#left a bunch of things out because i meant to make this about this piece of dialogue alone ahh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

formosusiniquis · 2 days ago

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something to talk about

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington wc: 2223 | T | Tags/Themes: Gossip, Stobin Banter and Best Friendism, a Hint of Pre-Bubblescoops a late addition for @stobinmonth day 1: gossip. AO3

Robin had been introduced to gossip through band. Which made her infuriatingly difficult to impress.

Steve was good at gossip. No, the best at it.

When he dropped Tommy, and by extension lost Carol, he went from Steve: the guy who could put together a killer party in his big empty house to what he actually was Steve: nice guy, but a little… The trailing off was usually paired with some kind of hand gesture. One that could mean a bunch of different things, and didn’t get any nicer when he started flinching when the fluorescents flickered during tornado season.

But he had gossip as social capital.

He made it through that last year bouncing lunch table to lunch table whispering with the cheerleaders or the swim team about break-ups, make-ups, and who’d gotten busted with their latest purchase from Munson on their way back from the picnic table.

But band gossip was something else.

There was a social hierarchy beyond cheerleaders who bounced from football player to basketball when the seasons changed. It was more like the politics from the bodice rippers that he snuck off his Mom’s shelf.

It wasn’t just that Becky G. got caught getting fingered on the bus coming back from the away game. It’s that she’s a french horn and the guy was a percussionist. A word Robin hissed through her teeth like he should know what it meant.

Terri Miller wasn’t just pregnant. She’d gotten pregnant during the band camp social week at the Boy Scout campground. So the dad could be any one of four different guys, and if she didn’t guess right they would definitely know when those nine months were up.

The band was apparently some kind of den of sin and Robin still hadn’t managed to get any. Which was probably as unbelievable as the fact that any of this was happening in the first place.

Telling her that Mrs. Johnson was having an affair with Pat James, a second string baseball player who was young enough to be her son and not even that good looking -- a buzz cut with ears that stuck out from his head like dumbo -- had been met with the most unimpressed look he’d seen since they left Scoops.

“An affair, Steve, really?” She’d said. “Who cares about an affair? Something happened with the trombones and the flutes, the flutes, during Social Week and I still can’t piece together what happened since I missed the biggest week of the year because of all that Upside Down stuff.”

“You’re upset about missing out on some band drama? Not losing your sense of safety, trust in the American government, or your ability to sleep through the night?”

“I only had one of those things before all this. Now I can’t sleep and no one will tell me what’s going on with this cross-instrument family drama.”

Now that they’re in Indy it’s a little different.

It turns out in college even band kids have to study. And, much like underage drinking, some of the fun of a week-long orgy came from the threat of parent disapproval and disappointment.

Now Steve picks up his fair of strange half-conversations and relationship drama at the coffee shop he works at in the morning. Robin catches whisperings of affairs between students and professors. At night, when they barback at the lesbian bar Steve wandered into on accident right after they moved or when they’re curled up on the sofa Robin found at the thrift store two days after they signed on the apartment, they’ll share the best of what they’ve heard.

“No, Profesor Williams is the one with the weird eyes who teaches Philosophy. You’re thinking of the Music Theory professor and he’s definitely got a secret family somewhere but it’s with an age appropriate woman not a co-ed.”

“Green tea with extra lemon was leaning all over Black Coffee this morning when just last week he came in with that babe with the dark hair and glasses. One of them is his wife and the other is his girlfriend, but I haven’t figured out which one is which.”

“The pianist that’s always taking up the practice room is failing Chemistry 101 and when she tried to seduce the TA he reported her to the dean for academic misconduct. She’s a bitch but she’s also the only pianist in the program that can keep time, so I’ve got mixed feelings.”

“Americano and a muffin was telling his douchy coworker who never tips about how he got his secretary pregnant. She wants him to leave his wife, but he’s trying to decide if it’s worth it to keep her on or to hire and train a new girl. It made me remember I forgot to call my Dad’s secretary for his birthday.”

It gets them through the night but gossiping about strangers doesn’t have the same thrill as gossiping about shared classmates and the sort-of friends they'd known since Kindergarten. Doesn’t have the thrill of learning something new and excitingly interesting or terrible about someone they got to then see everyday.

It’s femoral or whatever Robin was saying about why she gets sad when she finishes her book. It doesn’t last and unlike the neat conclusion of the bodice rippers that moved with him from Hawkins -- he has a soft spot for the duchesses who get seduced by rogues and scoundrels, sue him -- the bits and pieces they get are unconnected from any other point in these people’s lives. He probably won’t get to see if Americano’s secretary gets an abortion or if she keeps the baby. Robin might get to see if the professor who has a taste for blondes who've just turned 18 gets busted, but it all depends on her schedule for the next semester.

Which makes what he has for her today perfect. More than perfect, it’s going to be something that’ll actually leave Robin impressed. She might even gape instead of just half-smiling with a single eyebrow raised, her mouth saying “oh wow” while her face says, ‘I’ve heard better.’ There is no better this time. This one might change everything.

“Guess who I saw today?”

“You’re coming from work to work so can be here til close tonight before you open at the job you just left tomorrow morning. There are doctors who work shorter hours than you are this week. Why are you so excited?” Robin uses the well bottle of tequila to point accusingly at him. Not answering the question he asked or even engaging with his exciting news.

“It’s coffee, Robin. Four shots of espresso will fix anything. Now guess.”

“That guy who basically orders chocolate milk with a splash of coffee and found out his wife was sleeping with his twin brother?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since he saw them out the window that day.”

“Latte with cinnamon? Did he actually ask you out instead of just dropping his wallet condom on the counter when he was trying to pay?”

“No.” He says, that one is pretty tragic. That guy had been hot. The butch across from him clears her throat and he goes back to shaking her martini. “Try again.”

“I don’t like this game.” Robin winks at the blonde at the bar, handing her a shot like what she was saying to him was some kind of line for her.

He debates whether or not it’s worth it actually making her guess again. Steve’s himness has been fluid enough that he does get the occasional number while working here; he isn't sure he wants Robin to continue announcing his dating failures for anyone to overhear.

“Carol Perkins.”

That slows her hand mid-pour; the vampy looking femme in front of her is getting her money’s worth on her vodka soda.

“Are you thinking of trading down,” Robin asks finally, tucking the tip she gets into the jar and the phone number into her pocket.

“Jealous, you know you’re my only girl.”

“Tell that to Brenda and Debbie and Melanie and Stacy…”

“Only one that matters.”

“Why do I care that you saw Carol Perkins for the first time in years?” Robin says, the only hint that this is actually a question she wants answered is the tick at the edge of her brow and the hand on her hip.

And because Steve is an ass, he’ll say it, he takes his time answering. Mixes a margarita, pours a Long Island, tells someone too young to be here that she’d be better with a coke than a cosmo. When the smoke is pouring out of Robin’s ears, when she’s trying to make it seem like she’s ignoring him now he tells her what he’s been dying to all day.

“She had a carabiner on her purse.”

“A carabiner?”

“On her purse.”

“Kinda defeats the purpose,” Robin says with her nose trying its hardest to stay out of the air.

“Depends on the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“Is Carol cute?” The leather dyke Steve had been pulling a beer for asks.

“Yeah,” he says, easy.

Not that it can be heard over the way Robin snaps, “She’s not your type.” Something snarling and possessive that Steve hasn’t seen since his last date tried to intrude on their SteveAndRobin time crossing her face and curling her lip.

“She’s vapid,” she says in response to Steve’s smile which says just as much as his words would have been able to, at least to her.

“Sure.”

“And mean. And she always had that gum in her mouth.”

“Those were all true things about her when she was sixteen. The same year you had that perm.”

“Don’t even act like you remember that, Steven Marie Harrington. You had to look it up in the yearbook when you found out.”

“You want me to give her our number.”

“I want you to come back to me with actual gossip instead of whatever this is.”

“So you don’t want to hear about how she told Black tea with sugar that she transferred to IU after a bad breakup with her partner.”

“Nope.”

“Don’t want to hear how she asked me if I knew anyone up here when she was at the register?”

“Why would I care?”

He shrugs, lets it seem like he’s distracted grabbing a fresh bottle of vodka from their stash. “I mean she had some questions about you and what you were doing. Seemed pretty interested, thought you might be too.”

“You’re my least favorite person in the world,” she lies.

“Consider this payback from when you told me the guy at the library was flagging. I walked to campus just to watch him make out with his girlfriend.”

“I said I was sorry, Mark from my History class said-”

“Mark from your History class was the same guy who tried to play devil’s advocate for person breeding-”

“Eugenics,” she corrects with a wince.

“Mark from History class does not get to be a source for information anymore.”

“Were you wearing your glasses? Cause if you weren’t you don’t get to be a source of information either. Who wears a carabiner on their purse? It could have been a really big safety pin.”

“I can’t believe you’re doubting me.”

“It’s not doubt.”

“It is. I told her where we work.”

“What?” The bottle she’s holding slips from her hand, bouncing on the rubber mat beneath their feet. It doesn’t break but the beer foams and froths as it spills onto the already sticky floor. Robin snatches another bottle, opening it with her ring and handing it off quickly to the woman across from her.

“I told her where we work.” He puts a heavy and weighted pause between each slowly drawn out word.

“I heard you.”

“Then why-”

“You why!”

“Me why! Because there was a carabiner on her purse Robin! Carol likes-”

She slaps her hand across his mouth for just a second, just long enough for it to feel less like a hint than hit. “Don’t finish that sentence here or ever.”

“She could like you, I’m telling you she seemed interested when she learned you were in town with me. That I knew you.”

“So you gave her directions to a dyke bar out of the goodness of your heart.”

“There was nothing good in my heart, it was out of my desire to get you laid.”

“I can get laid all by myself.” Robin snaps, louder than she should. Even with the din of the bar it sounds loud.

“I bet you can,” the voice that answers is as familiar to Steve as Robin’s. The smug and teasing way it curls around what it’s saying. Carol, smirking, with an elbow against the bar and the light catching her hair like a flame.

“I’m just going to go down here,” Steve says, ignoring the way Robin glares like she wants him to be the one aflame. “The opposite side of the bar could use some attention, so you’ve got this, Rob. Care, good to see you again.”

“Steve,” Carol greets and dismisses. “I’ll be sure to give you all something new to gossip about tomorrow.”

“You’ll have your work cut out for you. She’s got a high tolerance for that sort of thing, it may take you all night.”

“I’ll give you something to talk about.”

#stobin month #stobin month 2025 #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steve and robin #stobin #pre-bubblescoops #bubblescoops #gossip #as a reformed band kid band kid gossip is strange

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n4rval · 7 months ago

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FUN VALUE 62: The Eccentric Genius

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Isn't it odd how firsts are seconds? As in, should we consider the order of exposure by FUN value or follower number? Though I suppose goners are not meant to be linear at all. This is why all of the Followers reiterate that central piece of the story, yet, each of them offer an unique perspective that helps us piece together not only Dr. W.D. Gaster's current condition, but who he is as a character.

No, there is no typical way to look at a character who defies the very notion of a written script. To be atypical among the already strange, to fit right in yet feel so obviously alien, the sole lump of hard coal among shiny gems.

It makes sense why ASGORE took so long to hire a new Royal Scientist.

After all, the old one... Dr. Gaster. What an act to follow!

They say he created the CORE.

Coal that burns the most effectively and brings light to all around him, in more ways than one. Impossible only until someone steps forward and makes it possible, to pursue the most absurd of ideas and be stared at with either unease or awe, to make it an act to follow.

From the occasional inconvenient property damage, the unecessarily bulky gadget that looks like it came straight out of a cartoon ...

... to the grand opening speech nobody got a single word of but applauded for the flashy lights anyway.

However, his life... Was cut short.

One day, he fell into his creation, and...

Will Alphys end up the same way?

This bit can be particularly misleading at first glance, alluding to the idea of an accident or, possibly, a suicide of sorts. We already know how this bit played out, however, the mention of either instance is purposeful in a way the ideas complement each other.

To be special is to be strange, and loneliness is often the price of brilliance. It can be difficult to escape feelings of alienation when people seem to get along so naturally without having to make a conscious effort to understand and be understood. This parallel with Alphys isn't only due to their shared position, but the taxing demand for excellence that comes with it in exchange for belonging.

It wouldn't be a absurd to speculate that, possibly, Alphys would one day have a manic episode that would both be her greatest stunt and her last breath in this earth. Ah, but this is where they deviate, isn't it?

Beloved Dr. Wacky Dingus, too in love with life to leave it, yet never satisfied not to risk it - who continues to offer mystery and wonder, once through light, now through dark.

#FUN VALUE X #headcanons #wd gaster #gaster #undertale #deltarune #not sure i have articulated this like i wanted but hey #cinematic thinkers when they have to do descriptive writing:#left a bunch of things out because i meant to make this about this piece of dialogue alone ahh #only part 1 of a lengthy dissection of clues that lead up to ideas #anyway haha enjoy my thought process on characterization for this man #because this is about characterization i do not mean to get too deep into shattering what-is-going-on theories #i did it i named this collection it will be called fun value x #x values #like x files #i am so good at titles (not)#i love you mad scientist grandpa dnw you belong in my Heart #sigh can i jump to value 91 already i want to talk about goner kid so bad #this is my yeah he has a personality actually sorry #an entire charater archetype even (filing my nails cuntily)#pet peeve: “hah as if gaster has a personality that we know of” (vaporizing you with my comically large cartoon laser)#/lighthearted #but also /srs #its ok im here to spread the vision anyway

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stubbornlysoft · 3 days ago

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All the hesitation dissolved with each new press of her mouth. Her palms against his cheeks; the warmth that spread from her face to her throat to her chest was too hard to fight against.

Then—his words: I would die a thousand deaths… And his mouth tasted exactly how she remembered it from that strange, unremembered dream. And the smell, the familiar scent of leather and something wild and hot—and—and— The heat blossomed low in her belly, the desire spiking hard and fast, igniting her veins and numbing her fingertips as she slipped her fingers to grasp at his hair, just needing—needing to get closer to him, because she needed him. Wanted him. The thought took a hold of her, gripping at her chest—that this—the sheer presence of him, the sensations on her tongue and the taste she couldn't quite name on his mouth. Fuck this. Fuck you. Why are you making this so easy? She wanted to say this, and so many other things. All her demands were burning like a wild fire in her veins. The only solution was to press her weight harder against him. Her mouth against his. She felt the fabric of his shirt bunch and her hand slipped just under it, feeling the flatness of his abdomen. She was utterly lost in this moment of just feeling and touching. Through the burning lust she could feel the yearning, and the fear trying to climb its way out, the tendrils of memory she had clung onto—the fleeting glimpse of a sunset and an embrace that held such a familiar ache. With a jolt, she sat up, pushing her hair back as she looked down at him, panting slightly as she regained her breathing. The warmth of her fingertips rested on his face, lightly grasping him, her eyes pleading as a tremble escaped her. "I didn't mean it." she began, her voice raspy. "About hating you—I-I—" her breaths were stuttering and her heart pounded as she tried to form words. It took her by surprise—desire didn't allow for such softness. There were still barriers she had yet to take down.

A piece of her couldn't give in until she spoke her mind. The feeling in the pit of her stomach grew. She drew her lower lip into her mouth, a slight dip of her head toward him. The urge to meet his lips again almost caused her to lean forward, but she hesitated, knowing she had to explain— I have known you for eternity. Think, what to say. I've missed you so, so terribly. Tear my heart out, stitch yourself in. You haunt me, torment me in a way no one else can—and I've only known the cruel world, until you. You managed to carve yourself in—to stay when I could have burned a hundred lifetimes. What was left of me...You kept it. A touch that belongs to you, alone—a home, where no one and nothing will ever find us, or come between us. Say it—speak. The truth—the memory is in your hands. The words are in my tongue. Give in. Say it. Because you have kept every piece of it; —your heart and my heart and the curse between us. "Hey." Her words came out firm, quiet, looking down at him. This was it. "Do you—" She tried to pull the truth, something hidden, even from the vast nothingness to the forefront of her mind. "Have you ever read Anna Karenina?" Don't fuck it up. A dry chuckle escaped her as she felt like the woman in question: on the verge of taking a dangerous step that could possibly throw her off the edge of a metaphorical train track. Say it. "What I meant was—" Her fingers were trembling harder now. The heat that radiated from her face and neck spread throughout her body, an invisible hand that clutched around her throat made her swallow, once, then again, to get a proper amount of air. It's okay, you need to say it "Because—well—" Oh, for the love of— "Tolstoy—" She half laughed and shook her head, her fingers reached for her scarf, pulling it off and tossing it behind her. I give myself to you: Take it. "In the book, there's—" Ugh, fuck this. "Oh, just fuck—" Her throat clenched and, before she could draw her next breath, her mouth crashed against his. The last of her self-restraint unraveling. Can I trust you to catch me when I fall? Are you real? Is this real? Then she pushed—all those unasked questions; the fact that she knew this man on a level beyond her knowledge—against him, physically and with a kiss that was heated and searing and all teeth and tongue. Her hips grinding a little to ease the ache in her, her breathing caught and stuttered. "Sylus, I want you," The words, pressed, rushed, were nearly a whimper between kisses. Said with a weight, with all that remained unspoken from the corners of her mind. "Don't—just—I want you—"

Continued from this. closed rp w/ @sylus-hds-7213

Some time later, Lana straightened her sweater after switching on the dishwasher, reaching for her glass of wine—the driest, cheapest chardonnay that had ever disgraced a bottle. A gift from a co-worker ages ago, in one of those half-hearted holiday exchanges. A part of her wondered if that was all she was worth—a discount dinner bottle shoved in a gift bag at the last minute. She took a sip.

