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pseudowho · 8 months

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Defending Your Honour

A series in which the JJK guys stick-it to the creeps and perverts bothering the reader.

A multi-fic in a series ❤️🫖☕

Part 1 (Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, and Todo Aoi) link here!

Part 2 (Higuruma Hiromi, Ino Takuma and Itadori Yuuji) link here!

More JJK men and women to come

Trigger Warning: unsolicited dick pics, upskirting, catcalling, threatened sexual assault/reader followed into bathroom

Gojo Satoru

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"Baaaaabe," Satoru whinged from the sofa, at the exact pitch required to set your eyes rolling. You walked back to him, blushing as you felt his eyes roll languidly up and down your bare legs beneath his oversized t-shirt.

Plopping the popcorn bowl down, you sat on the sofa beside him, lazily draping your legs over his lap, tilting your head inquisitively towards him as he teased his long fingers over your thighs. He felt you look at him questioningly, and smirked.

"Nothin'," he shot, "s'too late. Was gonna ask you what movie you wanted, but you're too late. I picked already."

"Oh, really?" You teased, swirling a finger on his pecs, "And what did you choose?"

"Only the cult-classic noughties Anne Hathaway gem...the Princess Diaries. Two." You clapped, squealing with genuine delight as Satoru laughed, pulling you closer onto his lap by the legs.

The movie rolled, and you cuddled under Satoru's arm, taking turns, giggling as you fed each other popcorn. Your phone buzzed, once. You ignored it. Your phone buzzed, again. You ignored it. It buzzed again-- again-- again--

"Someone's popular tonight," Satoru teased, "you wanna get that?" You squirmed uncomfortably under his arm, your lip curled in disgust.

"No, just leave it. Nothing to worry about." Satoru raised an unconvinced eyebrow, but tucked you closer, deliberately missing your mouth with the next piece of popcorn he offered you, shoving it at a nostril instead. You laughed, batting him away.

A few minutes passed, and the incessant buzzing of your phone began again. Satoru felt you tense under his arm. He sat forward, pausing the movie and turning to you.

"Look, you know I won't push for an answer, but...is everything alright?" You turned away from him, lips curled up again, upset.

"This guy from work..." you started guiltily, fidgeting, "...he just keeps messaging me. Won't leave me alone, I-- I've been ignoring him for weeks." Satoru's face pinched in pain and concern. He reached out a hand, threading his fingers through yours.

"Babe...you could have told me." You shrugged, eyes tearing up now. You reached out for your phone, unlocking it.

"I didn't want you to think it was my faul--" you cried out in disgust, dropping your phone into your lap with a jolt, sniffling, face crumpling, "--I'm so sick of this, Satoru."

Satoru slowly reached a hand out to your phone, hesitating for you to stop him. You shook your head tearfully, gesturing loosely at your phone for him to take it.

Satoru's face morphed into something ugly as he scrolled through photo after photo of another man's penis, sometimes flaccid, sometimes hard, held in his hand, covered in cum, in different lighting, at different angles--

"This," Satoru spat, "is not your fault. None of it is." Satoru dropped your phone on the coffee table, turning fully to you again, "Do you know where this guy lives?"

You frowned at Satoru, nodding slowly, considering; "What...are you going to do?"

Satoru's lips quirked at the edges into a dirty little smile; "Nothing for you to worry about. Don't sweat it. I'm the strongest. You know it."

An hour or so later, the owner of the unwanted penis stepped into his apartment, still buzzing after sending you so many good photos, and from the office no less, it was so filthy, so naughty, he just, just knew you'd love it--

"Hey there, guy. I've been waiting for you."

Grabbed bodily by this unreasonably strong, tall, white-haired man, your assailant cried out in terrified indignation as Satoru threw him onto his sofa. Satoru sat on the coffee table opposite him, eyes covered by a black blindfold, spidery legs spread and blocking the man's exit.

"Unlock your phone," Satoru commanded, sounding almost cheerful. The man glared, snarling.

"I'm not unlocking my fucking phone--"

"Unlock your phone," Satoru ordered again, now cold, methodically dangerous, "now."

The assailant reached for his phone with a trembling hand, unlocking it. Satoru held out his own hand expectantly. The man hesitated. Satoru clapped his fingers against his palm, in a display of impatience. Begrudgingly, the man handed over his phone to Satoru, who hummed as he flicked through the disgusting messages the man had been sending you.

"You know," Satoru said conversationally, his words sending shivers of fear up the man's spine, "I kill monsters for a living...did you know that? Probably not." Satoru sucked his teeth, preparing a multi-participant messaging list on the man's phone.

"Got any sisters? Brothers?" Satoru inquired. The man nodded, uncertain. Satoru smiled, as if delighted by the man's cooperation, "Names?"

Shakily, the man reeled off their names, his stomach sinking lower and lower as Satoru asked for more names-- his boss, his best friend, his best friend's wife, his solicitor...

With a happy sigh of finality, Satoru clapped his hands together, throwing the phone back onto the sofa.

"Hope they like your photos, anyway," Satoru chirped to the man, who stared at his frantically buzzing phone as if it were an unexploded bomb, "no takey-backsies!"

Satoru stood, walking to the front door. He paused, turning back slowly, the very air within the flat seeming to crush in around the man with some inconceivable force.

"And if you ever go near my girl again," Satoru offered, calculating, menacing, "the next monster I'll kill is you."

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Megumi and Nobara

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"She doesn't want to go to the book shop with you, she wants to come with me, there's this dress I think she'll look really cute in--"

"--she's my girlfriend Kugisaki!" Megumi snapped, tugging your hand in his so they sat flush against his thigh. You hummed, pretending to consider your options.

"I dunno Megs...if the dress is cute enough, maybe I'll be Nobara's girlfriend instead." Megumi spun to you, appalled, and you laughed as he and Nobara bickered with each other on the way to the escalator.

Ginza was busy, buzzing with the animated, vibrant ebb and flow of the wealthy, and the excitable tourists, and the perfectly-coiffed fashionistas. You, Megumi and Nobara tumbled through the crowd, being reshuffled by the constant bump of passers-by, and you ended up entering the escalator two people ahead of them.

Leaning round to shoot them an apologetic smile, you saw Megumi and Nobara remained embroiled in their sibling-ish argument. You rolled your eyes, facing forward, eyes up to the twinkling lights of the shopping centre.

You thought very little of the twitching of the back of your skirt, so close was the crowd. You heard a cough behind you, loud, barking. You heard another cough, and another, and another.

"Hey-- hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You tried to turn at the sound of Nobara's voice, but failed, shoulders bracketed by the press of the crowd.

"Megumi-- that piece of shit took photos up your girlfriend's skirt! He's covering up the camera noise with coughs!"

"Bastard!"

You cried out as you were shoved forwards, your fingers cracking painfully against the metal of the escalator, and a man in a baseball cap forced his way past you, phone in hand. Nobara and Megumi shouted, in pursuit, Megumi pulling you to your feet as the crowd decompressed at the top of the escalator.

You were confused, humiliated and all turned-around as you staggered at the top of the escalator. Pitying eyes glazed over you in passing, the flow of people giving you a wide berth. You blushed, and clutched the hem of your skirt, feeling so exposed, pulling down the hem at the back.

Megumi had stumbled ahead in chase, but turned back and grasped your hand, his eyes beseeching you to chase with him. Nobara tore off ahead, rounding a corner. You nodded, sniffling, and Megumi raised your clasped hands to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

You sprinted together after Nobara and found her pinning the capped man against a wall, effortlessly gripping the front of his hoodie while he squirmed. She was going through his phone, lips twisted in distaste at the intimate photographs he had taken of you.

Megumi approached, fists clenching and unclenching, his nose scrunched in disgust. Nobara held the phone close to her chest, eyeing him inquisitively. Megumi shot you a sideways glance, and shook his head at Nobara.

"Save them for the cops," he snapped, "but for now..." Megumi turned to you; "What do you want to do with this bastard?"

Your lip trembled, and you bit it between your teeth to still it. You felt violated, furiously vengeful.

"I think," you shook out, "we should find this guy a skirt." With matching satisfied, wicked smiles, Megumi and Nobara rounded on your assailant.

The sales assistants manning the changing rooms did not dare approach the scene that was unfolding behind the curtains, some time later. While the capped man frantically sobbed, his knobbly-kneed hairy legs woefully exposed by the cute miniskirt he wore, Megumi kept him arm-locked against the wall, endlessly berating and insulting him, while Nobara knelt, taking miserably unflattering photos of his taint under the hem of his skirt.

You stood back, grimly satisfied as your assailant wept his apologies. As you wiped away tears of mirth, Megumi paused in his bullying for just a moment, to smile at you, eyes soft, warm, full of sincere adoration.

You mused to yourself as Nobara slapped the back of the man's thigh, making him shriek; it's not strictly morally just, you thought to yourself, but I don't strictly care.

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Toge Inumaki

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You found yourself so nervous, the first 'first date' you had had in quite some time. Your date, Inumaki, seemed equally unsure, but rolled with a quiet mischievous confidence that sent butterflies through your tummy.

You had approached him, your outfit suddenly seeming so overdone compared to his hoodie and jeans, and you opened your mouth to apologise for being overdressed. The words stopped in your throat as Inumaki's eyes glimmered with joy, and he gestured up and down your body with one finger, before clasping his hands over his heart and tipping his head back towards the sky.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, blushing, and Inumaki stepped forward to grasp your hands and bring them away from your face, swinging them affectionately in his own. You bumped the side of your head against his, realising with a curling warmth, that he had plaited his fingers in yours as you walked together down the street.

The day passed, in a flurry of arcades, street food, souvenir shopping, buying small gifts for each other...the whole day had been spent in wordless gestures, familiar and comfortable. Inumaki's heart stuttered each time he managed to tease you into a twinkling laugh.

Heading home, hands still swinging together, rich steam and hoppy beer aromas tumbled out of the closely packed ramen shops. You and Inumaki found yourselves pressed uncomfortably close to a pack of young men as you squeezed through the crowd. One man squeezed pricklingly, unnecessarily against you as he passed, the street wide enough to render his intimacy completely unjustifiable.

Inumaki paused, watchful eyes seeing as you drew your shoulders up in defence.

"Oh hey baby! You on a date? Hey bro, your girlfriend just tried to feel me up!" You blushed in furious mortification as your shoulders drew even closer towards your chin, pulling your jacket around yourself, keeping your head down and hoping the assault would just go away.

The young man's pack of friends, four of them, laughed and jeered, taking swigs from cans of beer and turning to join in the game.

"Nice outfit babe! Think I've seen something like it on a street corner near here..."

"Yeah, that jacket ain't coverin' much, sweetheart!"

"Aww, you cold? C'mere baby, I've got something nice and warm for you in my pocket."

As the pack continued to laugh and jeer at you, your happiness shrivelled, and you were reduced to nothing, a pecked worm between birds.

Inumaki raised his hand, slowly drawing his mask down, revealing his unusual facial markings. The pack of men paused, then laughed harder. The original perpetrator raised his beer to Inumaki, and began to speak as Inumaki waggled his tongue in preparation.

"Think you've got a bit of Sharpie on your face, ma--"

"Kiss each other-- like you mean it."

Gripped by something other than his own thoughts and desires, the young man stopped, dropping his can to the floor with a metallic wet thunk...before turning to his friend and grasping his face, pressing a passionate, staggering kiss to his lips. The kiss was enthusiastically reciprocated, and two of the others fought each other for the right to lock lips with the final man.

"Put your hands down his pants."

The crowd around the young men hooted and whistled at the show, as the enforced make-out session grew steamier, beer spilling onto the floor around them, wet kisses sounding through the air, hands down pants, groping.

"Keep going-- really enjoy yourselves."

As the scene before you unfolded into something increasingly erotic and debauched, your jaw dropped, all of your own embarrassment forgotten, and Inumaki raised his mask with a cough. Pulling you to wind through the crowd of onlookers and raised, clicking phone cameras, Inumaki turned and shot you a wink.

You laughed, desperately appreciative, and already planning your second date.

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Fushiguro Toji

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"Toji-- Toji-- I mean it, slow down, I need to pee!"

Toji sighed, brisk and pissed-off (his factory settings), and stopped pulling you along by the hand. He shot you a withering look, until you batted your eyelashes, clasping your hands together as you wiggled at him.

Despite himself, he smirked, glancing away so you didn't see (though you already had), and started scouring the street for public bathrooms.

"Come on, pea-bladder," he mocked, his deep voice slow and drawling, "let's find you somewhere to piss."

"Toji, don't be so gross--"

"Don't be so needy, jeez, or you're payin' for your own dinner." You rolled your eyes, punching his shoulder affectionately. Rounding a corner, a set of public bathrooms appeared opposite a row of shops.

Raising Toji's hand to your face, you pressed a kiss to the back of his enormous fist. Toji pinched your chin lovingly, before spinning you by the shoulders and planting a hefty slap to your bum.

"Hurry up kid. If someone prettier passes while you're in there, I ain't stickin' round." Toji laughed as your jaw dropped, aghast, and pushed you towards the bathrooms.

Toji chuckled to himself as you skipped away, his eyes only briefly registering the figure loitering outside the bathroom as you headed in.

A few minutes passed and you stepped, relieved, out of the stalls and walked to the sink to clean your hands. Sidling from his hiding spot round the corner, a heavy-jacketed man looked towards you as you gasped, immediately backing yourself away against a wall.

"All alone, baby?" The man challenged, tongue sliding across his front teeth as he approached you, a flick knife clacking in his hand. Steeped in terror, your eyes filled with tears, and you were miserably trapped in the corner against a toilet stall. You opened your mouth to beg for your life, but were interrupted by a low, dangerous voice.

"Nah, man. She ain't alone. But you are."

In abrupt, bloody violence, Toji swung a fist, shattering the man's nose and front teeth in an instant. The man's head snapped back and you screamed, spats of blood splattering down to mix with the stale-water-toilet-paper-mulch of the public bathroom floor.

Toji drew his fist back again as the man staggered, Toji's face twisted in filthy, murderous rage; "Chickenshit little coward, I'll fucking gut yo--"

Toji stopped stock-still at your pale little face staring up in terror...at him now, not your would-be assailant twisting like a maggot on the wet floor. Toji felt a hot rush of shame at having been the cause of your terror.

"Babe..." he started, lost for words. You trembled before him. Toji gulped, turning away from you, unable to look you in the eye. As your frightened heart slowed, Toji took a deep, measured breath in through his nose, and out of his mouth.

"I...frightened you. I'm so--" the words caught in Toji's throat, so alien to him. He took a deep breath and tried again; "I'm sorry. Let's finish this guy off together, huh? Before we take him to the cops."

You hesitated, before nodding, tearful eyes smiling up at Toji, sending his belly tumbling. Lifting the bloodied man up by his collar, Toji grinned devilishly at him.

"Swirly..." Toji began to chant, raising his voice as you started to join in, clapping in rhythm, "Swirly, swirly, swirly--"

Other passers-by found alternate public bathrooms that day, put off by the sounds of repeated flushing and strangled wet sobs.

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Ahhh. I managed to find a bit of love even for Toji, who is so SHOCKINGLY in looks and character like my older brother 💀💀💀🫠

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roosterforme · 6 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You arrive home to your husband and a visual representation of how much he loves you. Your house is filled with treats to make you smile, and the attic has been ripped apart to start accommodating your new addition. The way Bradley loves you and the baby makes everything even more exciting. But as much as things are changing, they are also staying the same.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff, smut, oral sex

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When you woke up, you were afraid you were still on the flight home to San Diego. You desperately wanted to stop throwing up. Your ribs were starting to ache from it, and your back was sore from hunching over the toilet. But the unique smell of a new car filled your nose as you opened your eyes, and you knew you were in the red Bronco.

"Roo?" you groaned, reaching for him but accidentally hitting the vase full of flowers that was for some reason in the cup holder instead.

"We're home," he replied right away as he pulled into the driveway. "I'm with you, and we're home."

You whimpered in response as you saw the front window of the craftsman glowing with a cozy orange light. The week in Annapolis had been one of the longest of your life, but you were home. And Tramp was here, and so was your own bed and your bathtub.

Bradley knew you were crying again before you did, and he swiped at your tears as soon as he turned the engine off. "It's okay, Sweetheart. Let's go inside." You made some sort of pitiful sounding noise, and a few seconds later, Bradley was carrying you up to the porch. "I'll go back out for your stuff. Are you hungry? I think you should try to drink more ginger ale or maybe a seltzer or gatorade."

You just gasped as he took you inside; every surface was covered in unlit candles and yellow flowers. Even in just the soft glow from the lamp on the end table, everything looked exceptionally romantic. "Bradley."

He kissed your cheek and continued toward the kitchen while Tramp followed along whimpering for you. But the kitchen was more of the same. Your husband must have gone grocery shopping without you, because there was a little box of pastries and different snacks and more flowers lining the counter. He set you down and held your face gently in his hands. "What can I get you to drink?"

Your lip quivered as you looked up into his brown eyes. "You made everything so romantic."

He sighed and kissed your forehead softly. Then his lips found your nose and then your cheek before ending up on yours. "What can I say, Baby Girl? I missed you. Both of you. A lot."

You thought back to the way you were begging for him and his cock when you talked to him on the phone, but right now you could barely stand up after the horrible flight home. "I don't think I can be romantic right now. I feel disgusting."

He smiled against your lips. "This is peak romance to me. Yeah, I was going to light some candles and feed you some snacks and let you take the lead, but all I really wanted all week was you. Here. At home. With me."

You kissed him deeply, and then let your cheek come to rest on his chest while your stomach churned softly. "I love it. The flowers are beautiful. And can you leave the candles out until tomorrow?"

He nodded and kissed your ear. "I won't put them away yet. Now can you tell me what you want to drink? I just want to dote on you and the nugget all weekend."

You smiled and whispered, "Gatorade." Next thing you knew, there were several chilled bottles lined up on the counter for you to choose from. Bradley opened the orange one and put the rest away, and then you saw the refrigerator door. He had hung up the ultrasound photos in the shape of a heart, and you couldn't stop smiling. He went to the pastry box and broke off part of a croissant and held it out for you to nibble on. When you nodded he fed you more until you shook your head.

Then he helped you into the shower, and it took almost no convincing to get him to join you. "I want you with me," you said, and he started taking his shirt off. A minute later, there was a discarded pile of clothing on the floor, but the two of you were under the steamy spray. You washed his hair for him even though your body felt physically exhausted, and he melted into your touch. "You really missed me, huh?" you joked softly.

His eyes were closed, and he grunted softly before he said, "I miss you when you go out to brunch while I play golf. I miss you when I don't see you for eight hours at work. I miss you when you spend seven hundred hours at Costco without me. But this week was unbearable, Sweetheart. Let's not do it again."

When he didn't even mention being deployed for weeks and weeks on end, you relaxed a little more. You pressed your lips together as his big hands settled on your belly. "The nugget is already calmer with you around," you informed him. "The baby definitely prefers you."

He kissed you and rinsed off all the soap and shampoo. "Yeah, well the nugget and I are about to have a conversation once we get in bed."

You brushed your teeth and removed your contacts, and Bradley already had his UVA shirt ready for you. A couple minutes later, you were in bed with your fingers tangled in his damp hair while he pushed the shirt up so he could kiss your belly.

"What did I tell you about being nicer to Mommy?" His lips found your belly button, and his breath was warm on your skin as he said, "She's the best fucking thing in the world."

"Don't teach the baby bad words," you mumbled as you set your glasses aside.

He kissed along to your dainty rooster tattoo and traced it with the tip of his nose. "Nah, that's what Aunt Natasha is for," he said, and you giggled as he kissed you everywhere.

"Roo?" you asked with a yawn.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"It's literally my favorite thing to do."

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Bradley didn't realize just how poorly he had been sleeping until he ended up staying in bed with you until almost noon on Saturday, finally feeling refreshed. When you woke up and immediately reached for him, he scooped you up in his arms and rolled you onto your back.

"I'm hungry," you whispered as your stomach started growling loudly while he kissed you.

"Hi, Hungry. I'm Bradley," he replied with a smirk as his fingers brushed along your belly.

Your eyes lit up with mirth as you gasped. "Oh my god! That was your first dad joke!"

He chuckled against your neck. "I'm going to be so fucking good at this shit."

"The nugget already likes you better," you whispered as he started to kiss his way down your chest over the shirt. Bradley paused with his hand tucked beneath the fabric, fingers stroking your side softly as he looked at you.

"You said that yesterday, too. I don't like it when you say that."

When you swallowed hard and turned your face away, you whispered, "I swear it's true."

"No," he said sharply. "This is just because the first trimester is filled with so many changes in your hormones. After the nugget is born, he or she is going to take one look at you and realize they have the most perfect Mommy. I've already written about it in my Nugget Notebook."

