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kenyummy · 4 months ago

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✰ 05. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 05. your closed-off heart.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: avoidant attachment damian is canon to me okay. it's canon to me... </3 also pretty long chap idk how many words but it's a bunch

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

The sky has fallen to an ashen black by the time you've all settled down and watched a fun game show together; so different from the ones back home.

After those hours of catching up—you've made sure to be careful with your words and not mention anything about any alternate universes. You can't—not with that lingering stare behind you, after all.

Whether they realised your avoidance of the topic or simply didn't think to bring it up—you were glad the rest of your friends never even hinted at it once, either.

Now you were back, sitting on the couch under a low, flickering light and cuddled up beside Johnny and Franklin.

"Franklin..." Your voice is low. Said boy is cooped up to your side, snoring softly as he drools onto you. You avert your gaze toward Sue and Reed. "How's his... mutation going? It's pretty rough being so strong so young."

Johnny glowers at the sight of Franklin so attached to your left arm—even though he's just as close, if not closer to you than his nephew is. If he were sunken any farther into you, he'd practically be in your lap.

Sue sighs, pressing her palm against her face with an exasperated look. "After that whole incident with Annihilus, his power has been developing so drastically, we aren't sure on what may occur next. He's so... he is so strong. We asked the Professor about it, and his only advice was for when we believe we cannot properly help him develop, to send him to his school."

Reed slinks his hand into his wives', gripping tightly. "But I don't think it'll come to that. Franklin... is a good kid. I don't believe he will ever lost control of himself, not like the Professor is afraid he will. Regardless—he's doing fine, and that was the reason we took him with us."

The mood is sunken, a little bit quieter as you rake your nails over Frankin' scalp—gently. Such a power so young—you remember the first time you were told this young boy was creating pocket universes under his bed at three. Two years later, and he's developed the abilities comparable to that of a god.

To be so incredible is a blessing—but for a child like Franklin, it can feel like a curse often times. You would know, you think solemnly, palm falling over his cheek.

Ben sinks into the dented couch, leaning back with a knee crossed over his leg. He breaks the silence with ease and that lovely Yancy Street accent, "That, and we didn't wanna let Tony babysit again."

"Oh yeah," Johnny grimaces. "Last time he was left alone with Frankie, he made him a suit and he flew all the way to the Carribean!"

You slap a hand over your mouth, turning to Johnny and laughing, "I heard about that! Didn't you nearly get sunk by Namor and his Atlanteans?"

Johnny hisses and looks to the side—the tips of his ears alighting with a flicker. You reach up and pat out the flame, brushing his hair back as he hides his face from your view.

Judging by the smug, knowing look Sue shoots her younger brother, you assume he was pretty annoyed by your pampering.

Despite this, the mood has become lighter. You aren't worried about what may happen in the future, or what could possibly go wrong with the young child beside you.

"Don't even mention him, or any bad guy—" Johnny slumps down, head reeking back dramatically. "I'm going stir-crazy not being able to get out and fight 'em."

Ben gives him a pointed look, "brows" furrowing, "Yer sounding less stir-crazy and more batshit mental. Ya gotta get out more."

"Tell that to him!" The blonde juts his thumb towards Reed, who simply averts his eyes. "He's the one who said we can't be seen in this unknown place."

"Yeah, it's a shame, isn't it?" You cross your arms. "While you're all resting here, I have to go out and fight crime all day. Lucky me."

Johnny raises his hands in defence, "Yeah, you are lucky. I'd kill to get out and get some action. I'm tired of being cooped up in here all day like the world doesn't need me."

"Don't go getting a big head, Johnny." Sue frowns. "This world has survived fine without you. I'm sure it'll live even without you, as well."

Johnny and Sue start to bicker in the traditional sibling fashion—shooting the other glares and mocks, all the while Reed seems to be deep in thought. (And as always, Ben is simply enjoying the scene in front of him).

"Actually..." Reed speaks up—catching the attention of everybody in the room with ease. "Perhaps... it could be a good thing to go public. It would give us an easy way to collect materials we need if we could go out and use our powers freely."

"... Reed? You can't be serious—" Sue blinks in shock.

Ben slams his two rocky fists together, "Hell yeah! It's been a minute since I said my favourite line—"

"—It's clobberin' time, we know." Johnny shakes his head. Ben simply shoots the matchstick a glare.

"That aside; it'll help us make that..." Reed hums, glancing at you for a moment, "That very intricate device we'd been needing to create. The last one was created by the combined nature of me, Tony, and Hank—so making it alone may provide more difficult, but absolutely not impossible. Not much tech to work with, either... this might take a while..."

Sue places a hand on her husbands shoulder, and he seems to break out of the strange mumble he reduced his voice to. "Thank you, Susan. But yes—given we collect the right resources and I have time to work on this, we should be able to remake it."

"That's great!" You smile, grin brightening. You could go home! You could actually go home! Not sure when—but soon couldn't come soon enough. "You guys can fight alongside me, and now this! This is great news!"

"Eh ... I already told you Reed was making some of that crazy tech stuff, didn't I?" Johnny shrugs, resting his head to the side. "Besides—It's Reed. Why wouldn't be tinkering with some weird invention?"

"... Thank you for the vote of confidence, Johnny." Reed murmurs, eyes falling to the side. "If we want to make something as intricate as... that, from scratch, we'll definitely need the most brilliant minds helping."

"Ah... yeah. Too bad Tony isn't here, huh? Hank, too. They'd be a real help." You smile sadly, looking to the side.

"Actually, [name], I'd rather like you to look over some of the teleporters with me. Give your opinion on what I should do with what I have."

"R... really?" You look up at him with sparkly eyes. "You really...?"

He nods, smiling. You bite down on the insides of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning madly—instead, you opt to rushing over and wrapping your arms around his neck, jumping up and down.

"Thank you! Yeah, I'd be—" You pull back, coughing with a flushed face. "I'd be totally honoured. Yeah. Um—I promise to not get any webs on them this time!"

"I'll take your word for it," Reed chuckles. Happiness practically bursts out of your chest at the recognition from the smartest man in the world.

Perhaps you were more than you gave yourself credit for—and way more than what that family gave you credit for.

You sit back down and Franklin crawls back into your lap, snoring softly. Johnny attaches himself to your side and keeps a warm arm snug around your shoulder, smiling down at you.

The warm fuzzy feeling pools down at the bottom of your stomach and each time you laugh, you feel your heart grow fonder.

You had never felt so at home in this strange place. These four—these five—this was your family, and you'd never feel otherwise.

Damien feels a tug in his chest. More than a tug, actually—it's like a rope has tied a noose around his ribs and is rattling them repeatedly.

He's biting down so hard on his lips and the inside of your cheek that blood seeps from between chapped lips. He chews them raw—not even noticing the pain.

He hadn't even realised when he pulled his katana out from its holster on his back. He hadn't realised when he gripped it so taut his knuckles turned a milky white. He hadn't even realised when his eyes zeroed in on the sight of you cuddling up with that dark-haired boy.

Allowing him close to you—clinging to your arm so pathetically and pressing his face against your stomach as if he'd done it a hundred times over and acting like you're his older sibling or something stupid like that—

Damian steadies his erratic breathing. Unscrunching his face, but he cannot seem to stop glaring daggers. Even when he makes eye contact with that man—Reed, he believes you referred to him as—he does not tear his sharp gaze away.

You stare so tenderly at the young boy (younger than Damian is. By a few years or so, most likely). You cradle his cheek in your hand with such love it makes your actual brother, your blood brother, feel sick to his stomach.

Raking your fingers through his hair like you'd never done with your siblings before. Holding him close like you wished to protect him from the world and all the horrors within it.

How could you possibly hope to protect this... Frankie, when you cannot even protect yourself? The scarring left from the bullet still lay on your shoulder, a ghostly reminder of how you became victim to the evil this city holds.

A reminder to Damian on how he must protect you now. As his duty.

In this cruel world, you have lost to it—and yet, you choose to coddle others? You choose to keep others safe and close to your heart, but never your family?

His heart is lit aflame with rage. His jaw is taut and clenched tightly—feeling his teeth grit beneath his tongue and his mind fizzle with boiling anger. He hadn't felt this irrational in so long. Not until...

He doesn't remember ever seeing you in a such a light. He doesn't remember seeing you.

But now he does—and now, he feels so much fuming ferocity. Watching you send the softest of smiles to him and allowing him to feel your soft, untainted touch.

(A touch not tainted by years of relentless crime fighting—a silky grasp that could only be given by that kind of regularity Damian had never known).

Much earlier, he had realised you were that vigilante he met so long ago. That spider-like fiend who seemed to have those never-endingly sticky webs.

This is why you'd been skipping classes so often, and why he never saw you around. That's why he hadn't seen those pitiful eyes be directed toward his two, barely there elder brothers, after each and every violent patrol.

That is why you have become so distant. So far away—Drake had described it. Damian didn't bother to listen because he didn't care enough to.

That doesn't matter. In the end, none of it matters. Not to him. It didn't change his image of you.

He hadn't known you long enough for it to shift in any way—nor had he ever tried to. Despite this, he is content. If this new version of you is all he will ever know, then so be it. This will be his you—the sincerity in your touch and the love in your eyes.

(Yet, never seen toward him).

He has little time to ponder and brood. Before he knows it—the glass door is sliding open and, on that balcony, he is no longer alone.

You hesitate for a moment before speaking. "Damian?"

He blinks. He is not used to hearing his name from your mouth in anything but a furious tone. Yet, despite this—it is anything bur the saccharine way you told that Franklin he's your favourite—

"Damian. Why did you follow me?" You demand, voice more firm than your question-like tone before.

You stand before him, arms crossed under your chest and a hard expression on your face. Stern. Like a real older sibling. He had never seen you make that kind of face before.

(For whatever odd reason, he feels small again. Like lowering his head and apologising for something he had not even done—you've never had that sort of effect before).

... And yet, despite all he's acted like in the past; in this present moment, he doesn't know what to say to you. Very uncharacteristical.

(For that Franklin, it came so easy. Like running up to you with those stupid googly eyes was the most regular thing to him. Damian doesn't believe he will ever be able to feel as normal as that).

Fortunately, he manages to scrounge up some words to say like it was a board game. "I... happened to catch you swinging here. In that ridiculous costume and to your even more ridiculous friends."

Your brow twitches in annoyance at his words. He notices it so wholly that it strikes deep into his chest. Why are you so dissatisfied with him? Why does it make him so unfathomably upset?

"One, my costume is cool. Two, my friends aren't ridiculous. Don't talk about them like that." Your tone is upset.

All these strong emotions hit him like a freight train and suddenly he doesn't know how to speak properly. Don't look at him like that. Why are you so kind to that other child, but you are so cruel toward him? It's unfair. Absolutely unfair.

He must've been quiet longer than he realised. Clutching the bottom of his cape tight into his blood-bathed grip, practically shaking. He must look so utterly pathetic for you to offer him menial pity.

(Just like you used to—except now it feels like a wave crashing against the shore, covering the burning lava stones in a cool tide).

"So, you know, then?" You glance downward at Damian after pinching your temple. He breaks his eye contact with the concrete and looks back to you. "That I'm that spider hero."

...

"Yes. After seeing your school bag webbed up, it was far too obvious."

You glance downwards once more. To the strap wrapped around his shoulder, connected to your bag. He tries to shuffle it discreetly behind him, but he knows you've spotted it when a smile crawls onto your lips.

Gritting his teeth—yet this time he does not feel that same blaring anger as before—he decides that hiding it was useless and opts to shove it into your arms roughly, before he can even think.

"The leather is crumpled. You need a new bag," He says, matter-of-factly. You grasp onto the leather with wide eyes; gaze shifting from it to him.

"... I know. It's been like this..." You aren't exactly sure on how long, exactly—but you're sure it's been... "For a while. I'm used to it."

Damian pauses, eyes narrowed and lips turned down into a sneer. He's practically offering, and yet you still deny? You pretend everything is fine and you are strong.

...

You lean down the slightest. "... Still. Thanks for considering me."

You almost can't believe you're thanking this younger brother for the bare minimum—but from what you've seen, that bare minimum isn't seen much in your household. (Especially towards you).

Despite this... you have always had a soft spot for kids. You ruffle his dark hair and he practically squawks, slapping your hands away like it burnt.

He recoils back, hissing, "Who do you think you are?! Don't patronise me!"

You chuckle and move back, brushing off your hands. He watches that action like a hawk. "... Are you going to tell them?"

"TT. About your little side hobby playing dress up?"

You want to point out how he does the exact same thing. But you don't, because you know it will lead to nothing good.

Damian sneers, turning his head to the side, "I don't care for what you do in your spare time. As long as I do not have to be there to save you every time."

"Fair enough. This can be our little secret, then." You nod. "... You can go now. I'm just going to suit up and sneak back in."

"Is that what you have been doing for the past several weeks?"

"Guilty as charged," you shrug, pressing on the necklace pendant sitting comfortably between your collarbones. "If nobody notices, then I don't think it's that big of a deal. I mean—"

He watches in fascination as the minuscule robots crawl over your body and form into the familiar Spidey suit.

You tuck your hair in as the mask forms. "—Most of them are barely home to begin with, and it's not like Bruce has spare time to be worrying about this."

... "Don't you mean father?"

You stare at him weird. "What?"

"You called father Bruce." His eyes narrow furthur.

"Oh. Right." You must've become accustomed to not saying father. Uncle Ben was the only father you'd ever had, and it wasn't like you were going around calling him that, since you know—he was your uncle. "Yeah. That's what I meant."

Damien doesn't reply this time. He throws on the hood of his costume, turning his back toward your costumed form.

You walk back inside into the dimly-lit room, engulfing those people in warm hugs you'd never spared any of them before.

He leaps off the roof and swings away into the night, face unreadable; mind consumed with little crime and more thoughts of you.

Perhaps he was... wrong about you. Less helpless, but still just as weak. And a lot more confusing. Unfair. So much confliction.

Though, he feels his chest beat strangely warm when he tousles his hair back to its regular style.

Swinging in through the window in your room and with one click on your necklace, you land flat on your heels.

Peering around, you hum at your empty, dark room and change into a pair of pyjamas.

It's been a day or two since you'd eaten here. Usually you'd go around as Spidey and picking up some takeout as you swing back home, or go to Harry's house for some dinner (since Norman had taken a strong, un-evil liking to you in this world).

But today, you'd been too wrapped up to even think about dinner. You'd missed the familiarity of Sue's warm cooking but you hadn't even thought to ask while you were there. Damn.

It's way too late to go out and get something now. Crap. You really got ahead of yourself, didn't you?

You put on your pair of fuzzy slippers, and swing open your door. It's late, so most of them should be out on patrol.

You'll probably only run into Alfred, at best. You can live with those kinds of odds.

You walk down the stairway and towards the kitchen (it took you a bit—learning the ropes of this place was harder than it looked). Your steps sluggishly drawl across the floor as you yawn.

Being Spidey sure was tiring. Post-patrol naps were always the highlight of your week, but you could never do it on an empty stomach.

As quietly as possible, you begin to rummage around in the larger-than-life fridge. Fruit, condiments, almost all ingredients than actual food.

You groan. You hate rich people. Aunt May always used to just buy a bunch of pre-cooked meals whenever she was away—you'd become so accustomed to it.

Maybe there were leftovers? ... Do rich people even keep leftovers? You slouch down at the thought.

You open a few drawers just to find a pile of spinach of all things. Then fruity flavoured drinks. Some more vegetables. Lots of vegetables. A child's waking nightmare.

"There's a pack of pizza pockets in the third drawer in the second row."

You barely even react, hand already inching for the drawer. You open it, and find it. You hum.