"This wine tastes like shit."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, but honestly, there was no point in pretending otherwise. Still, she grabbed the bottle again, pouring herself half a glass like sheer stubbornness alone could improve the taste. Apparently, she was a masochist.

She felt Sylus watching her from the kitchen island. His presence alone was unspoken commentary. She didn’t have to look at him to know he was probably smirking, probably about to open his mouth and make it worse.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, taking another reluctant sip. "Don’t say it," she warned, lifting a finger in his general direction without even glancing at him. "I cooked for you, so whatever smartass remark you’re about to make? Swallow it like you swallowed the pasta."

Lana groaned and turned, setting the glass down a little too hard on the island. "Look, I already committed. I opened this garbage. It was a white elephant gift, and I refuse to let it win."

She reached for the small succulent sitting in the center of the island, pulling it toward her. She pressed a finger lightly against the soil—her movements focused. Because if she focused on this, she wouldn’t be forced to focus on him and try to come up with more things to talk about.

Her fingers idly traced the rim of her glass before she finally looked up, holding it aloft. "I’ve been sparing you for the last hour, by the way." A slow smirk tugged at her lips as she tilted her glass toward him. "From this. You’re welcome."

#❀tw:suggestive (i guess)#❀inkheart #❀sylus hds 7213 #❀//BRUH #❀//PULLING MY HAIR OUT RN #❀//is it about to get SPICY in here

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notanactressyayy · 1 month ago

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·˚ ₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . it was a new era of her life. she no longer had missions or a team to rely on — only endless free time, and a bunch of thoughts that weren't really helpful. Natasha for once, had time to pick up her phone — something trivial. through the dating app Tony had dared her to install months ago, she meets somebody. finally, her heart was at peace.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — a TW for the photo editing thing. this may be a sensitive topic for some. lonely Nat, insecure Nat — she edits a picture of her body, swearing, oral (N receiving). lots of fluffy stuff, too. set after Civil War.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. this ended up SO MUCH longer than i initially planned. i put a lot of dedication into this so, yeah 🥹

thanks to my lovely @sunswish who helped me with the plot and the proofreading! ♡

The trailer was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the wind through the trees outside. Natasha sat at the small wooden table by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, a steaming mug of tea resting untouched beside her. The Norwegian countryside was beautiful, vast and unassuming, but the stillness pressed down on her.

Her phone laid on the table, the screen dark. She stared at it for a moment, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She’d never been good at this — being still, alone with her thoughts. For years, her life had been one constant motion: missions, battles, briefings, always moving forward because stopping meant thinking, having time to ponder about her life.

Her jaw tightened, and she looked out the window instead. What was she even doing?

She’d fought tooth and nail to become an Avenger, to carve out some sliver of redemption for herself, some sense of belonging in a world she’d spent so long working against. She’d believed in their cause, in their family, even when it meant trusting people with pieces of herself she hadn’t known she was capable of sharing.

And now? The Avengers were gone. Torn apart, like everything else she’d tried to build. She was a fugitive, hunted by the very government she’d once fought to protect. Her friends — her family — were scattered, some in hiding, some in prison. She was left with nothing but her name and a handful of private contractors who worked in the shadows. People she barely trusted, people who barely trusted her. Yet she still needed them for supplies, false documents, and a roof above her head. Funny, she thought.

She reached for her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth of the ceramic, though she didn’t take a sip. She had no mission now, no team to fall back on. No one to call when the silence became too much. She wasn’t sure if she missed the fights or the people more.

A faint vibration against the table snapped her from her thoughts. Her phone. She glanced down, the screen lighting up with a notification — some random email, one of these ‘no reply’ ones, nothing important. She hesitated, then picked it up anyway, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Scrolling through her phone felt… strange. Almost trivial. She opened Instagram, an app she barely used but kept around for the rare moments she wanted to feel tethered to something normal. The feed was full of snapshots of a life she didn’t recognize—vacations, dinners, smiling faces, people celebrating milestones she wouldn't ever have.

And right then, the name ‘Avengers’ didn’t make sense for her anymore. She was supposed to have this. This life where she would have a fun moment and think ‘oh, yes! i should absolutely shoot a pic and add to my stories’. After all, Natasha was just an unavenged girl, woman, human. A picture of a mother celebrating her daughter's birthday wasn't just one more picture showing on her feed. It was her dream.

She scrolled absently, her mind only half-engaged as her thumb flicked upward. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room and forget she’d ever picked it up. But another part—the quieter, lonelier part—held onto it like a lifeline.

She then receives another automatic notification. How has your love life been going? It took her a moment to remember what it was, and when she did, she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

The dating app.

She’d installed it months ago as a joke, because Tony had bet her she wouldn’t. She could still hear his voice in her head, teasing her. “Come on, Nat. You might actually meet someone who doesn’t want to kill you for once.” At the time, it was funny. She’d downloaded it, filled out the bare minimum of the profile, like: cat lover, captivating green eyes & martial arts enjoyer and promptly forgotten about it.

Her finger hovered over the icon now, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable twirl in her chest. The idea of opening it felt absurd. What would she even say to someone? What would they see in her, beyond the scars and the lies and the mess she’d made of her life? That was made of her life? Could she even try and have a relationship? When throughout her life, she didn’t ever have a conversation about feelings? Clint was the closest attempt to that — he knew her past, more than the others, at least. So she spoke to him about things like that before. But he had a wife, kids, a home.

Natasha damned her heart every single day — for wanting a connection with somebody — for wanting to be somebody's, and for not being content with what she already has.

What does she even have?

She sighs deeply as she gathers a little bit of courage (that usually wasn't necessary when one was to open a simple app in their phone) and presses her thumb against the icon. Her eyebrows show a little frown as she realizes the app wasn’t open — she had held the icon for too long, making the options add to home and uninstall pop up on her screen.

“Goddammit,” she mutters to herself. Maybe she had done it on purpose. She considers choosing the second option. But her thumb, once again, hovers over the uninstall word for too long.

She was just confused. In conflict, with something so small. Although, she was braver than that.

“Let's just get over with this.” She mutters to herself as she finally opens the app — SparkMatch, she reads the name, for the first time. She lets out a scoff. Though the feeling of unease didn't take long before coming back to her. The about me section was completely empty, in exception for-

“Captivating green eyes. Cat lover.” she reads the words she had typed, aloud, cursing herself. It was what she had written in order to simply make the Iron Man laugh and leave her alone. “Great job, Romanoff. Truly irresistible.”

Scrolling down her profile, which was named only @Natasha1203— having in mind that her surname wasn't one to be openly shared — she finds the photos she had chosen, months ago, without really thinking much. Her gallery didn't have much cheering stuff. They were as nondescript as possible: a picture of a skyline she had taken while on the run. Her in sunglasses, her most common accessory. And.. a single closeup of her face, that felt too honest for comfort. She doesn’t know why she left that one there, for the world to stare at. Maybe it was the one moment where she caught herself looking like.. well, herself. If somebody squinted their eyes, they could see a small scar on her shoulder. She hoped people wouldn’t do that.

Summing up: the profile was a mess. And that was a perfect reflection of the person behind it. She doesn't make a move to edit any information — before remembering an important detail. It would be nice to change her profile's name, in case anybody (especially Tony, that was aware of this) tried to look for her.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203 was the new username.

Perfect. She does a little ‘tsk’ with her tongue, a little habit she developed when finishing a task.

Flirting was easy. She had been trained for it — trained in the art of seduction, molded into a woman that could slip into any persona, say the right words, touch in the right way, just to get what she needed. But this wasn't one of the spy programs she had access to in SHIELD. This wasn't about manipulation or information extracting. This was trivial. Normal.

Natasha browses through the app for a while. She stops in profiles of strangers that smiled back at her through their pictures — men, women, who were teachers, doctors, engineers. People with families and hobbies. Who had the chance to live a life without looking over their shoulders every second. Yet something about this.. gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was faint, but it was there. Knowing all these little details about random folks, she could find small pieces of herself in each one: some did ballet when they were little. Some had a scar due a kitchen accident. Some did karate simply for liking the sport. Some liked peanut butter sandwiches. She quietly giggles, her previous nervousness replaced by a silly feeling.

Maybe it wasn't that bad. It is not like a random person was gonna crawl out of her phone screen and have a date right then, anyway. And there was another ‘problem’. This app was still american, while she was in a whole new timezone.

What a relief.

She shifts on the small couch of her trailer, now laying down on it, allowing herself to get entertained with SparkMatch. She even found some profiles that were probably deactivated by now, seeing that they were created, like, a decade ago. She purposefully clicked on the small heart on them, meaning Match. She softly laughs.

But the sound is interrupted by herself as she finds a specific user.

It was a minimalist profile — elegant, even. It didn't say much about the person's personality: it said enough. It wasn't extravagant or absurd like some she had found. And it certainly wasn't a mess, like hers.

Y/n. 34. Not good at small talk, but I'm a good listener. A photographer, currently traveling around. Just someone who thinks the world is too big of a place to stay idle for too long. Currently: Norway

It was truly something else, compared to the live, laugh, love bios or the gym rats flashing their abs.

Her curiosity picks up, and soon enough, she sees a picture of them in Oslo.

And it was posted just three days ago.

So they were active in this app. But this wasn't what her mind grasped. Traveling in Norway. International trips usually didn’t last just three days, right? So that meant they were still there. There with her.

Out of all countries in the world, they were there?

She reads the bio again. Currently: Norway.

A strange shiver runs down her spine the more she thinks about the situation she found herself into. She bites on her lip, her stomach twirling almost painfully, like a school girl texting her crush. She was the Black Widow, for God's sake. She didn't get to go on silly dates and receive flowers.

No. This was too much. Without closing the app, she locks the screen of her phone again and drops it to the couch, quickly standing up and running her fingers through her hair. There were many reasons why this wouldn't work, especially when she was a fugitive and could get recognized, even in a small cafe.

Heading to the tiny kitchen, she opens a drawer on the countertop and grabs a bottle opener, opening the fridge and taking a beer out. She removes the cap and downs the bottle with no second thought, the bitter liquid ripping down her throat. Deeply breathing, shakily. Amidst the vast emptiness, not only of the place she was currently settled, but of her heart too, she fought back tears. The glass of the bottle clicks against the marble countertop as she places it down, her hands tightly gripping onto the edge of the furniture, holding herself up. It was a hard decision to make, whether to take this opportunity and keep it safe in her heart, or to let it go and pretend it never happened in the first place.

But she wouldn't be able to rest tonight knowing she simply did nothing about that special person the app charitably put into her hands. So, on this night, the unshatterable Natasha Romanoff did something she never thought she would. Before heading to bed, she picked up her phone again. Gladly, she didn't have to look for the profile once more. She simply had to press onto the small heart next to their picture. And she did.

The screen flashed: It's a match!

Natasha blinked in surprise, almost dumbfounded by this message. But this was meant to happen, right? Now, she could only hope that she would receive something in return by the morning.

It felt.. good. She had something to expect, a little flicker of hope that followed her even in her dreams, that made her feel better than she could ever imagine.

And this was just the start.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When the next day came, all of Natasha’s thoughts regarding the whirlwind of recent events were replaced by a single thing: that person. That New Yorker who was currently in Norway to take photos for a personal album. She initially wondered if she could really lower her guard like this and not think too much about Secretary Ross — who was still after her — but it was not like she would leave this trailer anytime soon. Thus, she needed a distraction, something to keep her brain entertained until this whole mess was over.

Talking to them was a relief — a solace she had been needing and didn't even know until now.

Talking to you.

Right away you had seen the match notification of SparkMatch, even if it was already one in the morning when it arrived. You sent this woman- Fanny? a message, and waited, but no response came until the next day. You wondered if she had impulsively pressed the match button and ran away from her phone out of nervousness. You actually imagined it, seeing the one picture of herself she published on her feed. Her profile was.. vague, to say at least, but she was incredibly beautiful, and indeed had captivating green eyes, like she boldly described herself. It made you smirk to your phone’s screen. No, genuinely smile.

It was pretty much clear that she wasn't a dating app person. And neither were you! You just had a better sense of organization than her, that's for sure. What if you two could really be a match?

As the day went on, you two engaged into a conversation that was surprisingly enjoyable for both sides. Opening the inbox chat, that could be found:

@Y/n: Good night. Is your real name Fanny Longbottom?

— eight hours later —

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Good morning! The first thing you ask a woman is if her name is real?

@Y/n: It just doesn't suit a beautiful redhead with captivating green eyes.

Natasha groaned to herself at this, laughing. The humor in the text was evident, and she loved that.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Right. It was a joke. You can call me.. Nat.

It was a glimpse of her name. It could be Natasha, Natalia, Natalie.. or all of these.

@Y/n: Nat.. that is better. Yet still very vague. Like your whole profile.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Perhaps my whole account here is a joke.

@Y/n: And we still matched. And sincerely, I'm intrigued. Intrigued and curious.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a dangerous thing to tell someone you just met.

@Y/n: Personally, I wouldn’t call a cat lover dangerous.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Will you stop mocking me for my irresistible biography or what?

It was an easy playful banter. It felt light. Not like these conversations where you had to directly ask the other person to be nice to you.

@Y/n: You just don’t strike me as someone who spends much time on dating apps. What brings you here?

With that, she debated whether to mention Tony’s dare or not. She could talk about it, but not for now. If she’s sincere, about how much she needed not to be alone anymore, this could lead to something good, more profound.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: I’m just trying something new. What about you? Norway seems kinda away from the rest of the world.

@Y/n: It is. But sometimes you have to go far to find what you’re looking for.

Natasha leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t know who you were, or why your words seemed to settle something in her chest, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt.. excited.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Have you found it?

@Y/n: Not yet. But I have a feeling I might be in the right place.

She stared at the message, her mind turning over the possibilities. She was already glad that this hadn’t started with “hey, you’re cute” or “what’s up?”, and now? It felt like she was in a dream — to find someone that shared her ideals, or that at least, thankfully, sounded like a mature adult.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Maybe Norway isn’t so bad after all.

@Y/n: So you’re also here!

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That seems like an excited message to me.

Gladly, her phone’s camera wasn’t capturing anything. Because she swore her eyes were sparkling right now.

@Y/n: Of course I’m excited, Nat. Now I have something else to think about other than shooting pictures.

Natasha stared at the reply, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her phone. There was something disarming about your words — direct, yet not forceful. And the way you used her name so casually made her blush.

She hesitated, before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: What do you shoot? Other than clever replies, apparently.

@Y/n: Street photography. Portraits, mostly. But I’ve been known to dabble in the occasional cat picture. You know, for balance.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Balance is important. What would the world do with no cat pictures?

@Y/n: I shudder to imagine it. Speaking of balance.. would you let me buy you coffee sometime? Or would that be too much?

Her breath caught. You really didn’t waste time, did you? she thought. For a moment, her walls threatened to go up again — she could almost hear that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was not a good idea, that it wasn’t smart, safe.

But she silenced it. It was too soon, for sure — but she couldn’t knock it till she tried it.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That depends. Are you going back to New York in the next few days?

@Y/n: I don’t have a specific date to go back. So I guess it depends on how things go.

Yeah. Now she felt a little pressured. It was a dilemma, she could be the reason you stayed or left. Adrenaline coursed through her veins — that was determination.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: It’s not like I am going anywhere anytime soon, either. But.. I like to play hard to get sometimes. How about we wait and see how things go?

@Y/n: Hard to get, huh? Well, patience is a virtue. Let me know when you feel like stopping the chase.

And you two went on like that — talking about your favorite portraits, sending her some — receiving her compliments, which sounded way too genuine for your liking. It was casual, like talking to a friend. Natasha didn't take long to start feeling comfortable with texting you. If she weren't a spy without a private number, she would've asked for your WhatsApp. Or maybe she was just exaggerating. The thing was: she didn't have to wonder about how to answer you. Your way of having conversations was so nice that she didn't feel forced to text back.

And with these new discoveries, Natasha felt like she could be in this new country without feeling too out of place. She feared that in the end this would be just one momentary experience, one of the many personas she played.

But shockingly, for once, she didn’t feel like paying attention to her overthinking.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

Weeks had passed, and the nightly silence Natasha once dreaded was now filled with something else. Her phone screen, once cold and impersonal, had become an opening to something warmer. A new phase of her life. She never thought she would be so close to a mobile device before. Supersecret agents couldn’t have personal ones other than burner phones, it was risky — they could get hacked, tracked, recognized. She didn’t have a number, or an email with her name, bank accounts, or any sort of thing that could link her to the authorities. She only had TikTok, Instagram, some games like Candy Crush Saga and her newest best friend, SparkMatch.

Everyday, without fail, your conversations flowed effortlessly. You spoke about everything: Norway’s quiet beauty, silly anecdotes, and even the mundane things that somehow became meaningful when shared. She made herself get used to the habit of not thinking much. This wasn’t part of the plan — or rather, there was no plan. This constant connection grounded her in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Having someone willingly care about her, without having to ask, beg for it — she couldn’t understand.

This evening, after eating her exquisite caviar and drinking champagne, she settled onto her couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and her mind involuntarily anticipated your witty reply, or question about her day.

Instead, a picture greeted her.

It wasn’t posed or staged — just you. mid-laugh, with a goofy expression that instantly betrayed your attempt to be serious. Your hair was a bit disheveled, and the lighting was off, but the image carried a kind of authenticity Natasha couldn’t let pass. The caption reads:

@Y/n: I don’t usually do selfies, but I figured you deserved to see what you’ve been stuck talking to all this time.

It was caring. You thought about her often enough to send a picture of yourself, doing absolutely nothing important.

Natasha softly blinked at the picture, completely still as her brain worked to process what she was looking at. It wasn’t just a picture. There was trust behind it, a hidden message. She couldn’t tell where you were getting at with this action — actually, she could. She just tried to convince herself of the contrary, afraid of putting her hopes up and screwing up afterwards.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Hi. I wasn’t expecting that.