He nodded his chin toward the pink and blue notebook on his nightstand, and you asked, "What else did you write about?"

He hummed and pressed his lips to your rooster tattoo, earning a little squirm from you. "I wrote a little about Grandma Carole and Grampy Goose. I talked about how you and I met, and how I fell in love with you. I told the nugget I never really thought about having kids before I met their mommy."

"Roo," you sighed softly as he brushed his mustache along your soft skin, his cheek coming to rest on your hip.

Your stomach rumbled softly as he asked, "Want me to make you some peanut butter toast and some hot tea for breakfast?"

Slowly yet intentionally, you started to slide your legs apart along the fitted sheet where Bradley was laying halfway on top of them. He propped himself up and met your gaze as you said, "In a couple minutes."

He kissed your tattoo again as he tried not to grin. "Hmm. Anything you think you might want before that, Sweetheart?"

You bit your lip and turned your head to the side as he placed his palm on the top of your thigh. Bradley listened to the deep intake of your breath before you let it out slowly and asked, "Will you go down on me?"

He had his lips pressed to your pussy before you finished the sentence, both hands on the backs of your thighs as he spread your legs wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders. "Gorgeous," he whispered, his mustache feather light against your slick slit as you squirmed and whimpered his name, pressing yourself up for more.

With a smile, Bradley parted you with his tongue, taking the time to remind you just how much he missed you. "Thought about you all week long, Baby Girl," he said after pulling your clit briefly between his lips. He plucked you a few more times as you moaned. "You're perfect," he promised, teasing your opening with his fingertip. "I missed you."

Then he took the time to taste every bit of you, his tongue swiping down to your ass as you begged him for more. He spread your wetness all over and when he made his way back up to focus on your clit, your fingers were in his hair. "I missed you, too," you managed before your voice broke softly as he sucked on you. "I was so horny all week, but nothing is as good as you."

Bradley smirked and sucked a little harder, leading you directly to your orgasm, showing you just how much better he was than your toys or your own hands. Reminding you that you'd never have it this good anywhere else. When you started to thrust against his face, he let his hands slide up to your waist.

He waited until you were coming on his tongue and crying out before rubbing his nose along your clit and grunting, "I wanna fuck you."

You yanked so hard on his hair, he saw stars for a second, but he took your lead and kissed your mouth as he pushed his cock inside you. You were so wet and tight, he knew he'd only last a few thrusts, especially with the way you were squeezing him as your orgasm started to taper off. And then he was right there with you as you licked his mouth clean of your decadent taste and let your fingers snag in his messy hair.

"Fuck," he grunted, driving into you with a few final thrusts before he filled you up with his cum. You looked so perfectly sated beneath him as you licked your own lips and gazed up at him.

When he stopped moving, his hips finally settling against yours, you looked a little bashful as you said, "I think I needed you before I needed breakfast." Your stomach was growling a little louder now, and Bradley knew he needed to get some toast in your belly to keep the baby happy.

"Well," he rasped, "this was my breakfast, and I'll have it again for lunch and dinner if you let me." He slid away from you and stood next to your side of the bed, his head still a little fuzzy as he glanced down at his soft, glistening cock. With your legs still spread wide, he could see his cum working its way out of your tight pussy as you chewed on your lip dreamily. "Come on, Baby Girl," he crooned, reaching for you and guiding both of you into the kitchen. "I'll take care of all of your appetites."

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You were practically shaking with happiness as you nibbled on a crunchy piece of toast slathered with a thick layer of peanut butter and sprinkled with chocolate chips. Your entire kitchen was decorated with the yellow flowers that Bradley got, and you noticed the refrigerator was randomly filled with steaks.

"What's this for?" you asked him as he made himself some coffee. "It looks like you spend two hundred bucks on steaks?"

"I did," he confirmed, still completely naked from your activities a little while ago. "You really seemed to enjoy that dinner you had in Annapolis. I just thought you might want to try to replicate it here," he said a bit bashfully. "I mean, I could try to help you cook them if you want." You smiled, knowing full well he was more hesitant to admit he spent too much money on food that you'd have to cook for yourself than he was to parade around with nothing on.

"You're the best," you told him, tucking yourself against his chest and admiring the flowers on the island as he sipped his coffee. Then your gaze caught on a thin strip of drywall that was propped up next to the stairs. "Where did that come from?"

"Hmm?" Bradley hummed casually, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

"Is that drywall?"

"Oh. Uh... yes. I must have missed that piece when I was throwing all of it away."

You looked up at him, concern written on your face. "What do you mean by all of it?"

He kissed your nose a few times and said, "Now don't get upset, okay? It's not good for the nugget."

"Bradley."

He swallowed and said, "I got a little bored and anxious while the two of you were gone, and I kind of dismantled the attic."

"What?" You took off toward the stairs. When Bradley bought the Craftsman, you'd been with him every step of the way. You both looked at the house together, and you were there when he closed on it. He had his arm draped over your shoulders the first time he walked inside once he owned the place. You and he both knew the attic would eventually need an overhaul to grow from a sad little workspace into a usable bedroom or two. But now you were afraid to see what he did in your absence.

"Sweetheart, wait," he called out, wrapping his arms around you from behind before you could even put your foot on the first step. He kissed your cheek and said, "There could be a nail or something sharp on the floor that I missed when I cleaned up. Please, put some shoes on first."

You jammed your feet into your combat boots which were next to the front door, and Bradley did the same with his. Then he followed you upstairs, still in all of his naked glory, and watched you look around at the complete demolition job he did to the space. There was no flooring, no drywall, nothing.

"There used to be a half wall right here," you said, waving your arms. "I thought we were going to call a contractor."

"I did," he confirmed, standing there with his hands on his hips, kind of shrugging. "After I took everything down to the studs. But maybe they'll cut out some of the cost for the demolition since I already did it?" he muttered as his cheeks grew a little pink. "I just got excited about the idea of your parents having their own space when they visit, you know? And maybe one day, the nugget can have their bedroom up here. After they grow out of the nursery downstairs."

"Roo," you moaned, launching yourself into his arms. He welcomed you there as you whispered, "I'm sorry you were anxious enough while I was gone that you had the urge to completely dismantle the space up here." His sparse chest hair felt coarse against your face, but it was soothing to you anyway. "But I'm excited about this space. And I'm happy you called a contractor. And also, you look sinfully sexy in nothing but your boots, and I'm really horny again already."

"Oh," he rasped, and you could feel him reacting to you almost immediately. "Well, what do you know... so am I."

Then you and your husband had sex in the attic for the first time.

--------------------------

After a lovely steak dinner on Saturday night, which Bradley dutifully helped you make, you took a bath in your luxurious tub. He made sure the water wasn't too hot for the nugget, and then you lured him into the bath with you. All of the candles you'd noticed yesterday were now glowing, and a cluster of them had found their way to the bathroom counter.

"I liked tonight's dinner a lot better than the one I had with Commander Patterson," you whispered as Bradley ran his soapy hands along your shoulders and kissed your ear.

"Trust me, Sweetheart, if I ever run into Derek, he's getting what he has coming to him."

You gasped. "How do you know his name is Derek?"

"I have my ways," he murmured, letting his fingers trail down along your body beneath the water. After you remained silent, wondering how on earth he had that information, he added, "You let it slip over the phone."

"Did I?" you asked. But you shouldn't have been too surprised. You kept forgetting little things here and there. Your hormones were hitting you hard in a variety of ways, and you'd just about had enough of it.

"Mmhmm. If he ever comes to Top Gun, it's on."

You knew he was at least partially serious, so you didn't bring it up again. Instead, you let Bradley pull you out of the tub when you started to shiver, and he helped you get ready for bed. "I didn't throw up once today," you said with a smile as you curled up with your cheek on his chest. "The nugget always behaves when you're around."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and cradled your body against his. "If the nugget doesn't start to shape up, I'll have a little discussion with him or her."

Just as he reached for the lamp on his nightstand, you asked him softly, "Will you read a little bit to me from the Nugget Notebook?"

You weren't sure if his musings were even really meant for you, but he agreed and picked up the pink and blue notebook from next to the bed, leaving the light on in the process. Bradley cleared his throat and started to read. His written words were enough to make you melt, and the deep rasp of his voice comforted you like nothing else could.

"I hate to break it to you, little nugget, but you're related to some of the coolest people I ever met in my life. Sounds great, doesn't it? I suppose it is. The only downside is the fact that you won't get to meet them for yourself. But that's where I come in, so don't worry about it too much.

Let's start with your Grandma Carole. Now she had a real talent for always knowing how to cheer people up. Even when she was having a hard day herself, she still saved a smile and a kiss just for me. She was one of the sweetest people around. She was smart, funny and honest, too. But I think if there's one thing of hers that I'd like to pass down to you, it would be Carole's sweetness.

Next we have your Grampy Goose. Don't worry, his name wasn't really Goose. It was Nick. Now this is going to be a little harder for me to write about, simply because I didn't get very much time with him myself, but I know for a fact that Goose could bring a smile to even the most serious faces."

You dozed off, dreaming about a world in which you got to meet your husband's parents. Where you could take your child to spend time with them. Get to know them without visiting the cemetery in Virginia.

When you woke up, it was to the sound of your alarm while Bradley had you wrapped up with his long arms and his legs. "Roo," you muttered, but he held on.

"Don't want you to go to brunch," he whispered. "Stay in bed."

Goosebumps rose along your arms as you thought about spending the entire day snuggled up with him like this. "I need to go see Cam and Maria," you mumbled. Your stomach growled so you added, "And eat avocado toast."

Bradley groaned and rolled away from you. "At least you're hungry. Go have fun with your friends."

"Do you want me to bring anything back for you?"

He snorted as you climbed out of bed. "Yeah. You and the nugget. ASAP."

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "God, you're sweet. Just like Carole. The nugget will inherit that trait, too."

You watched your husband blush as he snuggled under the blanket and tracked you with his eyes as you got ready to go out. Your stomach was feeling pretty good, but you knew you were tempting fate if you decided to wait to eat something at the restaurant. You made yourself a piece of toast and finished it before you climbed into your red Bronco and headed out to your usual spot while Bradley lounged in bed.

After you parked, you saw some texts from Jake asking how you were feeling and also asking if you and Bradley could watch Jeremiah one night. That sounded like a good sign that things had worked out okay between him and Uncle Bernie. When you saw Cat at work tomorrow, that would be the first thing you asked her, but for now you typed back to Jake. You didn't think Bradley would mind if you agreed to watch Jer. Frankly, the two of you could use the practice.

"Hey!" Cam called out as soon as you walked inside. "Hurry up, I'm starving."

You rolled your eyes as you made your way over to the table and scooted into the seat next to him. "You're always hungry," you mumbled as he handed you a menu even though you both knew exactly what you'd be ordering. "Where's Maria?"

"Late," Cam grumbled. "If she brings Bob with her again, I'll be so annoyed. I need a hot aviator in my life."

And that's when you saw her through the side window. You smacked Cam's bicep and silently pointed to where Maria was standing out on the sidewalk, snaking her arm up around Bob's neck. They were talking. They were just talking. Until they weren't. Bob leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. Then it was over, and you were kind of shocked as Maria made her way inside the restaurant.

"They're fucking," Cam whispered harshly, smacking your thigh repeatedly under the table as she made her way over like absoltuely nothing just happened out on the sidewalk.

"I can't believe they are hooking up," you hissed, grabbing his hand and shoving it back to his lap just as Maria strolled over to the table.

"Morning," she practically sang. "How was Annapolis?"

"I went to Waffle House," you blurted out like a weirdo. "And a cemetery."

She laughed and picked up her menu. "I was more interested in how your presentation went, but I do love a good Waffle House breakfast."

You and Cam were both silent for a few beats before he quickly and loudly asked, "How long have you been fucking Bob?"

She was looking back and forth between the two of you with her mouth hanging open. "Well... listen... it's not my fault he's so funny and sweet and smells so good!"

That was proof enough for you, but she was practically gushing with details, and you couldn't wait to get home and tell Bradley.

-----------------------------

"Maria and Bob are sleeping together! In the same bed! And having sex!" you announced as soon as you walked in the front door. "Oh, and Cam and Maria say hi."

Bradley looked up from the notebook where he was sitting on the couch and said, "Yeah, I forgot to tell you about that."

"How did you know?"

As you settled on the couch with your head resting on his thigh, Bradley let his hand come up to your belly. "I ran into Bob one morning last week, and it couldn't have been more obvious, Baby Girl."

You yawned and snuggled in. "You should have told me," you scolded softly. "I saw them kissing. It was the sweetest thing in the world."

Bradley stroked your soft skin as you started to doze. "Nah. You're the sweetest thing in the world." A smile curled along your lips as he juggled the Nugget Notebook to his other thigh and continued to write, this time about how much he loved you.

He let you sleep until you woke on your own and suggested the two of you take a beach walk with Tramp. You were gorgeous, practically glowing in the August sunlight, and that's when Bradley realized it was two years ago almost to the day since the first time he saw you. Since he met the woman who changed his life. You were currently talking about work as you held his hand and smiled as you pulled him along the sand, but he dug his heels in until you came to a stop.

"Roo?" you asked, looking up at him as Tramp pulled on the leash in his other hand.

Two years. He'd spent over a dozen years before that going through the same routine every day but essentially gaining nothing in the process. Work and women and hitting the bar. Shit. Then you had him tearing his life down to the studs just like the attic the first time he laid eyes on you. All he wanted to do was make himself good enough so you'd keep looking at him and smiling at him just like you were right now.

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching up to touch the scars on his cheek. Your hand was gentle and soft, and he covered it with his own so you'd keep it right where it was. He had a family again. Something he'd given up on until he met you, but then you made impossible things seem possible again. You loved him in spite of himself, or maybe because of himself. You took the loneliness away.

"Nothing's wrong, Sweetheart," he promised, mesmerized by the sunlight on your face. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for you. Of course that's when you pulled your hand free from his cheek, made a miserable face and ran for the trash can at the beach path entrance. Bradley rubbed your back as you threw up and moaned about how much the nugget didn't like avocados.

Then he took you home and attempted to replicate the steak dinner again after you took another nap. He thought he did a pretty decent job with minimal help. The two of you shared a plate, and you sat on his lap while Tramp begged for some scraps. "You ready to go back to work tomorrow?" he asked as you ate some garlic mashed potatoes that weren't quite as creamy as when you made them.

"No," you groaned. "I just want to sleep. But I'm sure Bickel will want to meet so we can fill him in on everything from Annapolis."

He kissed your cheek and whispered, "Maybe we can drive in together tomorrow? Just to spend a little extra time together in the morning?"

You dropped your fork and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You're so sweet, Roo. I can't handle it right now when I'm this horny!"

His eyes went wide as you reached for the front of his shorts. "Holy hell," he groaned, setting his own fork down as you touched him. "I might have to visit you at lunchtime tomorrow, yeah?"

"Please," you whined, your voice just making him harder.

Bradley would never get enough of you. The fact that you demanded a quickie during dinner before returning to your food made his head spin. The fact that you sat on the piano bench with him when you were both done eating while he played a few songs for the nugget made him smile. The fact that you and he were going to be parents left him breathless.

The ride to work in the red Bronco the next morning consisted of some serious hand holding while you drank a can of ginger ale while he drove. "I can't wait for the next appointment with Dr. Morris," he whispered as he kissed your knuckles. "I want some more ultrasound photos."

You laughed as you looked up at both visors which were practically covered with the little baby pictures. "You didn't get enough last time?"

"We need more," he said firmly. "We can tell your parents pretty soon, and then we can tell everyone else. I want to hand the photos out like cigars."

You were still laughing as he parked in the garage on base, and you walked into the building holding hands. He had fifteen minutes until his work hours technically started, and he didn't really care who saw. Bradley kissed you next to the elevators with everything he had, letting you taste his mouth while he worshipped yours. "Go wow Bickel, Baby Girl. I'll come find you at lunchtime, okay?"

You nodded, and Bradley patted your ass as you finally got in the elevator to take you up to your lab. On the way to the locker room, he ran into Jake and Cat who appeared to be doing what you and he had been doing by the elevators. Bradley tried to sneak quietly past, but Cat saw him and pulled away from Jake who whined in response.

"Morning," Cat said to Bradley as she walked away from Jake with a satisfied little smile.

"Wow," Jake drawled as he watched her disappear around the corner. "Thanks for ruining the best part of my day, Bradshaw."

He chuckled as Jake followed him into the locker room. "It's not like you won't see her later."

"I won't," Jake whined. "Not alone anyway. She and I are taking Jeremiah to the movies with Hondo."

Bradley pulled a clean flight suit from this locker and started to get undressed. "So things went well between you and Uncle Bernie last week?"

Jake hummed as he yanked his own shirt off. "You could say that. We've come to a bit of an understanding. I understand that he's protective of Cat, and he understands that I'm not fucking going anywhere."

Bradley thought back to just a few months ago when Hondo was running Jake ragged with countless push ups and sprints. "Next thing I know, you'll be asking her and Jeremiah to move in with you."

"Oh, I already did that," Jake replied easily as he zipped his flight suit over his undershirt. "Yesterday."

Bradley stood there in his compression shorts and tank top. "And?" he asked, gesturing for more information. He loved being on the cutting edge of these things ahead of you, and he knew for a fact that Cat was like a steel trap in comparison to loose-lipped Jake.

Jake shrugged with some annoyance on his face. "She said it's too soon. Then she told me how much she loves me. Then she gave me a blowjob. And now this morning she's making out with me like she can't stand to be apart. So... I don't really know what's up. But I've got plenty of space for both of them at my place, unlike at Hondo's."

When Jake slammed his locker door, Bradley felt apologetic for putting a damper on his good mood. "You haven't been together for very long," he said cautiously.

Jake rolled his eyes as he sat to put his boots on. "Longer than you and Angel were together before you bought her a house."

Oof. He was actually right about that one. "Yeah, but there's a kid involved, you know?"

Jake stood and smirked. "You've got one of those now, too."

Bradley looked around with wide eyes. "Keep it fucking quiet," he hissed, but Jake just laughed.

"The only person with razor sharp hearing is Nat, and if she can hear me all the way from the ladies' room, then good for her," he replied. "See you in the hangar."

Bradley stood there for a few extra seconds in silence before finally pulling on his flight suit. Then he dug around in his locker until he found the ultrasound picture he'd tucked away and gave it a little kiss. The last thing he did before locking everything away was send you a text.

I already miss you. We should have just stayed in bed.

And then he was off to start another week up in the air. He got to the hangar before he ran into anyone else, and he already had his helmet in his hands when Maverick found him and gave him an envelope. Bradley took one look at the raised seal, and his heart plummeted to his feet.

"No," he rasped, his dark eyes meeting those of his dad's best friend who just nodded at him before apologizing and walking away. "Fuck!" Bradley practically shouted before dropping his helmet to the ground and raking his fingers through his hair. He vaguely made out Nat's voice as he started to rip into the envelope with a level of fury he never felt before, because he never had both a wife and a baby on the way before.

He skimmed the page before crumpling the paper in his fist and stared at the ground. His breaths were coming quick and shallow. His skin was crawling. He picked his helmet up and made his way toward his Super Hornet without a glance back toward the buildings.

When he eventually found you in your office at lunchtime, he had to watch your smile slowly fade away only to be replaced by sobs and tear filled eyes.

-----------------------

That's a wrap on this series!! Omg, what a ride these two went on! I have a feeling the next one will be even wilder. Please stay tuned for some one-shots featuring Roo, Baby Girl, and the nugget. Then we will pick up later in her pregnancy with a brand new series!!!!! Thanks for all the love, reblogs and comments. They brighten my day and keep me motivated. Big thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

Read the next one-shot! Check my masterlist for more!

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munariplans · 9 months

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cold | natasha romanoff

synopsis: AU to the spidey!reader and natasha series, wherein a bad argument leads to unsaid misunderstandings and forever guilt between natasha and her love, just before christmas.

natasha romanoff x spidey! reader

word count: 2.2k words

warnings: major character death

a/n: i have to emphasise that this is an AU for these two once more, or i fear i may not make it out alive for christmas from your wraths as well...

masterlist

cold had been the one word you would describe the look in her eyes, as she told you to get out. to get out, if it made you happier going out on that stupid mission than spending time at home with your family. that stupid mission that no one could deny was not only dangerous, but life-threatening. but you were confident in your abilities. you knew that if anyone could survive it, you could. you also knew that bringing the stolen artefact home could add a nice year-end bonus that would chip in heavily to the new play room that was being built for your son.

you didn’t mention any of that to natasha, of course. she was already enraged enough as it is, standing by the christmas tree the three of you had decorated together. your son was a greater help than you, she would say, as you carried him on your shoulders and allowed him to choose where he wanted to hang the ornaments beside natasha. you remembered those moments fondly.