Your sense acts up when you hear footsteps approaching—you glance over your shoulder to see a man you have not previously met before, but have seen.

That blob of red—that figure you saw before everything went black and when a bullet was lodged in your shoulder. It was him.

A white tuft of hair in the middle of his forehead and a jaded expression. A red helmet under his arm and a pizza pocket in the other hand.

It was undoubtedly him.

"Jason..." You try your hardest to not make it sound like a question.

His expression remains unchanged. "[name]. You... your shoulder is all healed up already."

You glance at your exposed shoulder. There is barely any visibly sign of a wound ever being there. Perks to a healing factor—well, you heal. Downsides to a healing factor—people start asking questions.

"It didn't hit me too deep... and Bruce got me the best hospital stuff, too." You put the pizza pockets on a plate then stuff it into the microwave. The beep resounds in the quiet as you lean back on the counter. "Guess I got lucky."

"Didn't feel so lucky when you were bleeding out in my arms, did you?" His eyes narrow and you think you may have said the wrong thing. "What the hell were you even doing out at that hour? What the fuck were you thinking?"

Oh, I was just dropped in from another universe and switched places with Wayne-ie here. No biggie.

Yeah, no way in any of the layers in hell. Facing Galactus head on feels like a safer task than telling him that. You shake your head, trying to formulate a proper excuse.

"I was hanging out with my friends. Lost track of time."

His eyes widen at your sheer audacity to say that—then, his brows furrow and he steps forward, "Don't give me that shit. You never go out past ten. Bruce won't let you. We drilled it into your head you'd die out there. And look—you nearly did. Don't you dare sit here and lie to me, [name], because I swear to God—"

Your jaw clenches and you have to hold your hands behind your body—pressed against hard granite—to stop yourself from pushing him back.

You hiss, low and tense, "What do you know? You'd never stay long enough to find out."

You remember flipping through that diary. The words getting scratchier and the paper getting more crumpled as you went on.

"You'd never stayed longer than a few days. You'd never even looked at me even then."

As you became older, you became hateful.

"You could see Dick. You could hate Tim. And despite everything, you could bring yourself to like him. You even tolerated Damian."

But you also became sad. Increasingly so. So miserable, trapped in that newborn skin you'd never truly seemed to break out of.

"I didn't care that you killed people. I didn't care that you never stayed for long. I didn't care that you hated Bruce."

So lost, so desperate for that touch you'd received so long ago; you never really grown up, had you?

"I didn't care that you'd never stay for him. For Dick. For any of the others."

So bitter. It's no wonder you'd never talked to them. It's no wonder—

"But damn it, Jason—"

"I really thought that you could've stayed for me."

—that he's staring at you in such horror.

None of this came from your heart. This entire speech was scripted on a piece of paper—by a version of you who felt so much pain and hate for those who abandoned you so easily.

But... looking at his expression now—you think it's something he needed to hear. Something that couldn't be left unsaid any longer. All the feelings pent up in them (in you, one could say) and the words they were to afraid to speak aloud. The words you were not afraid to say.

His lips parted, eyes wide as he doesn't reply. How can he? What could he ever, possibly say?

That he was doing this for your own good? That he never wanted you to see the man he had become? To never want to sully that image of that older brother who played tag with you when you were younger?

How does he tell you about the bullet he put through the skull of the Penguin goons with smoking guns he'd found minutes after he saw you bleeding out in a dirty alleyway? He couldn't possibly tell you about that.

How could he ever tell you that this was all for you—when you were hurting so badly?

(Hurting without him? Had you missed him all these years, so terribly? The thought brings some sort of twisted satisfaction. Sick reassurance. That, despite everything, you still loved him).

How could Jason Todd ever show you that he cares without destroying everything he was before? The answer was simple to him—he can't. He thought you knew. He thought—

...

Now, everything doesn't feel so simple. His sunken eyes search all over your face in frantic motions. Your eyes are so blank, and you don't even look to be feeling anything.

Are you tired? Of this? Of him? Just what did that bullet do to you?

The beeping of the microwave catches both of your attention before he has a chance to say something he will likely regret.

You turn your head to the side, and slip away from where he had cornered you against the granite. "Pizza pocket's done."

You glance his way, and he feels pathetic. Absolutley, spectacularly pathetic. "... Want some?"

You sit in incredibly uncomfortable silence, chewing on the food. At least it was good. Familiar.

Clearly there was a lot to discuss between the both of you. ... Jason and this other you, at least.

(Or was it you, the one who was shot? You could never truly tell).

There's so much to say, so little time. Jason could never stay, and definitely not around you. All these years—this world's you thought he hated them. Despised them.

Now, his expression feels like the complete opposite. Longing.

You shove the rest of the pizza pocket into your mouth, wiping off the stray greasy cheese off the corners of your lips.

"I meant what I said earlier." You clarify, as if he needed it. "And I don't appreciate you only getting on my ass after all this time, only when something bad happens. You don't get to do that. That's not how this works."

You gesture between the two of you and his heart feels like its been stabbed with the sharpest of knives.

Then, it twists.

You were always his favourite. The sweetest. The little kid he'd once held so dearly and near his heart. Until that heart stopped and turned into the deepest black, poisoned and compromised.

How could he ever risk poisoning you, too?

He wanted to keep you safe, and somewhere, somehow—he came to the conclusion that the only way you'd br safe is if you were away from him. Kept at a distance. Staying at arm's length.

Now, he isn't sure he was ever thinking of how safe you'd be. Not when he'd seen you, light-headed and bleeding. Not when you were practically dying in his arms and he couldn't do shit except kill those stupid fucking goons; because what is he good for if not revenge?

"I miss the old days," you say. But there's a distinct lack of emotion in your voice. As if it wasn't even you who was saying this. "But to hang onto them forever—when will we ever move on?"

...

He doesn't know. He doesn't think he can. Those are the only memories he has of you. Of himself.

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling his heart pound and stomach feeling sick. This sort of uncanny, soul-consuming feeling—it only ever happened whenever he would look at you.

Eyes blurry and vision failing him, he wants to go. To run. But at the same time, he wants to keep you close. Make sure nothing will ever happen again. Make sure you never feel that pain again.

His head is going to split. He doesn't know what to do.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His hands sink into his hair, and his jaw is clenched impossibly tight.

"I just..." His voice is quieter than he wanted it to be. Shakier. Almost timid. He feels like a boy again. That same child you'd stare at so reverently. He doesn't know when he was beginning to forget that. "I just wanted to keep you safe. That's all I ever wanted."

You're almost tired of this. Pissed off. Is that all they say? Is that really all they say to tell you why they'd kept you so far away? The distance was all-consuming. You'd noticed it in the first week you lived here. You couldn't even begin to imagine that kind of "love" all your life.

"Then, you were doing it all wrong." You say, simply. It sounds like you know. Like you have experience. Like a wise old wizard who'd "seen it all before". "I'm not incapable (truly, you are not) and my life is my own. Keeping me safe isn't trying to keep everything the same, like it is as it was."

He lifts his head from his hands when your chair pushes behind you, screeching across wooden boards.

"I'm sorry you had to find me like that. But... you don't get it. You don't know..." You swallow. "You don't know enough about me now to judge whether I need protecting or not. You never did."

... You're right. He never did. He still doesn't. Jason never watched you grow up. He never got the chance to see you go through your awkward teen years. Get your first boyfriend. Scare the shit out of him. He didn't get to hang out with you and get ice-cream after school.

He never got the chance to do anything of these things. Not with you. Never with the one most dear to him, and his small, dark heart.

But that could change. Starting now, he could change. He would. He could. He will. For you.

He stares, eyes blankening. Then, they fill with something dark. A nervous shiver runs down your spine and your sense starts tingling in the back of your mind.

He speaks, low and steady. The shakiness is gone and you're not sure what went on in his head—but he sounds so sure now. So certain.

"Then, I will."

It's not a threat or a claim—but a withheld promise. The heaviness of it weighs down on you, and you aren't sure whether you should feel safe or scared.

He gets out of his chair and walks over to you. Unconsciously, you hold your breath, blood running cold as he stalks closer. That huge imposing frame that (probably) used to hold some semblance of comfort toward you; now terrified you to the bone.

His big hand rests atop your head, and ruffles your hair. "Starting now, I'll get to know you again. Then, everything can go back to normal."

... Did he even listen to a word you said?

He sends you a smile as he leaves the top of your head a tangled mess, slipping on his helmet and walking away.

You're left alone, heart pumping wildly in your chest and your brain throbbing with that buzz. Every sense and nerve on full alert—you sink down into that chair and pull your knees to your chest.

You think you may have bitten off a bit more than you can chew.

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harrysfolklore · 5 months ago

Text

albon pets - aa23

summary: alex moves to monaco and suddenly his cats need vet checkups all the time, or maybe he just wants to hang out with the pretty doc

folkie radio: MY FIRST ALEX FIC!!!! y’all said that albono didn’t very much appreciation so i decided to do something about it, enjoy!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 48,936 others

yourinstagram Monday mood: When your favorite patients make your whole week better! 💕🐱 Special shoutout to Jimmy and Sassy who came in for their routine checkup. These two are literally the most well-behaved cats I've ever met (yes, I'm biased).

Their dad @/maxverstappen1 definitely knows how to raise the sweetest cats in Monaco. 🏎️🐈

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username1 aweeee jimmy and sassy are so big now!

username2 vet to the stars

username3 THATS MY BFF AND IM PROUD

maxverstappen1 They only behave for you 😅 At home Sassy keeps knocking everything off my shelves and Jimmy steals my socks. But at least they're healthy. Thanks doc!

↳ yourinstagram haha, that's because they know I'm the treat lady!

↳ landonorris Mate your cats have better healthcare than you do

↳ maxverstappen1 Shut up Lando

↳username4 i’m dying over this

alexandrasaintmleux Leo says he misses his favorite doc 😢

↳ yourinstagram My little Leo!!! please bring him in soon

username5 cutest patients ever

username6 the way max is a softie for his cats

kellypiquet Jimmy and Sassy have the best vet in Monaco

↳ yourinstagram They already have the best parents! Say hi to little P from me

username7 i love her vibe i bet she’s the sweetest person ever

username8 this is my dream job actually

username9 f1 pets favorite doc

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,328,044 others

alex_albon Finally made the big move! 🇲🇨 Horsey has already claimed the best spot in the apartment: a shoe box. After years of everyone telling me to join the Monaco crew, here we are!

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username1 omggggg alex moved to monaco

username2 horsey is an icon tbh

username3 ALBON CATS TAKE OVER MONACO

charles_leclerc Finally!! Only took you 4 years 😂

↳ alex_albon Better late than never

maxverstappen1 Jimmy and Sassy have a new friend to judge from the balcony

↳ alex_albon As long as they don't teach him their sock-stealing habits

username4 they finally made him join the tax heaven crew

username5 monaco said ANOTHER ONE THANK YOU

username6 not me thinking that jimmy, sassy, roscoe, leo and the albon cats are now neighbors

williamsracing There goes our last UK-based driver 😢

username7 i can’t believe a man who radiates this much golden retriever boyfriend is single

username8 HE LOOKS SO CUUUUUTE

username9 alex do your pets need a mom? cuz i’m free

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monaco crew groupchat

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liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1 and 50,439 others

yourinstagram Late night emergency turned into meeting this gorgeous new Monaco resident! Everyone say hi to Horsey 🖤

Poor baby had a rough first week in his new home (pro tip: cats and moving box debris don't mix well!), but he's already feeling much better after some treatment. Such a brave boy who purred through the whole examination despite feeling under the weather!

PS: His dad @/alex_albon gets extra points for being so attentive and calm during an emergency situation - exactly what we love to see! Always nice when pet parents take such good care of their fur babies 🏆

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username1 thank you for sharing your life as a vet! i love your posts

username2 such a cute boyyy horsey

maxverstappen1 The best 👊

↳ alex_albon You were right! Thanks for the recommendation 🙏

username3 you just got another f1 patient no biggie

georgerussell63 Good to see Horsey feeling better!

↳ yourinstagram He's such a sweet patient!

username4 she’s so popular among f1 drivers heeelp

charles_leclerc The Monaco pets collection grows

username5 ok but why is no one talking about how she called him attentive and calm?? ma'am we've seen him drive 😭

username6 ALEX GOT A VET ARC THIS IS NOT A DRILL

↳ username7 manifesting this storyline

↳ username4 y'all are too much omg 😭

username8 everyone in the comments being like 👀

↳ username5 THE DRIVERS ARE SO OBVIOUS I'M CRYING

username9 the group chat must be WILDING rn

username10 "his dad" MA'AM-

liked by alex_albon, charles_leclerc and 1,604,948 others

f1 When your local vet becomes paddock royalty!

Spotted at the #MonacoGP: The woman responsible for keeping the grid's furry friends healthy and happy! From Max's mischievous cats to Charles' pup, Lewis’ bulldog, and Alex's newly-relocated cats - @/yourinstagram has become the unofficial F1 Pet Doctor! 🏎️🐾

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username1 THIS IS SO CUTE OMG???

username2 SHES SO BEAUTIFUL

username3 this is definitely the coolest job in the world

maxverstappen1 Jimmy and Sassy's favorite human

↳ lando more like their only well-behaved moments

↳ username1 JIMMY AND SASSY JUST LOVE HER

oscarpiastri The real paddock MVP 🏆

alex_albon ❤️

↳ lando very articulate there alex

↳ alex_albon shut up lando

↳ username2 OMGGGG WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

↳ username3the way alex just hearted it i-

↳ username4 we're watching a romance novel unfold in real time

username5 someone check on albon nation they're probably hospitalized

username6 the drivers exposing themselves in the comments 💀

username7 lando stirring the pot we love to see it

username8 not max immediately claiming her as his cats' favorite 😭

username9 THE HEART EMOJI???? ALEX???

username10 everyone in f1 moves to monaco for tax evasion and this vet

lewishamilton The best vet Roscoe's ever had! 🙌🏾

liked by alex_albon, lando and 68,934 others

yourinstagram Still pinching myself! 🏎️ From late night emergency calls with your pets to watching you all race through the streets of Monaco - what a surreal experience! Thank you @/f1 for having me and huge thanks to @/williamsracing for the incredible hospitality (and the merch! 🤫).

Special shoutout to all my four-legged patients watching their dads race from home and from the paddock today! 🐾

PS: These cars are LOUD! Now I understand why @alex_albon's cats get scared during race replays!

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username1 im her fan now

username2 SHES SO COOL

alex_albon Thanks for coming! Dinner to celebrate? 🤔

↳ lando smooth

↳ alex_albon I will block you

↳ landonorris worth it

↳ username1 WTF DID WE WITNESS

↳ username3 ohhh my god alex albon you have no shame

maxverstappen1 Thank you for coming !

williamsracing You're welcome any time! 💙

username4 DINNER??? ALEX???

↳ username2 THE SMOOTHEST DRIVER ON THE GRID FR

↳ username5 SOMEONE HOLD ME

username6 SO SHE WAS ALEX’S GUEST???

username7 can we talk about how pretty she is tho

georgerussell63 Next time bring your vet skills, my ego needs healing after that race

↳ maxverstappen1 same here doc

↳ yourinstagram Sorry boys, I only treat actual puppies 😂

username8 i ship her with alex idc idc

username9 WE NEED TO KNOW IF SHE ACTUALLY GRABBED DINNER WITH ALEX

username10 this is my roman empire

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liked by username1, username2 and 14,033 others

f1gossip 🚨 BREAKING: Alex Albon spotted having dinner with Monaco's favorite vet at Le Petite Maison in Nice! Sources say they arrived together and have been there for over 2 hours.