@Y/n: Hi! How are you right now?

She bites her lip, incredulously chuckling. She was almost certain that this question was supposed to come before the picture.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Better.

She was feeling better, but not just that — she was feeling.. something. Something like.. seen. Like she was remembered by someone, like she existed, for once.

And those feelings stirred something even deeper within her.

The connection was becoming deeper — it was just now that she realized that the flirting which occurred every now and then wasn’t meaningless. It had a deep impact on her, in her soul — as a friend, as a person, and mostly.. as a woman. She needed it. She needed someone to like her, to pay attention to her, to see her — intimately, closely. Even better when this someone wasn’t a superficial person, and actually one who she related to and felt like she could share this dormant part of herself.

So she decides to share a picture, too.

She sits upright on the couch, the blanket falling and pooling around her hips as she opens the camera. She switches from the back camera to the frontal one, and takes a selfie. She was wearing a simple grey tank top, so her shoulders, collarbone and neck were on display. She wasn’t smiling smiling, just briefly, just enough to make a friendly expression. It was soft, tender. Unlike the deadly Black Widow.

Thankfully, for you, she didn’t have to be that.

So she presses send, laying back again and staring at the screen in anticipation — her eyes closely watching as the send mark changed into seen, that then turned into open. It stayed like that for a long while — like you were examining the picture and weren’t ashamed of it.

It gave her goosebumps.

The typing bubble appeared again after what felt like an eternity.

@Y/n: You’re beautiful, Nat.

It was a compliment you had already used on her. But this situation? Oh, it felt so, so different. You were talking about the simplicity, the domesticity of her in this closeup, the softness.

Fueling the fire that started to burn within her on this specific day.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Just a selfie.. don't get carried away. I'm hardly camera ready.

@Y/n: It's more than a selfie for me. It made my day. If that's not camera ready, I wonder how it'll be like when you try.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Would you like to see?

Oops. She didn't think before sending this one.

@Y/n: Hell, yes.

Her mind was immersed, totally consumed by the attention you were giving her — no jokes, no hints, just shameless flirting. Standing from the couch, she walks to her small bedroom, which was already dark, gladly — she closes her door, and slumps on her bed. Seduction was her nature, she couldn't control it. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now. Reaching her hand out, she turned on her yellow dim lamp, a gentle, warm glow casting her skin, making a better environment for the incoming picture.

She reopened the camera and adjusted herself in a comfortable position — knees pulled up, her left hand resting above her stomach as she held her phone with her right one above herself — taking the photo. There was auburn red hair all over the pillows, some strands framing her face perfectly. There was skin showing — a bit of her thighs, her arms, waist.. the curves of her body leaving room for imagination.

And something that she forgot about for the longest time.

The bullet scar above her left hip.

She stared at the photo on her screen, finger hovering over the "Send" button instinctively. The lighting was perfect, the pose effortless yet captivating. Her expression was soft, relaxed — but her pupils were darkened, a hint of the sinful emotions coursing through her body. But her eyes fell to the scar.

It was unavoidable, cutting through the smooth expanse of her pale skin like a brutal reminder. The bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier, a relic of her past life, stood out glaringly in the image. Her jaw clenched as a familiar wave of self-consciousness surged through her, a feeling she thought she had buried already.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard as her thumb swiped to open the editing tools. It took her less than a minute to brush the scar away, leaving her skin unmarked, untouched. Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the result. The photo looked… perfect. Too perfect, perhaps, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

Unlike your other conversations, she felt.. heavy. Like the instinct of having to show her perfect body in order to be liked was speaking louder than her rational side.

The message was delivered almost immediately, but the seconds felt drawn out, agonizingly long. When the "seen" indicator appeared, her heart raced. She bit the inside of her cheek, anticipating your response.

The reply came swiftly:

@Y/n: Wow. I’m speechless.

She smirked (bittersweetly), her thumb hesitating for only a moment before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a first. Usually, you always have something to say.

The typing bubble reappeared, and she waited, her heart thudding in her chest.

@Y/n: You make it hard to think, Nat.

Natasha felt warmth flood her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Don’t let it go to your head.

@Y/n: I think it's too late for that.

For a moment, she wondered what you would have said if you’d seen the unedited version. Would you have found it ugly? Would you have pitied her? Or would you have admired her for wearing it like the badge of survival it was?

In her dreams, you would have worshiped it.

Before she could send anything else, you decided to take a shot on meeting her in person once again.

@Y/n: I'm sorry, I'll have to suggest. How about this: I'll find the best café within a 10-mile radius, and you can tell me if my photography is as good as my coffee recommendations.

Time passed, and the accusations against Natasha had toned down a bit. Maybe, just maybe, if she's careful enough, she can do this. The first date she'd have in what, a decade?

It was refreshing. And scary. But overall refreshing.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Deal. But I will be the judge in both.

The day and place was decided — it would be in Oslo, downtown — a café, where tons of people would be present. Natasha, growing up, became a master in blending in.

If fate decided to be on her side, this would be one of the best days of her life.

She tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the scar again, tracing its jagged edges as if trying to understand its place in this new chapter of her life.

“Not everyone gets to see this side of me,” she murmured to herself.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a promise.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

The café buzzed with the warmth of chatter, the soft clinking of ceramic mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was tucked into a quiet corner of downtown Oslo, a place where the world felt comfortably distant yet close enough for her to disappear if necessary. Hours before, Natasha had dressed herself up — a burgundy dress, black tights, her usual black boots — and her jacket, of course. Her hair was naturally wavy, falling down her shoulders and back — and the makeup was simple. She wasn't a woman for makeup. But this time, she wore red lipstick and the faintest glitter eyeshadow.

She felt like a doll. It was stupid, a thing she liked to imagine how it would feel like back then — in the Red Room, where the girls wore black uniforms — grey sometimes, but always robotic, always calculated. It was a comforting feeling, which made her want to go back in time and tell little Natalia: yes! we are older now, and we are all dolled up for the date of our dreams.

Natasha arrived early — of course she did. She always did. She chose a seat by the window, her back to the wall, a vantage point where she could see everyone coming and going. Her heart wasn’t racing, but there was a slight tension in her chest. She sipped her coffee slowly, the warm bitterness grounding her as she kept an eye on the door. Then, you walked in.

Her doubting thoughts flew away the moment the green eyes landed on you.

She recognized you instantly. Your smile was smaller in person but somewhat warmer, more genuine. You scanned the room briefly before your eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Natasha thought she saw your breath catch. She softly smirks, gaze involuntarily daring.

Come and get me. This? Is all for you.

She shaked that thought away as she watched you approach her table — your clothes, your style, your body language — she scanned it all. The Black Widow wasn't an easy woman to conquer, which made her dump most of the people that tried to hit on her in the past. You were a rare exception, someone who didn't even have to try to make her heart race. It happened in it’s own.

“You made it,” Natasha said, standing to greet you, to give you a quick hug — the subtle press of your body against hers making her skin tingle. Damn it. She adjusted her dress before sitting back down. You did the same, sitting in front of her.

“Of course I did. This date was all I could think about,” you reply, eyes drinking her in, like she was the prettiest woman to exist. She truly was. “No. Let me rephrase. Seeing you was all I could think about.”

Natasha lets out a soft laugh, shifting her gaze towards the floor. She was so pale that the fact that she was blushing was, unfortunately, evident.

“Feels good to finally hear your voice,” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at you. “In person. Not in audio messages or calls.”

After ordering pastries and more coffee for the both of you, the conversation flowed easily, from the usual mundane topics to little jokes that made Natasha chuckle softly. She found herself studying you more and more, the way you gestured when you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

Eventually, the question came.

“So, what’s it like?” you asked, your voice gentle but curious. “Being an Avenger?”

Natasha paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup. She had expected this, of course. She knew it would come up. She couldn't simply hide, not when her face had shown up on TV so many times. But if necessary, she would say that this wasn't what she wanted to be anymore. Not with you. She simply wanted to be herself around you, and not the superhero.

She wasn't Natasha who assaulted T'challa. Wasn’t the Sokovia Accords breaker. She hoped you knew by now.

“It’s… complicated,” she said after a moment, her tone measured. “Not as glamorous as it looks on TV, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You smiled. “I’m sure. But it’s still something, isn’t it? Saving the world, fighting alongside legends.”

A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. “It was something, yeah. But it wasn’t always about saving the world.” Her gaze softened as she thought back. “There was this time when Tony installed this AI in the kitchen — Friday’s cousin or something — to help us cook. It ended up burning everything it touched. Clint started calling it ‘Flamebot,’ and Steve…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Steve tried to fix it, of course. Said it was ‘worth saving.’”

You laughed, and Natasha found herself smiling more openly. She was rambling.

“And Thor,” she continued, “he once mistook a microwave for some kind of… magical contraption. He tried to ‘summon its power’ with Mjolnir.”

“Did it work?” you teased.

Natasha smirked. “No, but we had to get a new microwave.”

The nostalgia warmed her, but it also left her feeling melancholic. She missed them. Not the missions or the battles, but the team — the messy, dysfunctional family they had become. You seemed to notice the shift in her mood and didn’t push further. Instead, you leaned in slightly, your voice soft.

“I can tell you miss them,” you said.

Natasha nodded, her walls lowering just a fraction. “Yeah. I do.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing she needed some cheering up. This was supposed to be a happy day, not one to bring up sad memories. So you opened your bag, pulling out of it your camera — which made Natasha's eyes brighten up.

“You brought it!” she exclaims. “I almost forgot that you're a photographer,”

“I thought of the possibility of having to register this moment. And I was absolutely right. You look.. beautiful isn't enough to describe it,” you deeply sigh, as if surrendering to her, to this feeling of being completely in love. “Can I please take a picture of you?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “A picture of me?” she asked, her tone teasing. “You know that’s dangerous, right? What if you decide to sell it to the tabloids?”

You laughed softly, looking at her like a lovesick puppy, shaking your head. “I’m not interested in fame, Nat. Just in you.”

That made her pause, her smirk faltering for just a second. It wasn’t often she heard something so direct, so sincere. She tilted her head, studying you with those piercing green eyes, as if trying to gauge if you meant it.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “But only if it’s a good angle. No pressure.”

You grinned, lifting the camera and adjusting the settings with practiced ease. “No such thing as a bad angle with you.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the blush dusting her cheeks just got worse. She straightened up, her posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding that natural grace and power.

“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You brought your chair closer, lowering the camera for a moment. “No. Don’t pose,” you said quietly. “Just be yourself.”

That caught her off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shifted in her seat, unsure of what to do with herself for once.

“Be myself, huh?” she murmured.

You nodded, lifting the camera again. “Exactly. I don’t need the Black Widow. I want Nat.”

Her lips parted slightly at your words, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore every day seemed to slip. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted to the side, and a genuine, very shy smile spread across her face. “I-”

Before she could protest, the shutter clicked, capturing her in that rare, unguarded moment. “Perfect,” you murmured, lowering the camera and meeting her gaze.

Natasha shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only the good kind,” you replied with a grin, setting the camera down.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand again as she studied you. “So, do I get to see it? Or are you keeping me in suspense?”

You turned the camera around, showing her the photo on the screen. Her expression softened as she took it in — the warmth in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the way the light framed her face, her rosy cheeks. It wasn’t just a picture. It was a glimpse of who she really was, beyond the layers of secrecy and survival. It was simply her, away from espionage, having coffee with her date.

Her unforgettable trip to Norway.

“It’s… good,” she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.

“Good?” you ask. “It’s stunning. Just like my model.”

Oh, that…

The way you emphasized the word ‘my’.. the way you were making her feel.. actually precious. She was trapped.

“Alright,” she said, sitting back. “You’ve had your fun. Now tell me, do I at least get a copy?”

You laughed, nodding. “Of course. But only if you promise to go easy on me when I take more later.”

She smirks, her confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As the evening wore, the sky showed a beautiful indigo, stars twinkling just like the sparkles in both of your sets of eyes. Natasha allowed herself to relax. To bask in this kind of normalcy that she never had the chance to experience. She had seen a lot, lived a lot. She knew what people could do in response to fear. She saw war and hatred, she saw coldness and cruelty. But from now on, she could live in a lighter way — like her heart was finally at peace.

“Should we get going?” you asked as the people also started to leave, standing and offering her a hand.

Natasha hesitated for half a second before taking it. Your touch was warm, steady, grounding, and promising. As you stepped outside, the cool air of Oslo wrapped around you. The city lights flickered like stars. Natasha felt a strange sense of calm. When she felt your arm enveloping her shoulders, her breath hitched, but she didn’t let it show — leaning into you gently.

“Where to now?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Well, the hotel, if you’re up for it,” you replied, your tone playful but not pushing.

That playfulness was a disguise for more surprises that awaited her back into the hotel room you were hosted in.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When you unlocked the door to the hotel you're staying in, Natasha followed you inside, her steps hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The space was warm and inviting, even if it wasn't a fixed place — especially after knowing you for a good while now — tons of polaroids laying across the bed, portraits, some funko pops that you bought recently. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, tied together with a simple ribbon.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to you, her lips parting in surprise. She didn't even have time to look around the place. “What’s this?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

You stepped past her, picking up the bouquet and holding it out to her with a smile. “These are for you,” you said.

Natasha blinked, momentarily stunned. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the bouquet, her touch delicate, as though the flowers were something precious. She examined them quietly — deep purple irises mingled with soft yellow sunflowers and a few sprigs of white heather.

“So you’re a hopeless romantic.. you didn’t take them to the café. What made you so sure I would come back to your place?”

You shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “I wasn’t sure,” you admitted, meeting her gaze with an honesty that made her pause. “But I hoped you would. And, well, I wanted them to be a surprise. It felt more personal this way.”

Natasha glanced down at the flowers again, her fingers gently brushing over the petals. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“I thought you were worth the effort,” you said simply, the sincerity in your voice making her blink rapidly, as though she was trying to process it.

Natasha smiled as she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the overwhelming feeling creeping up on her. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She tilted her head, her green eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “It is,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” you interrupted softly, stepping closer. “You deserve something beautiful. Something that shows how incredible you are, even if you can’t always see it yourself.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The Avenger, the unshakable spy, was speechless.

Natasha turned to face you fully, the bouquet forgotten for a moment as she searched your face. It was almost desperate, how she tried to find reassurance, anything that told her that her past wasn't a problem. “You… you don’t even know the half of it,” she murmured.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I want to. Every part of it, Nat. I want to know you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could let her walls down one more time. Talking through an app was easier. In person felt way too serious. And then, with a deep, trembling breath, she set the bouquet back on the table and closed the distance between you.

She walked with determination, her chest lightly touching yours as her hands found their way to the back of your neck. Her fingernails softly scratched in between the hair strands. She didn't know what to say — she didn't want to say anything. In this very second, she simply wanted to feel. Feel what she never had the privilege to feel as the years passed, because yes, this felt like a privilege. She stood on her tiptoes to press herself closer, doe green eyes pleading.

They told you everything, and you didn't need to be passed the message twice. Your right hand cupped her cheek as the left one wrapped around her waist, bringing her even closer.

She was an angel. Not a deadly spy. A sweet angel to be taken care of. To have her needs satisfied and tears wiped away.

As Natasha felt you responding, she allowed her eyes to close.. basking in the darkness, wanting to be enveloped by this only one sensation. This soft, intense sensation of your lips against hers, moving in a way that wasn't rushed, but wasn't too deliberate either — your hands gripping her waist and bunching the fabric of her jacket, maneuvering her back against the counter. Holding onto your shoulders, she sat on the countertop, welcoming your body between her legs. The kiss lasted. She softly whimpered as she felt your tongue brushing against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, for more of her. And she allowed it. Her head tilted to the side, moving in sync with you — as your tongues danced, a dance she hadn’t discovered before.

Needing air, you pull away, foreheads resting against one another as you deeply inhale, messily. It was torture to stop kissing her, she was good. But air was necessary. Calming down, your arms circle her waist. A smile makes its way to your lips as you see the state she was in. Flushed. And…

“I think your lipstick is a little smudged,”

Natasha felt that — every nerve of her skin was burning, including the parts with the messy makeup. She lets out a huff of air and clears her throat, trying to find her voice so she could respond.

“That was…” she whispers, her hands cradling your jaw. “Wow,”

“You are ‘wow’,” you whisper, using your thumb to wipe away the red lipstick from the corners of her lips, fixing it. “You are perfect,”

“I'm not that- I'm not,” she nervously giggled, humming as you finished fixing her up. She shifted on the countertop, her legs pressing around your hips, as if afraid of you leaving.

“I wish I could give you my set of eyes,” your hands travel down to her thighs, feeling the slightly rough fabric of her tights, but that didn't make her skin any less smoother to the touch.

Her dress was basically all the way up her hips at this point, something she hadn't paid the necessary attention to, due being too busy making out with you — and in the pit of her stomach, a small flicker of panic started rising. This was reckless, so reckless. It is not like she didn’t think of the possibility of things escalating while coming back to the hotel with you, but in her head, she would have more control over the situation — and with that, manage to keep her secrets uncovered.

But she didn’t. Her body was reacting in its own and her mind was cloudy. She had zero control.

Before you could even touch the zipper of her dress, Natasha froze. Her breathing hitched — barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. Her hands, which had been so confident just moments ago, trembled as they pressed gently against your chest.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if it might shatter if spoken any louder. “Just.. give me a second,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze as she detangled from your grasp, getting off the counter and hurrying to the bathroom.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet room. Natasha leaned against the sink, gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her reflection stared back at her — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, red marks staining the corners of her lips.

Why did she have to choose a matte lipstick?