“get out then,” she bit harshly, “get out on that stupid, godforsaken mission if you have to. i could care less about trying to convince you otherwise anymore. it seems that whatever i say these days doesn’t even matter.”

“nat, of course what you say matters.”

“you don’t love me enough to have it matter.”

“how can you–”

but she had put up a hand to stop you. it was enough. she had sighed deeply, and began walking back to the bedroom. it was late, and your son had a preschool play the next day. natasha needed to get up early to put his costume together for him.

you didn’t see a point fighting her. maybe you should have. maybe you should have gone up to her, wrapped your arms around her, and told her just how sorry you were. that you weren’t going on the mission anymore, because it would be going against her wishes, and you loved her too much to disrespect her like that. maybe things would’ve been different then.

what you did instead, was sigh irritatedly as well, and began packing up for the mission. getting dressed in your spider suit underneath plain clothing, you slipped your mask into one of the pockets on your jacket. the pendant with natasha’s photo inside of it hung snugly on your neck; your good luck charms.

natasha watched you enter the bedroom, equipping your web shooters and packing the last of your things. she didn’t say anything. when you were finished and shot one last longing glance to her, she clenched her jaw and looked away. she didn’t want to be the one to give in first. she wished she had. she wished she had just put her ego down, and hugged and kissed you goodbye. it would have alleviated so much of the regret, and sorrow, that she was feeling right now.

you nodded understandingly, swallowing a particularly difficult breath. coming a little closer, you noticed natasha not flinching when you moved. so you took the chance to kiss her on the cheek, and murmur i’ll be home soon in her ear. she gave a nonchalant grunt and drew the covers over her face.

but natasha still cared. she cared so much that it hurt; it was inane for her, just caring for you. and so when you left the bedroom and made your way across the hall to your son’s room, she followed.

she watched by the door as you woke him up gently, leaning down to smile at him as he sleepily reached out for your voice in the dark. you held his hand, calling him your little warrior, and then, you leaned down and whispered, just enough for natasha to barely make out, “take care of your mama for me while i’m gone, okay? just like we talked about, my warrior.”

his hands imitated your own when you shot your web shooters; the spider pose, he would say, as you chuckled. you kissed him gently on the forehead then, and tucked him back in.

“when will you be back?” he asked, eyes wide as he saw your mission supplies.

you smiled sadly at him. “just in time for christmas, i promise.”

“pinky promise?” he let out his pinky, you interlaced it with yours, nodding.

natasha disappeared back into the room before you could see her, her own eyes red and brimming with tears. she heard the click of the front door a few seconds later. she wished she had never allowed you to leave that night.

–

it had been a mistake; a miscalculation on your part, which led to a mistake with even graver consequences than you had realised. you had slipped in the wet snow running from the enemies, allowing them to catch up with you. just enough for a clear shot.

the first few seconds after the initial gunshot felt broken, silent in the freezing air of the night. your breath was still ragged, desperate to flee, and your reflexes had been working perfectly fine. then came the second, and the third, and you knew something had gone very, very wrong.

you let go of the artefact, and zipped away out of sight.

ending up at a rooftop just near the park, you could hear the confused shouts and demands for the enemies to find you. but you knew, that while you were not safe up there, you were hidden. stumbling as you landed, you scrambled to feel just where you had been shot, and why the bullets weren’t deflected from your near-bulletproof suit. you cursed when you felt that they had been designed to mimic the density of arrows instead.

“oh my god,” you hadn’t realised just how much blood was pouring out of you. you reached out for the wall beside you, but soon enough, standing proved to be too arduous of a task, as you crippled to your knees. your hands drawn back were doused in blood, and you finally felt just how piercing the wounds were, exposed to the cold.

you lay on your back. rolling over onto your back was all you could manage. the lightheadedness was coming quickly; you were so cold, everything hurt. you had tried pressing your hands against the wounds, but even more hot blood coated them while doing so. under the moonlight, the blood appeared thick and black, almost like molasses.

the crippling fear that you were going to bleed out before anyone could find you began to set in. and through your short, panicked, breaths, you felt something slip out of your pocket. the blood had made the grip in your suit slippery enough to allow your phone to slip.

there, the wallpaper of natasha and your son shone bright against the dark backdrop of the night. you shut your eyes, summoning the last of your strength to grip it and bring it closer to you. your fingers slipped as they pressed down on natasha’s number from muscle memory. your vision had gone blurry by the time you managed to press the phone against your ear.

the tone rang once, twice, then, “hello?”

her voice was always sweet like honey. the thought of bleeding out before you could hear that voice for another day would have filled you with the rage of dying, but you had no energy for it any longer. you were so very, very tired. and so very, very cold.

“hi, my love.”

natasha moved the phone to her other ear. you rarely called her during missions; you had always feared for her safety. there was the soft pitter patter of rain in the background of where you were. natasha didn’t know that in the rain, the water and blood was slowly filling up your lungs.

“what’s wrong?” you hated how she knew there was something amiss. her voice already carried an air of concern.

you cleared your throat. “nothing. i just needed to hear your voice…how have you been?”

“it’s only been a week, baby. nothing much has changed since you left.” natasha would regret uttering those words just a few minutes later.

you smiled. “t-that’s good. how was our boy’s play? d-did he outshine the others, like i said?”

“he did, he was easily the best one there,” natasha cooed, her other hand ruffling your son’s hair as he played with his toys while waiting for natasha to complete mission reports in the compound. “he misses you so much.”

“tell him–” the line crackled as the rain beat down harder on you, “–please tell him–that–that i miss him too.”

the troubled feeling in natasha’s gut only grew bigger. “i will. baby, is everything okay over there? is the mission…okay?”

you drew a ragged breath that natasha didn’t miss. “yeah, yeah of course. mission’s perfectly fine. like i said…i just wanted to hear your voice.”

there was a beat of silence, as natasha held her tongue and you hoped she wouldn’t detect the fading in your voice. it hurt to breathe by then.

“nat?”

“yes?” she responded immediately.

“i’m sorry, nat. for going on this mission. for going against your wishes. i’m sorry–” the line crackled, “–that i made you feel small, or your opinions unvalued. you know that…you know that your opinions always matter to me. and–”

you had drawn up a cough, wet and bloody. “–and i’m sorry for all the times i never made you feel as loved as i should have. i’m sorry for not loving you enough, as you told me. i regret everything about that argument we had, you know. i love you so much, i don’t think i could fathom…the idea of losing you.”

“it’s alright, baby, it’s really alright,” natasha had moved from her office to the main comms room, paging for an emergency meeting, “i forgive you. and i said some nasty things i didn’t mean too. i hope you forgive me as well, and we can move past it, together. i love you too, you know.”

“yeah, i do,” your eyelids were drooping, “thank you.”

natasha could hear the footsteps of the others by then. “baby, are you sure everything is alright? should i call for help? where are you?”

“no, no,” you begged, “please, i’m alright. just stay on the line with me, please.”

“i’m not hanging up.”

you let out another bloodied cough. this time, it was hard to deny that natasha couldn’t hear it, because it had launched you into an even worse state, your suit beginning to grow heavy on your bones from the water and blood. there was no hope by then.

“nat?”

“yes, sweetheart.”

“it’s just me and you here, right?” you looked up to the moon, wondering if it was the same one she was staring at right now.

natasha shut her eyes in pain, gripping the table before her. fury’s hand wrapped over hers, as the team gathered around her. they had already begun tracing your call, and the avengers were suiting up. “...just me and you.”

you were wincing between every word, “the drawer below where you keep your winter coats. our son’s christmas present…and yours. i–don’t think–i can make it home for christmas on time. will you help me break the news…to him? i’m sorry.”

natasha let the tears run freely then. they had found you. and she had seen just the state you were in. “baby, please. why are you–”

“–please?” natasha shook her head. this cannot be happening. “nat, please?”

“okay, okay,” she reluctantly agreed. whatever to keep you awake. “in exchange, can you…can you hold on for a little while longer? i’m coming, baby.”

you let out a soft exhale as you smiled. “i love you nat. i always have, and i always will.”

“i love you too. so please, can you–”

“–do me a favour, nat. don’t. don’t try. just please…please stop crying for me?”

she had wanted to scream. she had wanted to scream, to find you and shake you so hard that you would wake up and realise that you were killing her just by dying too, and that she had wanted to slap you so hard for even daring to ask her not to cry. but she also wanted to hold you, to hug you and kiss you, and have the opportunity of feeling your touch once more before she said goodbye. she didn’t want this to be the way it all ended.

she didn’t know how she was going to survive without you. her blood was running cold and she was pacing back and forth in anxiety. the team didn’t dare interfere with how she was dealing with the impending loss of her wife.

your voice was drifting further and further away. you were dying.

“i have to go now, nat. please forgive me. please forgive me. and please kiss our son goodnight before bed tonight for me. thank you for everything.”

the phone dropped, and natasha’s world stopped. her son would not only know that you weren’t coming home for christmas, but you weren’t coming home at all. and she would know that had she just convinced you a little better, loved you a little harder, you wouldn’t have gone on the mission. and she would still have you by her side for christmas.

cold had been the body they found right outside yours and natasha's shared apartment. cold had been natasha’s heart the moment she saw you again, the life in your eyes gone and the guilt in her heart needling itself into grief.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff x spidey!reader

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theflashjaygarrick · 2 months

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So you've heard about the DC Absolute Universe and you're wondering what it is all about.

While details about Absolute DC is still coming out, I decided it might be useful to make a breakdown of what we know so far (mostly from SDCC).

DC Absolute Universe Breakdown:

The Absolute universe is a new alternate universe influenced by Darkseid energy. It is a 'darker' universe where all the heroes have lost something key to their Earth 0 selves which leaves them as underdogs. While separate to the main universe it will link in through the events of the All In initiative. There doesn't seem to be many superhero teams yet, but a lot of iconic heroes have had their own solo series' announced:

Absolute Batman (By Scott Snyder and Nick Dragotta):

The series brave enough to ask...what if Batman was an absolute unit. This is a Batman with no money and no status as the Prince of Gotham. Instead he is a construction worker and city engineer who has turned himself and his costume into an absolute weapon. He has an adorable French Bulldog and is also apparently blonde.

This Bruce Wayne never had a butler but there still is an Alfred in the Absolute Universe: Alfred "Penny", the grizzled and tired MI-6 spy. They seemingly meet for the first time when Bruce has already began his caped crusade against crime (and the series' confirmed big bad Black Mask)

Bonus: The Jim Lee variant cover gives us a better look at his costume's armoured texture and one of his weapons. He's seemingly more of a heavy hitter than the Batman we know.

Absolute Wonder Woman (By Kelley Thompson and Hayden Sherman):

This Wonder Woman was raised not in Paradise Island but rather in The Underworld. She has no sisters and no quest for peace. Instead she is the last of the Amazons who becomes a warrior and a witch, and eventually the Absolute Universe's first superhero. She is more heavily armed, carries a massive sword, and flies around on a skeletal pegasus made of iron.

Unlike her Earth counterpart who is notable for not wearing a mask, this Wonder Woman seemingly has two, including a rather demonic looking helmet. Also, her colour scheme is based less on the American flag and more on the idea of lava under rocks.

She also has a Jim Lee variant cover which suggests she also will have a lasso.

Absolute Superman (By Jason Aaron and Rafa Sandoval):

Superman is the member of the trinity we know the least about. He is supposed to be more alien (suggested by his glowing red arms and the fact the cape seems to be made of pure energy) and according to the solicitation is "Without the fortress... without the family... without a home" but honestly we don't know much more.

We do have some cool art though (including another Jim Lee Variant):

Absolute Green Lantern (By Al Ewing and Jahnoy Linsday)

Absolute Green Lantern is a "first contact" story and "reimagining" of the Green Lantern mythos featuring Jo Mullein, Hal Jordan, and John Stewart. We have some cool concept art of it including a redesign of Jo that suggests the lanterns might be in civilian clothing illuminated green.

Absolute Flash (By Jeff Lemire and Nick Robles)

This is the book we know the least about. All we really can infer apart from the creative team is that the Flash is presumably Wally West and that he appears to be more tortured character than in most other iterations.

(Shout out to Bleeding Cool for posting photos of the SDCC slides for people who weren't there)

#absolute universe #dc comics #dc #batman #bruce wayne #absolute batman #wonder woman #absolute wonder woman #superman #absolute superman #the flash #wally west #absolute flash #absolute green lantern #green lantern #jo mullein #hal jordan #John stewart #alfred pennyworth

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the-offside-rule · 2 months

Text

Oscar Piastri (McLaren) - The Archer

Requested: no

Swift Series

Warnings: none

Oscar stood in the paddock, his eyes glued to the screen showing the live feed of the F2 race. His girlfriend, Y/n, was in pole position, and he could feel his heart pounding with anticipation and pride. The roar of engines filled the air as the race began, and Oscar's eyes never left the screen. Y/n's car surged forward, maintaining her lead through the first few laps. Oscar watched her skillfully navigate the corners, overtaking with precision and grace. He couldn't help but smile, his pride swelling with every turn she mastered. Unfortunately, due to a slow pitstop and the virtual safety car ending early as Y/n went into the pitlane, she lost her first place by quite a few places and found herself down in 4th instead. "Come on." He muttered under his breath, gripping the edge of the pit wall. As the laps counted down, Y/n continued to hold her position, skillfully navigating her way back to the front of the pack.

Lap after lap, Y/n gained positions, her driving flawless. As the final lap approached, the tension was palpable. Oscar's heart raced with the cars on the track. 5 corners to go, under half a second between her and Paul Aron in fromt of her...then 4 corners.....3....2....Finally, on the last corner, she got him, passing him on the outside and soaring towards the chequered flag. When Y/n crossed the finish line in first place, the crowd erupted in cheers, and Oscar's grin widened.

"She did it!" He shouted, jumping up and down. Her team turned to him, hugging and congratulating him and in turn, Oscar done the same. Without wasting a moment, he joined the team in sprinting to parc fermé. As Oscar reached the P1 board, Y/n climbed out of her car, her face beaming with joy and relief but covered by her helmet. The moment she saw Oscar, she ran to him. They collided in a jubilant hug, Oscar scooping her until into his arms as Y/n wrapped hers around his neck, lifting her off the ground. "You were amazing!" Oscar exclaimed, his voice filled with pride. He set her down but didn’t let go, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes. "I don't think I could watch you do a race like that again." He lifted her visor and placed a kiss onto the hard, dirty surface of her head gear.

Y/n laughed, tears of joy glistening in her eyes. "You have to go do this later, no pressure, Oscar." She smiled, taking off her helmet finally and looking to her boyfriend in pure adoration. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, now being able to kiss her lips. He pulled away, his face scrunching. "What." She asked. "You need chapstick." Y/n slapped his chest playfully. "I'm kidding, but not really." He winked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "How about a photo of the happy couple?" One of the McLaren photographers offered. They shared a look. "Come on, honey. Pose for the camera." As Y/n's hand rested on Oscar's chest, he placed a kiss onto her temple. She could feel his smile on her skin as the cameras capturing the tender moment between the two drivers. "Beautiful." The photographer smiled. "Not to be a buzz kill but Oscar, you need to head soon, mate." Oscar sighed. "You won't stay for the podium?" She questioned, wiping the sweat from her forehead and placing her cap onto her head. "I'm gonna try stay as long as I can, but you know J can't be late to another team briefing. I'll be fined again."

"Well, it was my fault you were late to the briefing last time. I wouldn't want you to be late again." She grinned, remembering a few weeks before where her and Oscar were both late to their briefings when they spent a little too long in the shower that morning. "You sure I can go?" He asked. "I can try stay a little-"

"Bo, I insist. You go get ready so we can both celebrate this later." His heart skipped a beat at her words. "How'd I get so lucky?" They shared another kiss before Oscar bid her farewell and Y/n turned her attention to the post race interviews and fellow podium place holders.

---

Y/n watched on from the back of the McLaren garage. She didn't know how she still had finger nails left since she had been nibbling mervously on them from the start when Oscar lost positions for having a slow start. Since then, the race only seemed to get worse. Midway through the race, while battling for position with Sainz, their cars had made contact with one another, sending him into a spin whilst Sainz went on to race with little to no damage. He crashed into the barriers, his car coming to a sudden, jarring stop. Y/n's eyes went wide, and she froze. She was sure she had flatlined at this stage. Oscar didn't really crash very often, so this was a very scarce feeling she had.

The safety team was quick to respond, and Oscar climbed out of his car, shaken but unharmed. Disappointment washed over him as he made his way towards the Aston Martin parked nearby. His dreams of at least finishing with points today now crumbled. Y/n breathed a sigh of relief as the commentator announced he was fine. She took off her headphones promptly and made her wag towards the medical centre, eager to see her boyfriend as soon as possible. Y/n leaned against the wall as the medical car pulled up. "Oscar?" She called as the door opened. Her boyfriend held his arm, letting out an agitated sigh. "Are you alright?" She asked, walking towards him. "Yeah, just a bit sore. I'm alright, darling." He smiled, reassuring her that everything was alright. "Do you reckon it's broken?" Oscar shook his head. "Nah, wouldn't say so. You should go back and watch the race. The team is gonna be happy, Lando is set to win."

"How about I'll catch up with you in the hospitality?" Oscar smiled. "That's sounds perfect. Give me a kiss before I head in." Y/n leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. "I'll see you later." She whispered. "Course you will. I'll be quick." He watched as she walked off, every so often looking back, until Oscar disappeared into the medical centre.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Oscar sighed as he opened the door to his driver room. He looked around at the familiar setting. He looked at the family photos up on his wall, the Aussie flag pinned up, his exercise bands sprawled out over his physio table. He clenched his eyes shut, leaning on the edge of the bench, his head in his hands. The door creaked open, and he looked up to see Y/n standing there, concern etched on her face. She crossed the room quickly, kneeling in front of him. "Hi." She said softly, placing a hand on his knee. "How did it go?" He sat up trying to make himself look less defeated than he was, though the frustration and disappointment were clear in his eyes. "I've sprained my wrist, but it should be fine by the time the summer break is over." He smiled. Y/n looked between his eyes. "And are you okay?" He thought for a moment. "Yeah, just -" Oscar paused before groaning and hiding in his hands again. "It's just not the way I wanted it to go. You got your win, and now you're not gonna celebrate because I messed up my race." Y/n wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. "That's not- Oscar, I don't celebrate my wins. I literally get on a plane and come back home to you." She laughed, rubbing his back. "You're having a bad day, sk we can have today be bad, and we will celebrate with breakfast tomorrow morning in Monaco."

"Sounds nice." Oscar sighed, leaning into her embrace. "I just wanted to do well today." She pulled away from the hug, cupping his face in her hands. "And you did. You have been perfect all season, and this is just one race. You've had bad days before, and you've always come back fighting. Today was my turn to win, and at the next race week, it'll be yours again." He managed a small smile, her words easing the sting of disappointment. "Thank you, darling. I needed that." She kissed the tip of his nose, her touch feeling calming and comforting, exactly what he needed at that moment. "How about you finish your interviews and get out of here. We'll get a Maccies at the airport." He arched a brow. "Since when do you say Maccies?" He chuckled. "I don't know, I just started saying it a while ago." He shook his head. "Yeah, all thanks to me." Oscar pulled her close, holding onto her as if she were his lifeline. "I love you." He whispered, his eyes filled with adoration and warmth. "I love you too, baby."

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fluff

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watermelonlovershigh · 2 months

Text

Not So Patient After All {part. 13} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

"You've been a real, bad, boy." {part. 12} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: i know, i know. full subrry will appear in the next chapter, i promise. after chapter 12 i thought this part would have him in it but then i came up with this idea and instead of making it too long, decided to make it 2 separate chapters. i hope you still enjoy!!!

This story contains: female masturbation w/ toy, sending nudes, sex, mild dirty talk, ass slapping, use of butt plugs, more sex

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - teacher!harry - subrry }

word count- 2,628

You get impatient after your sex toys arrive and one day while Harry's at work, decide to use one and send him a naughty photo in the process. This leads him to pretend he's mad at you and two rounds of sex, one of which only happens because he gets hard again after you request that he wears one of his new butt plugs.

"Harry, Harry, Harry!" you call out your boyfriends name repeatedly as you move through the house carrying multiple packages. The toys you purchased a week ago have finally been delivered, and you are beaming with excitement. Bursting into your bedroom, you find Harry still asleep under your covers. Unable to contain your joy, you leap onto the bed, causing the boxes to tumble across the mattress, and playfully pounce on his sleeping body.