Multiple fans confirm they looked "very cozy" and were "laughing all evening" 👀

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username1 OMFGGGG I DIDNT SEE THIS COMING

username2 i love this pair actually

username3 Max Verstappen was seen at the same restaurant last week... did someone play matchmaker? 👀

username4 EVERYBODY STAY CALM IT'S HAPPENING

username5 interesting timing right after her Monaco GP appearance 🤔

username6 I SHIP THIS SO HARD

username7 seriously guys? let them eat in peace

username8 THE WAY HE TOOK HER TO A NICE RESTAURANT NOT JUST ANY PLACE

username9 our boy got GAME

username10 manifesting worked girlies

username11 the way this isn't even a netflix script this is REAL

username12 ALEX BOYFRIEND ERA INCOMING

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, alex_albon and 69,035 others

yourinstagram When your Monday morning turns into an impromptu F1 pets reunion!

Apparently EVERYONE needed an urgent check-up today... how convenient 🤔 (I'm looking at you @/lewishamilton @/maxverstappen1 @/charles_leclerc)

All patients are perfectly healthy, just as they were last week! Though Roscoe did get extra treats for being the most honest about this setup 😉🐾

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username1 this is too funny

username2 why are they planninggggg

lewishamilton Roscoe said he was feeling under the weather!

↳ yourinstagram He was sleeping and snoring when you carried him in Lewis 😂

↳ lewishamilton ... he was conserving energy

username3 THESE DRIVERS ISTH

maxverstappen1 Jimmy and Sassy needed their... annual... weekly checkup

↳ yourinstagram Max, I literally saw them yesterday

↳ maxverstappen1 They miss you already?

charles_leclerc Pure coincidence 😇

alex_albon guys...

↳ georgerussell63 👀

↳ alex_albon I can't with any of you

↳ username1 WHATS GOING ON

username4 THE WAY THEY'RE ALL TRYING TO HELP I'M CRYING

username5 not them all showing up at once 💀

username6 they’re as subtle as a brick through a window

username7 ARE THEY TRYING TO PLAY MATCHMAKER??

username8 sassy looks so adorable i cantttt

username9 coolest job ever ! thanks for sharing your life as a vet <3

username10 alex just kiss her

liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63 and 1,804,539 others

alex_albon Race week dumps 🏎️ Missing my troublemakers already #F1 #Cats #RaceWeek

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username1 HES SO BOYFRIEND CODED

username2 i love cat dad alex

yourinstagram Tell the babies their favorite vet misses them!

↳ alex_albon They knocked over their food bowl as soon as I showed them this comment

↳ yourinstagram Sounds about right 😂 Remember their anxiety meds before quali!

↳ alex_albon Already packed them! See, I can be responsible

↳ lando the cats or YN got you being responsible? 👀

↳ alex_albon blocked.

username3 WHAT JUST HAPPENED???

username4 did lando just exposed him?

username5 someone's cats getting a lot of vet attention lately 👀

maxverstappen1 Your cats have better race prep than you do

↳ alex_albon At least my cats like me

↳ maxverstappen1 Jimmy and Sassy said that's a lie

↳ yourinstagram Can confirm, all F1 cats talk about each other in their check-ups

↳ alex_albon et tu, doc? 😭

username6 ALEX SOOOO LIKES HER I CANT

username7 most wholesome grid dad

williamsracing Cat dad era > any other era

username8 ALEX IS PRETTY MUCH IN LOVE WITH THEIR VET I CANT

username9 crying he’s so obvious

username10 if the vet doesn’t want to be his girlfriend i volunteer just saying

liked by yourinstagram, alex_albon and 102,549 others

albon_pets Guess who we saw today? 🤔 Our favorite doc @/yourinstagram! Dad said we needed vaccines but we think he's just bad at making excuses 😽

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username1 ALBON PETSSSS

username2 THE CAPTION 😭

yourinstagram My favorite trouble twins! ❤️ Horsey only knocked over ONE thing this time, we're making progress!

↳ alex_albon that's because you bribed them with treats

↳ yourinstagram Professional secret 😉

maxverstappen1 Jimmy and Sassy are offended they weren't invited

↳ albon_pets Tell them we'll see them at next week's "emergency" appointment 😸

username3 NOT ALEX’S OWN CATS DRAGGING HIM

williamsracing Our mascots looking purrfect 🐱

username4 those must be the most thoroughly examined cats in Monaco

username5 these cats getting more action than their dad

username6 whatever you do don’t picture alex trying to come up with excuses to take the cats to the clinic just so he can see doc yn

username7 alex stop using your cats as matchmakers

username8 THIS IS SO FUNNY

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monaco crew groupchat

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liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1 and 70,198 others

yourinstagram Long night at the clinic with this tiny fighter. Found abandoned in the rain, severe hypothermia and malnutrition, but pulling through like a champion. Sometimes the hardest nights remind me why I love this job. Will keep everyone updated on this little one's progress! 💕

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username1 oh shes the sweetest ever

username2 poor little thing 🥹

monacoanimalrescue Thank you for taking this baby in! Let us know if you need anything

↳ yourinstagram Will do! Already showing good signs 🙏

username3 Nothing hits harder than these late night rescue cases. You're doing amazing work! ❤️

↳ yourinstagram Thank you! Hour 16 and counting, but worth it

username4 need any supplies or volunteers?

↳ yourinstagram Actually yes! DMing you now

alex_albon Need any help? I can bring coffee or food or anything

↳ yourinstagram Actually could use both if you're up?

↳ alex_albon On my way!

↳ username1 OMG ALEXXXX

↳ username2 i see 👀👀

kellypiquet This is why you’re the best! 💘

username5 Those overnight kitten cases always get to me. Sending strength!

↳ yourinstagram The tiny ones are always the fighters!

username6 this is why we're in this field 🥺

username7 this is the perfect girl for alex

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texts between max and yn

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texts between alex and yn

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liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1 and 98,736 others

yourinstagram First night off in ages! No emergencies, no sick pets (real or imaginary), just dinner with good company ❤️

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username1 OMFGGGGG

username2 am i dreaming???

lando FINALLY!!!!!

↳ georgerussell63 Only took 47 vet visits

↳ charles_leclerc And 3 house fires

↳ alex_albon guys please 😭

↳ username1 NO WAY

↳ username2 they’re so annoying oml

maxverstappen1 My cats send their congratulations

↳ yourinstagram Tell them thanks!

username3 THE WAY I JUST SCREAMED

username4 FINALLY HAPPENING

username5 the way the whole paddock was invested in this 😭

username6 best storyline of the season

username7 About time! Have fun you two!

username8 the slow burn we've been watching all season

alex_albon ❤️

↳ lando Look who learned how to use the heart emoji

↳ alex_albon I'm still blocking all of you

username9 ALEX BOYFRIEND ERA IS HEREEEEEEE

username10 i knew this was going to happen

liked by lando, yourinstagram and 1,089,478 others

alex_albon Turns out I didn't need a sick cat excuse after all 😊❤️

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username1 AHHHHHH

username2 THIS IS SO CUTE

lando WHO HAD "ALEX POSTS FIRST" IN THE BETTING POOL

↳ georgerussell63 Pay up everyone

↳ charles_leclerc I lost 50€ 😭

↳ username1 NO WAY THIS IS REAL

↳ username2 THEY’RE SO ANNOYING

yourinstagram ❤️

↳ alex_albon ❤️

↳ username1 THE WAY I JUST DIED

↳ username2 they're using matching hearts I can't 😭

username3 local man discovers real dates better than fake emergencies

username4 CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

username5 Finally! You two are adorable ❤️

username6 ALEX FINALLY GOT HIS SHIT TOGETHER

maxverstappen1 My cats want to know if they're invited to the wedding

↳ alex_albon MAX !

username7 most wholesome character arc

username8 ALEX BOYFRIEND ERA IS REAL

username9 they make the cutest couple ever

username10 THE WAY THE ENTIRE GRID JUST WANTED THEM TOGETHER

liked by username1, username2 and 19,736 others

f1gossip BREAKING: After months of "emergency vet visits" and mysterious cat illnesses, looks like @/alex_albon finally got the real thing 👀❤️

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username1 THE WAY I JUST SCREAMED IN PUBLIC

username2 SOMEONE HOLD ME

username3 the growth we've witnessed 😭

username4 the way the whole paddock was invested in this storyline

username5 the slow burn we deserved

username6 this is better than any romance novel

username7 ALBON NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING

username8 he way we watched this unfold all season

username9 ALEX DATING A VET FEELS SO RIGHT

username10 the clinic's security cameras probably have a whole romcom stored

username11 THE WAY HE'S SMILING 😭

username12 protect them at all costs

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liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1 and 103,685 others

yourinstagram Trading my stethoscope for some racing earmuffs this weekend! Marie's handling the clinic while I watch someone who definitely doesn't have any more sick cats race around Silverstone 😉❤️

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username1 AWE THIS IS SO CUUUTE

username2 best couple ever i swear

clinicvet_marie Have fun! The clinic will survive 😊

username3 THE HELMETS IM CRYING

lando look who doesn't need to fake emergencies to see him anymore

↳ alex_albon I will crash this car into you

↳ landonorris worth it

username4 POWER COUPLE

username5 the most wholesome storyline ever

alexandrasaintmleux welcome to our crew 🥹🥹

williamsracing We can’t wait too see our favorite doc 😉

username6 i can’t believe alex got himself a girlfriend

alex_albon ❤️

↳ yourinstagram See you at the finish line ❤️

↳ username2 THIS IS TOO CUTE

↳ username3 I COULD CRY

username7 first race as girlfriend!

username8 she’s so supportive of him i’m sobbing

username9 this picture is so pinterest coded i’m crying

username10 I NEED THEM TO ADOPT ME

liked by yourinstagram, lando and 1,308,577 others

alex_albon First race with my lucky charm in the paddock! Turns out having a real girlfriend is better than having sick cats 😉 Thank you everyone for the amazing support today ❤️ Special thanks to @/williamsracing for the incredible car

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username1 AWEEEEEE

username2 this is the cutest post ever

yourinstagram So proud of you ❤️

↳ alex_albon ❤️

↳ username1 STOP THIS IS TOO CUTE IM CRYING

username3 MY BF HAS A GF I CANT

maxverstappen1 Once again you’re welcome

↳ username2 HES SO ANNOYING

username4 driver finds success with real girlfriend instead of fake cat emergencies

username5 THE WAY THEY'RE BOTH GLOWING

williamsracing Petition to make the lucky charm permanent

↳ alex_albon Already planned 😊

↳ username1 IM SOBBING HES SO IN LOVE

lando so this is what happens when you stop inventing diseases

↳ alex_albon I should have tried this strategy sooner

↳ charles_leclerc Ya think? 🙄

↳ username3 lmfao they’re never going to let him live that down

username6 SOMEONE FRAME THIS PICTURE AND PUT IT IN THE LOUVRE

username7 they’re so aesthetically pleasing i could cry

username8 THEY NEED TO GET MARRIED

liked by alex_albon, yourinstagram and 102,665 others

albon_pets We have a new brother! Meet Bruno Albon, the newest addition to our family! 🐾 Mom @/yourinstagram and Dad @/alex_albon adopted him together (and this time it wasn't an emergency visit excuse 😉). He's already best friends with us and loves watching F1 races!

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username1 MY HEARTTTTT

username2 oh my god bruno albon you sweet boy

f1 The family grows !

yourinstagram Our big boy ❤️

↳ alex_albon Family complete 🥰

↳ username1 STOP I'M SOBBING

username3 THE ALBON FAMILY HAS MY HEART

lando my cats demand a playdate

↳ alex_albon Your cats aren't even real Lando

↳ lando Neither were your emergencies 🤷‍♂️

↳ username1 IM WHEEZING

username4 they’re parents now what if i sob

username5 look at this beautiful family 😭

username6 the way they got a DOG together

username7 best F1 pet family

williamsracing Bruno already has his paddock pass

liked by yourinstagram, lando and 1,098,447 others

alex_albon A year ago I moved to Monaco and started inventing the most ridiculous cat emergencies known to veterinary science. Today I have the most amazing girlfriend, a beautiful family (including a dog who actually exists!), and somehow @/yourinstagram still hasn't banned me from her clinic 😅❤️ Best decision I ever made, even if my cats supposedly had everything from fever to existential crisis

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username1 IM SOBBING

username2 this is what to precious i’m so parasocial about them

yourinstagram From "my cat has seasonal depression" to "I love you" ❤️

↳ alex_albon Best character development 🥰

↳ username1 THE WAY THEY FLIRT IN COMMENTS NOW

username3 im so happy they found each other

lando emember when he googled "can cats get jetlag"

↳ georgerussell63 While his cats were literally at home

↳ alex_albon It was a valid question

↳ username2 ALEX WAS IN THE TRENCHES

username4 the cutest butterfly effect ever

username5 I HEAR WEDDING BELLS TIME TO START PLANNING

albon_pets mom and dad 💘

username6 this is just too sweet

username7 THE WAY ALEX HAD FAKE CAT DISEASES AND A DREAM

username8 BRUNO IS SO CUTEE

username9 if they don’t get married istg

username10 this gives me hope i can find love too

2K notes · View notes

vi-steponmeplease · 6 months ago

Text

ˋ°•*⁀➷ loser!gf ellie

synopsis: just some random headcanons about what it'd be like to date loser ellie who's js so obsessed with you.

notes: never made any headcanon posts before, so don't mind the setup lmao i have no clue what i'm doing

tw: mostly fluff but there are some smutty hcs (oral — e!receiving)

✧₊⁺ to begin with, ellie defo prefers cozy 'netflix n chill' date nights over dressing up for fancy dinners.

✧₊⁺ cuddling up on the couch with you is something that never fails to make her heart swell, no matter how long you’ve been together.

✧₊⁺ but mostly because it gives her a chance to imagine what domestic life with you might be like—though she’d never admit it, afraid it might seem like she’s moving too fast.

✧₊⁺ she’s a sucker for resting her head on your chest while you thread your fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp as the two of you watch some cringey movie you’ll inevitably fall asleep to halfway through.

✧₊⁺ on the rare nights you don’t doze off, ellie grabs her brown acoustic guitar adorned with spongebob stickers and serenades you with a gentle melody while you rest your head on her shoulder.

✧₊⁺ when you’re out with friends, ellie—being the absolute dork she is—seizes the opportunity to practice tricks on her scratched-up skateboard, determined to one day impress you with her skills (even though she can barely land a kickflip without bruising herself)

✧₊⁺ when she eventually heads home with fresh scratches and deep purple bruises on her arms and knees, she does her best to patch herself up and cover them with makeup, hoping you won’t notice.

✧₊⁺ walking around town with ellie is always chaotic, as she can’t help but scream with excitement at the sight of every cat she sees.

✧₊⁺ bonus points if she’s eating chips—she’ll immediately tear open the bag and try to feed the poor animal junk food, no matter how much you explain it’s unhealthy. she just wants the cat to be happy and fed.

✧₊⁺ speaking of cats, she's defo the type to snap 0.5 pictures from every angle, proudly maintaining an entire folder dedicated to her feline encounters.

✧₊⁺ you got her a dino necklace for her birthday, and she’s never taken it off since.

✧₊⁺ ellie also has a whole mini-figure collection of the reptile and loves sending you pictures of two dinos kissing, always captioning them with: us!!

✧₊⁺ this girl lets nothing—absolutely nothing—distract her from a videogame. but the moment you so much as call her name, she’s running to you like a stray dog that just found its owner.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, you sit on her lap as she plays, watching her screen and asking the silliest questions. she always answers with a smile and a soft kiss on your cheek.