Her fingers brushed against her side, over the spot where the bullet scar lay. She had hidden it from you before, in that photo. It had seemed harmless at the time — a small deception to preserve the image of herself she wanted you to see. But now, in the raw intimacy of this moment, it felt like a betrayal.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldn’t lose this moment — not to her own fears, not to a scar that was just one more piece of her long and painful past. But how could she explain it? How could she show you this part of her without ruining everything?

Natasha pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. It’s just a scar, she told herself. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t change who I am.

Except that it does. And a small tear rolls down her cheek.

You’re not in the Red Room anymore, she reminded herself, gripping the sink harder. And this person… they’re different. They don’t expect you to be perfect. They just want you.

The doubt, the fears that you managed to keep away from her in the past month, came back to her — only a thousand times more painful.

Regardless, Natasha didn't have any more time to think, before she heard the doorknob turning, the damn door she didn't lock opening. She kept her head low, her body stiff as she continued to hold onto the sink. You could see her reflection in the mirror clearly. The fact that she was silently shedding tears.

“You're crying,” you state quietly, taking baby steps towards her.

“And you're bold,” she chuckles, the sound a mixture of tears and sarcasm. She sniffles, using her arm to wipe her nose. “Entering like that.”

“You're crying.” you shake your head, once again standing face to face with her. You reach out your hands and cup her tear stained cheeks. “What's wrong?”

“I…” she debated what to tell you. That she was afraid of physical intimacy since she was young? Or that she hid a crucial thing about her body all this time? “I don't know-”

“You’re hiding something from me and are afraid I’m gonna hate you?” you inquire, voice serious — not mocking, not pressuring.

What?

Her eyes go wide instantly, the tears stopping. You wipe them away from her cheeks, expression softening again as you prepared to explain yourself. “You’re part of a New Yorker superheroes team. There was absolutely nothing that spoke about your personality in SparkMatch, which is expected, Nat. I’m aware that there’s a lot that I don’t know about you. I know where I’m getting myself into.”

“For the longest time, all I wanted was company. Someone to talk to, to listen to me, and that I could listen to them. Someone to see me,” she quietly confesses, leaning her cheeks into your palms. “You did just that. You’re that person.. you filled a huge void in me. You saved me in more ways that you could ever know.”

“I’m so grateful for that.” you lean closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. She shyly wrapped her arms around your waist, her eyes searching yours once more.

“It’s not just that…” she adds, her breath hitching. She was now determined to continue from where you left off on the entrance counter. “I longed- I long for.. touches, and..”

“And closeness,” you complete, head dipping down and tucking itself into the crook of her neck. “Geez, you smell delicious,”

“It’s… Twilly D’Hermès,” breathless, Natasha speaks, a small hint of pride in her tone as she spoke about her moisturizing cream. “My body lotion,”

It wasn’t cheap, but she liked to spoil herself sometimes. It was also great to deal with the constant bruises and cuts on her skin. Your brows raise in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. Natasha could feel the warmth of your breath on her neck, a surge of happiness and ecstasy washing over her.

“That’s.. pretty luxurious, one can say.”

“Can’t a woman spoil herself sometimes?” she retorts — interrupted by a gasp that left her as your lips pressed against her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands holding onto your arms as she did her best to keep talking. “B-Besides, years of bruises and burns require good skincare.”

“I see,” you hum, nuzzling into her, into the spot behind her ear. She felt soft today. Now you knew the reason. After staying like that for a while, you pull back, looking into her eyes with a gaze that showed admiration, respect and concern towards her comfort. “Can I?”

She deeply inhales, feeling you reach for her dress again — only more mindfully now. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she places it next to her on the sink and nods.

She was prepared for the question.

“Okay, hold on.” you kneel down, beginning to untie her boots, catching her by surprise. You remove them and place them aside, before slowly pulling down her tights. “Damn. Why did you have to wear something so complicated?”

“I wanted to feel beautiful,” she quietly chuckles, allowing you to get rid of the excessive fabric on her body.

So, it's time for the dress. You got up to your feet and slid your palm up her spine, holding onto the zipper and then pulling it down. Natasha was expectant, self aware, but mainly, consumed by her desire — finally awake again.

“I'll make you feel beautiful,” you nod, pushing the dress straps off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.

“You already do.” She breathes.

She doesn't stop you from getting her off the dress. But when it stops below her hips, she tenses up. That's because she sees you freezing. To look at her. It's strange, to have someone look at her body with no apparent emotion. You didn't look at her as if she were a prize to win — an object, or a weapon. Helping her step off the dress, you toss it aside on the floor. Now nothing was disturbing you from taking her in. Her black underwear. Her toned muscles — which you assumed were from years of workout. And her scars. Cuts, a few small keloids, and the bullet scar.

“You didn’t have to hide this from me.” you breathe, dropping to your knees once more as you held her by the hips. She found herself leaning against the sink’s counter, breathing ragged, every nerve of her body buzzing in anticipation. “Makes you even more gorgeous.”

“I—”

“You're fucking gorgeous.” you hiss, kissing above the place that once had a bullet in.

Yup. Her dreams came true.

“Please,” she murmurs, not knowing how to vocalize what she wanted. But the heat pooling between her thighs told you everything.

Your lips make a path from her hip down to her pelvic bone, right hand grabbing her thigh and putting it on your shoulder — coaxing a gasp out of her. Your palm covers her scar, as though it were something precious about herself — making her feel safe, above everything. Natasha, for a moment, almost lost her balance — having to hold her weight with one foot — as your pointer finger hooked around the soaked fabric of her panties, pulling it to the side. You gave her one look. One look before diving in.

You are no longer alone.

She took the message. And her world exploded.

Your tongue working on her — licking past her folds, tasting her — as if committing to memory, and not just using her — her slender fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your head closer to her core, soft moans leaving her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

“Yes,” She gasps, her hips bucking, seeking more of the kitten licks you showered her clitoris with. “Don't stop.”

None of her sexual experiences had been good in the past — not in the slightest. So having something so good, so pleasuring — it was truly her first.

In the Norwegian hotel, Natasha was more Avenged than she ever was with the Avengers. In the end of the night, she ended up with you on the bed — your clothes making each other company on the floor, as she lost herself — in your body, your scent, your hands on her,

and your love for her.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

You were tucked under the covers when the bathroom's door opened — the hot steam of her recent shower now dispersing and mingling with the air. You sat up, leaning against the headboard as you watched her with a smile.

Natasha walked towards you, the white hotel's towel in her hands, drying her damp hair. She was wearing a t-shirt you lent her, which was probably three times her size. She was smiling. Happily.

Before climbing back onto the bed, she absentmindedly placed the wet towel on an armchair. She gently settled onto your lap, straddling your hips, her head instantly nesting on your shoulder.

“Hi, baby.” you embrace her.

“If I have to leave the country, for any reasons,” she says, her hands tracing random patterns on your back. “Will you come with me?”

“I'll go anywhere with you.” you reply, voice unwavering.

She released the air she didn't know she was holding, and allows herself to relax her sore body. She nuzzled closer as you played with her still damp hair.

Maybe dating apps weren't so bad, after all. If she ever saw her team or Tony again, she would thank him for making her install it.

“Oh, and by the way,”

Natasha whispers, finally. Probably, you were aware. But it was one more thing about her true self she wanted you to know.

“My name is Natalia.”

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profundcherrylady · 2 months ago

Text

SINGLE DAD!SAE ITOSHI

A/N: CHRISTMAS SPECIAL! Yeah I know it's past New Years and technically mid January, I just took a looong time writing this, hope y'all like it tho.

Warnings: None I think. Just a little swearing.

Contents: Rin being a bad babysitter lol. VERY unrealistic btw there is no way none of this could be like an actual situation that could happen in real life. Very, very bad parenting because WHY would Sae let any of this happen tf.

Description: On a displeasing turn of events, Sae has to spend Christmas eve at work, in Spain. But that's not going to stop his daughter from making her Christmas wishes come true.

"...What do you mean, she's gone?" Sae's voice was starting to sound anxious, even on the other side of the phone. Missing? His daughter was missing on Christmas eve? How could this happen? If he was there, he would for sure give Rin something more than just a piece of his mind for losing his daughter.

"Exactly what you're hearing. She's not here." he explained, still looking around under tables and inside cabinets in case she was secretly playing hide and seek again. "I checked her bedroom, the bathroom, your room, the kitchen... it's like she disappeared on thin air."

"That's impossible. Why did you leave her alone in the apartment in the first place?"

"Because she is refusing to move from her room. Well, she was. Now I have no clue of where the hell she is! You know this is your fault, right?"

"Excuse me? Tell me how I'm at fault for you losing my daughter."

"She wouldn't stop asking about you; she was heartbroken when you told her you'd spend Christmas at Spain without her, saying she wanted to be with you and asking when you'd come back. She was so depressed she didn't even want to eat. I even bought her a bunch of presents but she said it'll not be the same without you here, and you know damn well that brat's spoiled. She wouldn't reject any gifts if she wasn't depressed, depressed."

"First of all, do not call her a spoiled brat." he responded. "Second, fine. Leave it at that and just focus on finding her, where could she have gone to? Somewhere that reminds her of me maybe? She must've left something behind, keep looking!"

"I'm looking, chill." he entered the little girl's bedroom once again. Just as he saw before, it was empty and quiet, no sight of her favorite bunny plushie either which meant she must have gone somewhere. She always took that thing everywhere. He peeked under the bed but there was nothing, then finally stood back up.

A paper.

Rin's eyes widened at the sight of a paper on the bed, and he quickly rushed to read it.

"Rin?" he hushed his brother on the other of the phone. The handwriting was messy and childish so it was definitely hers, and as he read line through line his eyes widened even more.

"Fuck."

"What? What is it? Did you find something?"

"So... you're not gonna like what you're going to hear. She left a note... it says she was heading to you."

"Me?" he repeated, absolutely on disbelief. "I'm in Spain."

"Yeah, she seems to know that." the younger Itoshi continued to read the note, this time out loud. "...'Dear uncle Rin, I miss papa, I don't wanba wait anymore...'? Guess she meant 'wanna'. Uh... 'Chridthsma I dunno how to spell it but you know what I mean. Too lonely! I wanna see papa, so I'll go suprise him. I wanna spend tomoreow with him. Thanks uncle Rin! Plz don't throw out my presents that you bought me. Bye-bye'. And that's it."

"WHAT? She can't come all the way to Spain just to see me."

"You bet she can't; she's under eighteen. Relax, she can't travel alone just like that; she won't go far. I'll just go to the airport."

"Okay... that's true, but she wouldn't give up that easily; I'm pretty sure she knows she can't go on a plane alone, so..." then the realization hit him. "The train."

"What?"

"The TRAIN. She'll take the train from Japan to Europe, then from Barcelona to where I'm at on Madrid."

"Sae be fucking for real. Do you seriously think a six-year-old planned all of that?"

"Believe me, she's capable. She's seen those trains before, and she would for sure be too scared to go to the airport."

"And where do you think she'd get the money to travel?"

"Her allowance."

"You give a six-year-old an allowance?"

"STOP asking questions and go to the train station for her!"

"Okay, relax, I'm heading out."

But unfortunately for Rin, little Mao was already on the train station ready to head out to a whole another continent just to see her father. She had packed well (she broght her stuffed bunny) and ate breakfast before heading out (cookies from the kitchen counter); she was even well dressed for the occasion (she put on her jacket).

She was at the train station now, waving hello to the person selling the train tickets.

"Can I go to Spain, please?" she asked excitedly.

"Well, hello. You're taking a trip with your parents? Where are they?"

"My papa is at Spain." the man let out an 'oh' after hearing that.

"On Christmas eve, whithout his family? Must be something important. I'm sorry, though, I can't sell you a ticket to another country without any parental supervision."

"But... I already got all the way here."

"Sorry, kid, it's against the rules. I mean, if you had another parent or someone that can go with you I'd gladly let you go to Spain and see your dad."

"My uncle already said no... that's why I walked here all by myself... in the snow..."

"Well, if he said no it must be for a reason. What about your mom?"

"She isn't alive anymore. My dad and my uncle are pretty much all I have."

"Oh..." now he was starting to feel bad about this poor kids and her sad puppy eyes.

"I just wanted to see my papa on Christmas eve... he said he'd send me presents but I just wanted a hug from him. That was my only Christmas wish... but I guess it won't come true... hopefully he won't miss new year's too... or my birthday... I don't wanna keep seeing him through a screen anymore..."

"Okay, okay, okay, fine." he gave up; this teary-eyed child was going to kill him from sadness. He couldn't just send her home all sad like that. "Fine... I'll make some calls, I'll get you a train ticket to Barcelona. But you have to follow my instructions, okay? Going to another country is a big deal."

"Really? Thank you, mister! Now my Christmas wish is gonna come true!" the man took the phone aside from him and started making calls to arrange everything.

"Just let me see your passport and we'll see what we can do."

"You missed her? Really?" Sae was exasperated at this point. He was confident that they wouldn't let a kid travel to another continent, but apparently they were more incompetent than he thought.

"Listen, I got here as fast as I could. It's Christmas eve and there's snow all over; traffic was horrible." Rin explained, looking over his shoulder where the person in charge was showing him the security footage where they let Mao buy a ticket and get on the train. "I asked and it seems like her train just left. She bought a ticket to Barcelona and she's now on her way to you, but don't worry too much, they told me they got someone from the staff to keep an eye on her."

"That's not as bad as it could be, but what now? I have a match today, she knows that. I told her I wasn't missing Christmas at home just because. I'm busy preparing but if she's already on her way that I might have to cancel."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself just now, her train just left. It's like 19 hours from now, and it has two connections in Portugal and France. It'll take her a while to actually get to you."

"Still, the game is tomorrow at 2:00pm. I don't know if I can concentrate in training if my child is somewhere in Europe. Just thinking about it is getting me on my nerves... I know I can't do anything until she's here but I still feel the urge to go looking for her."

"Listen, it's going to be fine. Nothing will happen to her on the train and once she gets to Spain she only has to buy another ticket from Barcelona to Madrid and then you can do something about it, but do not call off the game because of this. People are counting on you to show up, you know? Seriously, just focus on getting ready and everything will get sorted out. Even if you don't go and look for her, I think she made it clear that she's going to find her way to you."

"I suppose there's some truth in what you say, but it still doesn't feel like something a responsible parent would do. I'm just worried."

"And you don't think I am? She's still my niece; if anything bad happens to her it'll all be my fault."

"It sure will be, you better take the damn responsibility if something happens to my daughter."

"Why do I bother telling you anything? Whatever, I'll call you later."

"France and Portugal were pretty, right?" the assistant from the train watched Mao as she nodded her head with a smile. "You took a big nap earlier; must feel a lot better, hm?"

"Yeah, but I'd really like to get to Spain now..."

"Don't worry, sweetie. Look, we're already here." she almost jumped off her seat when she heard that, holding her plush bunny tightly. The woman from the train helped her gather her stuff and get off, then sweetly waved her goodbye from the inside of the train. "Take care, okay? You're almost there!"

"Bye, miss! Thank you!" Mao waved as well as the train's gates closed off again, then turned around to head to the front desk and buy a ticket to Madrid.

Looking around, she almost bumped with a couple of people who spoke in a language she didn't quite understand and seemed pretty confused to see a foreigner child alone at the train station. She ignored it, as she was busy being amazed at the difference between this place and her hometown, but she kept going until she finally got the front desk where the person in charge looked down at her.

"¿Qué?"

"Hi! Um... I wanna go to Madrid." she pointed to the screen behind the man, so even though he didn't understand the kid he knew what she was trying to say, and he answered accordingly.

"Madrid? ¿Pero qué quiere hacer una niña en Madrid?" she stared, unable to understand a word, and the man finally sighed. "Mo es mi cría ni mi problema. Toma tu boleto a Madrid."

"Thank you!" she took the ticket handed to her and payed the number on the screen and walked towards her next train.

This was it, she was almost there. So close to seeing her father it actually felt unreal! Even when she didn't even spoke spanish she was there! Just a few hours and she would be able to get that hug from him.

Of course, as the hours passed, little Mao ended up spending Christmas eve on the train, but the wait was worth it. When the sun finally went up and Christmas morning came around, Mao Itoshi arrived to Madrid. The city outside the train station was bustling with energy, with big christmas decorations on the local stors and a crowd of people walking around with their children. And so... what now?

Wait.

...What now?

Where WAS Sae? She didn't know. She knew he was in Madrid and that he had a game later, yet that was all. She didn't know where her dad was staying or where could he be now, aside from the stadium where the football game was taking place later, but she didn't know where that was either. The city was huge and full of people; what was she supposed to do now?

"Um... sorry?" she tried asking around for directions, but of course, the locals didn't speak the same language as her. The brushed her off as soon as they realized they weren't getting whatever she was trying to say.

So she continued walking, trying to find anything that might get her in the right direction. At this point, she was tired again. She was only a child after all; she couldn't walk that much without getting exhausted fast, but she kept pushing through. She was on a mission, and the goal was so close; she couldn't possibly give up now. Even if she was tired and cold and hungry... she didn't have that much time before her father's game started, and then she would have to wait even more for that hug!

After a while she stumbled across a café. She didn't have money on her, but she figured she was tired and maybe they could let her just sit for a little bit and rest so that she could get to Sae faster. She held onto her plush bunny a little tighter as she reached for the doorknob and got inside, just to be greeted by a young (yet older from her perspective) woman.

"Bienvenida!" she looked down at the child, and after a couple of seconds she became surprised that she was alone. Peeking outside the door, there was no sight of any parents or older siblings or any responsible adult. She also took note of the fact that her features didn't seem spanish, although they were slightly familiar from somewhere... "¿Hablas español?"

"Um..." the answer to that question was no. She did not speak Spanish, but she didn't know that's what she was asking.

"Ay, probrecita... no te preocupes, ven." she signaled Mao to follow, which she did, and she was sat on a nearby table. "¿Tienes hambre? Ah, es cierto, que no hablas español. Te voy a traer algo de comer, ¿sí?"

