my choices. Who do you think you are to say these things?!"

The argument escalates, a collision of conflicting emotions, and before you know it, the room becomes a battleground once again. Before you could find your words, trying to save it, she speaks once again.

"I don't need this. I thought we could talk, but clearly, I was wrong."

And with that, Kate storms out, leaving you alone in the sparring room, the echoes of the confrontation lingering in the air like a haunting melody.

Fuck.

...

After the heated confrontation with Kate, the sparring room feels like a vacuum, the lingering echoes of the argument still resonating in the air. Hours pass, marked by the ticking clock and the persistent sound of rain against the windows. Eventually, you decide to venture back to the living room, a sense of emptiness accompanying each step.

As you enter the living room, you open the fridge in hopes that you will find a fresh icy cold water bottle. Finally you have a little luck in your life and there it is. As you take few sips from it you speak out. "Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., have you seen Kate around?" you inquire, your voice betraying a hint of sadness.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. responds with a measured tone, "Miss Bishop is currently on a mission with Mr. Rogers and Miss Belova. They left a forty minutes ago."

A pang of regret tightens your chest. The opportunity to apologize and mend things with Kate slips through your fingers, replaced by a sense of longing and missed chances.

"Alright, thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," you mutter, retreating to a corner of the living room. The rain outside matches the melancholy mood within, creating a backdrop for the emotional storm you find yourself caught in.

...

You find solace in the embrace of your bed, its comfort offering a temporary refuge from the emotional turmoil that swirls within. The room, dimly lit by the glow of the bedside lamp, becomes a sanctuary where you can confront the tangled web of feelings.

Wrapped in the warmth of blankets, you replay the events in your mind, analyzing each word and gesture. Regret sticks with you, and the longing to bridge the gap between you and Kate grows with each passing moment. The desire to apologize, to untangle the knots of misunderstanding, becomes a persistent ache that refuses to dissipate.

But was it a misunderstanding? Or just something you held in yourself for a really long time?

As the rain continues its rhythmic dance against the window, time seems to stretch, each moment weighed down by the emotional heaviness. The glow of the bedside clock ticks away, a constant reminder of the day slipping through your fingers.

Messages from MJ and Peter light up your phone, concerned inquiries that you choose to ignore for now. You will answer them later. Maybe.

The dim glow of the bedside clock casts a faint light in the room as your phone incessantly lights up with notifications. Ignoring it initially, you think it´s MJ or Peter again. However, the persistent buzzing becomes too insistent to ignore, pulling you back to the harsh reality beyond the cocoon of your thoughts.

A new notification pops up, catching your attention. It's from Yelena, and the message sends a shiver down your spine. "Kate got into an accident. We're at the hospital."

The words hang in the air, a chilling realization that transcends the emotional turmoil you've been grappling with. The cocoon of solitude suddenly feels fragile, the threads unraveling in the face of an unforeseen crisis.

Before you can fully process the gravity of the situation, your phone vibrates with an incoming call from Natasha. With a sense of foreboding, you answer, your voice catching in your throat.

"(Y/N), it's about Kate. There's been an accident," Natasha's voice is steady but laced with an underlying tension. "They're at the St.Nicholas. Steve said it's serious. You need to come, but please drive carefuly." Natasha´s voice cracks and that makes your stomach drops even lower.

Without a second thought, you spring into action, a surge of adrenaline propelling you out of the room and into the stormy night. The rain outside mirrors the tempest within as you navigate the path to the hospital, the glow of your phone lighting the way with messages that now hold a newfound urgency.

The rain-drenched streets blur as you rush towards the hospital, heart pounding in your chest. The vivid lights of the emergency room entrance greet you as you finally arrive, breathless and soaked. Your gaze scans the room, finding Natasha, Steve, and Yelena huddled together, their faces etched with worry.

Ignoring the pull of exhaustion, you hurry towards them, relief and anxiety warring within you. Natasha, noticing your arrival, steps forward, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and understanding.

"(Y/N), she's stable now," Natasha says softly, her hand resting reassuringly on yours as she stops you from coming into the room. "But they won't let us visit her just yet."

A mix of emotions floods over you – relief that Kate is stable, yet a lingering unease at the unknown extent of her injuries. The hospital's sterile ambiance amplifies the tension in the air as Steve steps forward, his usually stoic expression betraying a deep concern.

"There was a room filled with explosive material, and it detonated while she was near it," Steve explains, the weight of the situation evident in his voice. "She's lucky to be alive."

As Steve explains, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. The image of Kate, caught in the blast, flashes in your mind. The once trivial disagreements now seem insignificant, overshadowed by the reality of Kate's perilous situation.