Harry's quick to pull the blankets over his head and groans in a raspy voice. "Mhm, what? What'd you want? M' sleepin'."

Rolling off his body, you explain, "Our toys came, Harry."

He reluctantly pulls the covers off his head and does a morning stretch, before fully waking up and becoming alert. Harry opens his eyes and glances around the bed, noticing you sitting beside him, with several small boxes scattered at the foot of the bed. "That's nice, but could you come give me a cuddle, please?"

You rush down and slip under the blankets on your bed, snuggling against Harry's warm body. Quietly, you ask, "Aren't you looking forward to our new toys?" Now you feel a little self-conscious about how happy you were when you discovered your deliveries had arrived.

"Baby, m'very happy. S'just, it's a Wednesday. I have work today. We can't use them until we have more time."

"Oh," you say disappointedly, not having thought of that.

Harry senses your disappointment and suggests a plan. He offers, "Tell you what, when Friday rolls around, I'll let you try out some of the toys on me. I know I'm due for my punishment, baby. You can wreck me and then Saturday I'll have time to stay home and recover since I don't work weekends"

Agreeing, you nod. "Okay, sounds like a plan. Sorry I got so excited. Just can't wait to use my new strap-on on you."

"No apologizing, m'love. It's okay you got excited. M' excited too, but we have to be patient."

After cuddling for a few more minutes, you sit up and proceed to open each box to simply glance inside and see what each item looks like. The excitement of seeing your new toys increases your happiness, but you must keep in mind that you need to be patient, or as patient as possible.

Then realizing the time, Harry scrambles out of bed to get ready for work before he's late.

-------------------------------

Your patience persisted from Wednesday all the way through Thursday morning. Yet, as noon approached on Thursday, you were suddenly consumed by a powerful feeling of horniness. With Harry still at work and unable to offer any assistance, you tried hard to ignore the throbbing sensation between your legs. However, you became so wet that you had no choice but to change your panties, as they had become drenched from your heightened state of arousal.

When your second pair of panties get damp, you'd had enough and get up to go try your new rose vibrator. You feel guilty since Harry isn't here but technically there was never a rule that you couldn't masturbate when he wasn't home. Even if there was, you'd still secretly do it if you needed to bad enough.

After laying a towel on the bed, you undress and settle into a comfortable position. Taking hold of your new rose vibrator, you direct it towards your clit. While the rose was new to you, you were no stranger to suction toys. The moment you switch on the rose toy and place it in the right spot, you nearly jump off the bed due to your sensitivity.

Unlike the rest of your suction vibrators, this one provides a sensation similar to when a human sucks on the clit. While laying on the bed, you hold the rose vibrator against your clitoris, feeling your breath quicken and your wetness increase. In less than two minutes, you're already on the verge of orgasm. But before reaching that peak, you decide to turn off the toy for a second and engage in a bit of teasing with Harry.

You grab your phone and open the camera. In one hand you place your rose back on your clit and your other hand holds your phone. You snap a few photos and quickly send the best looking one to Harry before laying your phone down and getting back to business. Right as you're about to actually come, your phone dings beside you.

Opening your messages, you read Harry's reply and smile evilly.

Harry- Y/n, I'm working!!! You can't be sending me photos like that when I'm at work. Do you know how weird it'd be if I got hard in front of 10 and 11 year olds??? They'd be trying to send me to JAIL!!!

You- oops 🤪

After sending off your response, you complete your task at hand. With all the edging you've done in the past hour, you quickly climax upon switching the vibrator back on. A wave of relief washes over you as the pent-up sexual energy is released. Now feeling tired, you quickly clean yourself up and crawl under your blankets naked, drifting off for a short nap.

-------------------------------

Harry comes home to a quiet house. He knows you're home because your car is out front. So he does some searching and finds you asleep in your bed. At first glance you look normal, but shortly after making his way over to you, he realises you're naked under your duvet. Probably from not having the energy to get dressed after masturbating earlier.

He wants to be mad that you touched yourself without him being here, but can't. The one thing he's never cared about is his partners pleasuring themselves while he's gone. As long as they think about him while doing it, he's all for self pleasure. But, to be cheeky and mess with you a bit, he'll pretend like he's mad at your actions.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and slowly open your eyes, seeing Harry standing over you. You do a big stretch, your breasts popping out of the covers, and relax back into the mattress. Making grabby hands, you whine, "Come cuddle with meeee."

He shakes his head in disagreeance. "Nope, you decided to touch yourself while I was at work, meanin' you obviously don't need me, so.... m' gonna go shower, along. You've been a very bad girl, Y/n."

You observe Harry leaving your room without looking back, and suddenly feel a wave of sadness. His intentions are unclear to you. So in order to avoid possibly upsetting him further, you opt to remain in bed for a few more minutes until your stomach rumbles, prompting you to rise and head to the kitchen where you'll begin preparing dinner. However, you make sure to put some clothes on first.

As Harry was taking a shower, he had a feeling that you might come and try to join him. He was actually hoping that you would defy his request and still shower with him. But, when you didn't show up, he realizes that you must have taken his words seriously.

After he's finished showering, he follows the aroma of food being prepared in the kitchen and discovers you chopping vegetables on the kitchen island. You gaze up at Harry with a deep frown as he enters the kitchen and whisper, "Are you genuinely bothered that I touched myself? You've never mentioned having that rule. Just so you know though, I was thinking of you while doing it. And I didn't watch any porn."

Harry walks over to you from behind and wraps his arms around you, letting you catch a whiff of his fruity shampoo and vanilla body wash. "Baby, I was just kiddin'. M' not really mad that you masturbated. I don't care if you touched yourself, we all do it from time to time. As long as I know you were thinkin' of me and I wasn't around, m' fine with it. Now, if I was around and you purposefully didn't ask me to help, I'd be a little hurt, but...".

Breathing a sigh of relief, you reply, "Oh, thank God. Because even if you had that rule, I'd still touch myself if you weren't home and I was horny enough."

"Hey," Harry shouts playfully, unwrapping his arms from around you, "now I might make it a rule, just because you said that."

"Whatever."

-------------------------------

Later that night after everything else is done, you both end up in Harry's bed having sex. It's neither aggressive nor extremely gentle, just your standard, basic sex. Nonetheless, it is satisfying. It starts out with you on top, riding Harry, but then you express fatigue and he carefully lays you down and takes charge.

"Poor baby, too tired to ride m'cock." he mocks while thrusting into you at a constant speed.

You playfully slap his ass and Harry nearly topples over you, moaning super loud. You didn't realise a barely hard slap would have such effects on him. "Oh you liked that, didn't you, hm?"

He nods his head where it rests against your collarbone and answers, "Yes, do it again, please." You rear back your hand and slap his ass cheek harder this time, loving to watch his white flesh jiggle and turn red. "Oh fuck, m' gonna come." Before he allows himself to come though, he slips his hand between your bodies and starts aggressively rubbing your clit against his fingers.

"Ahh, Harry!!!" you cry out, your back arching as you come all over his cock and fingers. He continues his stimulation until you literally start crying from overstimulation. Harry removes his fingers from your sensitive clit but continues thrusting as he finally allows himself to let go and orgasm. His thrusts become weak and uncoordinated as he ejaculates deep inside you.

Once his orgasm diminishes, Harry's heavy body plops down on top of you, almost knocking the wind from your lungs. You both lay there in post-orgasm bliss until you have an idea. When buying your toys on Amazon a few days ago, Harry mentioned how he can sleep with the black silicone butt plug due to its flexibility. And tomorrow you will be fucking his ass. So what if he sleeps with it tonight to make sure he's nice and stretched for you tomorrow. You'd hate to hurt him in anyway.

"Harry?" you say, breaking the rooms silence.

Still breathing rather heavy with his head resting on your chest, he answers, "Yeah, baby?"

"Do you think you could sleep with that silicone butt plug in tonight? You know, because of what's gonna happen tomorrow, I want you to be well stretched so I don't hurt you. And..... I've never seen anyone wear one so I'm kinda curious as to what they look like inside someone."

Your question causes Harry to sit upright. Despite his belief that he doesn't need any actual stretching beforehand, it has been quite some time since he last had anything up his ass, and he would prefer to take precautions. Additionally, the fact that you've never observed someone using and wearing a butt plug serves as extra motivation for him to demonstrate the process.

"Of course, but um, let me just, you know, go to the bathroom and ensure that m' finished using it for the night and that m' completely clean down there. Then I'll come back and you can either assist with the insertion or observe me doin' it."

You nod eagerly as Harry gets up from the bed naked and goes to the bathroom. He remembers a previous incident involving a butt plug and a need to use the toilet, so he makes sure he doesn't have to go to the bathroom in order to prevent a recurrence. After checking his hygiene, he goes back to the bedroom where you have the butt plug and lube set out.

As Harry walks up to the bed, soft cock slightly swinging between his legs, you ask, "Can you do it and I just watch. I'm kinda nervous."

"Sure baby, but nothin' to be nervous about. It's just me, and I'd tell you if you were hurtin' me in anyway. But I can do it and you watch." He climbs onto the bed, still naked from your previous activities, and tries to decide what position he'd prefer to be in, on his knees or layed back with his legs up. He ultimately decides to lay on his back.

Harry settles into position, arranging pillows behind his back against the headboard and spreads his legs. Anxiously, you pass him the lube and butt plug, watching intently as he begins. Despite your initial desire for him to wear it and the upcoming anal sex, you find yourself feeling nervous. Excited, yet nervous. You've never gave anal to anyone before. Mostly because all the men you've been with in the past were too straight and thought negatively on the act.

With the bottle of lube in hand, Harry applies a liberal amount to the bulbous tip of the butt plug using his fingers, followed by wiping any excess off around his tight hole. You adjust your position to sit facing him, allowing you to witness the entire process. You observed how he delicately moves his flaccid cock out of the way and how he carefully goes to insert the lubricated plug into his slick opening. Just before Harry pushes it in, he looks up at you with a soft yet mischievous grin.

He has always harbored a hidden desire for either observing someone engage in self-touch or being observed while engaging in self-touch. Although not solely for pleasure, the act remains deeply intimate, and your observation right now nearly reignites his arousal.

With a deep breath, he relaxes his muscles and slowly starts to insert the butt plug into his ass. The lubricant prevents any pain during the process, despite the stretching sensation. You watch as his anus takes in the butt plug effortlessly, except for the heart-shaped diamond on the end, which sets nicely against his hole. Looking up at Harry's face, you see a slight scrunch, not from pain, but from relief.

"Mhm, fuck, that felt good." Harry annonces, his muscles turning to mush on the bed now that he's finished inserting the butt plug. You smile at him widely, about to speak when he suddenly grunts in what sounds like frustration. "No," he whines, "m' hard again. Too sensitive to be hard again."

Glancing down, you see his flaccid cock no longer flaccid, but half hard. The process of inserting the butt plug in his ass combine with you watching him, it turned him on again.

You let out a giggle and propose, "We could have sex again? Just slower this time. Get all comfy under the covers, turn the lights out, and when we finish, fall asleep naked. Hm?"

Though Harry knows it'll be slightly painful at first from how sensitive his dick is from his previous orgasm, he agrees with a nod. You climb out of bed to turn the lights off, then crawl back under the covers so your plan can unravel.

-------------------------------

Thirty very sweaty minutes later, you're both knocked out cold in each others arms. Two rounds of sex was almost too much for one night. Not to mention that last round of sex was extremely pleasurable for Harry since he had a butt plug in. Wearing a butt plug during sex always felt super good in his opinion. It stimulated his prostate while giving him that full feeling he longed for sometimes.

Now you just wait until tomorrow night where the pleasure will be upped ten-folds when you fuck him with your new pretty pink strap-on.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Long Awaited Punishment {part. 14}

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bloatedandalone04 · 6 months

Text

In The Way I Need You | Part 10

Series Masterlist

➪in which you start your first shift at jess’ after leaving clay’s house in tears, and a confrontation at work leaves you feeling a lot worse than before.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Clay watched you flee his house with tears in your eyes, and he couldn’t even question you on it before you were gone, your body covered back up by your dress from last night instead of his shirt.

He had no idea what happened in the three minutes he left you alone for, but apparently it was a lot. Only a few seconds passed by the time he made it to the front door to go after you, but when he looked outside, you were long gone.

You said you weren’t feeling well and that you needed air, but he was still confused as to why you didn’t let him take care of you. If you weren’t feeling up for that second date, then he would’ve happily let you lay in his bed all day until you felt better, but you fled before he could even offer that to you.

What happened?

His brows furrowed as he closed the door loudly and made his way back up to his room, planning on calling you, or at least texting you, as soon as he located his phone.

But as soon as he entered his room, that plan slipped his mind as his gaze narrowed onto the framed picture that was placed on his still unmade bed. Clay felt his heart drop as he neared the photo, a sick feeling creeping up his throat as he realized who it was of.

Clay picked up the picture of him and Sam that was taken on their wedding day, and he couldn’t even recognize the version of himself in the photo. It felt like so long ago, and he knew he was a very different person now.

The guy in the picture was a lovesick fool who missed every single warning sign and red flag Sam gave out. His twenty two year old self felt like a stranger now since he had been forced to grow up so quickly after Joey was born and Sam left him.

He wanted to laugh, because the second things had gotten good with you, Sam fucked it up for him without actually being there.

Where did you even find this picture? He couldn’t remember where he had put it after tearing his room apart of anything that reminded him of her, so what were the odds that you had found it?

Clay looked around and noticed one of the drawers in his dresser was open a bit, and when he pulled it open and saw an unfolded blue shirt thrown in there, he knew that was where you discovered it.

This was the drawer Clay barely went into as it was full of all his old tees he used to wear when he was in his late teens and early twenties. They were his vintage and graphic shirts, and the ones he didn’t wear often, so he truly didn’t remember putting the picture in there since he hadn’t opened the drawer in quite a while.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he picked up the shirt and and looked down at the photo. No wonder you suddenly didn’t feel good, Clay was beginning to feel sick, too, as he stared down at the smiles on his and Sam’s faces.

Young, dumb and naive Clay. How stupid can you be?

With a groan, he tossed the shirt onto his bed before turning the frame over and practically ripping the back of it off. He pulled the photo from the glass and tossed the frame aside, too, and without a second thought, he ripped it into countless pieces.

He knew he wouldn’t have been able to do that before he met you, but now that he’d had a glimpse of what life looks like with you, he never wanted to go back. He hadn’t even thought about Sam at all since he left her that final voicemail, and he hated the fact that you must think that he still loves her.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The only part of her that he loves is the one he shares with her. The one that brought you and him together. His son; someone who he doesn’t even consider hers anymore.

Joey isn’t Sam’s. He never was. She brought him into the world, and then she abandoned him. No mother does that to their child.

As far as Clay was concerned, Joey was all his.

He throws the pieces of the picture into the garbage bin beside the dresser before looking around for his phone. He finds it on his nightstand next to his alarm clock with your sticky note on it, and his heart ached even more.

Without wasting a second, he picks his phone up and calls you. He sits down on his messy bed and tugs at his equally messy hair as it rings and rings, and he knows you probably won’t answer him for at least a few hours.

You were upset, and rightfully so.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he started when he was met with your voicemail, and he would’ve laughed at the fact that he is leaving someone else another pointless voicemail, but you weren’t just someone, and nothing was pointless when it came to you. “I didn’t realize I still had pictures with her around, and I hate that you found that. I swear, I would’ve never told you to grab some of my clothes if I remembered that it was in there. It wouldn’t even be in there anymore.”

He felt stupid calling you like this, but he needed you to know as soon as possible that he was over Sam and that she was no longer in the picture.

“Sam doesn’t mean anything to me. All she is…she’s just the person who helped bring my son into the world. That’s it,” he was rambling now and felt his chest tighten. It hurt a bit, and it felt like he was straining his heart, so he knew he needed to end the call and calm himself down. “I’m sorry. Please, call me back.”

He hung up after that and tossed his phone onto the bed before sitting down and running his hands through his hair.

How did he always manage to fuck things up? It was going great, you trusted him enough to let him pick you up after a night out, and your second date was a mere few minutes away from happening when you left in tears. Ones that he caused, more or less.

You were embarrassed as you turned off your phone, declining Clay’s second call to you since you left his house crying.

Sam was stunning, and now that you knew what she looked like, you could see the similarities her and Joey share.

You felt like an idiot and you were humiliated and feeling so insecure right now. A million doubts ran through your head and left it hurting, and your unrelenting tears definitely didn’t help.

Once you were home, you completely shut yourself off from everything and tried to focus on preparing for your first shift at Jess’ cafe. You wanted to check your phone and even wanted to see what Clay had said in his texts, but you also needed some time away from all that.

So you didn’t turn your phone on for the rest of the night, and by the time you entered Jess’ the next day, you still hadn’t powered it on. You didn’t have much time to use your phone as Jess would be starting your training any minute now, but you still didn’t want to completely cut Clay off. You decided that much after a whole day had passed.

You turn your phone on and click on his contact, but before you could read one of the four texts he sent you, Jess calls your name, and you have to put your phone away and begin training.

Around an hour passes before Jess allows you to continue your shift without her hovering over your shoulder. You had just taken your first order when your new coworker moved to get started on it. “Oh, you don’t have to do it for me,” you wave him off. “How am I supposed to learn if I don’t actually make the drinks?”

He just shakes his head with a grin, “The guy you took the order from is a regular,” he says. “Trust me; it’s best if I make his drink. If you mess it up even a little bit, he’ll ruin your whole day.”

“Okay,” you laugh and decide to let him take this one as you begin to wipe away the messy counter. “Good looking out.”

He smiled over at you as he made the drink and gave it to the guy you took the order from, his glare turning into a content smile as he sipped on it. “See? Told you,” he mumbled and you just shook your head, setting the cloth aside and beginning to change the coffee filters. “I’m Miles, by the way.”

You look over and see that he held his hand out to you. “Y/n,” you say and shake his hand. “I’m new, clearly.”

“I can see that,” he nodded and braced his elbows against the counter. “You new to the city, too?”

“Um, kind of,” you answer and wipe your hands on your brown apron. “I’ve been here for about a month now. Still getting used to all of it.”

Miles nods in understanding, giving you a boyish smile afterwards. He was cute, but not nearly cute enough to get your mind off Clay. Miles looked to be around your age, or maybe a bit older, and he had dark brown hair that covered his forehead, and from what you could tell, his eyes were a deep green. “Yeah, the city isn’t for everyone,”

You furrow your brows then laugh. “Oh, no, I’m not…I love it here so far,” you further explain. “It is a lot to take in, though.”

“Ah,” he nodded again and gestured to the customer on his side of the counter, politely pausing your conversation as he began taking the girl’s order.

You smile at him and turn to your side, and your breath gets caught in your throat when you meet Clay’s pretty blue eyes as he enters the shop. He briefly smiles but it falters as he nears the counter, guilt swimming in his gaze as he places his hands against the marble. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you whisper back and try to distract yourself by cleaning a nearby mug. An awkward silence fell over the two of you, and you hated every second of it. It was never awkward with Clay, and the sudden change had your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with him. “Um, do you want a coffee? Or a pastry?”

Clay sucked in a breath and shook his head. “No, I just,” he trailed off and you hesitantly met his eyes again. “I wanted to see you. Wish you luck, you know, on your first shift.”

He was dressed in what you think is his work attire - though it looked just as formal as his usual clothing - and your heart swelled a bit at the fact that he stopped by before work so he could talk to you, even though it was a bit out of the way from what you knew about where his job location is.

“Oh,” you say quietly and want nothing more than to throw your arms around him and kiss him right then and there. He was so sweet, you hated how tense things were between you right now. “That’s…nice, Clay. Thank you.”

Clay smiled at you but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You wondered if he felt as miserable as you did, then you remembered you hadn’t actually read his texts, so you really had no idea on how he was feeling right now. “Yeah,” he murmured and his eyes held so much longing, you felt your own burn a bit. It looked like he wanted to ask you something, but he didn’t and instead said, “I don’t know if you read my messages or listened to my voicemail, but…I’m sorry about yesterday. If I had known…”

You tear your eyes away from his and bite down on your lip. “Yeah, I um…haven’t gotten around to checking my phone,” you confess and grip onto the edge of the counter as you feel your face begin to heat up. Glancing to your right, you can see Miles eyeing the two of you with a poorly hidden look of judgment on his face, and you could only hope he didn’t bring this up later.

Clay stayed silent and nodded. “Oh,” he said quietly and it somehow made you feel even worse. “That’s okay. Just, whenever you get the chance…I miss you.”

You bite down harder until you were sure you were about to make your lip bleed before looking up at him. You wanted to say it back, but you were still hurt and a bit stubborn and your emotions were a mess right now. “Do you need me to watch Joey later?”