After saying a couple more things she didn't understand, the lady finally walked away, so Mao let herself relax for a moment on the tranquility of the almost empty café. The only sounds around were the soothing wirring of the coffee machine on the back, the television set on some corner and the few people that were in there eating. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, resting her head against the table, when the lady came back with a little baked pastry on a plate. She gestured Mao to not worry and just eat it, but before she could actually say anything else she was startled by the sound of another customer cursing out at the TV.

"¿QUÉ?" he exclaimed again, and so she paid a little more attention to the news on there.

"Y ahora, bueno, la noticia que ha tenido a toda España como loca. A las 2:00pm de hoy estaba programado el partido de fútbol que iba a dar lugar en el estadio de Madrid y en el cual iba a participar el llamado prodigio japonés Sae Itoshi. Ha dado muchísimo de que hablar como jugador; se le quiere un montón en su país de origen, y hoy iba a participar en este partido pero de última hora acaba de anunciar que no puede jugar. Es una locura, escúchenme que tampoco me lo puedo creer. El partido ha sido puesto en espera porque Sae Itoshi se está negando a jugar debido a que su hija está desaparecida. Dio algunos minutos de su tiempo para hablar con la prensa hace poco menos de treinta minutos y declaró que aparentemente de vuelta en Japón dejó a su hija al cuidado de su hermano, es decir el tío de la niña, y que... que ha despertado y la niña no estaba! Y en víspera de navidad, además, es que es increíble. Y para hacerlo peor todavía, la niña dejó una nota en su casa diciendo que fue a visitar a su padre, por lo cual Sae Itoshi declaró que su hija está en algún lugar de Madrid y que no puede jugar hasta que no la encuentre. No me creo que esto sea una noticia real gente, pero aquí estamos. Eh... pues ya saben, estén atentos. Sae Itoshi dejó la descripción de su hija para que quien sea que la vea lo pueda reportar o la lleve directamente al estadio. Es una niña de seis años, tiene el cabello oscuro y los ojos iguales a los de su padre; también dice que lleva con ella un... ¿conejo de felpa?"

"Dios mío!" after hearing the news, the lady was certain. This kid in the café was Sae Itoshi's daughter; her description matched and then it made sense that her features seemed familiar. So she was missing and her father was holding the whole football match until he found her... she had to do something!

She waited patiently until Mao finished her little snack and then approached her again, pointing at the TV where they were showing the footage of Sae declaring the facts of her little runaway. The kid gasped, almost trying to reach out to him.

"Papa!" that she could understand. It was very similar to the spanish word "papá" which meant dad so there was no doubt.

"Te voy a llevar con tu papá, ¿bien? Vamos." she offered her hand, which Mao took as the lady shouted that she was going out for a little bit and got out with her.

"C'mon, Sae, be reasonable. You can't just back out of the game like this! Do you know how many people are counting on you?"

"Yeah, the thing is, I don't give a fuck my daughter is MISSING. I was patient enough; I'm not doing anything until she's safe and sound."

"But... Sae! This game is very important for all of us! You're going to make us lose!"

"So you're telling me... a stupid football match is more important than my daughter's life." now THAT made him rethink his words, although not for long, because there was no way he was going to stay quiet with how much was at stake. But the next thing he said was the last straw for Sae.

"N-No... I didn't mean... fuck, Sae, she's been missing two days! Maybe it's time you consider the other possibilities and move on-"

"What did you just say?" his harsh tone and the darkened expression on his face made the whole room go quiet. "I don't care if you lose the game over this, you hear me? But that's my little girl, and if anything happens to her because of this I could never forgive myself, and the fact that you are even suggesting that she could be dead and that I just 'move on' is making me sick. You want me to play today? You better keep that stupid mouth of yours fucking closed or I'll make sure you do. I don't say things twice so you better listen up. I'm getting out of here to find her, understood?"

"Y-Yeah... I'm sorr-"

"Papa!" Sae's expression instantly switched as soon as he heard the familiar voice call for him, and as he turned around, there she was. Safe and unharmed, accompanied by a few security guards from the stadium. His eyes relaxed inmediately when he saw her ran up to him, then he crouched down and opened up his arms as he saw the little girl going for a hug, and once she was on his arms again, he let out a sigh of relief and held her just a little bit tighter. "I missed you, papa!"

Sae stood back up with her still on his arms, and frowned slightly as he looked down at her again.

"You are in very big trouble, young lady. You traveled all across Europe from Japan, through Portugal and France, just to be here. Do you have any idea how dangerous and irresponsible that was? Do you know what could've happened to you? You could've gotten lost, or worse. I am very disappointed; I was worried sick. You don't even speak spanish and you still managed to get all the way to the stadium." he saw her little smile fade away with his words, and he sighed once more as his eyes softened once again. "You must've really wanted to see me today, huh?"

"I did! Papa, I wanted to be with you on Christmas."

"We talked about this, Mao, I sent you lots of gifts back to Japan and we could always videocall today after the game; you didn't need to do all of this."

"But I did need it!"

"How so?"

"Because none of the gifts were what I wanted..."

"What? That's not possible. I sent you everything you said you wanted; I bought you that dollhouse you said was pretty and the dress you said you wanted for Christmas, there were more plush toys and accessories you told me you liked and things from your favorite cartoons. I don't know how I could've missed anything."

"That's okay papa, it's because those are the gifts from you! I did want those but they weren't my Christmas wish."

"Really? None of them?"

"Nope! They were things I wanted but they weren't my Christmas wish. But don't worry, papa, there's no way you could've known. I wrote it on my letter to Santa!"

Oh.

Didn't he tell Rin to check that as well? Damn it, he missed his daughter's Christmas wish and he didn't realize. Of course it didn't come true if he didn't know what it was to buy it...

"Well, can I know what it is? Maybe there's still time to get you whatever it is."

"It's okay, I already have it! It was a hug from you." and then his heart melted down. How could he still be mad after that?

"You little rascal. Why did you tell Santa and not me?"

"I figured he'd talk to you and maybe you would change your mind and go home. But then I found out what was his plan really was! I woke up yesterday and there was a letter under the tree! And it had money and the train schedule so I could get here today! And then a lot of miracles happened, like the person who sold me the ticket and the nice lady from the train and the café and me getting this far without knowing any spanish!"

"You found a letter with money under the tree? I didn't do that..." he whispered, and he certainly knew Rin didn't do it either.

"Of course you didn't; it was Santa!" Sae rolled his eyes and gave her one last hug.

"It still doesn't mean you're free from punishment. You're grounded for a month."

"Why?!"

"You traveled to another continent without permission and you're asking why you're grounded? Hand over that plush bunny, miss."

"Noooo, not that! I'm not gonna do it again!"

"You bet you won't."

"Don't take it, please! He's my best friend."

"I know." he huffed. "Fine. Now, I'm gonna need you to wait for me; I have a game to win."

#blue lock #bllk #bllk drabbles #bllk fic #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #blue lock drabbles #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi fluff #sae itoshi #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi fluff #itoshi sae #bllk sae

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black-wolf066 · 1 month ago

Text

You Tease

This is a gift for @shes-an-odd-bird because we all seem to be in a feral mood this week and I’m hoping it’ll help tame our hormones.

((This is my first ever Character/reader piece… and it’s been a very long time since I’ve written any smut, now that I think about it… so keep that in mind as you read. 😅 Also note, this is an established relationship between Billy and Reader with both being mid-twenties)).

All smut/no plot (because I can’t brain enough to think of a plot right now) so, minors do not engage.

Warnings: Unprotected sex. Language

"Have I ever told you how hot you look in my clothes?" Billy practically purred in your ear; keeping you caged between himself and the bedroom wall.

The clothing in question was his old gym shorts. You had found them laying behind the dryer when you’d moved it to clean the vent earlier that day—must have fallen back there unbeknownst to either of you. You had cleaned them, but rather than storing them away for him to find as a surprise later, you wore them instead—knowing what wearing his clothes would do to him and being utterly ecstatic that he was proving your hopes correct for how this night was going to go.

“You’ve mentioned it, yes.” You quipped back, pressing your forehead hard against the drywall as shivers of anticipation shot down your spine.

You felt the fingers of his left-hand toying with the waistband, while his other glided purposefully up your side—taking the fabric of your tank with it until he had it bunched up under your chin. You had decidedly forgone wearing a bra that morning, which meant your breasts and stomach were exposed to the chilled surface and the AC in the room; though, it did very little to counteract the heated flush of your growing excitement.

“Was wondering where these disappeared too.” He muttered as he pulled against the band and released; the elastic snapping at your hip making you jump a little. “Thought maybe they’d been tossed.”

You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying; squirming at the feeling of his hot breath against the shell of your ear. The pleasant Goosebumps rising where the pads of his fingers continued to toy and trail feather-light against your newly exposed skin.

“I—” whatever you were going to say was lost, voice breaking off on a lengthy whine as his hips suddenly bucked roughly against you.

“What was that babe? I don’t think I caught that.” he teased playfully, knowing exactly the effect he was having on you and your sudden inability to articulate.

You would have huffed something snarky at him if you weren’t so distracted. The stimulation of his light touch, the scratchy feel of the dry wall rubbing at your sensitive nipples, the heat radiating into your back from his naked torso, and the rough grinding of his clothed stirring erection against your ass; had you dazed and breathless.

And hungry for more.

“Billy.” You managed to moan out; wiggling backward—as best you could with the little space he was giving you—to meet his grinding with a thrust of your own.

“Yeah? You like that?”

“Billy.”

“What do you want?” he breathily chuckled as he finally moved away from your ear to bite and suckle at the pulse point thrumming wildly beneath it. “Use your words, babe.”

Shit, this man was going to be the death of you.

“F—” you swallowed thickly, writhing under his ministrations and the over-stimulation; feeling close to cumming then and there as you forced out, “Fuck me.”

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

He moved away just enough to unzip and drop his jeans, but not enough for you to lose your balance. Not like it stopped you from reaching up to grasp the wall for support anyways, breath hitching as you felt his fingers breach the waistband and slide the shorts down until they fell at your ankles. You kicked them away quickly before a surprised squeak escaped as you felt yourself being lifted and turned, your back now pressed against the wall as you automatically wrapped your legs around his hips.

Your tank top was the last to go before his mouth found your lips seconds later in a messy tangle of tongue and teeth; grinding his thick girth against your wet folds while your hands found their way up into his curls.

“You’re already soaked, bet I could just slide right in.” he taunted, nudging the head of his fat cock teasingly at your opening but not dipping beyond that.

If he didn’t move right now; you were going to lose your goddamn mind.

“Fuck me.” You repeated forcibly against his lips.

You tightened your ankles at his back and bounced yourself a little; impatiently hoping it would get you what you wanted faster; only for stars to dance across your vision when the head slipped and nudged up against your clit.

“And you say I’m the brat?”

“Billy.”

His huff of aroused amusement was your only warning before he shifted and thrusted shallowly into you; stretching you deliciously—and maddeningly slowly the absolute jerk.

“This what you wanted?” he questioned huskily, continuing the shallow rolling that had your toes curling. “Did you wear my shorts hoping I’d fuck you tonight?”

“Y--es!” you yelped as he nipped lightly at your earlobe.

“Oh, baby, you know all you gotta do is ask.” He chuckled. “Though, can’t say I’m opposed to the method. Did get us here—” he punctuated his point by finally—blissfully—sliding himself home inside you. “—a bit quicker.”

You buried your face into his shoulder, muffling the guttural whine that squeezed out of your lungs by biting down at the sinew there. The feeling of being speared open by Billy always dazed you, something you hoped you’d never get used too.

“Fuck,” Billy grunted out his own throaty moan at feeling your teeth.

His hips bucked involuntarily, causing your eyes to nearly roll to the back of your head as the movement pushed him just that little bit deeper. The pleasure-pain of him hitting your cervix and his pubic bone grinding just so on your clit, sent a violent spark of fireworks to burst cross your vision as you climaxed.

“Shit, shit.” He keened gruffly, probably not expecting you to orgasm as quickly as you had—for you certainly didn’t expect it either, not that you had any mind to care at the moment—as you felt your walls fluttering and squeezing all around him.

“Sh--shit.” You echoed him; feeling as though you were floating on cloud 9, body loosening and relaxing with Billy’s powerful biceps and the wall being the only thing keeping you from falling flat on your ass.

“You good?” he asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and pressed your heels into the small of his back to urge him to continue. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Billy didn’t need much more prompting, his teasing long forgotten as he began to roll and thrust his hips in earnest to chase his own climax.

All you could do was try and hold on for dear life, as he pounded into you; your muscles still not quite cooperating enough to help him along.

“Damn baby, you feel so good.” The obscene wet squelching of skin on skin and the heady scent of sex filled the air as he continued his bruising pace—though you could tell he was getting close. “Think you got another one in you?”

You could feel your pleasure climbing again, your limbs finally following your silent command as you clumsily met him thrust for thrust. You didn’t trust your voice though, so you nodded and sent the next breathy moan directly into his ear, causing him to curse as his hips stuttered.

“Shit.” He moaned. “That’s my girl.”

The praise paired with the intentional grinding of his pubic bone against your clit sent you over the edge again, very nearly screaming at the intensity of the second wave that crashed into you.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s it. That’s a good girl.” He panted into your neck, snapping his hips several more times before your tight, fluttering, walls were milking him of his own orgasm.

Neither of you moved for a while, both of you fighting to catch your breath and come down from the high. The tingling sensation was beginning to subside as you buried your face in his neck; breathing in the sweaty musk of him as your limbs began to go boneless. Billy was muttering something into the skin of your own neck, but you couldn’t hear it, ears still ringing a little—though you had a feeling you knew exactly what was being muttered.

It was only when you felt Billy’s muscles beginning to strain, that you tried to get him to drop you back on your feet, but he didn’t budge. He only held on a bit tighter as he shifted your weight; your back leaving the support of the wall as he finally moved you both toward the bed.

He fell into the mattress with you still secured in his arms, but the movement caused him to finally slip out. You released an involuntary whimper at the loss of feeling full that had him chuckling at your expense.

“Hush,” you snarked and nuzzled your nose against his collarbone; feeling his fingers trail up and down your spine and relishing in the warmth and smell of the post coital bliss for as long as you could.

You were on the verge of sleep when his quiet voice pulled you back.

“Where did you find them anyway?”

“Hmm?”

“My shorts. Where did you find them?”

“Behind the dryer.” You muttered drowsily; grumbling when his chuckle jostled you.

“Did I wear you out that much?” he asked in amusement; fingers still gently following the path of your spine. You hummed in response, the call of sleep too much to ignore. “And here I thought we’d have time to go another round.”

“Hmm… wake me in an hour.”

His answering laugh followed you into your dreams.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #n.s.f.w

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tomurawr44 · 8 months ago

Note

I have a request!!

Shiggy wins reader the giant plushie she wanted from the claw game of the arcade (he says it’s all rigged but she begs him to help her because he seems like the type to be good at these games “hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”) and she watches his slender fingers skillfully move the controls and he wins the derpy giant plushie for her in one try.

But then she can’t stop thinking about how those fingers would feel inside of her, and wants to reward him…he’s probably the type to be into knee socks and plaid mini skirts…and she did want to thank him for the plushie…she’s going to rock this virgin’s world.

(Go wild with NSFW plz we’re all a bunch of perverts)

A/N: is it too tmi if i say i did what happened in this fic irl

Warnings: nsfw!! hand kink..finger suckling, face fucking, dangerous sex..

"So close...!" you groaned as you saw the plush fall out of the claw machine again, whining against the glass you pressed against the glass with your fingers clawing at it, sliding down before you rested against the controller. "Why even bother? all these claw machines are rigged y'know." he'd speak up, sipping on his drink while he watched you bent over the machine and crying about some ugly plushie. he was confused and thought you were stupid. as per usual.

"you don't get it! I need this thing and i need it now!" you whined like an immature brat as you stared at it, it was a derpy off brand hatsune miku plush, and it made you want to cry with frustration, with only a few coins left. you turned to him as he scoffed, his irritation only growing. "your blowing all your money on something we could get online for cheap." he stated while he looked around, you knew you looked ridiculous, you knew that you could just buy it but the experience, memories and the challenge is what makes it such a memorable piece to remember. that's why you wanted it so bad, plus, it was hatsune miku, who wouldn't want a hatsune miku plush? but he couldn't lie he found it a little funny. "besides, i could win that easy peasy, there's a bunch of tips i got from online." your eyes lit up upon hearing that, of course Tomura of all people knew how to beat a game meant for kids.

with the clack of your shoe against the floor, you gripped onto him by his shoulders with a pleading pout. "please Tomura please! i-I'll do anything i swear! I'll give you anything you want or a reward for getting me that plush!" you pointed at the derpy miku as he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks, anything he wants? a reward? life couldn't be any damn sweeter for him, and he gets to finally show off cool stuff he's saved from the internet. he pulls out his phone and looks for the tutorial video again before he places coins against the slot and the game music started beeping again.

he moved his fingers delicately, trying not to decay the machine as he fiddled with the joystick almost randomly as he rapidly tapped on the button, the way he handled the machine and the way his slender fingers moved against it made you bite your lip a little as you watched him, a dork in his natural environment. you could see his focused reflection in the glass of the machine as you snapped a quiet pic, god he's adorable. you watched him fail before he angrily put in more coins, rocking the machine a little as he handled it more roughly, mumbling curses while he tried for that miku plush again, the way he was so quick and rough made you stare a little longer than intended before you heard the victory music and the plush gently fall into the slot. a wide smile appearing on your face, he couldn't lie, it found it rather..cute.