Yelena remains silent, her eyes revealing the worry she can't put into words. The waiting room becomes a space suspended in time, a limbo between the fear of the unknown and the hope for Kate's recovery.

For now, the only option is to wait – to wait for news, for permission to visit Kate, and, above all, for a sign that she will pull through.

...

Time seems to stretch as the group anxiously awaits news about Kate. The sterile waiting room is filled with hushed conversations and the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment. The air is thick with anticipation until finally, a doctor emerges, breaking the tense silence.

"Miss Bishop is stable. She's going to be okay," the doctor announces, a collective sigh of relief escaping from those gathered. "However, she needs time to recover. The explosion caused many injuries, and she's currently sleeping."

Steve, Yelena, and Natasha exchange grateful glances, and a sense of gratitude washes over them. The doctor continues, "You can visit her. We'll keep you updated on her progress."

As the trio heads toward Kate's room, you hesitate. The relief is palpable, but an overwhelming desire to be close to Kate prevails. Determined, you follow them into the room.

Kate lies peacefully on the hospital bed, surrounded by the sterile white walls. Machines softly hum, monitoring her vital signs. You can hear Yelena talk in russian, which you don´t understand at all.

Natasha places a gentle hand on Yelena´s shoulder, exchanging a few quiet words with her and Steve before leading them out, leaving you alone with your friend.

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of monitors casting a gentle light on Kate's sleeping form. The exhaustion from the events of the day catches up with you, but an unwavering need to be there for Kate keeps you by her side.

You pull a chair close to the bed, taking Kate's hand in yours. The rhythmic beeping of the machines becomes a soothing backdrop as you sit there, unmoving, lost in the quiet vigil.

"I´m really sorry, Katie." You whisper, so much regret in those words. Hours pass, marked by the steady rise and fall of Kate's chest. Your mind is a tempest of emotions – relief, worry, gratitude. The ordeal has left you physically and emotionally drained. The chair feels uncomfortable, but you can't bring yourself to leave Kate's side.

As the night wears on, fatigue sets in. The hospital room becomes your bedroom now, interrupted only by the soft sounds of medical equipment. Unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids, you lean against the chair and finally fall asleep too.

...

Morning light filters through the hospital room's window, casting a soft glow on the still figure of Kate. The rhythmic sounds of medical equipment persist, a constant reminder of the fragile balance between recovery and the unknown. You wake up, the stiffness in your muscles a testament to the night spent in the uncomfortable chair.

The door creaks open, and Natasha enters, holding a small tray with a cup of water and a plate of food. Her eyes, though tired, hold a reassuring warmth.

"Hey," Natasha says softly, offering a small smile. "I thought you might need this."

Tears well up in your eyes as you take in the caring gesture. "Thanks, Nat."

Natasha places the tray on the table and pulls a chair closer. "How are you holding up?"

You shrug and glance at Kate, her peaceful slumber giving you a momentary respite. "The last time we talked, we had a fight," you confess, your voice choked with emotion.

Natasha leans forward, a comforting presence. "(Y/N), these things happen, especially in our line of work. What's important now is that she's going to be okay."

"I was too blind to let her be happy," you admit, the weight of regret settling in. "I should have never said anything."

Natasha reaches out, squeezing your hand gently. "You care about her, and that's what matters. The rest can be worked out later." She encourages you to eat and drink, a gentle reminder of the need to take care of yourself. The food feels tasteless, but with Natasha's support, each bite becomes a small triumph.

"Kate is strong, and she's going to pull through. You being here for her matters more than you realize," Natasha reassures, offering a comforting presence in the quiet hospital room.

Her words are stuck in your head. You are here. You are. Where is Mike?

"He's still not here, hasn't even bothered to check in," you mutter to Natasha, a sense of frustration coloring your tone.

Natasha furrows her brow, sensing the underlying tension. "Mike? Maybe he's just dealing with things in his own way."

"So if you had the love of your life in a hospital you wouldn´t care to find them?" You are once again getting angry, even though you are strongly agaisnt the man, maybe you are overreacting. Or maybe you are right the whole time. Thoughts are running in and out of your head. Too much things at the moment.

"(Y/N), people react differently in situations like these. Give him some time."

But the silence from Mike speaks louder than any explanation Natasha could offer. The realization stirs a mix of emotions — frustration, disappointment, and a strange sense of feeling you couldn´t name yet.

Natasha leaves the hospital room, offering a reassuring smile as she heads to the cafeteria to check up on Steve and Yelena. The door closes behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts and sleeping Kate.