His face falls a bit and he steps away from the counter. “Yeah, if you’re able to. If not I can call my-”

“No, I can,” you say quickly and give him a tight smile. “I’ll see you later then.”

Clay swallows hard and nods, giving you a so clearly forced smile and making your heart ache even more. “See you later,” he rasped and turned around, leaving the shop without another glance at you.

As soon as he was gone, you blew out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and turned your back to the rest of the shop as you pulled out your phone. It was nearly dead as you didn’t bother plugging it in last night, and you were seriously regretting that now as you finally allowed yourself to read Clay’s messages.

8:09 AM

Clay Beresford: I’m so sorry you found that, I swear I didn’t know I still had pictures of her and I around.

8:43 AM

Clay Beresford: Sam is not in our lives anymore, I promise. I care about you so much, and so does Joey. Please call me back.

1:19 PM

Clay Beresford: I understand that you need time, and I’ll give you as much as you need. Just know that she means nothing to me anymore, and she hasn’t for a long time now.

9:21 PM

Clay Beresford: Joey missed you today, we both did. I know you have your first shift as Jess’ tomorrow, but are you still able to pick him up from school after? I’m sorry again, Y/n. I never wanted to hurt you.

He’d been trying to apologize and explain ever since you left.

You felt your eyes sting again, and you brought your phone up to your ear after clicking on the voicemail. “Everything okay?” Miles asks as he hands a freshly made drink to a girl. His voice sounded a bit humorous, and you furrowed your brows at it but couldn’t call him out on it before Clay’s frantic voice met your ear.

Your lip was hurting now as you had gone back to biting it while you listened to his voicemail, and by the time it was over, you were sure you could taste a hint of metal on your tongue. “Fuck,” you whispered as you typed out a text to him with shaky fingers.

Miles coughed loudly next to you, and you lifted your gaze and glared at him. “I take it you and that rich guy are close?” He laughed and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. “Or maybe you were but not anymore. He looked like a kicked puppy walking out of here, poor guy. But he’s not poor, right? He looks like he probably owns his own business or something.”

“Shut up,” you say before you could think it through. Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to quickly apologize, but Miles just scoffs.

“Oh, come on. A guy like that has no business coming into a place like this. I bet he could buy this whole street if he wanted to, then he’d own us,” Miles continued and you forget your task of texting Clay back in order to defend him from your coworkers petty assumptions.

“And what if he could? What if he did? What would you do about it, Miles?” You ask with annoyance lacing your tone. You weren’t sure why he felt the need to assume all this stuff about Clay when he had no idea what he was actually like.

“I’d quit,” Miles answered with a shrug. “I don’t need some rich prick holding anything above my head.”

You drop your phone onto the counter loudly and move towards him. “Shut the hell up,”

Miles laughs again and it only irritates you further. “Make me,” he muttered. “Christ, Y/n, you don’t believe guys like that actually care about people like us, do you?”

“People like us?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Poor people. We don’t need the rich pitying us when they have it all at their-”

“Shut up,” you nearly yell and then realize you were literally in the middle of your first shift and getting into a heated argument with your new coworker you only shared one brief conversation with before this. The patrons looked over at you with wide eyes and quiet laughs, and you felt embarrassed for the second time this week.

You couldn’t say anything else, and neither could Miles, as Jess came in from the back room and glared at the two of you. “What is going on?”

Miles just raised his hands and turned back to another customer. “You hired a spaz, Jess,”

You opened your mouth to give him a witty remark, but Jess reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Hey,” she said and pulled you with her into the storage room. “What’s going on? You were doing great when I left you, and now I find you yelling at my best worker?”

You let out a surprised laugh, “He’s your best?” Jess raises a brow at you and you sigh before looking down at the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, slightly frustrated as she crossed her arms. “Just tell me what happened. Why were you and Miles arguing?”

You huff and meet her gaze. “You know that boyfriend I told you about at that bar? Well, him and I got into a fight or…something, and he came into the shop today and apologized and I stupidly pushed him away and I guess Miles decided he should assume all these things about him and I couldn’t just stand there and take it,” you explained as plainly as you could, not wanting your boss to completely know what’s been going on in your personal life. “I know it’s a dumb reason, but I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry, Jess, I promise I’m not like that all the time. I just got mad.”

Jess pursed her lips and nodded, her hard gaze dropping a bit. “So I missed seeing just how cute your boyfriend supposedly is?” She teased, lightening the mood and making you huff out a quiet laugh.

“He’s very cute,” you repeated your words from a couple nights ago, and you were reminded of the way Clay came out and picked you up before taking you back to his house and taking care of you. “Things are messy right now, and I’m sorry I allowed it to be brought into my work life. What happened with Miles won’t happen again.”

You shifted the conversation back to a more serious one, and you could tell Jess appreciated it by the way she smiled and nodded at you. “You better not,” she said sternly. “Because I like you, Y/n, and I want you to have a real chance here. Okay?”

Nodding quickly, straighten yourself out. “Okay,”

“Good, now get back out there,”

A few hours later, you successfully made it through your first shift and were currently listening to Joey ramble on about what he did at school in the backseat of Rick’s car.

You were nearly back to Clay’s place when Joey shifted and tugged at his backpack from its place on the floor. You reach over and help him, and once he grabs a piece of paper from it, you let it gently drop back down as Joey leans against the seat again. “I made this today,” he said and held the paper out to you.

Taking it from him, you’re once again almost in tears as you look at the drawing. Joey was getting better at drawing and coloring with each passing day, and his attention to detail at his young age was extremely impressive. This drawing was of you, Clay and Joey, with you being in the middle this time and the Beresford boys on either side of you. “Wow,” you say quietly, meeting Rick’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “You’re quite the little artist, huh, babe?”

Rick gave you a knowing look as Joey said, “Daddy and I like it when you’re at our house. You make things better,”

And then you were on the verge of tears for the second time today.

@evilnight07 @espinathena-17

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #clayton beresford imagines #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford x reader #clayton beresford #awake 2007 #awake #clay beresford #in the way i need you #in the way i need you series

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randomshyperson · 8 months

Text

R U Mine? - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: A game of cat and mouse begins between an Avenger and a criminal. But perhaps there are no winners, as they both fall.

Warnings: mentions of typical canon violence, hints of abusive past and unhealthy work dynamics, some superhero routine lore, more shapeshifter power mentions, mutual pining, forbidden relationship, some teasing, (first) kiss and then a lot of kisses and steamy make out, some fluff and comedy. | Words: 6.965K

A/N-> How many references to Killing Eve can one put in a story. And also, references to the Witch's Road comics. This here is the extra chapter about their first kiss, enjoy reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

"I know what you're doing."

Three weeks prior, Natasha's sentence would have made her jump with fright. Perhaps she would have tried to hide all those files and lie and lie again, until she could convince herself the whole thing was about the job.

But today? Wanda was tired. She had spent the last few hours stumbling into dead ends, no progress on whatever she was trying to do with all that vague information Shield had on you.

So she lifted her face to the redhead who appeared in her room late at night, two cups of coffee in hand, and chuckled weakly at the statement. It was obvious that the drink was an invitation - perhaps even a sign of 'hey, I'm not trying to start a fight. I want to help,' and Wanda accepted without hesitation.

"It's not like I'm doing a good job of keeping it a secret." She retorts to Nat, who smiles before taking the empty space on the bed. Practically all the Shield files - now labeled Avengers - about you are scattered on the mattress. It's a mess, and to Nat, it makes sense that Wanda hasn't made much progress.

"To be fair, for a first-time Investigation, I think you're doing all right." Says the widow after a sip of her coffee. "You covered your tracks and even used an official justification for researching her. Your mistake was involving Vision."

Wanda sighs. "Let me guess, he talks under pressure?"

Nat chuckles, nodding. Wanda rubs a tension point on her forehead. Taking advantage of this, Natasha gestures to one of the files. "I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do, Maximoff. But this doesn't seem very healthy."

Wanda gives a sad smile, and Nat expects her to defend herself. But instead, the smaller girl sighs. "I know." She murmurs sincerely, forcing a faint smile at the widow. "But I need this, Nat. It's the first time in months that I've managed to think about anything other than Pietro. And I know it doesn't look healthy, but it's all I've got. I'm an Avenger now. Maybe it's just time to get to work, and arrest villains or something."

Natasha frowned at her, absorbing the confession for a moment before rebutting: "Is that what you want to do with Y/N, though? Lock her up?"

Wanda swallows dryly, looking down. "Of course, Nat."

"You're a terrible liar."

The brunette sighs. "I mean it!"

"And I don't believe you." Nat insists in a good mood despite everything. "Look at all this, Wanda. You've been at it for days. Studying her. Did you even remember to eat anything in the last few hours?" Wanda snorts, gesturing to the breakfast leftovers on the dresser in the corner of the room which makes Natasha let out an incredulous laugh. "Wow, a nutritious example you are."

The witch tosses her hair back. "If you've come here to try to babysit me, please leave."

Natasha rolled her eyes and ignored the other woman's stubbornness. She put her coffee down between her crossed legs and started organizing the files.

"You're naturally perceptive and clever, Maximoff. But you lack experience and practice. You need to put together a timeline and find the gaps." The widow began, and masterfully, all the security camera photos, reports from shield agents, and unexplained crimes related to thieves with no identifiable faces began to connect and make sense. "But I must warn you, I did all this years ago. When I started at Shield, your little friend was already some sort of the goose that laid the golden eggs, or stole the gold for the saying to work."

"She's not my friend." Wanda murmured, her gaze fixed on the files so Natasha wouldn't see her blush. The widow ignored the comment and continued talking.

"My point is that I didn't get very far." Nat says with a sigh. "To be honest, it was an insult to my ego. She was just a kid back there. And she managed to flee much more experienced agents. She had endless, untraceable disguises. She doesn't need to impersonate, you know? She can create faces. It makes her almost impossible to monitor. When we met for the first time, it was she who found me." Nat says, swallowing dryly at her own memories. Wanda's eyes widen softly, listening carefully. "I never told this to anyone, but when Clint first met me, he told me that he felt something. As if he knew I wanted to escape. And when I saw Y/N, I had the same feeling."

"What did you do?" Wanda asked and Nat sighed.

"I couldn't do what Clitn did for me, Wanda, I'm sorry." Said the widow sincerely. "She attacked first. And I had to defend myself. It wasn't just protocol, it was all I'd learned to do."

Wanda frowns. "Why are you telling me all this, Nat?"

The redhead sighs. "Because it's important. It means that she doesn't trust easily, and attacks when she feels threatened. She reminds me of both of us, to be honest." Nat comments, getting a small smile from the witch. "Besides, I want you to be really careful if you do dig into this."

"I will."

"I'm serious, Wanda." Insists the redhead. "Careful not to miss a gun hidden in her dress." She remembers the last official report Wanda made, regarding her first mission, the night she simply couldn't stop thinking about, especially after your secret vision to the compound, and the witch swallows dryly. Nat doesn't mind her hesitation. "Careful in a way that you'll use your powers if necessary."

Without looking the widow in the eye, Wanda retorts between her teeth: "I get it, Nat."

"You're not going to carry this on until you look me in the eye, Maximoff. And swear it."

Wanda's stubbornness falters, and she returns her attention to the widow, looking at her seriously. Nat gives her a small smile as she adds, "It's not just Clint who cares about your safety. We all do. I'm not going to allow you to throw yourself headlong into something dangerous just to escape your grief, Wanda. Swear that you'll be very careful, and you'll walk away if it gets too dangerous."

Wanda is surprised by the tenderness, and a little embarrassed. It takes a moment but she finally nods. "I swear." She says before adding. "I want to help Y/N. Like Clint helped you. Not lock her up, like I said before."

Natasha chuckles. "I know, kid. I know."

With the Black Widow’s blessing, she kept digging those files. And Nat didn't lie, you're untraceable. Every time you meet, it's clear that you've let yourself be found. Even with handcuffs on your wrist, you keep smiling as if it was all part of the plan. Judging by the way you always escape from prisons, later going public that some confidential information for the police was stolen, this is easily confirmed.

The Avengers are getting used to the strange persecution, very much because each of them has their secrets. And just like his protégé, Steve Rogers had side missions to pursue Bucky. It would be hypocritical of him to hold anything against Wanda for being after you.

And Wanda couldn't stop. Even after hundreds of dead ends and ridiculous escapes. She had to meet you, and have less than five minutes in your presence with another twelve agents and the whole Avengers present every fortnight when they manage to track you only for you to escape again. She didn't know why, but she had the impression that you looked forward to these moments as much as she did.

Like a little private game of mouse and cat, only you and her were part of.

-&-

There are a hundred things to do in the Capital of Crime.

The most complete list of gambling games imaginable, right down to a mural of targets to be captured.

All these things are at your disposal, and all you can think about is the new addition to the Avengers team.

Wanda Maximoff was born in the country that fell from the sky around the same time that Baron Strucker was playing Pinky and the Brain with your cells in a secret laboratory of the now-destroyed Hydra. A Stark bomb made her an orphan, and after bouncing from orphanage to orphanage, often expelled for getting into trouble with her twin brother, Wanda embarked on protest groups in search of civil rights until she was finally recruited into a human experimentation program that turned her into an enhanced version of herself. She was the only reason for the first time in your life that you wished you hadn't split with Strucker so soon - If you'd still been his puppy instead of the clients he got, you would have met her. You may have become friends.

"She's doing it again." Xu Xialing whispered to Layla, the two engaged in a game of Beat the Hero - a competition of colored cards that contained electronic figures detailing the abilities of real-life superheroes. It was, in a way, training for possible battles in real life, where they learned about their enemies by playing. The two of them were sitting in opposite armchairs, while you were practically lying on the sofa, drinking with a lost look on your face. According to them, fantasizing for the tenth time in a row about the Avenger you met in Italia weeks ago.

Layla giggled when she saw your expression before turning her face to Xu Xialing again. "You know, they say Maximoff has psychic powers. Maybe Y/N is under a spell."

"A love spell, that is." Mocks the Chinese woman, getting a laugh from the other.

You only came out of your trance of thoughts about Wanda with the bell from the private room you were in. Your face changed before the curtain opened, and Xu Xialing was the first to look at the security guard entering, somewhat annoyed at having her private time playing games with friends interrupted.

"Forgive me for intruding, madam. The Countess is here and requests the Sage to join her." The man said, and Xialing nodded in understanding. She turned to you, but there was no need. With a soft leap from the sofa, you got to your feet and took one of Layla's cards from her pile - you threw it on the board and helped her win the game, taking the opportunity to leave the room while the two of them discussed whether the assisted victory had been fair or not.

The Golden Daggers Club was as packed and vibrant as ever. The next round of betting for the fights was due to start soon, and there were a lot of people shouting their bets to the judges, and joining the fight cages, so you had to make some effort to follow the venue's security guard into the special area of the place - where federal agents were given even more privacy to be around.

Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine was waiting for you alone, but behind a door with six security guards guarding her. Each of them gave you a look of contempt, but you walked past them without any reaction until you were with Valentina in a room with no windows, every inch of which was covered in priceless works of art, many of them stolen throughout history, which you and Layla recovered together in the service of the Ten Rings.

"You wanted to see me, Countess?" was your greeting, softly snarky. You weren't in the best of moods, especially since Valentina had interrupted your rest.

The woman gave you a false smile from the armchair where she was sitting waiting for you. A closed file and a glass of wine lay on the corner table.

"Oh, what a surprise, after your last defeat, I thought you'd given up on Sage." She comments with a certain venom on your disguise, the same one you wore two weeks ago when you went on what she called a streak of bad luck in the Club's fighting competitions, but which Xu Xialing called a distracted lovesick puppy. You try to disguise your clumsiness by clearing your throat.

Checking that the door is closed, you return to your real appearance and Valentina gives you a small but genuine smile.

"What do you want?" you insist, and in response, she pats the file resting on the table. You sigh. "What's this?"

"Last month has been very busy, but I've finally had time to review some of your late missions reports." She begins and you hide your nervousness, knowing full well where this conversation could end. "I apologize for taking so long to check them, darling. I hope you don’t think I’m jeopardizing your learning progress."

"Stop stalling, Valentina, just tell me what the problem is." You retort grumpily but she chuckles, her fingers tracing the paper before she grabs the file.

“Normally, I trust your experience, but I've heard that you've been particularly... antsy in your last few operations. Of course, you've successfully made it out of all of them, after all, we're having this conversation, but for a master of disguise, the increased number of encounters with the Avengers attracted my curiosity. I thought I'd take a closer look at your original encounters with them, and found an interesting passage in your report on Italy two months ago."

The page is already marked and in the next moment, she begins to read;

"My exit was interrupted by the presence of a new Avenger. A woman, perhaps the same age as me. The new, improved one from Sokovia. Average height, brown hair. Green eyes. Intense. Hypnotizing."

You swallow dryly, looking down at your feet. You're grateful to have control over your own body, or Valentina would be able to watch your cheeks blush.

She continues reading. "We faced each other briefly. The girl doesn't have complete control of her abilities, it was a quick fight. I immobilized her and departed in the getaway vehicle. No disguise was compromised, no other witnesses." Valentina narrates, finally raising her eyes from the file to you. "You know what's funny, sweetheart? The Avengers submitted their own report on Sapienza, and Wanda Maximoff describes the encounter with a Shapeshifter in detail. My question is, why are you lying for someone who didn't hesitate to use her special abilities to show her team your real appearance?"

You're caught off guard. A conflict of emotions rises in your chest, from anger to disappointment. It hurts. It's confusing and suffocating, and you feel the urge to start crying. But none of these emotions floats over your expression, your nails digging into your palm are enough to keep everything well buried.

With a soft sigh, you look Valentina in the eye.

"I don't trust the CIA."

Your boss chuckles, closing the file and crossing her legs. It's not exactly her best lie, but it seems to work on her.

"If this is about the Hydra clean-up in the public sector, I can assure you that we're safe." Valentina says. "Besides, your job is to trust me, Y/N. Not the CIA, or the Ten Rings, or any of your contractors. Only me, dear child, must you trust."

You bite your tongue hard, tears almost escaping this time.

"I just..." You try, not knowing exactly what to say. "There was a conflict, and the girl, she beat me. Effortlessly. That energy she possesses revealed my disguise immediately, I had no chance to try another one. So I made a choice, and I omitted the part that I thought would do me any harm. Isn't that what you taught me to do?"

Right answer. Valentina grins, before sighing and standing up. You don't want her to touch you, but she puts her hands on your arms and you resist the urge to pull away.

"I'm proud of you, you're getting cleverer every day. I want you to be this way, Y/N. Strong-willed, resourceful." She compliments you, her hands moving up to your cheeks. You try to smile, but Valentina squeezes your skin tighter. "That doesn't mean you will lie to me. Understand?" She asks but doesn't expect a vocal response. Your nod is more than enough for her to give you a fake smile and loosen her grip. "You're my most valuable employee. I don't want you to put yourself in vulnerable situations without a reason."

Valentina steps away, and you decide to take a chance.

"She's like me." It's more hesitant than you'd like, but it's enough to make your boss raise an eyebrow at you. Swallowing dryly, you continue. "Wanda and her brother were also Strucker's experiments. We are the same. I thought I could-"

Valentina interrupts with a spiteful chuckle that makes you cringe like a frightened child. "The same? Is that what you think?" She retorts in a mocking tone that makes you feel too ashamed to even broach the subject. Leaning her waist on the table, she looks at you. "I know you've been digging through my files on her, Y/N. I don't blame you for being curious, but by now, I imagine you know very well the conditions of the experiments Miss Maximoff was part of. How she volunteered for all that. How can you say you're the same?"

You hesitate uneasily. "I don't mind that she volunteered. War called for desperate measures. I just... I've never met any other of us. Another who survived the Baron. I've been thinking if I could just see her-"

Valentina bursts into laughter, and you fall silent, concentrating so that she can't see your red ears. "See her? Now what's that, huh? Romeo and Juliet of the supers? What an absurd idea, child!" Refutes your boss, still chuckling as she walks away to the table. She finishes her glass of wine in one long gulp, and to your surprise, throws the file in your direction. You catch the item flat against your chest. "The notes the Avengers made about you are on page 24. Read what she said about you, and draw your own conclusions about who you call an equal. I came here to confirm your mental state, and this conversation was enlightening. I'll arrange an assessment."

"Val-"

"It’s not open for discussions Y/N." She cuts you off, a car key already in hand that makes you groan to yourself impatiently. "You're not going back to work until you talk to Doctor Grand."

She leaves without saying another word and you're left alone with the file in your hands. Without hurrying, you flip to the page mentioned earlier and sigh when you find a photograph of Wanda wearing a uniform with the Avengers crest embroidered on it. Below is her statement about the mission.