"YES! yes! Thank you so much Tomura! i love it so much you don't even—" he stopped you with a cocky grin. he looked so nerdy doing this. "yeah, whatever. what's my reward?" you pause to think over it before you just smiled at him and locked arms. "a hug." was what you said but what really wanted to leave your lips was alot more than just a 'hug.' you could feel your underwear stick to your panties as you let out a small huff, smiling softly at him, poor boy doesn't know what's coming. he kept walking as he truly thought his reward for showing off his awesome hand-eye-coordination was just a hug. "I'll get Kurogiri to warp us home, he isn't home right now so i guess you can hangout awhile longer."

perfect.

when you arrived and stepped out of the purple fog, at the dingy bar, there was no one keeping it and it was empty as always, Tomura led you to his messy room as he plopped down on the bed and watched you cuddle the derpy miku plush. "why do you even like it so much?" he questioned while he ran his fingers against his neck while eyed you up and down with a curious look. "it's ugly, but cute, ugly cute y'know?" you giggled softly before putting it aside and crawling closer to him. "You still waiting on that reward?" you whispered as you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and brought his open hand to your breast. he immediately got the message and nodded his head reaching for his gloves before you stopped him. "no, not yet."

"what the hell do you mean 'not yet'? are you suicidal or something?" he looked at you as if you were stupid before you only giggled and brough his hands together, dropping his right one before you pressed the tips of his left fingers against your lips. "Maybe, not really thinking with my head here." you whispered before you parted your lips and licked them, watching him shiver before you began to slide his middle and pointer finger in and letting your tongue play against them. you let out a few soft moans as he watched you with eyes blown wide. his cock aching painfully against his jeans as he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "wh-what the hell are you doing..? i-..you know that-" He was cut off by the sound of you pulling away with a small pant, letting the pade of his fingers rest against the flat and soft surface of your tongue. "can't I appreciate these pretty hands in peace?" you chuckled. "You can't appreciate them if i dust you.."

"but you won't, right pretty boy?" is what you whispered before you slid his fingers back into your mouth, sucking on them like you would with a cock as you even pulled them barely all the way out before you swirled your tongue against the tips before sliding it all the way back in, letting drool leak down your throat as you maintained eye contact with him. he tried to reach down and undo his buttons, grabbing his dick and pulling it out as he jacked off to the sight of you doing that to him, letting out small moans and biting his dry lips while he stroked himself to the sight. "i-i fucking knew you were kinky but..this is new.." he tried to match his pace to your mouth as he felt like absolute heaven.

you pulled away just before he was about to cum, letting his fingers barely connect to your lips with a string of drool before you pulled him to stand up while you got on your knees. you saw him put on his gloves before he let his pants pool around his ankles as he shoved his needy cock into your throat. "G-gah! if this is– wh-what i get for winning...!" he groaned as he thrust into your mouth, grinding against you every now and then. "Fuck- take me to the arcade every weekend- please! let me win for you..!" he babbled as he thrust into your face, his cock sliding against your tongue as you tuned him out a long time ago and let him use you like a fleshlight. it didn't take long for him to shove himself as deep as he could down your throat before cumming, giving you no option to spit out or swallow, besides, who would be spitting him out? certainly not you. he panted as he twitched in your throat, watching you pant as he pulled away and let his saliva soaked dick rest on your face as it leaked remnants of his load onto your cheek.

"What do i get for buying you a cosplay?" he whispered as he looked down at you with a crooked smile, his cock pulsing on your face as you smiled back. this was going to be one..long and spoiled night for you. don't tell All For One why he blew his allowance on clothes that seemed so expensive, or Kurogiri for that matter.

—Ake 2024

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura #tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki #mha x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha #tenko #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha

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aleeyenn · 1 month ago

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TALK POST FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER!!! hi guys!!!

art has been So hard for the past few months… like way harder than ever… the only art i do is for school at this point :[ i barely even doodle!!! it makes me really sad……. i think a lot of it has to do with my mental state. keeping it reaaall i’m currently in one of the worst emotional points in my life and have been for a while but Ugh!.. it’s gonna be okay in the end… aside from that i think it’s also art class that’s made it all so hard …

for those who don’t know, i’ve been in special art schools since 6th grade, like, schools you have to audition to be in… it’s been great!!! i love(d) meeting likeminded people and being able to relate to each other in a bunch of different ways!! i’ve made SO many friends and so many good memories!!! i’m now in my senior year of high school, half way through… it’s the final stretch for realsies! and i’m reflecting on how the art programs have made me feel about art….

there are SO many benefits that came with the programs minus meeting new people… my art wouldn’t be at the point it is at now without the lessons and expertise and critiques i’ve received from my teachers. i’m grateful i was even accepted into those classes in the first place!!!!!

the main gripe i have with everything tho is how CRAZY it kills your creative flow and enjoyment for art in general… i don’t necessarily blame my teachers, they’re just doing what they’re taught! but i feel like what they’re teaching is wrong in lots of ways…

they put mindsets on students that just… don’t make sense? “art block isn’t real! just draw!” art block isnt just not being able to draw… “every piece you make should be better than your last!” you shouldn’t have to constantly try to one-up yourself!

it’s just all these standards left and right that you have to meet to “be successful” and for your art to be “good”. all of my art classmates and even from the grades below me agree that it’s certainly not the best!!! i can see why everything is the way it is, it’s for improvement and building skill, but i think it’s more damaging than helpful…

i’m SO nitpicky about my art. it’s hard for me to feel proud of things anymore because there’s Always something wrong with what i’m doing… and the way you have to compare yourself and your creations to other people as a grade to begin with is UGH! it’s just teaching students to be SO hard on themselves when art is literally just creating something!!!

the way your art looks shouldn’t determine your value, success, or even worth. art should be FUN!!! it’s a visual extension of yourself. it’s meant to be created with any intention in mind… it’s a reflection of YOU. it’s YOUR unique touch… it shouldn’t have to fit in any criteria!!! you should do what makes you happy!!!

art school can be a blessing but also such a buzzkill… i enjoyed it a lot but it also broke a part of me and it’s really unfortunate… i hope one day i will be able to reverse all those mindsets and relearn my love for drawing. i miss it so so so much…

my lesson to you guys is to not stop… do what makes YOU happy. don’t do things just to look good to others, try to impress YOURSELF. or don’t! just create! because your art is YOU. treat it nicely and don’t ever lose it!!! you can do ANYTHING! you can MAKE anything! if you really think about it, everything’s possible!!!

i think i would word everything better if i was on a stage with a microphone… i think i missed a lot of points too but i hope you all can get the gist of my perspective…

all i know is that i’m not going to be doing any professional art stuff in the future… it suits me better as a hobby!!! i want to be a nurse instead!

no more art school ranting… despite my poor mental health right now, things haven’t been all that bad!!! i hang out with my friends a lot and that’s made everything so much better! i love my friends!!! i love playing games with them and talking with them and going places with them SOOO MUCH!i also have a super amazing partner now too!!!!! they’re the best partner i could ever ask for!!! fun fact, over summer they watched bfdi to get closer with me when we went back to school ISNT THAT SO SWEET AAHHH also our nails are currently painted fireafy colors!!! we are matching!!! so cute… i appreciate them indulging me whenever they can HEHEHEHEEE

anyways i think i’m done talking now…. i’ve said my piece! i haven’t been active for a while So this is catch up time!!! ok bye!!! do something that makes you happy today!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! or tonight!!!!!!!! or afternoon!!!!!!!!!!

#joyjibberjabber #this is a lot i’m so sorry

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mint-and-authoress · 2 months ago

Text

Slime HRT - Full Core Integration

<<| ⏯️ |>>

[The scene opens to a not before seen living room. Familiar decor can be seen alongside other furnishings. Elise sits on a couch inside a small plastic tub, where only the upper half of her body can be seen. Next to her is a shorter woman, speckled with red scales across her skin and small claws and horns. The timestamp reads ‘5½ Months.’]

“Oh gosh, how does she do these…

“This is Elise’s entry at five and a half months into transition. I’m Pandora, her wife, and I’ll be speaking for her for this entry and hopefully only this entry. I just started my own species replacement therapy like two weeks ago I think? I kept it hidden from her to surprise her but about three days ago Elise’s vocal cords finally dissolved. That’s why I’m speaking for her.

“Normally she wouldn’t have done an update this early but I encouraged her to make something, mainly because I think it’s important to have this documented. Anyone who goes through the same stuff my wifey has should know how things go when you absolutely need help around the house.

[Pandora retrieves a piece of paper from offscreen.]

“We did make a list of things to go over. My love is going to be demonstrating a few things, and it is her documentation series… thing, so she’s gotta be a part of it! First off is the obvious: no more muscles, and no more bones either!

[Elise outstretches an ‘arm’ to show the lack of muscle and bone. The entire limb is transparent and a vibrant green.]

“All she has left is a few organs and her brain. Everything else is just a little goopy puddle.

[Elise nuzzles into Pandora’s shoulder, and is met with a kiss to the forehead.]

“All the affection is just my wife being all cute and loving, like she’s always been. She’s basically been biologically a slime for a few weeks now, and definitely passes as one from the few I’ve been able to see.

“As a matter of fact, we learned that slimes are apparently part of the country’s No Fly List, since they’re made up entirely of fluid. We had to do a whole cross-country road trip, meaning four days full of driving for me. Loved that. But it just meant that my little goop got to be a little passenger princess all the way back to the west coast!

“Back to the ‘my wife’s organs are starting to dissolve’ matter, she’s actually about two and a half months ahead of schedule. Which meant I had to have a very strongly worded talk with Dr. Acosta from Something Else Solutions.

“Something Else Solutions is not licenced by anyone in Hyper City. We had to hire a private investigator to find that doctor. Turns out, he gave Elise a fake name and the whole office turned out to be some shady black market coven trying to advance their practices. So, my last week and a half has been spent talking to doctors and specialists and actual fucking witches. That last one was actually pleasant, and I would’ve enjoyed it a bit more if it wasn’t my love’s life on the line, possibly.

“The only real reason we’re doing an update now is because Elise is going into surgery tomorrow to get her core formed. Normally, Slime HRT has the patient go through something called C3 surgery: Core Cell Conversion. They’d take all your organs and link them together, and after a few weeks they’ll turn into what’s called a proto-core, which basically just replaces the organs. Eventually that proto-core absorbs the brain after like a month and at that point it’s just a normal slime core.

“Buuuut, now that someone went and fucked up my wife, she’s going into an emergency surgery called FCI: Full Core Integration. What they have to do–and thank the gods that we did this before her organs got dissolved–is take all her organs and her brain and rapidly accelerate that core formation process with donated nuclei from other slimes and a whole bunch of other inpatient hospital stuff. It takes a week, and after that Elise is gonna have a few gaps in her memory.

[Pandora hugs Elise from the side.]

“It’s scary. But we’ve somehow made it through worse.”

[The segment ends. The next segment fades in and shows a still image of a hospital waiting room. An anthropomorphic boar, a human skeleton with glowing green eyes, a well-dressed vampire and two humans are present around the room.]

-captions-

-The waiting room in the Hyper City Interspecies Hospital. Elise’s surgery was 12 hours long.

[A picture of many specialists and surgeons, human and nonhuman, with a blonde human woman in the centre.]

-Thank you to the care team for everything and an even bigger thank you to Dr. Therkin for walking me through every step of the procedure.

[A picture of Elise in a pressurised tank, connected to a series of tubes, wires, and monitors. A very small, almost invisible mass is at the centre of the slime.]

-This was my wife for nine days. Very glad to report that she pulled through.

[The final picture fades out. The next segment fades in where Elise sits in a long tub in a hospital bed, with an intact emerald green core. A timestamp reads ‘Five Days Post Surgery - 6 Months.’]

“...This is…my entry at 6 months during transition. Or at least that is what I’ve been told.

“I’ve been conscious for five days. In that time I learned how to speak and I was reminded who everyone was. Apparently I was in a…terrible condition. My core was able to save my life, and for that I am very grateful.

“I came out of surgery with near total amnesia, they said. Apparently that is a risk when you undergo such a procedure. It isn’t all bad, though. Relearning you have a wife is incredibly nice, makes the core sing something fierce.

“I’ve watched through those progress reports and learned about the journey I’ve taken to get this far, and to think that all that progress is behind me is incredibly inspiring. I’m going to continue living, all because of the work she did. I get to be happy, have a wife, all thanks to her.

“I’m not the same person as she was, definitely not. I have her voice, her life, and eventually the memories will come back, or so I’m told. But I don’t have her face, don’t have the same struggle that she had. So, please allow me to introduce myself once more to you all.

“My name is Mint, and I am a slime girl.”

[The scene fades to black as Mint extends herself towards the camera.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SLIEM TIEM IS BACK EVERYGOOP!!!

Plot Twist: Mint is Authoress :3c

I've been meaning to get this out for a while and Solstice hit me with a lead brick of inspiration! Mint is now here to stay, but by no means is her story over!

Shoutouts today go to @ariathelamia whose character Dr. Therkin made an appearance to advise the surgery team! Tbh I do not trust Erian as far as I can throw him (and for therian standards that is not that far), so we got a second opinion and went to her!

Next time on Slime Ball Z: going to the solstice and definitely having a transgender moment[tm] with doubts about what makes oneself a 'real slime'

#I'm kinda impressed with how fast I pumped this one out :3c #slime #slime girl #slime hrt #therian hrt #otherkin hrt #my gender #my oc #my writing

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cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago

Text

I'm not scared! Colby Brock x MotoGPDriver! Reader Part 4

Plot: You made a tweet about Sam and Colby and were in a podcast and they brought up Sam and Colby where you talked about the paranormal and how it doesn't really scare you because you drive motorcycles at over 200mph.

Credit to misscalliopecruz for the GIF

You didn't realize just how easy it was for Sam and Colby to make calls to these haunted locations and be given permissions to film investigations.

You'd been set up for literally 3 days time which made you guys feel even more excited as it was such short notice. Colby and Sam spent the time charging all the equipment, booking hotels and doing all the admin stuff you'd offered to help them with but they'd refused saying you should try and get a few good nights of sleep while you could, so you stayed in your flat making sure you had a comfy enough outfit ready to go in.

Colby had practically begged you to wear their merch, so of course you took the hoodie he'd given to you. You'd planned to wear it with a pair of bootleg jeans as even though it was very clearly British Time you gathered in the middle of the night in an old creepy castle it would get cold. Which is why you were thankful for the hoodie rather than a top as the piece of merch Colby gifted you.

You kind of wanted to make Colby and Sam wear some of you Red Bull Merch but thought maybe that was going a bit too far so you left them packed away in the rucksack you were going to be taking with you.

You had a later night on the day before the investigation so you were able to stay up till around 4 or 5am, ending up waking up for around 11am. You did your morning workout before getting something to eat and had a slow evening before meeting up with the boys.

"Are you okay driving?" Colby asks as you all walk down to the car park of the hotel they were staying in.

"Any reason, or just because I'm the better driver?" you smirk, knowing full well you were the better driver.

"I just don't like driving in the UK, it's way more complicated than the US, those roundabouts... wild things!" he jokes, even though there was some truth to it.

"Yeah sure, I don't mind... but If I'm driving its my Spotify playlist on shuffle..." you reason and they both nod agreeing, not petty enough to start a disagreement over music, especially when you guys would probably have similar music tastes.

The drive to the castle was fun, you were all talking about the history you guys had researched and what was there.

When you pulled up, you got this zing of excitement down you spine.

"Guys, I'm really excited for this" you exclaim looking back at them getting all the stuff out the car while you were in awe of the building.

It was a huge location and you already knew that the boys would challenge you to go somewhere alone because of how big it was.

The boys got out their camera and you waited off to the side as they did their intro.

"What's up guys its Sam and Colby and today we are here a Dannamore Castle in the UK, one of the most haunted Castles in the world!" Colby says with that normal cryptic sort of look on his face.

"And as you guys probably expected from our recent trip to see out good friend, today we have Y/N Y/L/N here with us!" Sam introduces panning the camera round to you making you smile and bunch up closer to them.

"Hey!" you grin and the boys turn to you.

"Okay for those who don't know Y/N is a MotoGP rider to she basically rides motorbikes really quickly round race-tracks for a living and she's really good at it too. The reason she is here is because she said she wouldn't be scared to come onto one of our videos and we really want to put that to the test" Colby mentions and you blush at the praise, entirely used to but it still got you every time.

They cut the cameras after showing the outside of the area saying that they'd be filming a lot of the history out-takes in their studio at home and having watched their videos you knew what they meant.

Two men and a lady came out, one was the caretaker, another was a tour guide and the other a medium of sorts that worked with the place.

Sam and Colby started to talk to the caretaker that would help in showing you round later when you walked off.

You thought you saw something dash out the corner of your eye, Sam and Colby were too busy listening too all the ins and outs of the area, what rooms you didn't have access to which in this particular castle wasn't actually that many just the unsafe spaces where the wooden flooring had gotten too old and they hadn't rebuilt it yet.

"Where's your friend?" the caretaker asks seeing that the girl wasn't where she had been a minute ago.

The others look around trying to see if you were behind the car or near the entrance but you were nowhere in sight.

"Y/N?" Colby yelled out. Sam following with a shout of his own name.

"Yeah?" you ask walking from behind a stone wall that ran behind the castle into the gardens.

"Where did you run off to?" Sam asks and the caretakers also look intrigued.

"Something caught the corner of my eye and I wanted to see if anyone else was on the property" you shrug your shoulder making Sam look to the now turned on camera Colby had, as they had started to film the minute the group were aware that you were missing.

"You just left, because you saw something?" Colby asks and you nod, making Sam chuckle. They cut the cameras, giving you a small run down of the castle, which rooms you guys weren't allowed it and when you guys had to leave by.

They also further explained not having got there before that it would just be you guys in there tonight, the caretaker however stays in the barn that was technically 'on the property' but not inside the castle just for legal purposes.