"what about there? would you die if you went inside that room?" you ask, your arms draped around her neck as you tilt your head to get a better view of her game.

she chuckles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw before fiddling with the joysticks. "judging by the fact that it’s pitch dark in there, i’d say… probably, yeah."

✧₊⁺ the room eventually falls silent, her focus fully locked on the game. but when she glances down a few moments later, she finds you fast asleep, your head resting on her shoulder, and she can’t help but smile.

✧₊⁺ you’ve never seen a room as messy yet effortlessly aesthetic as ellie’s. somehow, the clutter only adds to her charm and uniqueness.

✧₊⁺ sometimes, as you sit on her bed scrolling through your phone in comfortable silence, ellie sketches little drawings of you.

✧₊⁺ by now, her sketchbook is filled with portraits of you—you’ve become her muse.

✧₊⁺ she used to get shy about showing you her artwork, hesitating before every reveal. but after seeing your excitement over one piece, she proudly gave you a full tour of her sketchbook, secretly basking in the joy of being the reason behind that pretty smile of yours.

✧₊⁺ one time, ellie asked you to press your lipstick-stained lips onto a piece of paper, saying she wanted to create something abstract.

✧₊⁺ that moment quickly escalated into her kissing you with urgency, her lips trailing heated breaths down your neck and collarbone. before you knew it, you were lying on your back, clothes discarded on the floor, as she devoured you like a prisoner savoring a last meal.

✧₊⁺ ellie had never tasted pussy before, but she didn’t need any frame of reference. she’ll always insist yours is the best she could ever have.

✧₊⁺ she’s a soft dom, big on praise—even when you’re the one between her legs.

ellie’s head falls back against the wall, a low groan slipping from her lips as your tongue flicks against her clit. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, watching her face contort with pleasure.

“fuck, baby. just like that,” she grunts, her hand threading into your hair and tugging gently to bring you closer. “you’re doing so good.”

✧₊⁺ in the end, ellie is just a hopeless loser who’s madly in love with you and would do anything to make you happy.

#ellie williams #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie willams x reader #ellie x fem reader #tlou ellie #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #lesbian #ellie williams fluff

3K notes · View notes

kousanosgf · 8 months ago

Text

men, minors dni

councilor!sevika x assistant!reader headcanons

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ getting together　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

i have too many thoughts about miss councilor sevika (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

◗ 　they get on each other's nervs at first. sevika is still too new for her position and the need to prove herself to the most of the council drives her insane, cause those fucks are hella dense. so she's constantly on the edge, trying to wiggle between mentally fighting for her people on the meetings and actually taking part in rebuilding of zaun. and sometimes (or a lot of times) sevika sees reader as just another nuisances and a person who's ready to judge her just because she's not from piltover

◗ 　reader on the other hand just can't comprehend sevika's nature. she was raised and worked for years in a more "higher context culture" if you can call it so, so she's shoked how straight to the point sevika is, often taking it as nothing but rudeness. reader also can't say much to sevika, since she can't make herself speak up, taught to be respecrful and obedient to her supiriors, leaving a lot of space to passive aggression

◗ 　 they're taking all the first places in the misunderstanding and miscommunication competition

◗ 　sevika hates how reader is set on the formal speech with her. "stop calling me councilor" "that's who you are" "yeah but you don't have to say it in every sentence, you sound like some wind-up toy" "okay, ma'am, I'll take you wish into account".

◗ 　she realises that reader calling her "ma'am" is worse but not for the same reasons

◗ 　 their relationship is very much about learning and understanding each other and those around you. mostly for reader, cause she was brought up with a mindset of zaunites being someone lesser. and even though she follows etiquette, trying to be polite and serve as a perfect assistant, cause her whole life she dreamed of working with someone who changes other people's lifes, or even being that person, she can be judgmental towards sevika, refusing to see her point of view properly

◗ 　 eventually they get closer and more comfortable with each other, which means reader drops her nice formal persona with her passive aggressiveness, and they actually menage to solve more problems while arguing and letting the steam out than just walking around on eggshells for days

◗ 　 that's when sevika starts fall for reader. it's like reader's mask slipped and she can finally see a real person and not a workaholic machine. she loves how both sassy and caring reader can be. their fights now end in laughter and omg they also can say sorry to each other

◗ 　 sevika insists on brining reader to any important event, where plus one is required. because reader helps her monitor her actions and gives helpful insides of other participants of course, not because she just wants to spend time with her, definitely not

◗ 　and reader is oblivious™. she's so happy, she finally doesn't hate her work and her and sevika can even be called friends, she doesn't notice any move sevika makes, simply thinking it's nothing but platonic gestures

◗ 　 eventually she snaps. "are you straight?" "what?" "i asked around, and people said you're into women. did they lie?" "n-no" "then what?" "what what?" "if it's just me you don't like you could've said so"

◗ 　 reader is of course shocked. she has to take couple of days off, embarrassed with how blind she was and to think the situation through

◗ 　 next time they meet reader refuses sevika, saying it's not right to have a romantic involvement with any colleague, especially not with your boss. sevika understands and agrees

◗ 　 well actually she doesn't. a compliment here, a touch there. sevika does nothing too provocative so reader can't say she's acting improper. but she's just playing a long game

◗ 　 and yes, it works. months of teasing ruins poor reader's morals. flustered and very much horny she tugs sevika into a kiss on just a normal tuesday in councilor's office

◗ they may or may not have sex right there they definitely do

—————————————————————————

kay, a bit messy. definitely gonna do part two or a full drubble with them later

#arcane #sevika #sevika x y/n #sevika x reader

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mrsstarkey1 · 8 months ago

Text

getting rafe hooked on dress to impress

my fav thing i’ve ever written i can’t even lie

word count: 1.2k

obx masterlist

you yawned loudly and abnoxiously as you walked into rafe’s bedroom. you kicked your shoes off, grabbing one of rafe’s t-shirts from his drawer, changing out of your uncomfortable clothes. “didn’t think you were coming back, it’s late as fuck.” rafe said, looking at you oddly as he sat up on the bed against the headboard.

“longest fucking day of my life. need to unwind.”

rafe smirked, reaching his whole body over the bed to grab your forearm. "like the sound of that," he mumbles.

you let yourself move toward him, but you groan, “not like that.” rafe momentarily pouts, but doesn’t let go of your arm. in fact, he pulls you closer onto the bed with him urging you to cuddle up into him.

he snakes his arm around you, soft fingers tracing circles into your side. "wanna talk about it?"

you yawn and shake your head, "nah, can we just watch a movie or something?"

rafe nods, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand. "you don't wanna watch some chick-flick do you?" he asks, grimacing already.

you sigh dramatically, “i guess not. fast and furious?”

rafe obligies, satisfied with your suggestion. you get comfortable on the bed, your head rested on rafe's shoulder and your phone rested on his chest as you scroll through tiktok.

about 20 minutes later, you see a video about the new halloween update on dress to impress and gasp before you can stop yourself. rafe jumps slightly, eyes wide. “jesus christ, what’s wrong?”

"sorry, nothing," you grin apologetically, "can I borrow your laptop though?"

he looks at you like you've lost your mind, but he still grabs his macbook from the nightstand, handing it over to you. you sit up excitedly, leaning up against the headboard.

you open the laptop and sign into your roblox account, side eyeing rafe as he gives you an odd look. "the fuck are you doing?"

"playing a game," you respond innocently.

he raises his eyebrows, "roblox? wheezie used to play that shit.. when she was 8," he says, judging you hardcore.

you glare at him, "you don't understand," you sigh. "just watch me play, it's genuinely fun."

he watches you click on dress to impress, making a disgusted face. "yeah I can't defend you on this one," he says and you shove his shoulder.

"well have you ever played dress to impress?" you ask him.

"obviously not," he says, his sassy side on full display.

"well don't judge then. just watch and i'll let you play a round when i'm done," you say with a smile, patting his cheek softly.

"hell nah," he says, directing his attention back to the movie.

you shake your head, giving up on getting him to play. you start a round, looking around at all the new pieces they added. the theme is holiday for your first round, so of course you do halloween.

you notice rafe's eyes on the computer screen as his curiosity clearly starts to creep back in despite himself. he watches as you piece together combination of a witch hat, spiderweb dress, and dark boots.

“what even is this shit?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly intrigued.

you grin, not taking your eyes off the screen since you only have a minute left. “you compete with other people to make the best outfit based on a theme. you'd be pretty good at it, you've got great style," you say, trying to persuade him.

he gives you a look, shaking his head, "sounds dumb as fuck," he says, and you just laugh. he's silent for a moment before turning slightly to have a better view of the screen, "so what you just like... dress them up and shit?"

you nod, watching the time run out. "yes, then everyone votes on each outfit and the top 3 get on the podium. see," you point to the screen, "the voting's starting now."

an outfit that's completely off theme struts down the runway and you grimace, "see like that one's ugly as fuck so i give it a 1. oooh look, this ones mine," you say with a proud smile. "doesn't she look great?"

rafe shrugs, "i guess."

you ended up getting third place, losing to two terrible outfits. you curse under your breath, before turning to him. “you wanna try a round?” you smile, looking up at him.

rafe scoffs, glancing back at the movie, but curiosity gets the better of him. “alright, fine, hand it over.” he takes the laptop.

"okay the theme is beach day," you tell him.

he hums in response, looking around at the clothes aimlessly. "rafe, you gotta pick something that actually matches,” you say, stifling a laugh as he pairs a yellow bikini top with neon green shorts.

"shh, I have a vision," he says, dismissing your words. "wait why the fuck doesn't she have a face?"

"you gotta go to the makeup and hair room, over there," you point at the screen.

he scrolls through the makeup options, finally decided on one. "mhm, she bad ain't she?" you chuckle, knowing rafe is secretly loving this.

time runs out just as he adds the coconut drink, and you see him watching the screen eagerly, waiting for the voting to end. one girl dressed in long pants and a jacket walks out and he looks over at you, disgusted, "this bitch didn't even look at the theme." all you can do is laugh and nod your head in agreement.

when rafe places second, he smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. "ha," he says, "i did better than you."

you roll your eyes. "yeah you're done playing," you say, snatching the laptop back.

the next night, you texted rafe that you were gonna come over after your morning shift and you didn't get a response, which was odd. you let yourself into his house with the key he'd given you. "rafe?" you called out, walking into the living room. "you here?" no response.

you furrowed your eyebrows, walking up the stairs. maybe he was just in his room, you thought, taking a nap or something. you creak open his bedroom door, met with the scene of him sitting on his bed, looking intently at his laptop.

his eyes shoot up to look at you and he slams his laptop closed, guilty look in his eye. you raise your eyebrows, "what were you doing?" you question him, walking toward the bed.

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, shaking his head. "nothin.'"

your eyes narrow, "were you watching porn?" you joke, sitting down next to him.

he sighs, "worse.." he trails off. he mentally debates for a minute, before pulling his laptop back into his lap, opening it slowly to reveal dress to impress on full display.

your hand shoots to cover your mouth, laugh escaping your lips anyway. all he does is glare at you, "this is your fucking fault."

you lean into him with a laugh, "I know I know, sorry. don't be embarrassed, rafe." you press a kiss to his lips.

as you kiss him, you can’t help but laugh again, glancing at his screen. "okay wait that's actually a cute outfit. you're getting good," you nudge him, "fashionista," you add quietly with a chuckle.

he looks at you straight-faced, "I'm only playing this dumbass game because you dragged me into it. i was just bored so,” he gestures to the screen.

“sure, rafe, whatever you say,” you tease, cuddling up beside him. "feel free to keep playing, don't stop at my expense."

he scoffs, but gives in and restarts the game.

you wrap your arm around his middle and watch as he puts together outfit after outfit, the grin rarely leaving your face.

you just love your little fashionista.

----

requests are OPEN 💌

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ddarker-dreams · 11 days ago

Text

(reader here is described as fem)

loose collection of thoughts for a mildly normal anaxa (non-yan but still weird) and you, his beloved wife:

he keeps a small notebook on him to record his thoughts/impressions for the sole purpose of sharing them with you later.

he vehemently denies it, but the mere mention of you has his features softening. just thinking about you is good for his health because it instantly elevates his mood.

his students love when you attend his lectures because he's less harsh when they make mistakes.

since anaxa insists on conducting one-on-one oral exams instead of traditional tests, his more brazen pupils used to ask to practice with you, as you're the most familiar with how his mind works. he put an end to this practice when it started cutting into the time you could spend together.

anaxa once learned a language thought to be lost because you expressed an interest in a book written in the its script. he dutifully translated the work, adding annotations wherever he knew you'd have questions. the finished piece was an anniversary gift.

almost all of the times he's smiled in his adult life are attributed to you. you have a knack for bringing out his more lighthearted side, though he'll only ever show it in private.

he has some difficulty sharing you with others, especially those with warmer dispositions. he's always had this fear that you might wake up one day, decide he's too much trouble, and move on. you are essentially his only social contact, as he's always viewed maintaining friendships to be a waste of time. he'd be left utterly alone without you.

he makes caustic comments about the company you keep whenever these doubts intensify. it's normally small, petty remarks, but you can tell it's a symptom of a larger issue. should you make your displeasure known, he'll try and watch his tongue. he secretly still judges your companions because he doesn't believe anyone is worthy of your presence (even himself, occasionally).

not sfw beneath the cut!

this man's libido skyrocketed when he met you. he went from being apathetic about sex to blushing at the sight of your collarbones in a matter of days. you did a number on him.

he finds it a bit embarrassing, but he's gotten hard just from engaging you in a battle of wits. especially when you're heated about the topic. the passion in your eyes, your willingness to challenge and subvert him; it gets his blood rushing south. there's a reason why he crosses his legs when you're in the throes of making a point you're particularly proud of.

anaxa kinda forgets about chasing his pleasure because he gets so immersed in exploring you. he's very interested in your body, especially once he discovers where you're most sensitive. watching you squirm, pant, and moan might be more gratifying than any scholarly endeavored he's pursued.

really has a thing for fingering you. he just likes the sight of his digits slipping in and out of your pussy, how they become coated in a thin sheen, the way your head lolls back when he makes a come hither motion... he would finger you for hours if you let him.

his actions are often accompanied by his verbal observations. you don't know how he manages to say half the stuff he does with a straight face, but expect to hear the low hum of his voice near your ear frequently. he talks you through everything yet isn't content until you're left incoherent.

he struggles to last long when he's finally inside you, because he's so overwhelmed by how attractive you are and how good you feel around him. the first time you rode him he barely lasted a minute, the poor guy was fighting for his life. he gets flustered about it despite your reassurance.

he tries to keep his noises to a minimum, but the closer he gets, the less possible it seems. you know he's about to come when he makes these breathy, high-pitched noses, though he tries to muffle them against your neck.

#he gets some fluff for once. as a treat #anaxa x reader #not sfw #hsr x reader #anaxa brainrot #concepts

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viktateapot · 13 days ago

Text

A ROMANTIC DATE🌹 (Batboys)

Dick Grayson:

You smiled as you watched Dick enthusiastically pick up a roll with his chopsticks. He was always up for trying new things, both in food and in life. "So, what do you think?" You asked, teasing him a little.

He mumbled in agreement, his mouth full. "It's amazing! And these cocktails are fire!" He winked at you, and you laughed. Dick always knew how to create a relaxed and fun atmosphere.

You were sitting at a low table decorated with candles and a bouquet of white roses. Soft music filled the space, creating the perfect backdrop for a romantic dinner.

"Thank you for inviting me," you said, taking his hand. "I knew you didn't like stuffy restaurants."

He shrugged, smiling. "I don't care where we are as long as you're with me. But sushi is still better than a five-course steak, isn't it?" You nodded in agreement.