You trace your fingers over the passage "An extraordinary and dangerous skill from an equally impressive fighter" but hesitate when you read the passages about how she felt scared and unsafe. About how she thought you were aiming at her. About how she felt she failed by not bringing a high-risk criminal into custody.

Your tears finally fall, staining the page before you quickly wipe them away, closing the file tightly after ripping Wanda's photo out.

It was time to wrap up loose ends and get back to your perfect record.

-&-

In the fake drawer hidden on the floor under your bed - safeguards for someone whose apartment is frequently visited by a two-faced countess - you kept some personal things. Hydra's last record of you, small souvenirs from missions, and a photograph of Wanda Maximoff.

And this morning - and any other morning really - you were supposed to ignore that drawer, leave any weapons at home, put on a presentable outfit, and meet Valentina in the lobby promptly at 10 o'clock. She would take you by car to Dr. Grant's office who would do a standard assessment of your mental state that would tell whether or not you were fit to return to work.

But instead, you took the photo of Wanda out of its hiding place and put it in your pocket. You stood up, walked through your closet, and chose the least flashy backpack you owned. Then you armed yourself with three different types of knives and two pistols in a chest holster, very similar to that of American detectives. And speaking of the police, your drawer of false documentation provided by Valentina was studied without haste until you had in your pockets the identity of a Shield agent who never existed but was meant to be a little tribute to the job you were performing today.

With your disguise ready, you left the apartment two hours before your scheduled meeting with Valentina, and you had barely boarded the ferry when she called you.

"Our appointments aren't something to be skipped, young lady." Stated the woman seriously, but you gave her a weary sigh.

"I don't wish to see Doctor Grant."

Valentina chuckled, as you handed your ticket to the clerk passing in the corridors. On the other end of the line, she then spoke;

"You're not getting away with this, Y/N. I'm not authorizing your return to work until Roland confirms to me that your mental state is stable for you to continue."

You prop your feet up on the seat, switching your cell phone to another ear. "Val, I'm not running away, I promise. I just needed a break. Give me a few days, okay? Reschedule the visit, I'll be there. I'll even be there early."

She pauses thoughtfully, you can hear her breathing. And then she sighs in defeat and you smile. "Okay. If it's any encouragement, your next service is already being prepared. It's something you've never stolen before, and I'd like it to be yours. Of course, if you prove suitable."

A few weeks ago, the temptation would have been too much and you would have turned around and gone to the appointment just to win Grant's approval and be cleared for the job. To prove not only to Valentina, but to the world, and to any other colleague, that you could complete that mission.

But now you let out a short laugh, and that surprises Valentina enough for her to keep quiet. "Reschedule for the end of the week. I guarantee that I'll have Dr. Grant's approval and you'll have your order in no time."

The promise seems to be enough for her, and after another sigh, Valentina hangs up. You put your cell phone away and return your attention to the now-stamped train ticket to New York.

The trip didn't take long, and within a few hours, you were in the bustling city. Especially today, at the inaugural Heroes of Earth celebration event, Manhattan was almost chaotic.

With fans and journalists from all over the world filling the streets that had been closed off for a sort of open-air Comic Con, you had no trouble at all going unnoticed in the crowd. You wore a disguise, of course, but you didn't have to. A few minutes into the fair, you really did look like a tourist, with your Avengers sweatshirt, cap, and colorful glasses.

The knives in your backpack were well hidden under the amount of superhero souvenirs you got.

You were trying to choose between an Incredible Hulk smash-burger or a portion of Thor's worthy chicken when the bell announcing the photo session with the Avengers was about to start.

Your appetite disappeared, anxiety taking over your whole body at once.

It was time to move.

The queue was huge, as was to be expected. At least, most of them were there for the best-known Avengers. Thor wasn't even on Earth, which meant that the other five originals were competing with each other over who got the most autographs. The new members, like Wanda, the Falcon, or Vision, were given presentation stands but had much more free time at the event.

You tried to ignore the pang of pride when you saw that among the new members, the queue of people to see Wanda was the longest. A considerable number of children were very excited to ask her to do magic tricks.

Your strawberry milkshake - Black Widow's Special - almost fell out of your hand when you finally saw Wanda leave the curtains dividing the dressing rooms and join the autograph table.

She wasn't wearing the soft hoodie with the Avengers symbol from the photograph you sneak a peek at almost every night, nor was she wearing the pathetic disguise she wore the first time you saw her. No, somehow, she managed to look prettier. Like all her teammates, she was wearing an outfit similar to the official fighting uniform, probably designed just for the event. With a black tactical outfit covered by a red jacket, the gloves that didn't cover her fingers were probably your favorite part.

Despite her relatively unfriendly uniform, Wanda offered such lovely smiles to the people who came to greet her that you thought the milkshake made you sick, judging by the way your stomach and heart were unsettled.

When the Meet & Greets began, you had to go to the ticket booth and buy a single ticket in cash; to meet Wanda, of course.

It would take place back in the fair's improvised dressing rooms, and after waiting for almost forty minutes, you were finally guided inside. Your backpack wasn't searched, perhaps because your weapons were hidden by Ten Rings technology, a gift from Xu Xialing on your last assignment, and when it went through the X-ray at the entrance, all they detected were the countless fair toys you had acquired. And the knives hidden in your body, well, it's obvious to say that when it comes to changing aspects of your anatomy for any situation, passing a security search was quite easy.

"Miss Maximoff will be here in a minute. She had a little problem with her costume, the children who came in before you caused a little milkshake accident."

One of the organizers informed you, and you gave her a kind smile, commenting that the Black Widow special was essential, even if it might cause minor accidents. The employee chuckled before going to answer a call on her communicator that could have been your intentional flooding of one of the toilets to occupy as many of the staff as possible.

Wanda's dressing room was the most intimate environment of hers you've ever been in. It didn't have many things, of course, but for someone who only had access to government documents, it was paradise.

Curious fingers traced all the belongings you could reach, from more comfortable pieces of clothing for her to change into during the event, to different types of tea and books, until you found a music device.

The password protection on a Stark Industries MP3 player made you laugh to yourself. "What a distrustful little witch." You murmured affectionately, stowing the item in your jacket pocket and moving over to the schedule board.

You had already read the row that marked the start of the Meets, probably described there and in all the other dressing rooms, when your gaze caught a small notebook forgotten in one of the armchairs.

You got the chance to take it in hand and smile at the sketches on the first few pages before the item was suddenly lifted and pulled out of your hand.

"Sorry, but this is private." Wanda grabbed the item out of the air, but you stood there, static like a frightened animal, unable to breathe properly under her gaze. She seemed to realize that she had been too harsh and huffed out a laugh, the notebook clutched tightly against her chest. The sound made you swallow. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting, I guess you got bored. Sorry about that. Let me put this away, and we can, um, get started."

She didn't use magic to return the book to a safe place, you didn't know that yet, but Wanda was still learning to trust her powers. And if she could help it, she usually didn't use them.

She approached you, to put the book away in a bag that you didn't have a chance to peek into, and the sudden movement made your body react in alarm. Your back hit the schedule board, and Wanda frowned, stopping in her tracks with an almost hurt look on her face.

"You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you, you know." She murmured with the tips of her ears red. "I'm just going to put my notebook away, you see." The backpack floated towards her with a tug, and Wanda hardly met your gaze after that. She tossed the bag into a corner of the room and fiddled uncomfortably with the edge of her blouse.

She was no longer wearing the outfit she'd worn before, she was wearing a comfortable set, too soft and domestic for you to be calm-minded about anything.

You forced your brain to work because you thought the whole thing was getting ridiculous.

"I'm not scared." Your voice comes out very hoarse, so you clear your throat. Wanda raises her eyes, finally, and the green irises make your cheeks warm. You don't hide it from her. "As a matter of fact, I'm not the one who usually gets scared when we meet, am I, Maximoff?"

Taking the time she needed to understand, you removed your colored glasses and cap, your face changing back to its original appearance. Wanda sighed shakily as soon as she recognized you.

"Hi, Y/N." She greeted, too sweet for you to do anything but smile shyly, forgetting for a moment exactly what you had come for.

"Hello, Wanda." You tried to sound just as gentle, but you must have done a poor job, to blame it on your body that doesn't seem to be working properly. Wanda swallows dryly, her hands moving slowly in the air. You watch the unhurried gesture - the way her fingers draw the air, and how the items of disguise float away to the armchair, and in your hands appear handcuffs that don't prevent you from moving them, and don't hurt either. The most you feel is a tickle.

"I've come all this way, just for you to put me in chains, little witch." You try to tease her, and you think it's a victory the way Wanda tries to hide a smile, approaching with her head down until she's close enough to touch you.

Her hands should be gripping the magical handcuffs, but instead, they hold yours. Wanda sighs.

"You can't be here." She whispers, meeting your eyes, and you think it's ridiculous that you made any plans at all. You could never do anything to harm Wanda, and that was just the truth. "Then why are you?"

Unlike her, you don't hide your smile. You shrug as if your heart wasn't thumping in your chest, and revel in playing with Wanda's buttons.

"I was in the neighborhood. Wanted to say hi." Your casual reply makes her snort impatiently.

Her hands release yours, and you raise an eyebrow at Wanda's audacity to start searching you.

"Wow, take me on a date first, love." You joke, but despite the new color her cheeks acquire due to the joke, the fond nickname, Wanda doesn't stop. She gropes in your pockets, reaches into your jacket, and grimaces with disapproval at every illegal item she finds. The false documents, the Shield badge, the guns. The MP3 is in the front pocket and Wanda gets a little closer to reach it, enough so that you have to lick your lips trying to control the instinct to break the distance. She just looks so kissable and smells so good.

She offers you an incredulous look at the stolen item, which floats back to the table as she gropes for the other pocket. Finding the train ticket, she lets out a short laugh.

"Six hours of travel is not being in the neighborhood." She comments, raising her eyes to you.

"What do you want me to say?" You retort with a little smile, discourteously glancing between her eyes and her lips. "That I couldn't help myself and had to get on the first train to see you again? That I can't even go back to work because I can't stop thinking about you?"

There's this thing that Wanda's eyes do. The pupils get huge, and the green darkens. And she looks at you as if you were something to be devoured in every detail as if you were worth admiring. As if you were worth any of her time.

She speaks again, so low and hoarse that you wouldn't be able to hear her if you weren't close.

"Your thoughts are loud. Are you always so hard on yourself?"

You swallow dry, caught off guard. Your hesitation makes Wanda sigh. She looks ready to apologize when you nod.

"It doesn't matter, every time we bump into each other, you make me feel different. Better. You look at me as if you can see more. What do you see, Wanda?"

She sighs deeply, and her hands move to touch your face. It's too gentle, and affectionate in a real and true way that you never experience. Your body goes rigid, not knowing how to handle the tenderness, but Wanda doesn't catch any request for her to stop touching, so her hands continue to hold your cheeks.

"I can see your anger, just as I can see your fear. I see the thief, and the murderer, but I can also see only you. No disguises, no lies. The person you are underneath it all." She says, swallowing dryly as she lets her gaze fall to your lips. "This is the person I let get away. And the person I'd like to meet, if you'll let me."

Your chest is heavy with confusing feelings. Your traumas beep in unison, your defenses beg you to push Wanda away and flee before the rest of the Avengers decide to show up.

But instead, you return watery eyes to Wanda and gasp softly; "Why? Why do you care?"

And Wanda tries to lie. "I think you could use a friend."

You chuckle dryly, pulling away from the touch. "Hard pass." You mutter, but Wanda doesn't let you move away entirely. She decides to risk everything.

She grabs your chin and tilts your face towards her. It's a miscalculated kiss, you both flinch and gasp at the first contact of your lips and being taken by surprise makes you lose your balance in the middle of the movement to get away from her.

You fall into the armchair, and Wanda should apologize, but she doesn't even bother. She pushes your tense shoulders and straddles your lap, this time, when her mouth meets yours, it's much hungrier and more determined.

The handcuffs disappear into thin air with the first gasp that leaves her lips, and you waste no time in grabbing her waist, roughly pulling her down and holding her tight against you as your mouths move together. It's a passionate kiss full of urgency, charged with all the tension you've built up.

Your tongue slides into her mouth without warning, more experienced than Wanda, you manage to get a whimper out in no time. She wants to shrink away from the sound, but your hands slide down to grab her ass and pin her down onto your front, and suddenly all she can do is moan.

It seems absurd that you've gone a lifetime without kissing Wanda Maximoff when you both seem molded to do this with perfection.

You don't even move apart to breathe, a battle of restless hands and hungry mouths panting against each other. Wanda begins to grind herself into your lap in search of friction and you let out a sound you didn't know you could make.

Everything is suddenly so hot that Wanda doesn't hear her surroundings. She doesn't hear the curtain or the footsteps. But she definitely hears the machine man's surprised exclamation.

"Oh, forgive me, Wanda." Vision's back is turned the second he catches a glimpse of what's happening in that armchair.

Wanda jumps away as if she's received a jolt, and you groan in displeasure at the interruption. Despite the way every cell in your body seems to be vibrating with euphoria, you manage subtle changes in your face that prevent the Synthesized from recognizing you if he decides to turn around. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Vis, please leave." She demands with ragged breathing, her face bright red. Wanda looks neither at you nor at Vision.

The man clears his throat, stuttering. "Of course, Wanda, I'm so sorry." He says, but although he mentions leaving, he doesn't. Stopping just before the curtain, he risks a glance over his shoulder. "There was a forced distraction with criminal indications in the western sector, the fair has already been interrupted. The captain has asked everyone to gather for a patrol check, in case there's an attempted attack. I just wanted to warn you. It would be appropriate to send your... friend away." explains the machine, exchanging a quick glance with Wanda before leaving the dressing room.

You'd like to kiss her again, but Wanda sniffles at Vision's departure and you frown in a mixture of concern and confusion.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" She deduces annoyed. "To try a bloody attack on a children's fair? God, I’m so stupid. You’re obviously using me to distract your partners-”

But you stood up with an impatient sigh for the anxious and nervous conclusions of an avenger who has been caught in the act.

You grab Wanda again and kiss her hard enough for her to lose her balance, and she ends up pressed against the schedule board, and then the coffee table, each kiss more desperate and heated than the last.

Your thigh presses between hers, and Wanda practically meows at the friction. You love how responsive she is to your touch, and you try to push a little further under her clothes, quickly addicted to attracting more sounds.

And you're almost to the edge of her bra when you're interrupted again.

"Jesus, Maximoff, what the hell is going on here?" Unlike Vision, Natasha Romanoff is much more serious and determined to put an end to the whole thing. And she cares little about what was happening against the table. You hide the change in your features on Wanda's shoulder, while also trying to control your own breathing, somehow much more aroused than before. "We're working, Maximoff. There may be terrorists on the perimeter and you're here, well, I'm not judging, I'm just saying there's an appropriate time for everything. I'm sure your friend will survive if you let go of her mouth for a few hours. Who knows, maybe next time you can meet in a more appropriate place?"

When you finally look at Nat, you can see that she's hiding a teasing little smile. You're glad that Wanda is making friends.

And unlike you, who doesn't mind having been caught not once but twice by the Avengers, Wanda looks like an embarrassed tomato who nods quickly while her magic does the work of adjusting your half-open clothes and leaving the objects you bump into in order again.

"Of course, Natasha, I'll send her away. I'm sorry." Wanda practically pushes you out, dragging you to a more secluded area at the back of the dressing rooms.

She tries unwillingly to resist your eager hands or the quick but intense kisses you steal from her on the way.

"You have to go." She struggles to gasp, her hands pushing your shoulders to stop the whole thing or she wouldn't be able to think.

Wanda with her hair disheveled after a proper make-out session, her face flushed and her lips swollen is too much for you.

"Fuck." You gasp and she swallows.

"What?"

You don't know what to say, nothing seems enough. She's awakened something in you that you didn't know existed. Suddenly, the idea of staying away from her seems an impossibility.

"When will I see you again?"

She frowns at the question, laughing nervously. "We shouldn't have seen each other even today."

But your hands pull her by the waist. "Nonsense. We should definitely do this again.” Your lips trail down her jaw, to the sensitive points on her neck that you're trying to memorize. She sighs, and struggles to keep her eyes open, but only for a moment before she pushes you away again, laughing shyly.

"Please, darling, I need to get back, my job-"

"There's no attempt attack, I flooded a toilet so I'd have time to see you." You clarify quickly and Wanda has to shake her head and laugh incredulously.

"You're nuts."

"Honestly? Yes. I think I've figured out what was wrong with me over the last weeks. You’re driving me nuts, Wanda Maximoff. I can't stop thinking about you." You retort quickly, not caring about the irregular beating of your pulse, nor the way she blushes heavily. "I need to know when I'm going to see you again."

She looks back into the dressing rooms and can see that Natasha is coming out through the curtain. She approaches you at once to give you one last intense kiss and whispers goodbye on your lips as you part.

With every inch of skin that Wanda touched vibrating and your heart pounding in your chest, you only remember to regulate your powers and return to a disguise a good few minutes after she has disappeared from sight, and hope that no security cameras saw you there.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #heart shaped series #wanda maximoff series #elizabeth olsen x reader

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no-name-publishing · 7 months

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Interim (and company) by starkraving

After what has literally been a year and a month, I can call this project finished. The highs and lows of American football. You understand. Very grateful to the author for having written it and letting me bind them a copy! More photos and process pics under the cut.

The bookcloth material is faux suede, and the title decoration is cut from a glossy transparent HTV. The effect is completely swoon worthy, and exactly as I'd imagined it. That said I had a difficult time conceptualizing a design for the case at all; my only working idea was the endband, ribbon bookmark, and head and tail decoration. For 6 months everything I was coming up with for the cover was clashing very hard against these elements. So instead I took steps backwards, and thought how I could make something simple still visually interesting. I decided the difference in physical texture and appearance between the faux suede cloth and a glossy transparent HTV could be just what I was looking for, and I think it worked incredibly well.

The endband is done with adapted renaissance endbands in opposing directions, with a simple wrap of red thread in the center. I don't think peek-a-boo is the right phrase but nonetheless. The head and tail are painted with spray paint, in a gradient pattern that fades as it nears the foredge. The light blue accent lines are also spray paint, applied with a stencil I drew and made myself.

Typesetting shots. I use Word to typeset, and everything is designed and arranged within the program. Body font is Cochineal, the decorative title font is Caesar, as well as Sheikah and Hylian script.

The tiny books are simple, using elements from the main bind to tie them together. These are the spin-off short stories starkraving recently released as part of the Interim series. A testament to exactly how long this bind took me to complete, otherwise I would have included these in the main book. Oh well, it means I got to make tiny books.

Little video showing off the pieces. Particularly proud of the title page.

Process shots starting at my early test run of the my endband idea, to spraying the head and tail. Sewing the primary endband, and the completed bands on both books.

Very pleased altogether with how this came out. Also pleased to have it out of my WIP pile where I can take it off the shelf and fondle it whenever I want.

#fanbinding #fanficbookbinding #bookbinding #interim #starkraving #the legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw #no name publishing

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seancekitsch · 12 days

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Can’t Stand Me Now; a modern Aegon x Stark! reader fic

CHAPTER ONE: The Party's Crashing Us

series masterlist here

warnings for the series: smut, smoking, drinking, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, vomit, more to come as needed

It’s not that one dance club you like that Sara brings you to, but this one just might be better. It’s a theme bar, a little too influencer friendly in its decor, but it’s endearing. The whole thing is themed like a house from your grandsires’s day and age. Floral couches with ugly plastic covering line the walls as people sit and chatter or flirt, the bathroom has sickeningly pink tile and floral wallpaper, the bar is legitimately a gutted vintage kitchen with bottles stored in cabinets and a vintage stove and formica drink counter. The DJ booth is a second gutted bathroom with the walls knocked out, with the DJ standing on a platform that looks like a huge teal toilet and partitioned away with a cheap shower curtain with a weird squiggly pattern on it. There’s even a little kneeler and altar to the Seven stashed in the corner that people like to take ironic photos at while they take shots. Sara brought you here because it’s synth pop night, her absolute favorite genre, and she does not miss a chance to dance to this over club beats. You don’t mind that this isn’t a wild club, mostly because of the cheap cover fee and eclectic vibe of the whole place. Sara also was considerate enough to tell you to dress the part before you got on the train, congratulating you on a night out sans stilettos with a guarantee of letting absolutely loose.

“Cregan would hate this place,” Sara snorts, bringing you a cup of something that absolutely doesn’t look like the whiskey sour you asked her to get you on this round. She hands it to you, and the smell of rum hits you. You don’t drink rum, you don’t get along with rum.

“As if we could drag him off Dragonstone with his little boytoy,” you shout over the music, and point at the drink, “Didn’t have Whiskey?”