"So this is the centre of the castle. Back in the day, all residents from the Dannamore family and their friends would have been around here as this was and still is a hub" the tour guide smiles as you all look around the expanse of the hall.

"Who was part of the Dannamore Family, I'm guessing we'll meet some of them tonight?" you smile asking intrigued.

"Well Drake Dannamore has always been the most present spirit we have here. He is the original resident of the castle" she starts and you all nod.

"Is he cool?" Colby asks making you turn to him in shock. How is he referring to a like 1000 year old spirit as cool.

"He's a kind spirit yes. Y/N you'll get most the activity from him, he's the protector of this house... practically the women" she smiles.

"Really? Why's that?" Sam asks.

"Well, Drake..." she starts and you guys hear a knock from the back of the room making you all look there and the guide and caretaker laugh a little.

"I think he's here with us!" she smiles looking around before continuing.

"He married Valisa Dupont a French Lady from a wealthy family. Their family gifted and built this castle as a sign of their gratitude for Drake protecting Valisa. However, Valisa did not love Drake and apparently she became very spiteful towards him. She would cheat on him with the bakers boy who worked and lived in the home. She neglected their children making Drake exhausted" she starts and you feel a sort of overwhelming sadness wash over you. Enough for you to reach up and hold you chest.

"Vasila attempted to kill Drake but ended up mistakenly poisoning his sister Darcey. He ended the relationship with her, and she was livid. He moved on and married Bianca, who mysteriously died one night after saying for years she felt like she was being watched. People working in the castle at the time reported that Vasila killed Bianca out of jealously. Drake was in anguish and after that refused to marry again. He tried to protect Bianca as much as possible thinking Vasila was terrorizing her. After that its said that Drake either pushed her or she threw herself from the east tower, falling to her death" she finishes and you all look in shock.

"So he protects females that come into the castle from Vasila, who i'm guessing remains here as a negative energy because he feels like he needs to do what he couldn't do for Bianca?" you ask and a creak or footsteps was heard from above making all your heads snap up.

"I'd take that as a yes!" Colby laughs making you laugh as well.

"So this is an active place for all the spirits?" Sam asks looking around.

"Not all, but most. Drake can be found here along with his children who are also protectors of the home. Bianca is also here who is a very friendly and kind spirit. But its not just people who have lived in the castle. There's portals here too" the caretaker answers showing the mirrors that were facing each other.

"Woah?" you say stepping closer to Colby where the mirrors are.

"So what do we need to be wary of?" Colby asks.

"Vasila, of course. She doesn't like any-one male or female. She's been known to touch and scratch and make lots of loud noises but she's only in certain areas of the house like the tower and the pantry room" she explains.

"Because of her relationship with the baker boy?" Sam asks and she nods.

"Y/N you'll need to be extra careful of the baker boy" she admits and you look off to the left.

"Why?"

"He doesn't like ... dominant women!" she exclaims looking down, making you frown with a small laugh.

"I'm a dominant woman?" you ask with a laugh.

"Just like your presence, the tattoos, biker personality and just your aura she means, your head strong which is something Madison didn't like" the medium says for the first time since being here.

"Madison?" Sam asks.

"The baker boy, that was his name Madison!" he answers.

This would make for an interesting night!

Taglist:

@richardsamboramylove55 @braveangel777 @rockwyu @jada-lockwood @itzdarling

#sam and colby x reader #sam golbach x reader #sam and colby imagine #sam golbach #colby brock imagine #colby brock #sam and colby #colby x reader #colby brock one shot #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic

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xxknockoutxx · 3 months ago

Text

The beginning

𝙎𝙮𝙣: 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙜𝙪𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘿𝙖𝙗𝙞(𝙏𝙤𝙪𝙮𝙖 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙞) 𝙭 !𝙑𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: cursing, screeching nomus and yeah

𝘼/𝙣: this fic is really old and I just never finished it. Lol.

Moments like these are meant to be cherished. Sitting in your boyfriend's lap as he starts fights with all the League members for no reason. Still sitting there with a smirk on his face and a proud hand over your thigh.

Eventually the topic transitions from arguments about whatever into Beginnings rather how everybody met each other. Now the topic comes up.

"How did you guys meet?" Toga asks, looking at dabi with curious and intrusive eyes.

"Uhhhh..." He cocks his head and rubs his chin in a thinking position. The amount of time he put in was a little too long for your liking.

You were shooting mad glares at dabi because why the fuck is it taking so long for him to respond? It shouldn't be that hard to remember something so important.

"Go on, tell her, we're allllll awaiting your response" you say while shooting his sarcastic look.

"I'm getting to it, doll" He says while desperately searching through his mental library for that distinct 'One day' he could feel those glares burning holes in his face and he can see toga's smirk in the corner of his eyes. The things he would do to smack the hell out of that girl.

"Wowww, how are you even lower than my lowest expectations" you cross your arms and move off his lap and find solace in Twice's and Compress' comfort.

"But that was like 2 years ago! My bad that I've had too many near death experiences to remember when I met one person!"

The whole fucking league: Wowwwww....

"The fuck are y'all wowing about!?"

You take a deep breath before looking at Toga.

"I'll tell you. It was kinda weird because I was different a long time ago..."

"This is all your fucking fault Dabi"

"How the fuck is this my fault!?"

"I'm not the one who left their spot to get a beer and look at some women!"

"Ohhh...."

Wonderful when a mission goes WRONG right? Being tied up and gun point in front of a whole bunch of facility members.

"Can you pretty please tie me up away from them.. They're hurting my ears!" Toga shouted at the guard that stood before her, clearly unfazed by her begging.

A loud crash in the next room got all of the guards attention and they basically forgot about the league.

"Oh thank the heavens above, maybe compress used his Spidey Sense and figured up that we're fucking held captive!" Shigaraki was still throwing daggers at dabi not even caring for toga at this point.

"Shiggy, if I hear another word out of your dry ass mouth I swear I will make sure I'm not the only piece of burnt b-!"

A huge wave of blood splashed them, even making Toga flustered. A cloaked figure walked past them so briefly that it looked like they were fazing in and out of reality. Were they really just here to steal? Not even concerned that they have Japan's greatest villains in the palm of their hand?

The figure disappeared and the rope cut by itself or rather by a dagger that ended up in the rope somehow...

After they got back to the base dabi got chewed out pretty good by the league and was sent on his own on a solo mission as maybe apology or to earn the leagues trust but truthfully it was just to get him as far away from shiggy as possible.

"So annoying... Send me on a fuckin' mission like I'm your little minion n' shit"

He mocked shiggy and his scratchy voice. "Look for supercharged Nomu, blah blah blah" The audacity of him to kick ME out. I'm fucking Dabi I don't care if he thinks he's my boss, I swear I'm gonna slap the shit out of him when I see him again...

His thoughts raced, so caught up in his chanting he didn't notice the approaching thundering stomps. Oh shit... That's a...— NOMU!

"Yeah get the fuck out of here, now..." *He runs off the building he was on and through the woods trying to find a short cut to a place he could have more battleground.

Turns out that super charged nomu are faster than a dude who runs in heeled boots and smokes 20 cigarettes a day. So yeah... He got stuck. But don't worry because that same mysterious figure from earlier jumps in and saves his ass again!

Before he could even notice himself slightly above the ground he's launched into a tree, facing the nightmarish monster that was just following him.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm gonna drop you from this tree and let it demolish your body"

"Understandable, have a nice day, do as you wish."

A group of trees collapsed on the Nomu causing it to scream and bleed. Dabi looked almost starstruck as he admired the sight before. The gust of air knocked off the figures hood revealing that they were in fact female.

Damnnnn mama was the only thing he was thinking in that empty head. Right as he was about to run his way back home he was being held up.

"So you're with the league of losers?"

"Eh close enough" He shrugged

In a matter of seconds dabi had a burning hot blade pressed against his throat. Wow kinky much? He thought. But nevertheless and he complied out of his own boredom

"Take me to your base now!"

"Okay" He didn't mind, he'll just lure you back to the base, to his specific room, and thennnnn after an extended 'talking' session he'll kill you and return the league in a great mood!

Well, that didn't happen and that's how you guys met.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #mha dabi #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #dabi #bnha touya #mha touya #touya x reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #bnha touya todoroki

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 10 months ago

Note

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader

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maybege · 7 months ago

Text

Welcome Home

Summary: Your favourite time of day is when Paz comes home.

Pairing: roommate!Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.5k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Free Use Arrangement AU, Roommate AU, explicit sexual content, oral (f and m receiving), (un)requited pining, dom!Paz, sub!Reader, size kink, lil bit of cockwarming, dirty talk and a little bit of verbal humiliation

Long time, no see when it comes to this AU! I love how I said I would only write little blurbs for them and now this is the second piece over 3k 😂 Anyway, I hope you all had a nice weekend! Let me know what you think of this story in a reblog or a comment, they are truly the best fuel to keep writing 🥰

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Asking your roommate for a free-use arrangement was the bravest and best thing you had ever done.

Watching Paz Vizsla getting more and more confident as a dominant, however, was the most beautiful thing you ever got to witness. And you never wanted to share with anyone. Because while you had suspected (known, really) that he was a natural dominant when you first met, he always made it a point to be careful with you.

And he truly. He was so careful, so gentle and made sure you felt safe, happy and satisfied before he tried new things. Even then, said new things were introduced slowly and with care. And every time he did you felt like you were falling in lust a little bit more.

“There is something very peaceful about not having to worry about how someone fucks you because you know they do it right,” your friend Chants had once said about one of his situationships. Now, years later, you finally understood what he meant.

Because Paz Vizsla, your roommate, your friend, the man of your dreams (and also your heart but it would take time for you to admit that out loud) fucked you so good that you could trust him to fuck you any time he wanted.

Like now, weeks after your initial conversation, when you were standing in the kitchen making dinner.

Paz always came home after you and though you usually made your own meals, sometimes you cooked for each other. This was your plan today, too. You wanted to spend as little time as possible on chores and as much time as possible … together.

Wearing only a very long shirt and lace panties, paired with the fuzzy socks to keep your feet from freezing on the tiled floor, you were jamming to the newest hits on the charts when you could hear the front door open.

It did not take long before two warm hands landed on your upper thighs, a large body hovering behind you. His stubble ghosted over your neck and you tilted your head to the side, allowing his chin to rest on your shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you asked breathlessly, watching as his hands moved to the front of your thighs, pulling you back against him. His body was large and warm. Even the cool fall air caught on his clothes did nothing against the simmering heat that started in your belly.

“Just saying hello,” he murmured, his hands bunching up your shirt. His lips landed on the spot where your shoulder met your neck and you hummed. “Turn the stove off,” he ordered and you did without questioning him. The sauce was almost done anyway.

His mouth never left your neck as he dragged you away from the counters. “How was your day?” he asked you, turning you around so you were facing him, “Did the presentation go well?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, your brain fuzzy from his soft kisses, the blinding grin on his face and his rough hands on your thighs. He crowded you against the table and you could hear the newspapers fall to the floor before he pushed you on the flat wooden surface.

“Paz,” you giggled, your hands buried in the soft hairs at the back of his neck, “What are you doing?”

You squirmed when you finally came face to face, his large body hovering above yours. He had not shaved in a while and looked like a lumberjack in his flannel shirt and the black one underneath it. His breath washed over your face and your finger brushed over the crinkles next to his eyes.

“I’m eating you out, what does it look like?” he grinned, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before his mouth started wandering down down down.

“Paz,” you whined, your back arching off the back, “Paz, I need you.”

“Patience, sweetheart,” he teased you, looking up from where his fingers were circling your nipples over the fabric of your shirt. “Let me play with you.”

And playing with you was what he did. He mouthed at your tits through your shirt before gathering it up, his hands gliding over your thighs and belly before finally landing on your chest. You were already dripping wet before his fingers pinched your nipples, p

His mouth closed around your right nipple and when his tongue flicked against the sensitive peak, your hands flew to his head, trying to keep him there or get him to where you needed him most, you were not sure.

“You're so good for me,” he murmured against your sternum, “Such a pretty little slut just for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, spreading your legs for him. The chair scraped over the tiles as he sat down on the kitchen chair and you squeaked when his hands gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge.

“Yes, what?” he rumbled, his dark eyes fixated on where his thumbs dipped into the crease between your legs. The contact made you shudder in the best way and you bit your lips, trying not to come from just the barest touches.

“Yes, I am your pretty little slut,” you repeated his words, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks as you stared at the stained kitchen ceiling.

“Lift,” he tapped your butt, his fingers digging into the soft dips of your hips and you did, letting him pull the lacy underwear down your legs. You could hear the flimsy fabric land somewhere on the floor to your right but you could not care less when you had this dream of a man between your legs.

“Spread for me,” he instructed, his voice gruff, “Let me see you.”

You could not remember an instance where a man had wanted to look at you like that and, just for a moment, you found yourself a little shy.

“Nuh-uh”, he commented your hesitation, “None of that. Let me see that pussy, sweetheart. It’s mine to play with, isn’t it?”

His words sparked heat into your core and you nodded, spreading your legs wider apart. As if to reward you, his fingers swiped through your wet folds, circling your clit until a trembling gasp left your mouth.

“Yeah, it is,” he murmured as if to himself, his thumbs spreading you wide apart. The feeling of his hot breath on your pussy made you had you like putty in his hands.

“Paz, please …”

“No begging, sweetheart,” he chastised you with a grin, “Let me enjoy, hm?”

Before you could answer (or, let's be real, beg) his mouth closed over your clit and sucked. Your eyes rolled back and you did not know what to do with your hands. Your right one gripped the edge of the table while the other found Paz’s back of the head, your fingers burying in the soft dark curls on his head.

His hands splayed on your hips, pulling you into his mouth as his tongue dipped into your folds. Everything he did, and soon, you were on the precipice of something great, something wonderful, something –

“Paz!” you gasped, your hands tightening and your back arching, “Right there, oh! P-please -!”

He hummed against you, the vibrations doing something delicious to your clit and then his finger joined, steadily brushing over your opening just the way you liked, and you were free-falling, unable to do anything but chant his name over and over again.

Paz did not let up, though he did slow down a little, pressing soft kisses to your cunt and inner thighs until you felt like you could breathe again.

“Wow,” you breathed, your chest heaving as you started at the ceiling, “That was … “

“I know,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to your inner thigh before slipping your legs off his shoulders, “Got you all come drunk already, huh?”

You wanted to have a witty comeback to that, you really did. But Paz was rising to his full height now, standing between your legs fully clothed while your shirt was still bunched up above your tits and he looked glorious like that.

Inevitably, your gaze drifted lower to where he was straining against his jeans. You watched with a racing heart as his hand rubbed over the bulge and if your legs weren’t still trembling from your orgasm, you would have dropped to your knees and begged him to take him into your mouth.

But even without words, Paz seemed to get you.

“Not today, love,” he murmured, the nickname sending a thrill through you, “I’m gonna have you suck my cock another time.”

“Thank the stars,” you breathed out a laugh, “I might have fallen asleep with your cock in my mouth.”

Your laugh dissipated at the intense look in his eyes. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he hummed, leaning closer against you as his hands caressed the side of your legs.

You tried to ignore the thrum of pleasure the suggestion caught in you, still in awe at the deep dark fantasies he awakened in you. Paz looked very satisfied, very cocky and it didn’t help that your legs were still shaking and his fingers tapped under your chin, making you look up at him. “Good girl,” he praised you with soft eyes and kissed you, long and slow.

Leaning your body weight against him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, enjoying the feel of his tongue against yours, the stubble rubbing over your chin. Kissing Paz was everything you had ever fantasised it to be and more.

Which also explained the pout on your lips when he pulled away from you.

“I, uh, I got something for you,” he explained, his lips swollen from your kisses. Too distracted by the sight of him, you only realised what he had said until he presented you with a little box. You recognised the logo from the jewellery store in the mall and your heart skipped a beat and then completely stopped when you saw the gold chain nestled within the black velvet.

“Paz,” you gasped, still reeling from the orgasm, and brushed over the delicate chain links, “That is beautiful.”

“I thought this could be your … the necklace, you know?”

You nodded, remembering the signal you had agreed upon to make your little arrangement easier.

“It's like a choker.”

Like a collar.

Paz seemed to know what you were thinking because he suddenly became bashful. He rubbed the back of his neck, the free hand still on your thigh, “You can – you can choose something else, if you like, of course. But I saw it in the mall at lunch and I just … knew.”

“I love it,” you hurried to say, fiddling to get the necklace out of the box, “Can you put it on?”

His body got closer as he leaned to look behind you. Thick fingers brushed over your neck as he closed the tiny clasp of the delicate metal. It lay perfectly at the base of your neck, golden and frail, perfect for everyday wear. And yet, it made you feel sex. Wanted. Pretty.

“Thank you,” your fingers ran over the delicate band, “I love it, Paz, truly.”

“And remember –“ he started.

“I can always take it off whenever I want to,” you finished the sentence for him, a knowing smile on your lips. He wore the matching one, his hand gently closing around your throat as he kissed you again.

And just like the choker, something in your heart locked into place.

As time went on, you could sense how he grew more confident and self-assured in your new arrangement and you, in turn, felt like you could finally breathe. You wore the choker day and night – a circumstance that neither of you commented on but you were sure he noticed.

It wasn’t that you felt like you had to. You knew that Paz would always respect your choices. But when you had first thought about taking it off, it just had not felt right. You liked the arrangement you had. You thrived in it.

You thrived in coming home and being dragged into his bed or him coming home and coming straight to you. That must be your favourite part, really. Him coming home and using you any which way he liked. Both of you ending up on the couch afterwards, talking about how your respective days had been.