After some time, Natasha returns with Yelena, her expression serious. "Steve's heading back to the compound to take care of some calls and paperwork. He'll be back soon," she informs you.

The hospital room feels both empty and crowded, a paradoxical mix of solitude and shared concern. Yelena, seated by the window, looks up as Natasha speaks. "We´ll stay here with you for a while," Nat offers.

Grateful for the company, you nod, and Natasha takes a seat in the corner, while Yelena sits by Kate's bedside. The atmosphere in the room becomes more subdued, the weight of the events settling in.

After a little bit you step out to get some fresh air, a knot of tension lingers. The hallway outside is quiet, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts. As you turn to the bathrooms, you notice someone standing a little way down the corridor — Mike, Kate's boyfriend.

His presence catches you off guard, and a mixture of emotions surges within. The frustration from the previous thoughts intensifies, and a sense of unease accompanies the realization that he's here, yet the silence persists.

Mike looks up from his phone, noticing you. His expression is a mix of surprise and discomfort. The air between you is thick with unspoken words and unresolved tensions. It's a moment frozen in time, the hospital hallway becoming a silent arena for a confrontation that has been brewing beneath the surface.

Yelena and Natasha remain inside the room, unaware of the encounter in the hallway. The decision of whether to address the situation or let it linger hangs in the air, and as you lock eyes with Mike. You know Kate would not want you to go up to him and start a fight, but you can´t help it.

The air in the hospital hallway thickens as you approach Mike, who seems taken aback by your presence. A mix of frustration and anger simmers beneath the surface, waiting to erupt.

"It took you a while to finally arrive," you say, the words laced with a mixture of scoff and irritation.

Mike doesn't respond with an apology or explanation. Instead, he meets your challenging gaze and, with a dismissive tone, retorts, "Why do you care?"

The confrontation escalates, each word becoming a verbal jab as the tension between you intensifies. Mike, rather than showing concern for Kate or acknowledging the gravity of the situation, responds with rudeness and indifference.

"Why do I care?!" There it is, the sharp exchange of words. "If she was my girlfriend, I would call, text—I would run into every hospital, until I would find her!" you shout, your frustration boiling over. But Mike remains unmoved, his calm demeanor only fueling the fire.

"But she's not," he speaks with an unsettling calmness.

The words hang in the air, a harsh reality that slaps you in the face. "What?" you stammer, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement.

"You've said it yourself, if. She is not your girlfriend," Mike replies, his words cutting through the emotional turmoil like a knife.

The realization hits hard, the vulnerability beneath your anger exposed. The hurt, disappointment, and frustration converge into a surge of raw emotion.

Natasha, hearing the escalating confrontation, steps in, grabbing your hand to stop you from saying or doing anything impulsive. "You won't help her by this, (Y/N)," she says calmly, her grip a grounding force amid the tempest of emotions.

The hospital hallway becomes a silent witness to the tangled threads of relationships, the fractures laid bare in the harsh light of truth. As Natasha intervenes, you take a deep breath, grappling with the storm of emotions within. The focus shifts from the confrontation to the shared concern for Kate's well-being, a reminder that in the face of adversity, unity is more crucial than discord.

Natasha makes you take a few deep breaths, trying to diffuse the tension. Frustration still simmers within you, and you can't shake off the urge to do something impulsive. Your words to Natasha echo your volatile emotions.

"He's being an arrogant idiot," you mutter to Natasha, your anger palpable. "I swear, if I didn't care about Kate, I'd punch him."

Mike, unfazed, wears an arrogant smile as if reveling in the chaos he has incited. The atmosphere in the hospital corridor remains charged, the unspoken conflict simmering beneath the surface. With a frustrated scoff you finally manage to go to the bathroom, to freshen up a little bit, or at least calm the anger burning inside you.

In the midst of the tension, a weak voice cuts through the air. Kate stirs in her hospital bed, her gaze flickering around the room as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. Her eyes land on Yelena, who is engrossed in a magazine.

"What the hell was that?" Kate asks, her voice a mix of confusion and concern.

"Kate! You´re awake! Oh and that? (Y/N)." Yelena puts the magazine down.

"Is she okay?" Kate asks without a beat.

Yelena hesitates for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "She's… okay."

The ambiguity in Yelena's response doesn't escape Kate's notice. "Whats that supposed to mean?" Kate´s voice still very raspy from just waking up.

"Well curently she´s cursing at your boy for being a dick." The blonde chuckles, as she´s rooting for your win.

"She is?" Kate's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and concern.

"Yeah… I heard Natasha step in, too sad I wanted to see (Y/N) throw some fists, she could take him.." Yelena looks at Kate, "what? I´m just stating the facts."