After the meal, you danced a little, laughing and twirling around the room. Even in such a mundane setting, Dick managed to create magic.

When you were done, you snuggled up to him, looking into his beautiful eyes. “What are our plans for the evening?” you purred.

A cute smile touched his lips. “Do you really need to ask?”

Jason Todd:

You cut a piece of cheese and handed it to Jason. He took it without looking up from his steak. “Delicious,” he mumbled, popping the piece of meat into his mouth.

You chuckled. Jason was never particularly talkative at the dinner table. But you knew he enjoyed this meal. You tried to choose the best.

Candles were lit on the table, creating a soft glow. You were sitting in his apartment, away from the hustle and bustle of Gotham. This was your sanctuary.

"Thank you for coming," he said, finally looking up from his food. "I haven't eaten anything normal in a while." You smiled, knowing that his "normal" was different from yours.

You discussed his recent activities, trying not to get too involved. You knew what he was doing, and you tried not to judge him.

After your meal, you just sat there, enjoying the silence. Jason pulled you into his arms, and you could feel his tension ease.

“I feel at home with you,” Jason whispered in your ear. “And that’s all I need.”

You smiled, knowing that his love was a foundation that would always support you.

Tim Drake:

You poured wine into glasses, handing one to Tim. He took it, smiling slightly. "Thank you," he said, taking a sip. "This is very кстати."

You were sitting at a table filled with various dishes: a cheese plate, a salad, and pasta. You knew that Tim appreciated variety.

The apartment was filled with warm light and the sounds of soft music. You had tried to create an atmosphere of comfort and relaxation.

"How was your day?" You asked, looking at him with interest. "Anything new at Wayne Enterprises?"

Tim sighed and started talking about his problems at work. You listened carefully, trying to understand his point of view.

After the meal, you talked for a long time, discussing various topics from science to philosophy. Tim was always able to engage in intelligent conversations.

In his eyes, you saw something more than just interest. It was a light of love, support, and incredible adoration.

“You know, I feel like you’re my compass,” Tim said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Damian Wayne:

You watched as Damian carefully carved the fish, displaying a remarkable level of restraint and grace. Even in such a simple task, he exuded elegance. "What do you think?" he asked, offering you a piece.

You tasted the fish, appreciating its delicate flavor. "It's excellent," you said with sincerity. "As always."

The table was beautifully set, with expensive wine and elegant candles. Even in his own apartment, Damian managed to create an atmosphere of sophistication.

"Don't you think it's a bit too much?" He asked, noticing your look. "Maybe I've gone too far?"

You smiled and took his hand. "I like it. It shows that you tried."

After eating, you looked at each other in silence, enjoying the quiet. You knew that Damian didn't like to open up, but you could feel his love.

In Damian's eyes, you could see his devotion, love, and passion, which were previously foreign and incomprehensible to him. However, you had managed to show him a new and brighter side of love.

His gaze was filled with a sense of you being his entire world. And at that moment, you really felt that way.

#dc x reader #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake #red robin x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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littlelovelunette · 3 months ago

Text

concept: Mechanics and Grinding

Contains suggestive themes, grinding, dry humping, Sevika being a smartass

“Youre too much of a princess to understand,” Sevika shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink. She coughs but she still smokes the cigarillo. You take her by surprise when you said you wanted to learn the mechanics of her metal, Shimmer-infused arm. Of course, she doesnt expect someone who had pretty manicured hands like yours to be interested in the mechanics of her arm, but then again Jinx exists proving that all sorts of inventors do. So, she is considering info-dumping you.

“Dont judge me already, we've barely been in bed together.” you take a comfortable seat on her lap, “Now, start talking.”

Sevika rolls her eyes, “Bold.” she exhales the smoke, “Might take you on that offer if that means I get to be judgemental.”

“Youre an asshole.”

“You really wanna know how this thing works, huh? Fine but don’t blink.” Sevika eyes your dress as it hikes up your mid-thigh, giving her a provocative view but she tries to focus instead. “Shimmer is a substance that should be heavily controlled in general, can be toxic if not refined,” Sevika pauses before adding, “But refined right, and balanced with just the right mix of stabilizers, it’s a power source. The core chamber—”

She shows you where the shimmer tanks are situated around her bicep and shoulder joint, you position yourself in a way that your legs are wrapped around her waist to see properly,

“—pumps shimmer through reinforced veins, and uh, there's synthetic tubing...” Sevika's breath hitches when she feels your warm crotch against her thigh, she swallows down the snide comment she wanted to make. “Shimmer heats and pressurises giving me enhanced speed, reaction time and uh—... Strength.”

Sevika isn't used to having to explain the way her mechanical arm works to others, no one ever cared to ask. Maybe that's the reason shes stuttering? It's either that, or the fact she could feel your wetness leaving a damp patch on her pants. Her own clit throbs.

“What's this do?” you whisper, pointing at her elbow.

“There’s a pressure regulator near the elbow. Gotta keep the shimmer flow stable. Too much, and it overheats; burns me from the inside. Too little, and I lose torque. That’s what this dial on the side’s for—manual override.” Sevika holds your waist so you don't topple over when she shifts.

You giggle and stare intently at her lips, “Keep talking...”

Sevika flexes her mechanical fingers, “The fingers? Precision servos. Each one’s wired with sensory feedback. Swear, I can feel it.” she trails off, feeling your wetness against her thigh, “Uh, Janna, you're enjoying this.”

You grin. “Dunno what you're talking 'bout.”

“The plating's titanium alloy with a copper coating—tough enough to take just about anythin’... And uh— that sound it makes when it charges? That’s the arc capacitor kicking in, builds kinetic energy before I strike.” Sevika takes another inhale from the cigarillo, “Maintenance is hell. I gotta strip it down every few days, clear the lines, re-stabilize the shimmer tank, replace burnt-out coils.”

“Mhm, and I bet you're really good at reaching in all of the tightest places.” you smirk, lips parting to form an ‘o’ when your clit pressed against the rough material of her pants, even if you were clothed, it felt too good.

“Thats where we're headed, doll?” Sevika chuckles with a shake of her head before she grabs your hips and forces you to grind harder against her. You moan and put your head on her shoulder. Small moans leave your mouth as your hips roll and pleasure shot through your body.

You whine when you felt Sevika's mechanical fingers hold your waist with ease, moving you forward and backward on her thigh, your cunt aches with need, arousal soaking the cotton fabric of your white panties. “Come on, already, fuck me,” you say causing Sevika to let out a hearty laugh.

“Are you that desperate? Do smart women happen to turn you on or are you simply horny for all women?” Sevika squeezes your ass before she forces you to hump her thigh.

It wasn't long until you felt the knot unravel in your lower tummy, your body going still as you came undone, soiling the white, pristine panties you had on.

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thesvnandthemooon · 10 days ago

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐧’ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

18+ MINORS DNI

or: natasha and you go to a concert

part of the short n‘ sweet universe

a/n: another request (who would’ve thought); don’t judge me for the title, i thought it’d be fitting since that’s the name of the tour as well 😗

summary: going to sabrina‘s concert with natasha; based on this request <3 (it took almost three months for me to get to writing this wtf)

warnings: smut (penetration, brief fingering), exhibitionism (i swear i use this tag on almost all sns fics…whatever), alcohol, natasha not being able to recognize emotional intelligence if it shot her in the face

word count: 12k

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Hooking up in the university's library is one of the dumber ideas Natasha's come up with so far.

The encyclopedia isle is usually empty — most people use Wikipedia, or another online platform. Physical media has, unfortunately, experienced a decline in popularity.

Sex hasn't, though. Which is why your 'study session' lasted ten minutes instead of two hours. Not much had to happen: Natasha walked in, knowing you'd be sitting between piles of books. She was still in her basketball jersey. Only her shorts had been swapped for slightly warmer sweatpants.

You've been hooking up for months at this point. You can't say you're dating, because you're not. You never really talked about it But when you're around each other, the possibility of her ending up inside of you is big.

Natasha looks up, her body still on top of yours. Her hands are braced next to your head, and you can see the sweat glisten on her neck. You lift your hand and wipe it away.

The floor you're on is carpeted and worn. It smells like old socks and books. You glance to your right and see the half empty packet of beef jerky someone discarded under one of the bookshelves.

"Someone walked in", she says, not making a move to get up. "I think it's that weird dude. You know, with the hoodies."

"That's great", you mumble. You shift beneath her. "I feel like we have more pressing issues, though."

She frowns and looks at you. At first, she doesn't understand. She's warm and comfy, and changing her current situation doesn't seem like the best way to keep up her good mood. But then she realizes she's still inside of you, so she quickly pulls out.

Sweatpants tugged back up, she gets up from the floor. You take the hand she offers you and get up, then adjust your skirt. Wearing that was probably one of the better decisions you've made today — easy access, quick to pull down and cover yourself back up. Natasha resists the urge to pout when your thighs are out of view again.

She was right — someone did enter, and they're approaching the encyclopedia aisle. You grab her hand and tug her back to the tables, causing her to stumble. She curses under her breath.

"Hey!"

"Sit", you urge her. She plops into a chair and you turn around. Before you can sit down, she wraps her arm around your waist and easily pulls you into her lap. "Oh- seriously?"

"You wanted to study", she points out. Her chin comes to rest on your shoulder, her head turns just enough for her to be able to kiss your neck. "So study."

You sigh and get comfortable in her lap. You may as well, since you're probably not moving for a while. Her hand is under your skirt already.

"I'm done with studying", you reply. She hums, lips sucking on your skin until a hickey forms. "Quit that."

"What? This is motivation. Positive reinforcement or whatever they call it."

The guy from earlier reemerges from the encyclopedia aisle, this time carrying a stack of books. The second he sees you, though, he whips around and heads in the opposite direction. Natasha laughs against your neck, a breathy sound, and squeezes your hip.

"What are you doing this weekend?", she mumbles.

You don't reply right away. You've learned that leading her on just a bit makes things better, for some reason — she gets more attentive, puts more effort into the time you spend together. It's not like she doesn't treat you well, because she does. But she sometimes needs to be reminded that, if she doesn't at least try a little, you can easily replace her.

"Not sure", you say vaguely. "There's this concert I wanted to go to with a friend. I haven't gotten tickets yet, though."

"A concert?" Natasha tries to sneak her hand higher up under your skirt, but you quickly grab her arm. "Who's performing?"

"You don't know her", you say, pushing her hand away. She pouts against your shoulder. "I doubt you listen to her music."

Natasha shrugs and puts her hand on your waist instead. She's aware you probably have a point. She's listened to one of your playlists before, and honestly, the only reason she didn't complain was because you were walking around her room naked. That wasn't something she wanted to interrupt.

Does she like the idea of going to a concert with you, though? She does. More than the idea of someone else accompanying you, whether they're just a friend or not.

"I could give it a try. I listen to all kinds of stuff."

A lie. You hear the dishonesty drip from her voice. Natasha's picky with what she listens to. However, she isn't picky about the way she spends time with you. Besides, she'll get to see you all dolled up again — that makes up for it already.

You give her a skeptical look. All she does in response is crack a smile and kiss your jaw.

"It's Sabrina. I probably won't get tickets, anyway", you tell her. Natasha shrugs. "It's this Saturday. I think it's sold out."

"Come on. If there's a will, there's a way."

You roll your eyes, but the way the corners of your mouth twitch betrays you. You turn toward your study setup again and start looking for a folder on your laptop. She watches, leaning forward and breathing in the scent of perfume.

"Don't be too excited", you warn her, opening the folder. A kiss to the crook of your neck makes you squirm. "It's definitely sold out."

"I'll find a way" she insists, glancing at the screen. A bunch of French phrases that you're supposed to translate have popped up. "Not this again."

You ignore her and start typing. She was probably expecting you'd go back to your dorm, like last time. Unfortunately, homework can't wait. Natasha has proven she'll stick around, anyway. That's clear from the way her hands run under your shirt to roam your stomach.

. . .

You get the text message only minutes after your takeout arrives. You're in bed, wearing shorts and a hoodie, the Chinese food still warm and the Sunkist ice cold. Your phone buzzes, so you start digging through the pile of blankets and pillows to retrieve it.

You knew it'd be her name on the screen. You didn't expect that message, though.

Natasha: meet me downstairs in five — 6.02pm

Biting into your egg roll, you try to reply to the message. Before you manage to do that, another one pops up.

Natasha: forget it, im coming upstairs — 6.03pm

There's no use in trying to keep her from doing so. She's stubborn, always has been, and you know her well enough to be certain she's walking up the stairs already. She doesn't even knock; the door just swings open.

"Hey", you mumble, scrolling through your phone and eating fried rice with one hand. "If you want food, order some."

"Forget the food", she says. You look up and raise your eyebrows when you see the two tickets she's holding. Pink and slightly wrinkled. "Look what I found."

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it again. Concert tickets — more than impressive, considering the show was sold out when you last checked. You set the fried rice aside.

"Are those real?", you ask, frowning.

"Very real. I got them from this dude on Facebook marketplace, really sketchy area." She shrugs off her letter jacket and sits down on your desk chair, swiveling it around and scooting closer. You snatch them from her before she can show them to you properly.

They do seem real. Wrinkled, yes, but looking similar to other tickets you've had before. You glance up at her.

"What's your plan?"

Leaning back and crossing her arms, Natasha shrugs. She kicks her feet up on the mattress of your bed, boots and all, and you sigh before nudging them off. You grimace at the bits of dirt that are left behind.

"You said you wanted to go", she says. "So let's go."

Secretly, you're impressed. A little bit, at least. She went out of her way to track these tickets down, just so you could see the concert. To be fair, she had another reason to — she gets to join, after all. But that doesn't make much of a difference. You didn't have to ask for her to do it.

She's looking a little too smug, though. Head tilted, eyes studying you like she knows she's getting some kind of reward for this. You get up, tickets in hand, and start digging through your closet.

Natasha watches as you take off your hoodie. The impatience makes her skin tingle, and she shifts in her seat.

"That's a yes?", she asks, still staring. You're taking your head out of its bun.

"Yeah", you say vaguely. You let your shorts fall to the floor, where they pool around your ankles, and step out of them. "Like I said, my friend really wanted to go. He'll Venmo you the money."

Her face twists into a small, offended frown. Maybe she should've been more specific, but she bought the tickets so she could go to the concert with you — not some random person. A guy nonetheless.

Speaking is hard, since you're standing in front of her half naked. She blinks and shakes her head. "Your...what?"

"Friend", you repeat. You peek into your closet again and push the jackets aside to look for a specific dress. "His idea."

Natasha stares for another moment, then she runs her hand down your face. Just hooking up. Not dating, not committed. The only argument she has is that she bought the tickets.

You glance at her over your shoulder and smile to yourself. You can see the distress slowly bubbling up in her. You'd keep going, but you're already running late for the concert. You can also tell she meant well — this is not her trying to get you into bed again. Making her spiral would be nothing but mean.

"You're so gullible", you say. You reach for a shade of lipstick that matches your outfit. "Of course you're coming with me. You'll hate every second, I need to see that."

She rolls her eyes and slumps into the chair again. She's relieved, but she also knows she probably came off as desperate. That thought is quickly forgotten about when you step closer, though.

There's a bracelet around your wrist. Pink beads, dangling stars. Small and delicate, but enough to transport back in time. She remembers a house that smelled like alcohol and weed, sex in a friend's bedroom, waking up and feeling conflicted for the first time ever. She doesn't even realize she's staring at the bracelet instead of you.

Cupping her jaw, you tilt her face up. Soft lips press against hers and leave behind lipstick. Suddenly, she's too flustered to speak. She's surrounded by your perfume, her mouth still tingling. She doesn't even register when you pull her up from the chair.