It was like that today. It had been raining and you had used your day off to curl up on the couch and read one of the books on your tbr list. Slow music was playing in the background and you were pondering whether to light up one of the scented candles your colleagues had gotten you for one of your birthdays when you noticed the time.

Paz was usually home by now and even though you were not his girlfriend (which was totally absolutely perfectly fine with you, of course), you grew worried when the hours passed, the sky grew darker and no Paz showed up.

You were way too eager when you finally heard the key in the lock. Sitting up from your place on the couch, your book completely forgotten, you felt bad when you saw the grimace on his face.

His steps were heavy and raindrops gathered at the tips of his curls. Piece after piece of clothing came off until he was working on his belt and you knew what was about to happen.

“Come here,” he instructed calmly, his eyes fixated on your necklace want you to suck my cock, okay?”

With a quick nod, you set your book aside and walked over to where he sat down in the armchair. The image of his big hands getting rid of his belt and freeing his cock, paired with his stoic silence had your thighs clenching. He was already half-hard and you could not wait to get your mouth on him. How could

He spread his legs so you could scoot in between them and you did, dropping to your knees on the beige carpet. “Welcome home,” you whispered before giving him a careful lick.

“Stars, that’s just what I needed,” he sighed, his hand cupping your cheek, “that pretty little mouth on my cock. You’re doing so well for me, aren’t you?”

You slipped your mouth on his shaft and hummed around him in agreement. He was growing in size and your jaw already started to ache as you tried to push him to the back of your throat as far as you could take him. Which wasn’t very far, to be honest.

Wriggling your tongue under his head, you pulled off him until only his tips remained. He was heavy and hot and your hands found their way to his thighs, trying to steady yourself as you sucked on him. The taste of his precoma was salty on your taste buds and you pushed forward again, your brows drawing together in a frown when your throat closed up again.

“I know I’m very big, sweetheart,” Paz cooed, leaning forward. His hand wandered to the back of your head and you felt surrounded by him in the best way, “Can you try to take me a little deeper? Can I try to fuck your mouth?”

One of his rules was verbal consent and so you pulled off him again, taking in deep breaths before you managed a happy, “Yes.” You smoothed your cheek against his thick thigh, remembering the time he had you get him off by just sucking on his balls, “Please fuck my mouth, Paz.”

Paz did not smile but he looked relieved. Relaxation took over his expression as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders and that was even more of a reward than feeling him come on your tongue.

“You are perfect,” he praised as he gave himself a few pumps, “When I am too deep you are going to tap my thigh three times, alright, sweetheart? Just like we practiced.”

You nodded eagerly, demonstrating how you had done it before by tapping his inner thigh three times. He hummed in approval before cupping your face. You straightened your posture, the long shirt dropping over your ass as you leaned forward just as he pushed his cock inside you.

His thrusts were deep and strong and tears sprang into your eyes as you relaxed your throat as far as it would go. Neither of you broke eye contact and there was something so sexy about seeing him in merciless control, making use of your throat as much as you would let him.

“One day I'm gonna see how deep I can go,” he groaned as you choked on him, “Have your head hanging off the edge of my bed, see if we can make that pretty throat bulge, make that choker stretch, hm?”

He continued thrusting, the sounds of your gagging seemingly only encouraging him and making you wetter than before. You must have looked like a mess by the time he pulled out of you.

“Want to come on your face,” he announced and your hand wrapped around his shaft immediately. He was slick with your saliva as you jerked him off and not for the first time did you wonder how you had managed to fit him inside your mouth at all.

A rough hand wrapped around yours, squeezing it tighter and soon, Paz jerked himself off with your hand. The sounds were filthy and forbidden and all you could think was that you had never seen anything hotter than Paz completely out of control.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” he warned you, his voice hoarse, and you opened your mouth in anticipation. Your eyes stayed on him, but the contact broke when he threw his head back. He looked completely undone and the knowledge that you did that, you made him lose control, put a smile on your face.

Ropes of come splatted onto your face and neck and you pushed out your tongue, trying to catch a taste of him. His hand made you milk him of all he was worth and with the tears across your cheeks, the drool dripping down your chin and now the come over your face and chest, you felt deliciously filthy.

“Pretty as a picture,” he mumbled when his movements let up, his chest still heaving. He must have had a meeting, you realised when you spotted his unusual-for-him getup. He was wearing black slacks instead of jeans and a white dress shirt with the first few buttons undone. He looked all proper and put together if it weren’t for his softening cock in his (and your) hand. And you just sat here in your lounge shirt, splattered in come and lips swollen from sucking his cock.

“Why don’t you take a picture then?” you asked, cheeks flushing with the idea of him actually doing that. Why did the thought of Paz putting you, covered in his come, as his phone background make your heart skip a beat?

“No need,” he winked, “If I want to see you like this I'm just going to have you suck my cock again.”

You gasped in shock while he laughed, tucking away his cock which almost made you pout.

“You good, babe?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled still flustered at how cocky he was with no effort at all. Yet there you were, flustered, needy, out of breath and happier than you had ever been, trying to seem like his proximity did not make you think of futures, houses, barbeques in a garden and cuddles, “I was thinking of ordering pizza today?”

Paz nodded, getting up. You were still kneeling on the floor, finding yourself mesmerised by his size, your gaze following him up, up, up and up until you met his eyes. Maybe you were still somewhere off in subspace, in that little niche in your head where you were not quite ready to let go of this moment between the two of you, where you were not quite ready to … return to everyday life.

With one look at you, Paz must have come to the same conclusion because he knelt in front of you with a soft handkerchief, gently cleaning you off, and you found yourself leaning into him.

“How about,” he cupped your clean face and pressed a kiss slow to your jaw, “Ordering pizza and a movie? We can cuddle and if you want to we can try that thing you’ve been pretending to google secretly?”

Your eyes widened with surprise – not at being caught, it was only a matter of time, after all, but at the enthusiasm and confidence with which he suggested it. “Cock warming?”

The grin he replied with made his entire face light up. “Yes,” he confirmed, his tongue licking over his lower lip, “And if you’re real good I might even let you come.”

Before you could reply, he pulled you in for another kiss that had you both tumbling to the floor. You shrieked with laughter, loving the way his hands already dipped under your shirt, and how your legs fell over his hips.

This type of homecoming was way better than what you had before.

#paz vizsla x reader #maybege writes #smut #paz vizsla x fem!reader #roommate!paz vibes

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tothosewholisten · 6 months ago

Text

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 11

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

Diego was heated, he had a vengeful look in his eyes that showed that. I was asleep for most of the ride back to his house because of how early it was in the morning but when I was up I could hear him muttering things to himself. He wanted Hazel and Cha-Cha dead and I don’t blame him.

They took away his lover, I don’t know anything about their relationship but I could tell she meant everything to him. When you lose a lover you’ll do anything to bring them back and avenge them, even if they're not sensible. There was no one to stop me from the things I did when I lost Ben, but Diego doesn't have to go through the same thing.

I'll be here for him if he needs me and if he doesn't want to kill me too.

When he noticed I was awake his grip on the steering wheel was a clear indication that he was about to burst. I readied myself for anything thrown my way while activating my powers.

But he didn't do anything to harm me, instead, he took a deep breath. “What do you know about Five’s behavior since he’s been back?” Diego asked me.

“What?” I whispered confusedly.

He scoffs. "What has he been doing? You should know, since every time you leave the academy it's with him.”

Was that true? I can’t keep track of what I do anymore. There are too many side plots in my life taking away my thoughts from the actual big thing, the apocalypse.

Instead of making eye contact with him, I look out the window as I speak. “Look, Five’s not exactly an open book. The first time I found him outside of the academy, I was trying to go into Griddy’s. And what do I find? The boy surrounded by a bunch of dead soldiers?”

Diego hung onto every word I said, trying to piece together if I was as crazy as Five was or actually telling the truth. “Then he tells me to cut this tracker thing out of his arm. He blinks us into Vanya’s house to tell us the world is ending in a couple of days. I mean can you believe that?” I rambled.

He stops the car in the middle of the busy road, and the tires let out a horrible screech. “What did you say?” He whispers, turning to me slowly. Not caring about the blasting horns from cars around us.

“The world is ending in four days?”

Once we reached the dojo, Diego bolted out of the car not stopping for anything, not even questions from poor Al who was just wondering if he helped Eudora or not.

“Diego, don’t do something you’re going to regret. Five isn’t the enemy here.” I cut in front of his long stride.

“Well, he sure as hell isn’t innocent either.” He pushes past me and slams open his front door.

Luther and Five were in there just where we left them last night. And Five seemed to be finally sober and he sat upright on Diego’s bed, in a conversation with the man sitting in front of him.

“Piece of shit.” Diego roared out as he tried to tackle Five. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”

I grabbed onto the back of his shirt to pull him back but he slipped out of my grasp. But instead of landing on Five, Diego was met by the solid body of Luther, who stopped him. “Nope, let me— Get your ape hands off of me!” He screams.

Luther remains calm with Diego wiggling around in the air. “I can do this as long as it takes you to calm down.”

“Fine.” Diego pants and then gets dropped onto the ground. Luther stares at me from behind all of this. He gives me a what's going on type glance but all I can do is look at Five.

“Now, you wanna tell us what you’re talkin' about?” Luther asked.

“These two have been pretty busy since Five got back.” Diego starts. “They were in the middle of the shootout at Griddy’s, and then Five was at Gimble Brothers after the guys in masks attacked the Academy; looking for him.” He pieced together information that I told him during the car ride to put me and Five at the center of blame.

“Seriously Diego?” I ask.

“None of which is any of your concern.” Five spoke up for the first time since we walked in.

“It is now, they just killed my friend.”

Luther looks at me “You’re involved with this Y/n?”

Before I get a chance to defend myself I'm cut off by Five. “No, she’s not, I just needed her for her abilities.” Who answers too quickly for that to be true.

“Yes, her perfect abilities. Y/n, you wanna tell Luther what you told me.”

“I barely know the details, Diego, this isn’t my story to tell, ask the time traveler who was there!”

We were all rapid-fire arguing with one another. And no one could hear the exact words we were saying because of how much we spoke over each other. But overall was Diego not believing me, me trying to say how lost I was and Five explaining this was still none of his business. Luther just stared blankly.

“Hey, hey, hey hey,” Luther yells.

“What!” The three of us yell back.

“Shut the hell up. Five I want answers, who are these masked people and what does Y/n mean about the end of the world? I want these answers now, the two of you wait your turn.” Probably the first time Luther has gotten anyone to be quiet, he sounds like a leader.

Five looks down “They work for my former employer. A woman called The Handler. She sent them.. to stop me. Then, as soon as Diego’s friend got in their way, well, fair game.”

“That’s cruel Five.” I cut in.

Diego takes a step closer to him and gets up in his face. “And now they’re my fair game. And I'm gonna see to it they pay.” He grits his teeth.

“That would be a mistake, Diego. They’ve killed people far more dangerous than you.”

“Oh yeah well we’ll see about that.”

Diego was ready to take action and leave but Luther held him in place for the answer to his final question. “So when is it supposed to happen? This apocalypse.”

“Well I can’t give you the exact hour, but.. from what I could gather. We have four days left.”

Luther gawks at him. “Why didn't you mention it to all of us sooner?”

“It wouldn't have mattered.” He sighs.

“Of course, it would! We could’ve banded together and helped you try and stop this thing.”

“For the record, you already tried.”

“What do you mean?” Diego asks grumpily.

Five is quiet, he tries to find the best way to say this so that his brothers don’t go crazy. “I found you guys. Your bodies.”

“We all die?” I questioned. That couldn’t have been right, in his journal someone was alive. But I couldn’t make out the name since Diego pulled all of us away to find Five.

“Horribly.” Five says, “all except for one.” He gazes at me.

My body shutters. “The one you wrote about in your book. The one who was still alive in all of the rummage, that was me?”

Why didn't my future self come back with Five to this timeline. What happened?

He answered my suspicions like he was reading my mind. “You were dying slowly Y/n, whoever ended the world did more damage to you than the regular human. We were together for a while and you aged the same as me, slowly. But when The Handler came to me, you didn’t want anything to do with it. Said you had gone through enough pain.”

“I don’t know what happened to you after.” Five said with an undertone of sadness, the best he could probably give without sobbing.

I think I have an idea what happened, I told myself I would never do it. But life has been hard ever since I was young, especially after losing Ben. In the future, I think I killed myself and forced my body to not heal.

This is what Reginald feared I'd do, but even if he made my blood into a healing solution he wouldn't be there to use it on me. It’s a scary thought, but I won't bring it up to them.

Five went on to explain that we worked as a team since all of our bodies were lying in rubble. And the MeriTech eye was worn by the person we were fighting since it was in Luther’s clasped hand. And then he told us about where he worked, the commission.

He went to all kinds of different time periods and killed people who messed with the timeline, and in exchange, he would eventually get to go home. But while being sent out on a mission to kill John F. Kennedy decided that he was going to disobey. And tried to get back to us on his own, so he could save us and save the world.

That's what we saw during Reginald’s funeral. But he messed up the equations and got stuck as a kid. Luther looked on in horror at Five's actions but this only seemed to fuel Diego's rage against Hazel and Cha-Cha.

Me though, I just wanted to go hug Benny.

“So where do we go from now?” I quietly ask the group.

“I'm tracking down those lunatics,” Diego mutters while leaving the room. Luther gasps. “I gotta find Allison and tell her.” Leaving me and Five, in Diego’s room.

“I just have one more question,” I say. “Did I tell you who ends the world?”

“No, all you said was, it wasn't her fault.” he says disappointed. I rack my brain trying to understand what that meant. I know this person personally.

“I know this doesn't make sense, I wish I knew more too. The best thing we can do is keep trying to solve this.” He says.

“I can’t go back to the academy right now, Five. Diego needs someone, even if he doesn't want it to be me. I need to do something.”

He sighs. “You always feel the need to help us Y/n, and what about yourself? Diego will chase you away and make you feel small then what, you're gonna force yourself to help him anyways?”

“I know I can’t fix everything, I can't heal emotions. But I can give someone an avenue to take their feelings out. Even if that's at my own expense. I don’t care.”

Five eyes widen when he looks at me. “Y/n..”

“It’ll be fine, trust me. And if it doesn't work, I'll come back to the academy and find you okay?” I say as I try to lighten the mood.

He only nods but lets me go anyway. I give him a meaningless smile as I leave the room, knowing I shared too much information and gave away a part of myself I hoped others would never comment on.

I let her leave to help him, even though it's going to amount to nothing. I just couldn’t help it, her kind but harmful manner got to me, and she’s too nice for her own good. Just like she was in the apocalypse..

But they had their differences too, even though their brains only differed a couple of days from each other. That Y/n lost her spark and this one is slowly draining herself of it. Delores tells me not to think too much about her, but how can I not? I left her there to die. And it's haunted me ever since.

I remember that day when I found her in the rummage. I was young and scared since I couldn’t blink back home. It took me a while to recognize whose body lay with my siblings, but it was the newest addition to the fucked up regiment Reginald made.

She was faintly moving before she started to cough up blood and debris. She was also very malnourished and scared, so once she was able to get up we started to talk. Not about the apocalypse because every time I asked she dodged the topic.

We stayed together in the wasteland of crushed buildings and fire, eating scraps that made her throw up. Her body wasn’t retaining any food, sleep, or healing abilities but she always told me she was okay.

I caught her a few times talking to herself, about my siblings and how sorry she was that she couldn’t save them from her. It was just us, and Delores for so many years.

I aged into an old man at the same time she did. But during that, she stayed small and weak. Like she was on the brink of dying, a fact I didn't want to think about. I couldn’t survive without her, I'd go crazy.

Then The Handler arrived and offered us both a chance to get out of there. I looked at her for an answer but she looked lost. I was glad to get out of this hellhole but weary for the future with this not trustworthy company. But I had her, the two of us could get through it.

Instead of sharing my excitement, she tells me to go without her. Saying that she’s likely to die anyway and that she’s tired of chasing a perfect world that doesn't exist. I explained to her I'd go through that with her but she’s dead set on going.

“My life is over Five.” She wheezes. “And I'm okay with that, I got to live it with you and everyone else. But you, you can keep going. Avenge this world and maybe someday we can be happy again.”

I try to speak but she cuts me off. “Maybe if I'm lucky enough, I'll finally get to see Ben!”

That broke me the most and with a lot of convincing from her, I was finally ready to take The Handlers offer. After goodbyes, she hugs me. “When did you get so tall?”

It was our final laugh together.

Before I left she whispered something to me away from prying eyes. “Promise me something Five.”

“Anything you want.”

“Promise me, you’ll break out of this bullshit and go back to the past.”

“What?”

“Listen. Go back to the past, how I don’t know but you're smart enough to figure it out. And stop all of this from happening, I know that's a huge thing to ask. But at least give it a try. Get back to us, get back to me, okay?”

“Of course, I'll try.” I sniffled.

“Don’t cry, do your best, live your life and try not to think about me too much.” Even then she still found a way to laugh.

“Now go before I cry too!”

She never wanted me to see her sad, or hurting even though I knew every move she made broke another part of herself. Y/n gave me one more hug before I stepped through The Handler’s briefcase portal.

I spent years trying to forget about a woman I should’ve never met. A woman I wouldn’t meet again until fulfilling her wish of going back to the past. But that version of her barely knew me, and all the things we did together. But that didn’t stop me from including her in all I did, to track down the person who ended the world. Even if she would never know about the love I had for that woman.

I was going to save my siblings and her from the apocalypse. Because I promised her I would.

…

I tried smth different this chapter tell me what u think!

Taglist: @aloflapse @isomehowexist @elenalovestoread @miscrying @gabriella-aesthetic @solarbeanz @theoriginalone1111 @water-hemlock18 @tialovesyoutoo @dakotapaigelove

#the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua x reader #viktor hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves #luther hargeeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #tua s1 #x reader

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