Kate tries to sit up and leave the bed, but Yelena immedietly notices and tries to keep her in bed. "No, Kate, stay." But that doesn´t stop the injured archer.

Ignoring Yelena's attempts to keep her in bed, Kate go out the room, trying to piece together the events that led her here until her gaze finally lands on Natasha, a silent guardian in the midst of the unfolding drama. Mike´s back is facing Kate as she somehow walked out of her hospital room.

"You all are crazy, who do you think you guys are? Mighty heroes?" He laughs "At least Kate will realize how useless her bow and arrow is…"

"Mike…" Natasha tries as she meets Kate´s blue eyes. Her posture softens a little bit with relief as she notices that Kate is awake.

"If her dad was around maybe she would get some sences knocked into her, this is ridicilous. Pretending to be a hero." Kate barerly stands there, she hopes this is just a big hallucination from the pills they gave her. "And who is your inspiration, hm? A- a- hooker mixed with Lara Croft?"

Natasha steps forward with a slight smile on her face, "If I was you, I would choose your words more wisely."

"What did you just said?" Kate jumps in with a question, her voice cracking up a little bit.

Mike turns around, completly shifting his body language, "oh babe! You are awake!" He rushes to her side but Yelena is quick to walk out of the room and push him away.

"Возьми ее за руки, и я сломаю тебе все кости в твоем чертовом теле." Yelena is really ready to strike.

(translation: Get your fucking hands on her and I´ll break all of your bones in your god damn body.)

"Leave me alone, she is my girlfriend!" The guy states. "Mine, understand?!" He tries to fight off the Widow, but if anything it was more of a sad try on his side.

The dismissive tone and lack of accountability in Mike's words infuriate Kate. Her face contorts with anger as she delivers a stern message. "You need to leave, Mike. I don't want to see you."

"Babe-" Mike's another attempt at a protest is met with a stern gaze from Kate, cutting him off. "Go home, Mike. I need some space."

"It´s because of your freak friend, right? That poor (Y/N)…" He somehow gets Yelena´s hands off of him and adjust his jacket.

Kate's eyes narrow at the mention of your name, and a wave of frustration washes over her. "Go."

Before Mike can respond Natasha is leading him out of the sight, while Yelena helps Kate back to her bed.

Kate nods, a mix of gratitude and relief in her eyes. "Thanks, guys. Now, can someone fill me in on everything that happened?"

As Yelena explains everything from the mission to this moment, Natasha, with her keen sense of observation, follows the emotional trail to find you in the bathroom. The tension and frustration from the earlier confrontation still linger, and she approaches you with a steady but understanding gaze.

"Kate is awake," Natasha announces, her words breaking through the quiet reflection in the bathroom.

The news propels you into action. Without a second thought, you practically sprint back to the hospital room where Kate is, your heart racing with a mix of anxienty and relief.

With Yelena and Natasha giving you some privacy, the atmosphere in the hospital room becomes more intimate. Kate looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity, and you can sense the unspoken questions lingering in the air.

"You really went to fight for me out there," Kate says, breaking the silence. Her voice is soft, filled with appreciation.

You give her a small smile. "Of course, Kate. He´s such an- anytime."

Kate chuckles at your words, "I appreciate it. More than you know." You find yourself sit next to her side once again. "I just couldn't stand by and let him hurt you. You mean a lot to me."

Kate's expression softens, and she reaches out to take your hand. "You mean a lot to me too. I didn't expect anyone to stand up for me like that."

"Well, get used to it," you say with a playful grin. "I've got your back. And now more than ever, miss walking into a room with explossives." You playfully tease her.

Kate just laughs, even though it hurts her a little bit.

"So, what did you do in the hallway, before Nat stepped in?"

You can't help but chuckle, the tension dissipating. "Oh nothing, just me telling off to your not-so-charming boyfriend."

Kate raises an eyebrow wanting to say something totally different then the thing she left out. "Hm, alright then."

"You should get some rest," you smile as you put the blanket over her. "I´m fine, actually I don´t feel much pain." Kate says as she visible fights off the sleepiness.

"That´s because you´re high, Bishop." You chuckle.

"Hm… interesting, I didn´t though about it." She opens her eyes. "You´re so high."

"Yup. Probably, I mean… this stuff is good. It got the kick." She smiles as she shifts a little bit in her bed and she finally drift off.

...

As the days pass, you continue to be by Kate's side, offering support and companionship during her recovery in the hospital. Your presence becomes a source of comfort, and together, you navigate the challenges of rehabilitation. Feeling like you two are even closer than before, feeling so good around her as she does. You feel complete again.