"Come on", you say, ushering her out the door. "Freshen up. I need to put on some makeup, I look dead."

"Dead?", Natasha protests. A head or so taller than you, yet she's letting you order and push her around like a well behaved dog. "Nah, you look good. I like the dark circles under your eyes, you-"

With one firmer push, you guide her right out the door and into the hallway. The door slams shut, and Natasha just stands there for a moment to process everything.

If this were someone else, she'd go home and ghost that person. It wouldn't be worth it — she knows enough women who'd sleep with her when asked. But it's you, so she rubs her face before padding down the hall toward the shared bathroom.

. . .

The parking lot in front of the concert venue is packed. Natasha barely manages to find an empty spot, and the one she finds is right next to a bunch someone left behind. Fast food wrappers, empty beer bottles, some dark mystery liquid — you lift your eyebrows at the sight.

She reads your thoughts like an open book. Rolling her eyes, she reaches behind the seats and pulls out a full bottle of vodka. The clear liquid immediately distracts you.

"Seriously?", you ask, grabbing it. She smirks and fishes out a bottle of orange juice as well. "Really thought of everything."

"Pregame", she replies. She pours the juice into a red solo cup and hands it to you. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's tradition for me. Clint brings an entire keg full of beer."

Slightly distracted by the task of adding vodka to the cup, you hum. It smells like oranges and alcohol, paired with the air freshener Natasha keeps in her car. You picked it out, back when you stopped at a gas station while coming back from a party.

It'd been her idea. Now it dangles from the rear view mirror, pink and shaped like a Christmas tree. Natasha can't even drive home from practice without being reminded of you, but that bothers her less than she'd expected.

You shift in your seat and lift your legs. Getting them across the center console is tricky due to your dress, but once you manage to swing them over, they land in Natasha's lap. She glances at your legs, blinking and putting her hand on your calf.

The drink tastes like every other you've had so far. Alcoholic, sweet and a little tart. When you've had enough, Natasha grabs the cup and empties out the two sips you left. Your lipstick transfers from the cup to her top lip.

You watch her for a moment, then lean over and wipe it away. Thumb gently pressing down on her lips, you tilt your head. "Ready?"

She raises her eyebrows and leaves a quick kiss on your thumb, then she unbuckles. "Ready", she says, opening the car door. "Come on."

After waiting in line for a while, you enter the venue. Natasha isn't too sure what to do with her hands — but when people start running and bumping into each other, she gives up the facade she usually puts on and wraps an arm around your shoulder. It's not what she's used to, but you sink into her side with enough ease to make her believe that could change.

"Wow", you mumble as you walk into the massive space. "Crowded already."

"Yeah", she says, frowning. "You can barely see the stage from here."

You shrug, subtly eyeing the people around you. Mainly girls, of course. All glitter and pink and cowboy boots. You get a little closer to Natasha.

"It's fine", you say. "This is good, too."

She glances at you, then shakes her head. She's getting you closer to that stage, even if it means getting in a fight with a few other people. Tightening her arm around you, she starts pushing through the crowd.

For her, it's easy. She has the advantage of both height and years of working out. All she has to do is slowly work her way forward utilizing her elbows. There aren't many verbal complaints, but the quick glares are telling.

"You'll end up pushing someone."

"That's the point", she mutters, pulling you in tighter. "Need to get them out of my way somehow, no?"

You shoot her an unimpressed look, but she keeps her eyes on the crowd. Step by step, elbows occasionally nudging someone aside, Natasha weaves your way through the group of people for you. Somehow, you make it close to the barricade.

From that point on, you don't have much choice but to stay where you are. The barricade is jammed with people, and honestly, staying a couple feet further in the back makes more sense.

Natasha believes she's on a mission, though. You have to poke her chest a few times to keep her from wedging herself into a group of girls.

"Are you trying to storm the stage?", you ask, gripping the front of her shirt. She stops in her tracks.

"You don't want first row?"

"I'm just glad we're here at all", you say pointedly. Around you, more people try to get closer to the front. Natasha is forced to step closer, so her chest is almost pressed against yours.

A bit taken aback, she stares at you. The lights have dimmed, and your face is inches away from hers. Your lipstick is smudged already — not much, but enough to remind her of the nights she's spent getting it into an even worse state.

"Yeah", she says dumbly. Her hand is still firmly planted on your back, keeping you close. "Me too."

You tilt your chin up enough for her to be able to kiss you if she wanted. Her heart beats a bit faster, but she tries to ignore it. Catching feelings isn't something she allows herself to do. She leans in anyway.

Just before her mouth reaches yours, the lights go out entirely. Cheers erupt around you, and you pull away too fast for Natasha to see it coming. She turns around and stares at the giant screen on the stage.

"That's a cartoon", she mumbles, still staring.

"It's the intro", you explain. You rest your back against her chest and feel her arms cross over your chest. "Just wait."

Natasha hums, her thumb rubbing back and forth on your shoulder. The cartoon ends, and a woman sitting in a bathtub appears instead. You lower your head enough to kiss her forearm.

"What's her name again?"

"Sabrina", you say absently, watching the screen go dark. It slides up smoothly, revealing a stage with winding staircases and curtains. When she steps out, wrapped into a white towel, and the spotlight tracks her as she runs from one side to the other.

Finally, she steps onto the stage. The cheers are loud as she grabs the fabric of the towel to open it and reveal a glittering golden bodysuit.

"Wow", Natasha murmurs into your hair. "Would you ever, you know..."

You smile against her skin. "Yeah?"

She shrugs. She's picturing you in it already, wearing it just for her. You'd step in between her legs as she sits on the bed. The glitter on the fabric would leave a residue on her hands.

"Would look good." She kisses your earlobe right as the music starts playing. You shut Natasha up by patting her arm a few times, the words already tumbling out of you as you sing along.

Natasha has no clue what the lyrics are, but she's pretty sure she's heard you play this exact song a bunch of times. Luckily, the crowd is loud enough to conceal the fact that all she can do is hum along quietly.

It's worth it, though. She's heard you sing along a few times before, but never like this. Her arms tighten around you as the people around you move, just to make sure neither of you fall. Your heart thrums hard in your chest, and she feels every beat like the music rattling her ribcage.

In the middle of it, you turn your head. You can't quite look at her, but that's not important. She leans in anyway to kiss your cheek. At this point, it's hardly platonic. Hardly something she'd be doing with anyone else, but also hardly something she'd ever admit.

"Liked this one?"

"It wasn't bad", she says. "You seemed to enjoy it."

You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows. She raises hers right back at you. Around you, the crowd gets louder when the next song starts. You keep staring, determined to make this last, but at some point, you have no choice. You turn towards the stage again, and Natasha swallows to get rid of whatever's lodged in her throat.

Focusing on the concert itself seems impossible. You're still pressed against her front, all body warmth and perfume, and the show isn't the most exciting thing anymore. Her hands settle on your waist and her brain blanks when you accidentally grind into her.

The word 'don't' is on the tip of her tongue, but she chokes on it. You have no clue what you're doing — you're singing along off tune, unbothered by the people around you bumping into you. It's not the first time you're ignoring her, but it might be the first time you're doing it on purpose.

"Do you know the difference?"

Natasha quickly looks at you. Your eyes are on her instead of the stage, and you've almost turned around enough to be fully facing her. She didn't even register the song ending.

"What difference?", she asks, hugging you tighter when a girl stumbles into you. Without realizing, she shields you from everyone else.

You gesture at the short blonde on stage, who's already started the next song. "You know — 'there, their and they are.' Were you even listening?"

Natasha goes from infatuated to slightly offended. Rumors have been circulating since forever, pretty much. That she's dumb, an idiot who's somehow got into college thanks to being a top athlete. You questioning her grammar skills hits that sore spot a little too well.

"Of course I do", she snaps, still keeping you wrapped up in her arms. A black tee, with the short sleeves straining around her biceps. "'There' as in where, 'their' as in belongs to them, they-"

The 'are' doesn't make it out. You get on your tiptoes instead, kissing her and swallowing the word. People cheer, either at the show or at you. You choose to believe it's you.

Hands grip your waist, thumbs pressing into skin. You hook one finger into her necklace and ignore the song. You focus on not stumbling backwards with her instead. She tastes lipstick and vodka. Suddenly, the bathrooms are way too far away — and she can't put a pause on the concert, so her only option is to slow down.

You pull away, cupping her face with one hand. Your thoughts aren't any less lewd than hers, but you're just as aware of the fact you're in the middle of a concert. Nobody's staring, really — they're too focused on what's happening onstage.

Natasha clears her throat and nods at Sabrina, who's performing a slower song now. Without hesitating too much, you turn back around and lean against her front again. Arms wrapped around your middle, she goes quiet.

You get peace for about 10 minutes. Then she pulls out a round bed and Natasha's ears heat up. She's still imagining you in that cute little getup, but now, she's flashing back to a specific night. One leg thrown over her hip, keeping her as deep inside as possible. Tugging at her shoulders and moaning into her ear. Lifting your hips a bit, just enough to meet her every thrust.

It'd been quiet in your dorm, apart from the music coming from another building nearby. It smelled like the cocktail you spilled and the new perfume you insisted on testing out on her. Between pinning her down in order to spray some of the perfume on her, she'd grabbed you and rolled over. Every nerve ending lights up, and heat licks at her spine.

"Hey", she mumbles, starting to get antsy. She's trying hard to keep it in her pants, but she needs a moment to calm down. "I gotta go to the bathroom. You'll be okay?"

You're barely listening, but you hear her anyway. You turn around and frown, your cheeks glowing with a mixture of body glitter and sweat. "Really? Now?"

"Just a minute", she snaps. "I'll be back in no time, I swear. Just stay here."

You give her a doubting look, but the more she fidgets and glares, the less resistance you show. With a defeated sigh, you turn away from her.

"Told you not to drink too much. Fine, go. I'll stay here."

Natasha nods, already making her way through the crowd. Her jeans are getting tighter with every step, her heart racing and her nape sweaty. She's seconds away from public disgrace, and the only thing that's able to save her is the bathroom. To get there, she has to elbow and shove her way through crowds of people. The second the door falls shut, she's bent over the sink and splashing her face with water.

The coldness of it seeps into her skin numbs it a little. Biting her knuckles, she looks up at her own reflection and nearly curses under her breath. She's flushed and dripping water all over herself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck", she mutters, grabbing a few paper towels from the dispenser. She starts drying her face. "Shit."

Behind her, the door to the bathroom opens. She ignores the girls walking in and turns around, sniffling and rubbing her hands dry. She can't even hear her footsteps as she makes her way back into the venue — the music is too loud, even here in the hallway.

Natasha trying to reach the barricade again nearly gets her into a fight. She's always been stubborn, though, and her determination gets her back to your side within a few minutes.

You don't seem to notice her. You're leaning toward another girl, giggling and talking, and Natasha feels her blood pressure rise in a way that feels similar to the drop on a rollercoaster. The girl's fingers are grazing your arm, her head tilted — suddenly, Natasha understands why you get testy whenever she flirts with someone.

Whether it's for fun or not suddenly doesn't matter anymore. She grabs you without warning and muffles your squeak by pulling you against her chest.

"Are you insane?", you hiss. "What was that for?"

"Focus on the show", she says, shushing you. Your nose is right against her shirt, smelling deodorant and feeling the slight dampness of the fabric. "Hey, black suits her."

"Huh?" You turn around and groan. During that short moment of Natasha distracting you, Sabrina managed to pull off a costume change. Feather starts playing, but you're pouting.

Natasha glances at you, her heart thudding still. You're refusing to look at her now, and it's killing her. She's not sure where she went wrong, but it must've happened right after her return from the bathroom.

This is not what she wanted. In her mind, you'd have fun and go home together afterwards. She'd crash in your dorm, naked and hungover, and you'd be happy to have her there. Now, you look like you're about to storm off.

"Are you on your period?", she says, joking in hopes to get you to laugh. It only seems to make matters worse, though, because the look she gets chills her to the bone. "Jesus, alright. Shouldn't have said that."

You roll your eyes and turn around again, keeping your eyes on the stage. The crowd screams over the lyrics, it smells like perfume and sweat and alcohol. Behind you, Natasha rubs her neck. She's used to you two fighting, but she didn't expect it to happen now.

She hesitates, then steps closer. You stiffen at the feeling of her arms around you. Her biceps press against your sides, solid and familiar, and her lips meet your neck. It's enough to make you stop humming.

"Don't be mad", she mumbles, her thumb brushing along the underside of your chest. "You don't want to be mad, and you know it."

"You're a fucking manipulator."

"Only for you." Natasha kisses your neck again. Her hand sneaks higher upwards, cupping your breast and squeezing it. "Enjoy the show. Ignore me."

You scoff, but she doesn't budge. Having a crowd never threw her off, and you're fully aware of that. The library was mild compared to some of the places she's initiated sex in before.

"I would", you say, trying to peel her hand off, "if you weren't such a pain."

"Me?" She nuzzles your jaw. "Funny. You let this 'pain' fuck you four times this week. And counting."

You let out a laugh that signals her death is imminent. It may have been a while since that night at the party — where you slept together for the first time, tipsy and desperate in the sweat-stenched air of Pietro's room — but being reminded of it still sets you off. You'd sworn yourself you wouldn't end up as one of her one-night stands, but you fell for the whole basketball player-shtick anyway.

The worst part is that, even if you get a little nauseous when you think about her abandoning you like all her other disposable hookups, you'll probably still drag her home and into your bed after the concert. You're almost certain you'll end the night with a new dent in the wall behind your bed.

"I'll kill you", you hiss, trying to peel her hand off. "You can't grope your way out of this."

"Hey", she whispers. "Your favorite song."

Unfortunately, her quick distraction works. You look up when you hear Fast Times playing, and suddenly, you give up and let your body do its thing. You melt into her arms and stop resisting the natural course of order.

From that moment on, you forget about the fight. You don't even think about it anymore. When the song comes to an end, you're already over it enough to turn around and tug her into a kiss.

It's always been like this. First you're fighting, then you're suddenly shoving stacks of books off the desk. You can't recall talking an issue out even once. You doubt she has enough emotional maturity to even attempt that.

The vodka and orange juice earlier left a taste on her tongue. At first, everything seems to be under your control — you cup her face, keep her close, try your best to have this remain appropriate. Calloused fingers tug at the fabric of your dress and adjust it. She feels the heat beneath, her self-control wavering. It's a slippery slope from passionate to desperate.

Natasha nods her head to deepen the kiss. Teeth bump, and her hands start bunching up your dress a little. Before she can expose your underwear to an audience of almost 20 thousand people, you grip her wrists and keep her from pushing the fabric up more.

"No", you mumble. She pulls away, breathing heavily, and frowns. "Not now."

"Later?", she asks, rubbing her lips and smudging the lipstick you got all over them. You roll your eyes and shove your hand against her chest. "You were thinking it too."

You shake your head and turn back around, ignoring her as she curses quietly. "That's just you."

She accepts defeat because she has no other choice. Part of her knows she'll end up in your bed — she always does, even if you're arguing. She's never thought of herself as irresistible, but you've gotten close to letting her believe just that.

Her body feels as sweaty as yours as it wraps around you again. You smell sweat and cologne, Read Your Mind is playing, and you both think too much.

You stop paying attention. Her mouth is on your neck, her arms around your waist. The crowd surges every time the lights change. Flashing lights and bass drops blur together just like the songs.

You sing half the lyrics, mumble the rest. Natasha takes a picture of you, then a video. She never lets go of you, though.

"How many songs is that now?", she mumbles against your ear. Her hand runs down your arm until her fingers nudge against your bracelet.