She just shrugs.

“This is what the guy gave me!” she shouts back and you don’t argue further, instead interlocking your arm with hers and knocking the drink back with her in unison.

The moment the rim of the cup leaves your lips, youre dragging her to the tiny dance floor, ready to mingle into the crowd with the beat.

“Someone’s eager,” she teases, her face close to yours so youre not screaming. You dance close, a habit you’ve still not broken, made out of a big sister need to protect her when she became of age right as you were graduating from University. You tried to shield her if at all possible from scuzzy men when out drinking with her. Men like… well, not unlike yours and Aegon’s group of school friends. KLU doesn’t have fraternities, but tight knit groups of men still formed on their own; Aegon, Arryk, Erryk, Martyn, Leon, Eddard all fell within that category. You’d perfected the evasion of walking in on their countless hookups, and knowing exactly how to navigate a party with the men that even they didn’t trust. Even though Sara is grown in her own right, and towers over you, you always protect her as your baby sister.

“Hard day,” you respond, not at all wanting to explain yourself further, but as if on cue your phone illuminates in your claw-like grasp in the same hand as your cup to expose you. You switch hands to drink the remainder of your drink while you scroll, and Sara being Sara, of course snoops.

“Aegon?” she practically shouts, and yes, there’s at least three more messages from Aegon on your instagram. Fuck. You throw your head back dramatically after you fully read everything.

Message:

@ eggtarg: im soz

@ eggtarg: i do miss u

@ eggtarg: can i call ?

(1) missed voice call from @ eggtarg

You break away from Sara, not even telling her, but you’re going to buy the next round. In fact, you’re buying double right now. You shove a bunch of bills towards the bartender, a little guilty but too anxious to actually care that the gesture was rude. Four more of the cups of the strong rum drink, which you learn is a theme drink for the night with an annoying name, and you maneuver them in your hands back to the dance floor with minimal spillage. She doesnt thank you, but she doesn’t have to. You cover each other, or convince men to buy you drinks on these nights. There’s no one party paying more or less, no reason to get anyone back. The two of you dance, and drink, and dance, and drink. Two rounds becomes three. For a moment, Aegon is actually forgotten.

Sara, at any point in time, has your free hand in hers; the two of you twirl each other like you did when you were girls, like you did when Cregan refused his middle child duties to play pretend with you. You take her photo sitting backwards at the kneeler, knowing she’ll make a snarky caption about nothing honoring the Old Gods like this in the city, you fix each other’s lipstick in the bathroom.

It’s the fourth round that has you a little unwise.

Rum is something you avoid for a reason. In college, there was always a point where you felt almost trapped within yourself with rum. You acted on an accord completely disconnected from your mind, the whole time your thoughts shouting on you to do or say something different. For that reason, for the fact that it usually made you upset, Aegon banned rum at any gathering. No tiki drinks in the summer, all because of your comfort and preferences.

You push off from Sara, a brief check in that she’ll be okay (she will be, she’s decided to talk the bartender’s ear off), and go outside with the intent of a smoke break.

As you walk down steps, you feel your stomach turn. Nothing a cigarette cannot fix, a tried and true trick for you.

The bouncer helps open the heavy door, a big smile on your face as you thank him and step out into the brisk air. It feels lovely, compared to the stale and sticky air and vape clouds of the bar. You move to sit on a chair from the little coffee shop that operates there during the day, fishing your pack and your lighter out from the tiny trendy purse you had shoved your ID and money in before you left your flat tonight.

Sighing, you immediately give in to temptation, finding Aegon’s messages to read and read and read them over. He misses you, he’s said as much twice now. But does he?

You click on his profile, and scroll back down to that picture of you. It looks practically deep-fried, the way that Instagram as a platform has changed so much since you were in University. You light the cigarette and take a hefty drag of it before you start a dissection, zooming in and pulling and prodding at the image.

In the photo, you’re half hanging off of Aegon’s lap, sat on his dorm bed. His parents, Viserys and Alicent, insisted he always live on campus in dry dorms to attempt to curbs the habits they did not approve of, but also ensured he got an entire dorm to himself for space. Despite this, it never stopped his room from being where you all met up before you headed out, or being the spot where you crashed at the end of the night. Your mouth is wide open, clearly mid laugh as your hair cascades down across both of you, Aegon’s arms holding you tightly against him. And although the camera is on both of you, Aegon’s eyes are on you, his wide smile and gaze trained directly on the side of your face. In the picture, you’re even in his clothes, his favorite emerald green sweatshirt embroidered with his family crest in gold thread. Falling off his shoulders is the blanket your mother had made for you as a child, crocheted with your own family crest in it, your most prized possession.

From the picture alone, if you didn’t know the people in it, you’d assume they’d be married by now. The two people on the screen look so happy, so care free, so in love. You were still only friends at that point, had never even kissed.

Bile rises in your throat, and you pull harder on the cigarette.

Both drunk and sober, clear headed and uninhibited, you go back to the message and press the little call button next to his contact.

Aegon picks up immediately, as if he was waiting for it.

“Stark!” he breathes on the other end, like a sigh of relief, as if this is a raft in the open ocean.

“Targ,” you greet, very much less enthusiastic, but you cannot deny it that hearing his voice ignites something familiar and comfortable in your bones as if your being had been missing him.

“I- I- I’m so sorry, really, I have so much to-“

“S’been five years,” you slur, not hiding the indigence or disgust in your voice, “Y’too late.”

“Your accent is stronger, are you drinking?” He asks, and it burns you how he still remembers your tells.

“What’s it matter?” You ask, because it doesn’t. Although, you think for a moment, he doesn’t sound drunk.

“Where are you?”

Genuine concern laces his voice, and despite your better judgement, you tell him exactly where you are. The moment the words leave your mouth, you know you should not have said them.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he says, and hangs up the phone.

By the time he arrives, you’ve grabbed another drink, this time with enough sense to order a pint of cider instead of rum and you’ve already lit and half smoked another cigarette. You slink down into the chair as the black car pulls up, one that you instantly recognize as one of the family cars. Aegon had a car when you knew him, but he only ever drove it on his birthday, taking the train or getting a driver any other time. You pull the lipstick stained cigarette from your lips to take a hefty gulp from the glass, your eyes immediately settling into a glare as the car door opens.

Aegon looks exactly the same as he did the day he left, his hair still the same length, the light dusting of a mustache. He’s got himself wrapped in both a hoodie and a cardigan, completely unable to cope with any cooler shift in the weather. You always joked that he’d die if he ever came home to Winterfell with you.

“There you are,” he says, his tone incredibly and unfairly soft as he grabs another one of the chairs and pulls it up next to you.

“If I grab something do you promise not to run?” he asks, and you nod if not begrudgingly. You called him here, you should at least let him get a drink out of the ordeal.

You swallow thickly, staring at the toe of your boots and the absent patterns of the concrete. If you focus hard enough, you could trick your brain into thinking there was some divine structure there.

He returns quickly, but your eyes don’t peel away from the absent patterns; They can’t.

“I know it’s shit how I reached out to you,” he starts, and from your peripherals you watch him take a big gulp from his own pint. You stick the cigarette into your mouth and fumble to pass him the pack, your body working on autopilot and muscle memory long since past. His fingers brush yours as the transfer or the carton occurs, a traitorous warmth blooming in its wake. You will not ask for the pack returned.

“You’re hard to find these days,” He mentions, as if that was not your goal.

“I don’t meddle where I’m not wanted, Aegon,” you mumble, cigarette bobbing between your lips and threatening to fall.

“That’s not…” Aegon almost growls in frustration, and slams the rest of his drink back, “It was never me not wanting you. I meant it.”

If you were to look up, you don’t know what you’d see. Would he have tears in his eyes? Would they be dark with anger? Is he mocking you?

Instead of a response, your body jerks forward, bile threatening. You pull the cigarette from your lips as he swears and pulls out his phone.

“Don’t say shit like that,” You laugh, but there’s no real humor in your voice.

“I still mean it,” he assures you, and then begins a conversation with the person on the other line.

You stand, taking another small sip of the cider before placing what’s left on the ledge, allowing yourself to take the loss for whatever money that half a cider cost.

“What a fucking joke,” you mumble, more to yourself than anything.

You try to hide the lurching jerk of your body as bile rises again in your throat. You will not puke, you will not hurl; Especially not in front of Aegon.

You have so many things you want to say: questions you’ve had for half a decade, insults that you’ve held onto like a poison in a wound, weeping confessions that would make you weak and pathetic.

“Cole, can you please send someone,” Aegon asks, a hushed tone while he presses the phone to his ear, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine, I need to make sure a friend gets home safe.”

A friend. You bark out a laugh.

Only thats not the right move at the moment, and you spill your last two drinks on the curb, enough sense in you to miss your shoes. Immediately you feel better, both physically and mentally. Clearly, much like Aegon, rum is not your friend despite its sudden reappearance in your night.

“Oh, holy shit!” Aegon swears, immediately fussing over you and trying to pull a tissue out of his pocket, trying to press it to the corner of your lip as you shove him away. In the distance, you can see the train stop. This particular line goes directly back to your stop and if you can make a run for it, you can escape him. Only you don’t move, as if you’re rooted to the pavement, your boots stuck in the concrete as the person you’ve been trying to evade in this city closes in on you. You push away every attempt for him to fret over and help you, refusing to let him help push your hair back, refusing the cup of water he requests from the bouncer, your hands shooing away every attempt of his to help.

Eventually the car pulls up, and to your own surprise you let Aegon lead you into the car and close the door for you. He slides in the other side, and urges the driver to head home. His home. Aegon’s home. You don’t protest, you don’t scream, you don’t open the door and tuck and roll even though you think it would be an effective way to escape if not at least a little funny. Despite in your mind feeling incredibly sober, you freeze up, absolutely letting all of it happen. Despite your mind screaming at you, despite the urge to cry, you relax into the leather of the car seat. You instead text Sara that you’re heading home, and to text you when she decides to do the same.

“Why now?” you ask, cutting through the uncomfortable silence as the car turns the block.

“Now?” Aegon parrots, as if he doesn’t understand the question.

“Why now when I’m just this? Why come back after all this time?” You choke back a sob, wanting to refuse to let Aegon see weakness.

He sighs, and wipes his hand down his face. Now that you look at him closely, he looks exhausted, even in the dark. Aegon looks like a man who hasn’t slept in a week.

“It’s complicated,” he says, barely above a whisper. Like fuck it is.

Either way, you remain quiet, anger growing as you watch the traffic lights go by, as you traverse neighborhoods. The car is headed south, and eventually stops not far from your stop at Fleabottom. If you were to flee, you’re only four stops away from home. But just like before, maybe its morbid curiosity, you don’t bail as the car parks and Aegon hops out, half jogging to the other side of the car to open the door for you. He holds out a hand, a hand that you refuse as you push yourself up and out of the car seat. If the driver knows you, if the driver knows what’s going on, they don’t say. The driver doesn’t even look back before driving off.

When he lets you into his flat, he immediately heads to the fridge. Sunfyre runs up to you, greeting you as if no time had passed. The big orange fur ball is all purring as he rubs up against you, and you bend down to scratch behind his ears where he loves it most. This is, easily, the most heartbreaking part of all of this.

“Aww, Sunfyre, did you miss her?” he coos, and then looks at you, “Thats amazing, he remembered you. He always ran from Lar-"

He stops himself before he finishes that sentence, but the damage is done. You were wrong, that right there was the worst part.

He hands you a glass of water, and you don’t deny it this time, eagerly gulping it down and placing it on the kitchen counter the moment you’re done.

“Right, so what did you expect?” you ask, shrugging at him.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he responds, and reaches forward. He cringes as you flinch away from his touch.

“Bullshit,” you exclaim, and then start to walk towards his couch, bigger and more plush than the campus apartment you’d last know him having.

“Guess I’m sleeping here?” you ask, pointing at it.

Aegon agrees, although you can tell there’s words that die in his mouth. His mouth opens and shuts, lips purse contemplatively. Good, you don’t want to hear those thoughts right now, even though you’ve needed them for half a decade. He grabs a pillow and blankets from a hall closet, and sets them like a bed for you. You half expected him to just dump everything on the couch, but then again, sleepovers with Aegon used to mean sharing a bed and you’ve never seen how he would do this.

“Do you need clothes?” he asks, already half turned and surely ready to grab some sweats from a drawer.

You shake your head no, and then start to get yourself settled under the blankets. It feels like the more of you covered, the safer from all of the anxiety bubbling under your skin you are. The more a physical barrier from Aegon exists, the more you can pretend this is a drunken nightmare, and tomorrow you can just sweat it out at dance class.

He leaves the room, and you only shake off your boots and jacket onto the floor next to your discarded purse, opting to keep your phone under your pillow and your person bundled up despite the fact that his apartment is warm.

When he returns he’s in that green sweatshirt from the picture, and a pair of grey sweatpants. He turns his head towards you, but ultimately decides against trying again, instead going to the fridge to pull out two water bottles. Even in the dark of the apartment, you don’t miss the fact that he also pulls out a bottle and takes two shots before walking away from the area. Your eyes feel heavy, wet, as you try in vain to blink away the emotions rising to the surface. Here, there is no concrete to focus on, here, you’re surrounded by Aegon in the dark. You opt to shut your eyes all together.

He traverses the main room, around the island to the living room, his bare feet against the flooring; depositing one of the water bottles on the coffee table directly in front of the couch you’re on. You keep your eyes closed, not daring look at him. However, you don’t miss the warmth of his hand ghosting over the blankets, almost touching, almost that reassuring weight of his hand that had gotten you through so much.

“Why wasn’t I enough when we were friends?” you ask, not hiding the watery tone of someone failing to conceal crying, still not daring to look at him. Your voice sounds so small to your ears, so vulnerable.

“You were,” he tells you, his voice betraying similar emotion. Aegon is probably crying, you realize, or at least close to it.

But before you can open your eyes, you hear him walk away, and you feel like any moment of honesty is over now. The sliding door to his balcony opens, and the clinking of a bottle signifies he’s staying up.

He keeps the door open, a silent invitation that you feel like you can’t accept. Many a night you’d stayed up talking and drinking with Aegon; a bottle, two glasses, and a heart to heart were common. But that seems wrong now, tainted what has transpired. Now it's silence as you hear the bottle clink against a glass, and then again a few minutes later.

Sleep is slow to find you, the space between the two of you both cavernous and claustrophobic, and the blanket smells like him.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #modern aegon targaryen #modern aegon x reader

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rvllybllply2014 · 2 months

Text

How do we feel about a Davron sugar baby au?

Davos is the cfo of his uncles business, he’s the youngest to ever reach that status. Aeron is a struggling up and coming model, he was disowned by Amos when Aeron graduated college with a business degree but decided to try modeling instead. Amos equates modeling with selling your body and soul to the devil and no nephew of his will do that.

Aeron has bills to pay so of course he takes any job that he can, which eventually leads him to work with a photographer who makes him the star of his new series. It’s also how Davos meets Aeron, Davos knows the photographer personally and is in need of some new art. Davos doesn’t buy any of Aerons photos though he sticks with the original plan of buying the landscapes he needed for his home and his uncles business. But he does end up asking his photographer friend who the model is in his portrait series, the photographer tells him the models name is Aeron and he’s actually here tonight if he wants to meet him?

Davos agrees thinking nothing will come of it, Aeron will just be another air headed model. So imagine his surprise when he meets Aeron and Aeron is able to hold his own in conversations, especially about business. Davos is partially in love at that point, he also wants to support Aeron at least give him enough money to cover his bills so he can focus on getting higher paying jobs. He also offers to help Aeron meet with some advertising executives who are looking for models that are just as beautiful as Aeron is.

Aeron is reluctant at first, he doesn’t want to be beholden to anyone for anything and he wants to prove his uncle wrong. Davos says he understands and if he ever changes his mind here’s his number, he’ll help no matter what and he doesn’t expect anything from Aeron.

After a particularly bad shoot with a creepy photographer who kept pushing Aeron to pose nude after repeatedly being told no, he calls Davos on the verge of tears. Yeah it’s late at night but Davos is immediately out of bed telling Aeron to go to a 24 hour diner,that’s close to the studio, he’ll be there in about 20 minutes and once he knows Aeron is safe he’ll kick the photographers ass. Aeron goes to the diner while staying on the phone, to reassure both of them that he’s safe and if something did happen to Aeron Davos will know who to go after.

Davos said he’d be there in 20 minutes which is what Aeron says when Davos is at the diner in 10 minutes. Davos is ready to kill the photographer and Aeron barely manages to convince him not to. Davos says fine but from now on Aeron will accept money from Davos, he won’t/can’t have a repeat of the sleazy photographer. Aeron reluctantly agrees, he also agrees to meet with Davos’s advertising executive friends.

Aeron says that his only condition to being Davos’ sugar baby is that once he’s a famous model he gets to pay Davos back. Davos tells him there’s no need but Aeron insists. It only takes a couple of months of Aeron being Davos’s sugar baby for him to find success, Aeron pays Davos back just like he said he would, and Davos is scared of losing Aeron so he asks Aeron to move in with him. Aeron says he’ll only move in with him if they’re dating, Davos accepts that condition.

And that’s how Aeron went from being a sugar baby to a top paid model, husband and how he also proved his uncle wrong just like he knew he would.

#davron #brackwood #brackenwood #house of the dragon #aeron bracken #davos blackwood

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honorarysimp · 2 months

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Allegations

series masterlist

day 8

The apartment is quiet, the sun beaming through the large window basking the room in a soft warm glow.

You have your head in Tara’s lap, her fingers delicately running through your hair, your eyes may be closed but you can tell she’s lost in thought.

Tara’s been off since you got back from her meeting your friends last night, not in a bad way, more so in a way like something is nagging at her.

You know it’s got nothing to do with meeting them, they all adored her more than you by the end of the night.

She’s the blunt type, never one to hold her tongue, so you have a pretty good idea what it may be that has her silent for once.

The one thing you both tip toe around.

“You can ask, you know” you murmur quietly, her hand pauses on your crown and then those pretty brown eyes are looking down at you.

“I don’t know what-“

“We don’t bullshit each other, remember?” you say gently, gazing up at her openly, nothing to hide. Even when the flicker of memories in the back of your skull leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

“You know I’ve always been honest with you”.

“I know, that’s why I never asked”.

That makes you sit up, crossing your legs on the couch as you turn to face her, expression twisting with confusion as you mutter “I don’t understand”.

Tara sighs, running her hands down her face, something you’ve noticed she does when she’s too deep in her head and is trying to find a way to covey what she’s feeling.

“I want you to feel safe enough with me to tell me on your own time, not just because I asked”.

You nod slowly, tentatively reaching out and gently grasping her wrists, tugging until she drops them from her face. For a moment you just see her, the curiosity, the confusion, the guilt laced with uncertainty.

“It’s not pretty” you start.

That makes her scoff softly, giving you side eye that makes the corners of your mouth quirk up just the slightest.

“Are you kidding me? After what we went through?”

You hum, bringing her hands up and kissing her knuckles softly before resting them in your lap.

“Alright, I guess… as cliché as it will sound, I’ll start from the beginning”.

New York, 2015

Rhythm. Back then, music was the only thing that moved you, gave you motivation.

Which is why you’re currently attempting to sweep the floor, however the headphones covering your ears blasting Rihanna’s Umbrella has you a bit distracted.

Hence, attempting being a key word.

This apartment is a cozy haven, but it was in need of a thorough cleaning, with a few items scattered about here and there. The living room has a large, soft couch and several throw pillows that begged to be used, along with a few framed photos on the walls and a small coffee table in the center.

The open kitchen was partially visible and had the same clutter as the living room, with dishes in the sink and a few crumbs on the counter. Overall, the place has a homey feel, but is overdue for a good tidying up.

You wish you could whistle, it would just feel right, but instead you’re stuck with mumbling the lyrics under your breath as the chorus hits.

Sweeping what you’d collected into the dustpan is of ill fate, as you stand, and suddenly the music stops. Headphones ripped off your head.

You shriek, dropping the pan, and fully swing the broom in a three-sixty at whoever had attacked you.

Barely ducking your defense tactic, and jumping back up just as quickly to rip it from your hands, is your best friend.

“Are you kidding me? Again?” Anika half scolds, half laughs at you.

You give her a shove, heart racing as you snatch the broom back “are you fucking kidding me dude?! Your privileges are revoked, give me your spare now-“

“Yeah, cry later” Anika swats your hand away and palms your whole face as she walks by into the kitchen, where she proceeds to start gathering trash off the counter “you live in a pigsty, dude, we’ve talked about this”.

“Yeah well I was trying to clean, until someone tried to kill me” you grumble, beginning to sweep up the dirt on the floor again.