Not a signle thought about Mike in yours or Kate´s head.

Finally, the day arrives when Kate is well enough to leave the hospital. You assist her in the wheelchair, wheeling her out of the hospital room and through the corridors. As you approach the compound, the familiar faces of the Avengers greet both of you with smiles and cheers. They've organized a "Welcome Back" party for Kate, a celebration of her recovery and return.

With the wheelchair parked in the midst of the festive atmosphere, Kate insists, "I can handle the wheelchair on my own, you know." You respond with a playful grin, "I like to push you around."

The words carry a lighthearted warmth, an acknowledgment of the bond that has grown stronger during these trying times. Kate chuckles, appreciating the sentiment behind your words.

Throughout the party, you continue to take care of Kate, ensuring she's comfortable and included in the festivities. The Avengers express their relief and happiness at seeing Kate back on her feet, and the atmosphere is one of shared joy and camaraderie.

As the night progresses, the two of you find a quiet corner to sit and talk. The glow of the party surrounds you, but in that moment, it's the connection between you and Kate that shines the brightest.

"You've been a real friend through all of this," Kate says, sincerity in her eyes.

"I just wanted to be here for you," you reply, a soft smile on your face. After a little you look back at her. "I had this crazy idea. Do you trust me, Bishop?" you ask, a playful smile on your face.

Kate looks at you with a mix of curiosity and a hint of nervous anticipation. "Do I have a choice?" she replies, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Not really," you admit, your eyes dancing with excitement. "Fine, fine. I trust you." Kate nods.

"Okay, then get ready, because we´re going for a ride!" You say as you help her get back on the wheelchair. "It took me a little bit to figure it out, but I watched some youtube tutorials and I think it should work." You ramble to Kate, who still have zero idea what you´re talking about.

"Close your eyes, please,"you instruct, and Kate, now used to your playful antics, complies with a smirk.

As she close her eyes shut, you push the wheelchair, outside. Little cold breeze hitting the both of you. You push her infront of the homemade ramp, you made couple nights ago, thanks to some random guy on YouTube.

"Alright, open your eyes," you announce, stepping back to reveal your creation.

Kate opens her eyes, and her gaze shifts from you to the makeshift ramp. A mixture of surprise and excitement lights up her face. "What's all this? You won´t push me off, right?" she asks, with a giggle.

"I thought we could use a change of scenery," you say with a grin.

"And since our favorite place is the rooftop, I figured, why not bring it to you?" You smile, being really pround of what you´ve build. Deep down still hoping it won´t break as soon as Kate´s wheelchair will go on it.

"You built this?" Kate's eyes widen with appreciation as she takes in the effort you've put into creating a way for her to join you on the rooftop. You just nod at her question.

"This is amazing," Kate says, her voice filled with gratitude. "To the roof and beyond!" If this wouldn´t be Kate, you would find this quote use very cheesy, but since it´s Kate, you had to let out a chuckle.

With careful precision, you guide Kate up the improvised ramp, ensuring her safety as she rides to the rooftop. Once you both reach the top, a breathtaking view of the city awaits, and the sounds of the party below are replaced by the serene hum of the night.

Seated together on the rooftop, surrounded by the city lights, you and Kate share a moment of quiet companionship. The homemade ramp, a symbol of your dedication and the uniqueness of your connection, becomes a testament to the lengths you're willing to go to make each other happy.

As you sit side by side, overlooking the cityscape, Kate breaks the silence with a sincere look in her eyes. "I'm sorry about not listening to you."

You meet her gaze, the connection between you deepening. "I'm sorry about being right about your boy," you say with a playful laugh. Kate chuckles. "Well, I think it's good to burst out the bubble. He's not my boy anymore."

"What?" The shock in your voice is palpable.

"Yeah. I broke up with him, and he replied with a thumbs up and a 'You weren't even worth it.' So…"

"Oh my god, Kate, I'm so sorry-" You instinctively reach for her hand.

"No, you're not," she interrupts with a reassuring smile.

"Not about him, but… you don't deserve that. Who does he think he is? Oh my god, I'll tell him-" Now it's Kate's turn to take your hand. "Okay, Rambo, calm down," Kate teases. "I'm fine, really. And he´s the one not worth it."

"So he wasn´t the chosen one?" You tease.

"Oh that´t a low blow, (Y/L/N)" She roll her eyes, but laugh along with you.

As the night unfolds, the atmosphere between you two is not just warm; it's a comforting embrace that you don´t want ever lose again, even if it means being just friends with the archer.

Thank you for reading!!!