"I stopped counting", you admit. Coincidence just started playing, and judging by how everything has turned into a blur, you're assuming it must've been a quite a few. "My feet hurt."

Natasha tries to sneak a glance at your legs. You're in high heels, but you're still a head shorter than her. The heels are probably killing you by now. She wouldn't be surprised if you ended up with blisters, especially after being nudged around by a crowd all night.

She doesn't understand why you'd put up with the pain just in order to look taller, but it's not her right to judge. Instead, she nods at her boots.

"Take them off", she says. You give her an unimpressed look. "Just do it."

"The floor is gross", you complain, already angling one leg to slip off your high heel. Natasha taps your waist. "What?"

"Stand on my boots."

You pause and stare. She stares back, then rolls her eyes and grabs the heel you're holding. She's not about to argue, because she knows she'd lose. Besides, if she lets you talk too much, you might start saying things that'll scare her. It's better if you both shut up.

"You're kidding", you say, but she's already scooped you off the ground. "Let go!"

"Take off the other one", she insists. She can already feel the sweat accumulate at the back of her neck. "Jesus, hurry up a little."

"I thought I was a lightweight", you hiss. You take off your other high heel, anyway. The leather of her boots feels cold as you stand on them. Natasha loosens her grip on you and exhales quietly.

"Comfy?", she asks, fingers drumming against your stomach.

You let out a begrudging hum and keep staring at the stage. You're not about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she saved you from being unable to walk the next day. Knowing her, she'd use it as leverage. Or to piss you off.

Natasha doesn't really mind your attitude. Not in that moment. You're standing on the toes of her boots, body flush with hers. She has the emotional capacity of a spoon, but there aren't many things she likes more than feeling you this close.

Another song ends. Then Juno starts, and you forget that you're supposed to act like you're mad at her. It's the one song you keep replaying, whether you're in the car or in your dorm. You've requested it at parties (and made a friend connect your phone to the speakers so you could play it if they refused), you added it to Natasha's playlist when she wasn't looking and you obsessively watched the different positions whenever someone posted them.

Natasha's unaware. You tend to doomscroll after sex, a thin sheen of sweat still coating your body, and lift your phone enough to make her see as well. She's tuckered out usually, with her eyes half closed and her face resting against the crook of your neck. She has no clue, but you show her the positions anyway.

"What's that?", she asks, squeezing her arms around your middle. "Why's everyone cheering?"

You briefly glance at her, lips twitching. "Don't know?"

The look she gives you makes you laugh. You don't need her to say it out loud — she's about to see, anyway. You're not too worried, as you've probably done worse than whatever position Sabrina is about to get into on stage.

You watch Sabrina run down the stage and get on her knees so she's almost sitting on the floor. Her knees stay bent for a second as she bounces on nothing a few times. The corners of your mouth tug into a little frown — you're not sure about the logistics behind it. Natasha, however, feels her brain turn into a lump of mush as she realizes what's happening.

It's a sex position. She shouldn't be too shocked, especially since she isn't one to reject experimenting with those, but she's already managed to picture you doing the same thing.

"What do you think?", you ask. She cranes her neck to get a better look at the stage, ignoring you. Her hand squeezes your side like you're about to evaporate and ruin her fantasy of trying this. If she hadn't already been toying with the idea of going home with you, she definitely would've made that decision now.

Sabrina's jumped back up and returned to performing. Natasha finally snaps out of it, but the image of you doing that very thing is burned into her brain. "That- yeah, no, that one's happening. We're doing that. Tonight."

You scoff. "Perv."

"She's creative", she mumbles. "We could be creative. Why aren't we?"

"You're disgusting", you retort, rolling your eyes.

She doesn't argue. She just shrugs, knowing you'll probably end up trying anyway. On stage, Sabrina is back to singing. You're not aware of it yet, but the lyrics plant a little seed in you. One that'll end up growing until you can't resist that itch anymore.

You turn your head to look at her over your shoulder. Natasha almost leans in to kiss you, but there's a glimmer in your eyes that makes her stop. She knows better than to push, as her being nosy has lead to issues in the past, but you have no problem bringing it up anyway.

You lean in closer, so close she can smell the chewing gum you popped into your mouth half an hour ago. Your eyes are dazed from both the vodka and the concert, and she can feel her fingers twitch with the urge to drag you somewhere. She doesn't know where, but anywhere without an audience would work.

She's sweaty, she's tipsy, she's horny. She didn't think you could make it worse. You prove her wrong just like every time.

"Want to give me a baby, too?"

For a split second, all air is knocked out of her lungs. She freezes, eyes wide and hands glued to your sides. Brain gone, body still. Her voice? Nowhere to be found. The music drowns out every thought that's running circles in her mind like a panicked rabbit.

Finally, she lets out a laugh. When she doesn't know what to say, she uses humor to deflect and pivots into touch. Distracting herself is key, otherwise she'll look like an idiot. Little does she know this moment will haunt her all the way to an important basketball game a few weeks later.

"What, now?", she asks, already kissing your neck. "Because I'd rather give you something else right now."

You lift your shoulder a little when her tongue brushes against a ticklish spot on your neck. "Smooth."

"I'm not joking. The bathroom isn't too shabby."

You shake your head and look at the stage again. Still, she keeps all her attention on you. Your shoulder is littered with kisses, her hands roam up and down, quiet curses escape her. You barely hear them, but they add to the thrumming inside you anyway. Alcohol, music, an idea that could either ruin everything or get something entirely different started.

The song has ended, thankfully. Natasha's head hasn't stopped spinning though, and you're somewhere between exhaustion and an inexplicable rush of giddy stupidity. The latter is intensified by the alcohol coursing through your veins. You didn't have much of it, but its effect is stronger thanks to the oppressive heat inside the venue.

You turn your head enough to be able to kiss her. She sucks on your tongue and gropes your stomach, feeling the heat beneath. Please Please Please is playing, you grab her face and deepen the kiss, and Natasha feels blood rush into her lower half. As if the heat wasn't bad enough, it's now accompanied by the recurring pressure in her dick.

Her hand slips lower with each passing second until she reaches what she's looking for. Her thumb brushes the curve of your ass and Natasha sighs, trying to tug you even closer.

No matter what you do or where you are, you always seem to end up in the same situation — with a hard-on pressing against you like a quiet reminder that this is what your relationship is doomed to be like.

You tilt your head as you part from her. She's seconds from bringing up the bathroom idea again, you can see it written all over her face. If you as much as look at her the wrong way, you're ending up with your back against a bathroom wall with sharpie all over it.

"No."

Natasha clenches and unclenches her jaw. She should've expected that answer, but part of her was too hopeful. Rejection therapy isn't something she ever had to get acquainted with, which led to her believing 'yes' would be the standard answer for just about everything.

"The concert will be over soon", you add, pulling away from her grasp. You step off her boots and onto the cold floor, grabbing your high heels again. Somehow, you managed not to lose them.

"Right", she says, watching you put on your heels again. The girl next to you bumps into your side, and Natasha keeps herself from tugging you back into her chest. "Got any plans for later?"

"You're trying to come home with me", you state, not wasting a second on your reply. She bites the insides of her cheeks. "Is that why you wanted to come here? Because it'd lead to sex?"

"You seemed like you wanted it too", she tries to defend herself. She's not sure she means what she said, but it's too late. The words hang between you, Don't Smile is playing and time is running out. You had a fight not too long ago — she doesn't want this to result in another one. She doesn't want to end this night with you being mad at her.

All you do is stare for a moment, then turn back around. Natasha runs a hand through her hair as she tries to come up with a way to salvage this. You still have to survive the car ride home, and honestly, the idea of dropping you off and leaving afterwards kills her. She shouldn't want this as much as she does — if her teammates knew, it'd be over for her —, but she can't exactly change it.

You feel her fingertips trace your shoulder blade. Nails rake over skin, fingers slip under the strap of your dress. She tugs gently, with just enough strength for you to notice. The strap snaps back against your shoulder. You don't react, not visibly, but your resolve weakens.

"Don't be mad", she says, hooking her finger under the thin piece of fabric again. "I'll buy you something at the merch booth."

"I have money", you say, staring at the stage. Her fingers find the zipper on your dress and give it a light tug. "Keep going and I'll call an Uber."

Natasha hesitates. The song is coming to an end, which means that she only has minutes left. Words tend to be her favored way of getting out of uncomfortable situations. She's ended arguments being a touchy smooth talker, murmuring bullshit until the other caved. With you, it's never been different, but there's starting to be more behind it.

"Smile", she says, wrapping a strand of your hair around her finger. "Smile and I'll kiss you."

You ignore the way your skin tingles when she reaches for the strap of your dress again. She tugs at it like it's a lifeline, like touching your body will make you rewind to the night were things were easy and hot and mutual. It's a flirty game, and she's using it to try and charm her way back into your good graces.

"I need you to mean that", you say, still not looking. It's like you just froze time, and the concert, for her.

She's stunned for a moment. Because she does mean it, even if everything about her screams she doesn't. There's no other explanation as to why she'd be putting herself through this otherwise. She has her pick of girls who'd sleep with her. Ever since becoming the basketball's team captain, that number has only increased. And yet, she's standing in a venue full of glitter and makeup products she couldn't name for the life of it.

Somehow, she enjoys being here anyway.

"What if I do?"

"You don't", you insist, your back stubbornly turned toward her. "I don't think you're capable of that."

Natasha rolls her eyes and steps closer. Her hand cups your waist, her front is right up against your back. Her idea of apologizing includes undoing a bra, but you still have an audience.

You don't try to escape her touch. It's not like there's much space around you to do that, but she feels something light up inside her regardless. Her hand curves around your middle and, when you fail to pull away once more, her lips brush your ear.

"I mean it", she mutters, too reluctantly for you to believe she doesn't mean it. It's lies that come easy to her — the truth scares her. "Now kiss me. I don't want you to be mad at me."

You keep your eyes glued to a random spot on stage, but they close for a split second. Inside you, your heartbeat stutters and the petty urge to make her grovel fades. You don't forgive easily — not usually, not when it comes to Natasha. You're already calculating the perfect moment to turn around, though.

You give up on that last bit of resistance when Espresso starts playing. You glance at her and meet her gaze, and paired with the music and the screaming crowd, it almost feels ridiculous. The fight was unnecessary, just like all the other ones you've had so far were.

"I'm sorry", she finally mumbles, licking her lips and looking at your own. "I'm stupid. I know that. Don't take that Uber."

A switch flips and, suddenly, your resolve crumbles quicker than you want it to. Natasha knows she's out of the woods when you roll your eyes, so she taps your lower back and cracks a smile.

"You forgot the kiss", she reminds you.

"Did I smile?"

She shakes her head. Her fingers drag over clothed skin, tapping and curling, and you squirm. You resist the tickling sensation about five seconds, then you let that smile slip that she's been waiting for. Natasha doesn't get to enjoy the view for long, though, as you immediately put on a frown.

"Fuck you."

She laughs, already pulling you closer. You get on your tiptoes right as she leans in. Her lips press against yours, soft and firm at once. You grip the front of her shirt, the fabric spilling out between your fingers. If she didn't know any better, she'd think you're angry about not being kissed this whole time — you're up on your toes just to kiss her back, at least. Natasha convinces herself that counts for something.

People yell around you, confetti falls like thick snowflakes in all kinds of colors. Drinks spill when the crowd moves and makes everyone bump into each other. You hear someone start to list names as they tell the audience to make noise for everyone, but you're both at a point at which you're ignoring it.

By the time you part, you're both out of breath. Natasha's silently swearing that she'll never pretend she isn't way too deep into this, and you're just trying to remember which way the exit was.

"Shit", you mumble, letting people squeeze past you as they start trickling out of the venue.

Natasha swallows and nods, her arm curled around your waist. "I fucking hate when you ignore me."

"Don't give me a reason to, then", you say. You glance at your wrist and touch it, a frown on your face. "I think I lost my bracelet."

"What?" She looks up and blinks, then grabs your hand to confirm. "Oh. Fuck. What's it look like?"

You start searching the floor — looking for the pink beads, the little stars dangling from it — but it's difficult to stay focused over all the noise. The chattering coming from all sides is almost louder than the concert itself, and you're cut off by people who try to get past you but don't quite succeed.

Natasha frowns as she helps you. It’s your favorite bracelet — it's the one you wore when you first kissed. When you first slept together, too. And now, the only thing tying you to that night in Pietro's bedroom might be gone.

Right as she opens her mouth to say something, a girl next to you steps on something. Whatever object her heel landed on crunches loudly, and both of you freeze.

"My bracelet", you groan, immediately continuing to search the floor. It seems impossible with all the people walking by and blocking your vision. “I loved that thing! It was so expensive, too!"

"Well...why'd you wear it?", she asks, panicking as well. But the object on the floor is a cheap pair of reading glasses, with the shards scattered around it. She lets out a breath. "Alright, you can calm down."

"'Calm down'? It's still gone, you moron!"

Natasha shuts up. She knows better than to keep going. As you continue searching the floor, she pads after you and tucks her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Her fingertips brush against something cold and round.

She stops in her tracks and hesitates. Finally, she pulls out the bracelet. It takes you five seconds to notice she's not walking anymore. Like a switch flipped, you go from panicked to pissed.

"What, you're going to just stand there? Of course. It's gone, and you're just going to- oh, fuck you", you hiss. "It's gone!"

Natasha rolls one of the beads between her fingers. She hesitates again — you look like you're about to tear someone's head off, and it'd most likely be hers; but when you whip around again, she can't help it anymore.

"It's not gone", she blurts. "I have it."

You feel everything inside you be put on hold for a second. You don't believe her in that initial second, but then she's pulled out the exact bracelet you were looking for. With the same pink beads and history attached to it, now dangling from her fingers.

Finally, you let out a breath. You're by her side in a split second to grab the bracelet and give it a quick glance, then you put it on.

"This the one?", she mumbles, carefully watching your reaction. You nod and look up. Your hand cups the back of her head faster than she can register, and only when the bracelet gets tangled in her hair does she realize you're kissing her.

You pull away, staring at her. The air between you is charged with the afterbuzz of the concert and the mouthwarm of the kiss. You weren't happy about her suggesting that she come home with you after the show, but now, anything else wouldn't seem right.

"Yeah. That's the one. Let's just..." You nod at the exit. "Let's go."

Natasha nods and puts her hand on your lower back, even though there's no crowd she needs to guide you through. Outside, it's dark and still hot from the day. Cars speed down the highway nearby, and on the other side of the parking lot, two shadows are nestled against the side of a car.

"My dorm or yours?", you ask, trying not to be too obvious. Natasha smiles and lets her hand drop a bit lower.

"Yours."

. . .

Music is playing from your old portable speaker. The room smells like the chicken wings Natasha picked up on the way home. She's on your bed, heart-eyed and silent, as you're sitting at your desk with a vanity mirror in front of you.

"You're taking long", she mumbles, stretching. "Thought we had a deal."

"There was no deal", you reply, using a napkin soaked in makeup remover to clean your face. She sighs and rolls over onto her side. "You being gross doesn't equal a deal."

"It has before."

You give her a pointed look through the mirror. She raises her eyebrows, caught somewhere between flustered and horny. The concert wasn't long — and yet, it feels like she's been practicing involuntary celibacy for years.

"You want to try it, too", she adds. Your mind jumps back to the Juno position and you clench your jaw. Suddenly frustrated, you shift in your chair. Natasha notices, of course. "Don't lie."

"We've fought twice tonight", you point out, desperately trying to ignore the fact you're gripping the desk with one hand. You can't ignore it too well, though. Neither can she. "Don't let there be a third time."