Anika just shoots you a look, dumping the trash into the bin before fishing under the sink cabinet for a cleaning bottle “if I wanted you dead you’d be dead”.

You roll your eyes and sweep your pile into the dust pan once more, moving to dump it in the bin “sometimes I wish you’d come by just to see me, not bite my ass for literally every little thing I do”.

“Someone has to” Anika says pointedly as she wipes the counter, “how is douche canoe anyways?”

“The usual”.

“Still in Vegas?”

A shrug, you put the broom up and head for the living room.

Anika tails you.

“Just let me adopt you already-“

You grab a pillow off the couch and launch it at her, a playful smile tugging at your lips “how about you fuck off and help me clean this place up since you’re going to burden me with your presence”.

Anika aims the spray bottle at you, to which you instantly raise your hands.

“Take it back”.

“No thank you mother”.

She sprays you anyways, making you shriek as you launch yourself over the couch, another pillow clutched in your hand like a weapon.

“STOP IT! BEHAVE CHILD”.

All you see as you launch the pillow, is her leg getting taken out just as she tries to round the corner, dropping as she’s knocked off balance.

You’re on the ground with her, clutching your side as you gasp for air from all your laughter.

“RIDE BY YOURSELF IN A TAXI TO SCHOOL TOMORROW, ASSHOLE”.

You both know she doesn’t mean it.

____________________________________________

Quinn greets you at the door, wide smile and practically tackling you into a bear hug before dragging you inside.

This party is in full swing, despite it being only 9pm. The lights are low, the liquor flowing, and the music blaring. The apartment is fairly cramped, with bodies packed together and alcohol cups covering nearly every surface.

There is a mix of kids from different grades, from sophomores to seniors, all of whom seemed to be taking full advantage of the cheap booze and loud music. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and the sound of excited chatter and laughter, making it clear that this party was off to a rowdy start.

“Jesus Christ how the hell do you expect me to crash this party?” You say with wide eyes, shrinking away as two burly football players shove their way through the crowd, bellowing drunkenly.

“By mooching off the free alcohol” Quinn says as she keeps one arm around your shoulders, “and also saving Ethan from the upperclassmen”.

Right. That’s why you’re here.

One panicked phone call from Ethan about his older brother throwing a rager, pleading to come crash at yours.

You’d only just agreed when you heard him curse and the call had abruptly ended.

After a quick follow-up with Quinn for reassurance, who sounded already tipsy, you were out the door within seconds on your way.

The logical idea was to show up, extract your friends, and get out.

Logical didn’t guarantee ideal.

Richie is a complete douchebag, across the board, and finds far too much amusement watching his older friends pick on his younger brother.

You wonder how he’s popular, but then the moment he comes into view with a joint tucked behind his ear as per usual. You’re reminded why.

It’s a wonder how he manages to hide it from his overbearing law enforcement officer for a father.

That’s where you find Ethan, trying to mold himself into the wall as subtly as possible, as one of Richie’s friends seems to be trying to coax him into taking something.

Now, granted, you aren’t a fighter. Not by a long shot, but you didn’t need physical intimidation.

Only mental.

“Shows over, dancing pony needs to come home now” you say loudly, making a few heads turn to look at you, Richie simply rolls his eyes.

Ethan visibly relaxes, pushing off the wall to walk towards you, only for Richie’s friend to grab his shoulder and flash you an empty smile.

“What’s the rush? Hm? We were just having a little chat-“

“Chat is over, goodbye no name” you cut him off, shooting Ethan a look, he shrugs off the hand on his shoulder just as Quinn comes up next to you.

He scoffs “my name is-“

“Irrelevant”.

That makes a few nearby chuckle, you nudge Ethan ahead of you just as you hear him speak up behind you “hey I’m talking to you bitch-“

“The only bitch here is you, considering how you’re whining like one. So unless you want me to grab my strap and really seal the deal, I suggest you shut the fuck up” you snap sharply, whirling around just as you feel Ethan grab your arm, Quinn laughs gleefully somewhere from behind you.

The no name asshole steps forward, Richie watches in amusement, making no effort to intervene.

Typical.

“Coming from the slut with no parents, I’d kill myself too if you were my daughter-“

You don’t even get the chance to knock his words back down his throat, as Anika suddenly appears, your knight in shining armor as her dainty ring cladded fist connects with his face.

He stumbles back into the table, everyone around you goes ballistic, but all you see is Anika glaring at you.

“I told you to wait for me”.

“I couldn’t-“

She holds up her hand, cutting you off, and then points. Your head drops back and you head in the direction of the door, Ethan leading the bunch.

You’ll blame him for this later, but you can’t wipe the grin off your face as you hear Quinn yelling more insults over her shoulder.

You may be retreating, but you and your crew definitely won that one.

____________________________________________

You’d like to say the words from last night didn’t sting, but they do.

It’s nothing new to you, the scandal was city wide.

At least, what’s known about it. And quite frankly, you don’t want to know more.

You’re content with how things are.

Absent uncle who’s your legal guardian, a bottomless tab at the coffee shop he owns and makes an ungodly amount of money off of.

Parents you never knew, but from your lack of connection with your other family still living and breathing, and your uncles lack of effort.

You basically do whatever you want, and it’s nice.

Family doesn’t mean much to you.

Or at least, it didn’t, until Anika actively decided to take you off the street like some stray dog when you were both ten years old.

You’d hated it, initially, a bit mean to her if anything. But goddamn was she relentless.

And then she finally managed to talk you into coming over to her place for dinner, you had no one to go home to, and it would stop her asking.

So, you’d agreed, the rest is history.

“We’ve got TEN MINUTES-“

“I know, I know! Fuck, it’s in here somewhere” you say as you tear through another box in your uncle’s office, Anika somewhere behind you going through the drawers in his desk.

Not like he’ll care, you’ll have everything back together and in its spot before he even thinks about coming back for another temporary visit.

What are you two both frantically searching for, you may ask?

A limited edition baseball card, Anika’s dad claims it is.

The guy is a huge Yankee’s fan, collects cards for fun. Anika thinks it’s dorky, so naturally you have to go against whatever she says.

He’s described a specific card, how rare it was, and something had tugged at your memory. The same card, you’d seen it somewhere in your uncle’s office at one point, and if it was what you thought it was, you were going to take it and give it to him.

Only he’d packed it away, not knowing what it was, or maybe he just didn’t think it was worth anything. You’ve spent the last two months looking for it.

His birthday dinner is tonight.

“God we should’ve skipped school to do this today, I don’t know what I was thinking-“ you groan, aggressively tossing one of the bags that had fallen out of the top shelf of the closet back where it had dropped.

“It’s in here, if you say it is then it is” Anika says without pausing her ransack through your uncle’s desk.

You let out a pitiful noise, walking towards the desk “yeah well this is the part where I say abracadabra and someone cuts us some fucking slack-“ you then kick the back of the desk, a little harder than necessary.

A click followed by a thump can be heard under the desk, Anika freezes and looks up just as your head turns to meet her gaze.

She then ducks under the desk, making you scramble to peer over it from the other side.

“What kind of James Bond shit is this“ is all you hear before she reappears, you barely have a chance to push yourself back before she’s dropping a medium sized box between the two of you on the desk.

Your brow furrows “where the hell was that thing?”

“You know I was wondering why this desk was so bulky and the cabinets were so small” Anika mutters to herself as you start going through the items in the box.

All of it looks expensive, and organized. A watch in a velvet and glass case, a bottle opener with what you can assume has diamonds embedded in the handle, a little bag of coins probably all rare. A little booklet and -

And then, a tape recorder.

Your brow furrows as you fish the tape recorder out, fiddling with it.

First , why is he hiding a box of expensive items under his desk? And second, why is this piece of junk in with it?

Your thumb traces the faded white lettering across the front, microcassette-corder m-560. And underneath it a piece of tape with a name.

Your biological father’s name.

“Dude no way look!” Anika produces the baseball card from the booklet that had been within the box, but when she sees the look on your face her smile falls “what? What’s is it?”

You press the play button, an audible click, but nothing. You hit the stop button, looking within it, pressing the eject.

An empty tape lies within.

“Talk to me, you’ve got that look on your face” Anika says, using what you’ve deduced as her ‘mom voice’.

You look up, raising the tape recorder so she can read off it.

“It belonged to my dad.”

Anika’s face goes blank, her eyes analyzing you carefully.

Eyes dropping to the tape recorder in your hand, your stomach churns uneasily.

Why did you never ask? Well, you know why, who can you ask when your Uncle is never around? And when you did ask as a kid, he’d punish you by not acknowledging your existence for weeks.

Your fingers curl around the tape recorder, “you know how I think the case was never actually solved?”

A pause, “I do, yeah”.

Theres a beat of silence, and then you’re looking up, something in your eyes. Not justice, not revenge.

A broken child, a lost soul, abandoned if you’re honest with yourself.

But not alone.

“What if the rumors are true?”

Anika’s shoulders tense, swallowing hard as she pins you with a hard look “I don’t think this is a road you should go down, there’s a reason-“

“Why would he have this then? Hm?” You hold up the item for further emphasis, “he practically spits on the ground any time they’re mentioned, the same asshole that locked me in my room for three days just for asking if I could see a picture of them!”

You watch her wince as your anger bubbles, you know it isn’t her fault, it’s not your fault either.

And that makes you furious.

“No one will ever give me answers” you say, and it feels strange addressing something you’ve ignored for as long as you can remember.

Or just maybe, you’re old enough now to understand that your life sucks, you’ve got trauma. And you want to know why.

You see the conflict in her eyes, because she sees just how far gone you are now in your head with this. With how impulsive you tend to be, Anika knows it best to stick by your side to keep you in check than to piss you off and you go about it on your own.

And to be frank, Anika has been waiting for this moment. It was only a matter of time before you wanted answers about what happened to your parents, other than a shitty police report writing it off as ‘accidental deaths’ or ‘possible suicide’.

“Okay. So, what do we do?” Anika says holding your gaze, even when worry chews at her insides for your mental state.

Jaw set, gaze hard, you click the tape recorder shut and head for the door, the faint sound of her scurrying feet on the hardwood floor behind you.

“We go get them”.

____________________________________________

Now, on a normal day, you’re extremely practical.

You’ve always stuck to the facts, because facts are the truth. And the truth is real.

But as Ethan swipes his dad’s badge at the back entrance of the precinct, you’re at least rational enough to admit to yourself this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Luckily for you, New York is busy. There’s always something going wrong, which means most everyone in the precinct will be bustling about with business at hand.

You take the back entrance anyways.

All you’d had to do was tell Ethan you needed answers that were long overdue, and that you just wanted to see the police report.

He’d said his dad would refuse, that it’s a ‘closed case’. And then proceeded to flash a copy of the keycard that Richie had made, that Ethan had stolen from him.

You may hate Richie, but right now he’s your third favorite person. Sorry Quinn.

As you walk in through the back end of the building, you notice that there is significantly less foot traffic and activity compared to the front. There’s a rare sight of people milling about, and the area has a slightly more dilapidated feel, with some of the buildings and infrastructure showing signs of wear and tear.

The building has a rugged, industrial feel, and the lack of crowd gives the hallways a more relaxed atmosphere. If you're looking for a slice of the city that's a bit off the beaten path, this is the place to be.

The two crept along the hallway, keeping your footsteps light and movements stealthy. You both duck out of sight and hide behind corners whenever you hear the sound of footsteps or voices approaching, waiting anxiously until the coast was clear before continuing on the way.

Adrenaline peaked, you both move with a heightened sense of awareness, constantly scanning their surroundings for anyone potentially passing through. Every step was taken with care, every movement slow and deliberate, as they navigated the hallway.

“How much further?” You whisper, sticking close to Ethan as you glance over your shoulder.

He may be a quiet kid, but when not under peer pressure, the guy is the definition of whiplash. Which is why he leads you through the building towards the room that held all the physical documentation and evidence on all known cases.

Suddenly, Ethan comes to a halt, you almost crashing into him from behind. Before you can ask, he gestures to the sign on the door that read "Case Files." You both exchange a look, knowing what lies inside might very well rock your world.

Ethan swipes the card and opens the door, ushering you inside “I’ll keep lookout, just be fast okay?”

“Ethan, what? No-“

He shoves you inside and shuts the door, no window leaving you in darkness, at least until the motion lights activate.

You turn, taking in the room. The room was a massive storage space, filled from floor to ceiling with rows upon rows of shelves, each one stacked with countless boxes. The air was thick with the scent of dust and deteriorating cardboard, and the only illumination came from a the flickering lights that hung from the ceiling above.

The shadows cast by the dim light danced menacingly across the boxes, giving the impression that something lurking within them, ready to leap out at any moment. The room gave off the intimidation of a cavernous warehouse, filled with countless secrets and untold stories, waiting to be discovered.

You push onwards, driven by a determination to find answers. You move between the rows of shelves, eyes scanning the row upon row of boxes for a specific year. Your hands glide across the dusty labels on the boxes, searching for the one that would give you the information you sought. You could feel the weight of years of unanswered questions pressing down upon you now more than ever, and your heart races as your fingers trace the numbers, hoping to find the one that held the truth you so desperately sought.

As you searched, you feel a sense of urgency and desperation building within you. You feel the answer just out of your grasp, praying the truth would finally bring closure and some semblance of peace. But the boxes seemed endless, and the years blur together in your mind, making it all the more difficult to find the one you needed. You push past the mental fatigue and frustration, driven by the hope that you were getting closer to what’s sought.

There. Feldman, 2002.

As you finally reach the correct box, you carefully pull it down from the shelf, and feel a moment of hesitation. You pause, fingers gripping the edge of the lid, and a thousand questions swirl through your mind: what will you find inside, and will it be the answers you’ve desperately sought for so long?

You take a deep breath, heart pounding in your chest, and slowly lift the lid. Inside, you find a stack of folders, each labeled with the case number.

As you go through the file, you feel a wave of emotion wash over you, a mix of disbelief, horror, and shock. You can feel their mind reeling as you read the words on the page, gut churning and stomach twisting. It's a murder case, a double homicide on the marital couple, your parents.

The words on the page swirl together as you try to make sense of what you’re reading, but the reality of the situation is hitting you like a freight train, and it's all you can do to keep themselves from collapsing.

As you skim through the pages with shaky hands, you come across a section detailing the status of the case. You can feel a lurch in your stomach as you read that it's still an open case, unsolved after all these years. It was all a lie. All of it.

You continue, feverish now, eyes widening as you read that your father worked in the morgue and falsified a large number of autopsy reports. It's a revelation that rocks you to your core. Feeling a mix of anger and disbelief, you reach into the box and pull out a photo of what you’re safe to assume is your parents, the first time you’re ever actually seeing them. Must’ve fallen out of one of the folders.

The photograph is old and faded, but the image is still clear. The couple's faces staring back at you, and the protagonist is struck by how young they look, how carefree and alive. You struggle to reconcile the image of your parents as innocent victims with the knowledge of your father's sinister actions. It's a moment of overwhelming emotion, a mix of sadness, anger, and disbelief.

As the magnitude of the situation sinks in, you’re overcome with a wave of agony. You feel a deep sense of guilt and pain for not having looked into this sooner, for allowing yourself to be oblivious to the truth for so long. Every second wasted, every moment spent in ignorance weighs heavily on your conscience, and the hurt is almost too much to bear. It's a moment of intense self-reflection, a moment of realization that nothing will ever be the same again.

With a shaking hand, you tuck away the photograph and pull out a tape recorder from your jacket. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and click on the recorder. The sound of the device whirring to life fills the room, and you begin to meticulously read off every detail from the files, documenting all the information you can find plausible. As you speak into the recorder, your voice wavers, filled with a mix of emotions.

You detail every aspect of the case, every fact and figure, every piece of information you can glean from the files. You read off the allegations on the chain of events leading up to, the details of the crime scene, and the evidence left behind. You read off the reports, the falsified autopsies, and the names of the witnesses and investigators involved. You even read off the handwritten notes, the comments from the police, and every last detail you can find. The tape recorder whirrs continuously as you speak, capturing every words for future reference.

Suddenly, you hear commotion outside the room, the sound of voices and footsteps approaching. You cut off the tape recorder just as your heart sinks, realizing that time is running out, and you quickly scramble to put everything back into the box. You feel a pang of worry for Ethan on watch, hoping that he had’t been caught. With a sense of urgency, you grab the tape recorder and shove it into your jacket before quickly returning the box to its place on the shelf.

You make your way back to the door and press your ear against it, straining to hear any sounds of movement or voices out in the hallway. But all you hear is silence, a tense stillness that hangs in the air. You feel a rush of anxiety and tension as you stand there, blood pumping. With a deep breath, you slowly crack open the door and poke your head out into the hallway, scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble.

As you peer around the door, you catch a glimpse of Ethan being led away down the corridor. You only manage to get a brief glimpse of the familiar face leading him away, before the two figures disappear around a corner. The sight fills you with a sense of dread.

Poor Ethan, you owe him everything and he doesn’t even know it.

You make a promise to yourself to make it up to him, probably for the rest of your life, as you start heading back the way you came.

But even as you do, you can’t ignore the weight that now rests in your shoulders.

A double homicide? In two separate locations on the same premises? Execution style?

It’s not until the fresh air hits you when your stomach loses itself, you scramble for the nearest solid object to grab on for our cause as you empty out everything you’d eaten today.

Murdered. No killer caught. No suspect. Well, one suspect, but found innocent on account of being documented out of state when it happened. If someone killed them, why? What for?

Shaking, and sinking to your knees, you begin to wonder how deep this goes. If you stop now, you might have a chance to come back from this.

And live with never knowing the truth? You need to know, especially if it meant what allegations could potentially be the truth.

Legs trembling slightly from exertion, you push yourself up to your feet and steel yourself.

You’re getting answers, one way or another.

____________________________________________

Ethan is on lockdown until further notice, according to Quinn.

Now, you love Quinn, you adore her. But… she is a chatter box and to be blunt, she’ll blabber if she knew the truth.

So you go to Anika, your first and last resort. She’d always be your first choice, if it weren’t for the confirmed ass chewing you get all the way from point A to point B.

But you needed help, and you can’t do it alone.

You use to be a loner, but that was a long time ago, no thanks to her. And you’re reminded why, as Mrs. Kayoko opens the door and smiles so wide you’re sure that a drop of sun had blessed her when she’d been born.

She’s the only motherly figure, not counting Anika herself, that you’ve ever had. Every time you look at her you think of the day you met her, when she was so kind to you, so gentle with you. How the moment you got a taste of that motherly unconditional love, you’d fallen apart.

Weak. Embarrassing. At least, you thought, until she pulled you into her arms without question. Your loyalty has been with them ever since, you’d do anything for the Kayoko family.

They had saved you, after all.

You couldn’t be broken, not with all the love that surrounds you.

Those comforting arms wrap you into a familiar embrace, a gesture that always makes your heart swell, instantly reciprocating.

She scolds you for looking tired, you blame it on school, Anika comes around the corner just as you’re weakly swatting away the older woman’s prying hands at your hair.

“Hey freak show”.

“Limp twizzler” you shoot back, making her turn beet red just like every time.

“Don’t be pissy because you’re shorter than me, let it go”.

You two start going at it, as always, Mrs. Kayoko scolds you as usual and Mr. Kayoko can be heard cackling somewhere from in the kitchen.

The older woman shoos you two away, letting you know dinner will be ready soon, and the moment you’re in Anika’s room you close the door and give her a look.

Her insult, whatever it was - you weren’t listening, cuts short as she catches that look in your eyes.

“Oh my god, are you the reason Ethan is unplugged and off the board right now?”

She really can see right through your bullshit.

“Okay hear me out, it’s not like I stole anything-“

“Stole anything?! What did you do?!”

You hold up the tape recorder, expression serious “my parents didn’t kill themselves”.

Anika’s expression drops, irritation and confusion shifting to utter disbelief.

“I mean, yeah we assumed that but wasn’t it actually-“

“I don’t know” you cut her off, voice quiet, “but I found out my father use to work at a morgue local to here”.

She looks even more horrified, if possible, as she whispers “excuse me?”

“I’m gonna break in, and I need your help-“

A scoff, “yeah I think the fuck not-“

“Quinn will jump on it without question, so either you come with me or she will” you hate giving her an ultimatum, but you need Anika in on this, you can’t keep bouncing around her forever with this.

You’re growing more desperate and it’s showing, you should be more worried about the consequences of your actions, and what all you’re asking your friends of.

But this, it’s important, you can’t stop now when you just started digging.

She holds up for a long moment, but then just slumps slightly as she scowls at you “I’m going to kill you after this”.

“Plausible, and totally acceptable”.

“…well? Don’t hold out, what did you find?”

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