Natasha rolls her eyes and props her upper body up on her forearm. Her hair is in a low bun that's slowly coming loose, and somehow, both her shirt and her cheek are speckled with glitter from your dress. You're still taking off your makeup, but she's got something else to take off in mind.

You should be distracted by the makeup remover dripping down your neck, but you're too caught up on the fact that there's someone lying on your bed. You're both still sweaty, still stuck in that weird, slightly disorienting haze caused by the bracelet. You move your foot, which was crossed at the ankle with your other one, and knock over one of your high heels.

"Are you still mad?", she suddenly asks. It's as unexpected as the cars outside, their tires screeching just a split second after she stops talking. You turn around and stare. "Is that a yes?"

"Guess, since you're so good at it."

Natasha rolls her eyes and slumps back into the pillow. You ball up the napkins on your desk and toss them into the trashcan, then you get up. The second she hears a zipper being pulled down, she lifts her head again.

Your back is turned to her. She watches the dress fall to the floor and, seeing more and more skin be revealed like something at a museum, feels blood rush south. Her boxers tent and she gives you a slightly desperate look when you reach for a pair of shorts.

"What?", you ask, eyebrows furrowed. She isn't sure whether you're irritated or genuinely confused, which throws her off more.

"You got glitter in your hair", she says innocently. Her fingers are twisting the hem of her shirt, her cheeks are dusted pink. She can pretend all she wants, but you know the tiny telltale signs by heart. That same girl who's thrown up on court and ghosted half the campus and flirted her way into your pants — she's nervous now.

You take out your earrings and pad to the windowsill to leave them there. She watches every move like she fully expects you to join her any minute. It's better to be prepared, which is why she feels for the thin square object in the pocket of her shorts.

"I got an idiot in my bed, too", you mumble. "Don't see me complaining about that."

Natasha, slumped into the mattress like she's a wounded soldier, perks up when you make your way to her side. She reaches out her hand and her fingertips graze your thigh, and when you sit down, she finally straightens up fully for the first time since entering your dorm.

"You brought this idiot here", she reminds you, her finger hooking into the strap of your bra. "You're so far away."

"You're kidding."

"I'm really not." She tugs at the bra strap and you sigh. Her fingers run down your arm until they reach your wrist — or rather, the bracelet dangling from it. "Do you hate me?"

"I'm thinking about it", you deadpan. She sees right through your lie, as usually, so your words don't have much of an effect. She keeps tugging, and you keep caving; once you've swung one leg over her lap, one knee on each side of her hips, it's over. You're still buzzing from the concert, and the bracelet, and there aren't many other things that'd be fitting for this situation.

You wrap her necklace around your index finger, pulling at it gently. She nods her head to press a kiss to your knuckle.

"Don't seem like you hate me", she mumbles. "You're still here."

"My standards have lowered significantly." Your lips twitch when she looks up, her eyebrows furrowed. "They weren't high to begin with."

Natasha huffs quietly, but her smile matches yours. She wraps one arm around your waist, biceps solid and familiar, and draws you closer. You don't mean to laugh, or brush your lips against hers, but it happens anyway. You pull away and she hums, staring at you.

You let out a breath. Your hands run into her hair to tilt her head back tugging just a little. Natasha feels the intention of keeping it casual fall apart, and to combat the feeling of anxiety creeping up, she kisses you again.

It's not much. Just soft presses of lips, sighs between them. Mouths open as the kisses grow sharper, a little more desperate. You feel the wet patch on her boxers before she does. You pull away enough to see the smudged lipstick on her mouth. You removed most of your makeup, but leaving that on was intentional.

One hand gripping her collar, you yank her closer. Hot lips press against yours, stiff due to her initial state of surprise, but then she kisses you back again.

Her hands settle on your waist after a moment. She brushes her tongue along your bottom lip, and when you feel her boner press against the inner part of your thigh, you roll your hips against hers. Your knees grind into the mattress and both of you are out of breath way too quickly.

"Hey", she mumbles, pulling away just enough to be able to speak. "You want this?"

"We're past asking, I think."

Natasha exhales and nods. Her hand curves around your back and up your spine, finding the clasp of your bra. It comes undone, the pressure around your chest loosens, and you let the straps slide off your arms. The piece of fabric ends up on the other side of the room, forgotten about before it even hits the floor.

Her hand is inside your shorts before you manage to kiss her again. You wiggle against her fingers, cursing quietly.

"Jesus, you're wet already?", she mumbles.

"You're the one dripping", you shoot back. Her hand moves slowly, too slowly for the both of you. You swear again, clutching her shirt so hard she feels the pressure around her chest.

Her fingers flex inside you. She keeps working you open until you have to clasp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from whining. Just seeing that happen is enough for Natasha to want to take it slow, but her boxers hurt from the pressure, so she pulls out again.

"Can you not?", you complain, her hand stuck in the waistband of your shorts for a moment. She raises her eyebrows.

"Still hate me?"

"You're on thin ice", you mutter. She puts her hands on your waist and guides you up, making your frown fade. "I'll kick you out."

Natasha glances at you, and somehow, she's able to make you feel bad. It's a guilt trip, heading straight for the spot that'll make you stop whining. Unfortunately, it works.

Once she realizes she's won, she looks much more content already. You're too impatient to put up much of a fight. There are always other ways to take revenge, after all.

"What's your plan?", you cave. She hums and lifts you up again, manhandling you as she pleases.

"Turn around", she says. "I want to try it."

Your back is already turned towards her when she says that. The moment you remember what she's talking about, you feel heat shoot up your spine and then back down between your legs. Natasha tugs at your shorts and waits for you to nod, then she helps you pull them off all the way.

It's hot in your dorm, summer heat clinging to both of you. With her only sitting there in a sports bra now, you can feel how sweaty and flushed she is. You straddle her facing away and lean back against her chest.

"Alright", she breathes, her hands on your waist. You lift your hips and feel her tip nudge into you. "There you go."

"Shut the fuck up", you moan, trying to sink down. The angle isn't making things easier for you — getting adjusted to her still hurts. "Don't move, don't move-"

"I'm not", she husks. Her fingers curl into your sides, leaving little crescents behind as she guides you. "Come on, just a little more."

She rocks up into you, bottoming out. Your hips are pinned in place. The bed creaks quietly and you moan.

The thrusts are long at first, calculated. You're still sitting up, still trying to take each roll of her hips. Her nose is against your neck as she breathes in, perfume and a hint of cherry gloss making it seem like a fever dream in the late of summer.

With her hands still guiding you, she starts going slower. The angle hits deep, the spots are sweet enough to make you gasp quietly. She's not thrusting, she's grinding. It's not rough, but relentless, and she feels her self control slip with each noise you make.

Then, you clench. Natasha curses as she barely stops herself from coming on the spot.

"Shit", she grunts, her voice low and lost between the slick, unhurried sounds that fill the room. Mentally, she's thanking Sabrina for introducing her to this. "Don't do that."

"Come on", you say. You're barely able to speak at this point. "This was your idea. You were so cocky earlier."

Natasha's forehead is glued to your shoulder. You lift one arm and move your hand behind you, cupping the back of her head. The bracelet around your wrist nudges her ear and gets tangled in a few flyaway hairs.

Her hands are grinding you down, her hips are rolling up into you. The room smells like sex and sweat, and when one of her hands suddenly starts roaming your body, you know it's over for you.

She presses down on your stomach, cups your breast, moves it all the way up to your throat. She barely wraps her hand around it before letting go again. It drifts to the aching spot between your thighs, where she's still buried inside of you, and she starts circling it without warning.

"Fuck", you stammer, one knee jerking. "Fuck, Nat-"

She ignores how your fingers tangle into her hair and tug. Her arm locks around your waist, keeping you pressed against her. She feels her own outline against her forearm and almost loses it.

At this point, it's almost too much. Natasha's been hanging on by a thread for hours, and you're not doing better. She tugs you fully into her lap as she keeps grinding up, sweat trickling down her bicep and her hair curling from the moisture.

"The bracelet", you moan, melting against her. "How did you find it?"

"I didn't." She makes a noise that sounds close to a sob. You'd laugh — it's you who did it, after all — but her hips jerk up and rid your mind of any thoughts. "I took it."

"Oh", is all you say. Her hand keeps working your clit, and each thrust goes deeper and deeper until she's all but grinding in spot. Her words linger, but you're too far gone to react.

The buildup is sudden and intense. She thrusts up one more time, her arm pulling you down as she rocks up, and that's it. Heat floods you, hitting each nerve ending. She spills, your back arches, and the bracelet almost rips a few of her hairs out when you adjust your arm.

"Shit", she pants, still nuzzling your neck. "That hurt."

"You're the one complaining?", you whine. You're twitching with aftershocks, nearly wheezed while talking — you could've sworn she'd rip a hole into you. Yet, she's talking about 'hurt' like she's the one who experienced it.

"Your bracelet, dumbass. It’s pulling my hair."

"Oh." You swallow and gently remove your hand. Her hand hasn't moved from between your legs. Her thumb keeps circling your clit like she's about to initiate something else. But you're sticky and trembling and in desperate need of a shower. "Get out of me before I cry."

You hear her swallow, feel the kiss on your shoulder. She hesitates before pulling out, slowly, and wipes your thighs with the back of her hand.

"I didn't mean to", she confesses, grabbing a tissue with her clean(-ish) hand. "I don't know why I did it. Guess it reminded me of...things."

"The party", you state. She shoots you a glare. "Don't look at me like that! You took it like some weird creep."

When she doesn’t say anything, all you can do is scoff and get up. Natasha, feeling like an idiot for confessing while too deep inside you and too pussy-drunk to form a single coherent sentence, jumps up and follows after you. She tries crossing her arms behind her head as you walk to the shower on wobbly legs, but even that doesn't feel right anymore.

"You need help?", she finally asks. You grab your robe and head for the door.

"You need to leave", you say, hand on the doorknob. "You know that bracelet is important to me!"

"I know", she says slowly. She's seen it on you during the party, and then consistently after you started hooking up more. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad."

You roll your eyes and step out into the hallway. Natasha groans and puts on her shorts before walking after you, the floor cold beneath her feet. She makes sure not to step into some old chewing gum and then tries getting ahold of you.

The towel nearly slips. She retracts her hand like she touched the earth's core itself.

"What is wrong with you-"

"I wasn't thinking", she quickly says, fingertips grazing your wrist. "I swear."

"No", you shoot back. "You were thinking too much. See the issue?"

She doesn't understand at first, then she opens her mouth — and shuts it again. Because you're right, again. You're calling her out, which she both hates and loves. It's something that no one's ever done before, at least not like this. Not in a way that made her listen.

"And the concert", you add. "What was that about? Did you want to do something nice, or was it about fucking me again?"

"Okay", she stammers, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't want to go off topic, but we're in the middle of the hallway, and it's late at night, and-"

"You don't want everyone to find out?", you snap. Her eyes widen immediately. "Little late for that, since under the bleachers seemed just fine for you."

Heat creeps up her neck and all the way to her ears. She rubs her eyes — if she'd just given up on the ticket hunt, she wouldn't be standing here right now — as she tries to find the right words. Somehow, that's where she always ends up: in some weird headspace that removes her ability to communicate verbally.

The easiest way to deal with this would be to drag you back into bed. But you don't want that — you'd probably kill her, in fact — and neither does she. Her only option is to find the right words, even if it seems impossible.

"It wasn't about sex", she mumbles, each syllable feeling like it's clinging to her vocal cords and refusing to let go. "You know that."

You shake your head and adjust your towel. Someone down the hall opens their door, but it shuts again almost right away. "You know, believing you is one of the biggest mistakes someone could make. So why should I?"

"No", she admits. "You shouldn't. But I want you to, anyway."

"It's not about what you want", you reply, fixing your towel again. You almost let go, and she immediately grabs the edge to keep it in place. "It's about being an adult. There's a thing called 'emotional intelligence', but I guess you won't even look at that until you can stick your dick in it."

"You're emotionally intelligent", she says unhelpfully. "Does that count?"

Another stare. Then you're headed for the bathroom, and Natasha has to follow suit again. Why she's fighting, she pretends not to know. Even if everything she does is telling her why.

The water starts running, and she joins you without asking. You don't bother trying to kick her out. It wouldn't work anyway, so you let her lean against the wall of the shower cubicle.

She exhales as you reach for your loofah. It smells like almond and vanilla, but for the first time ever, even that doesn't turn her on. She shifts and then pushes away from the wall to grab the loofah.

"What-"

"I'll be more thorough", she mutters, moving to stand behind you. "Don't move too much."

You scoff, but don't bother arguing. The rough material of the loofah is running along your shoulders already anyway, so you stand there and let her coat your skin suds. It's just the loofah at first — scrubbing away sweat and dead skin cells, cleaning you of every dumb thing Natasha's said that night.

Her hand follows, but it's not the usual little game of trying to get you into bed. Suddenly, she's tracing shoulder blades and your spine and gently poking the spot where the nail of her index finger left a faint mark.

"That's me."

"I know", you say simply. "It's not like there's anyone else."

Natasha nods and lets out a breath. She returns to washing your back, your arms, your sides. Her hand cups your waist and she leans in to kiss the back of your neck. You freeze, then relax enough for her to repeat it.

"I'm sorry", she murmurs, her lips against your skin. Her hand trails down your arm, right to the bracelet. "There's a reason. I swear. But you said it, I don't do well with the sappy stuff."

"Natasha."

"I like what it stands for", she says, slipping her fingers between the bracelet and your wrist. "It reminds you of something. It reminds me, too. I should've just asked for it."

You breathe in and out. Your fingers curl, your eyes close. Her free hand touches your lower stomach before splaying out on it.

She's not making sense. She never did. But you move your hand away from her grasp and remove the bracelet from your wrist. This time, you give it to her on purpose. It looks small in her palm.

"That's yours", she says dumbly.

"You stole it", you say, turning around again to rinse off. "If you can do that, you can accept it from me."

"Yes, but..." She shakes her head and looks up. "Why?"

Not even you know. Not really. All you know is that you’re tired, and if she wants to have a piece of you, she can have it. And maybe, she’ll figure out how to take care of it first.

You don’t tell her. Instead, you shrug, the water running down your body and removing all the soap suds. She tries her best not to check you out, so she quickly looks at the bracelet again.

"I want you to have it", you say, twisting the shower knob and making the water stop running. "Do with it what you will."

She watches you as you leave, your footsteps quiet in the darkened room. She doesn't follow — not this time. She hears the door to the communal bathroom close, then she glances at the bracelet again. It had one memory attached to it before: sex, at a party, mainly resulting from a game of 'spin the bottle'. Now, that may have changed.

Do with it what you will.

Natasha doesn't wear it. Not now, that is. But she keeps it in her wallet, next to her toothbrush, on her dashboard.

When she does decide to give you her jersey, she wears it beneath the sweatband on her wrist. It's hard for anyone else to see the faint outline of it — yet she does, anyway.

#short n sweet #short n sweet au #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel mcu #marvel #wlw #lesbian #wlw smut #smut #fluff #light angst #fanfic #fanfiction #moon’s fics

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biteyoubiteme · 6 days ago

Note

hard thought: soobin fucking you in front of a mirror cause you’re insecure and he wants to show you how beautiful you are unraveling under his touch. soobin teases you a bit before making you watch yourself finish on his dick.

(bonus points for exhibitionism. as in soobin inviting another member to watch bc you’re just so pretty to them)

don't be shy

choi soobin x fem!reader x choi beomgyu synopsis: soobin wants to show you how pretty you are to him and beomgyu. warnings: 🔞 nsfw, a bit of insecurity trope, exhibitionism/getting caught?, fingering, breast play, uuummm no pull out mention, beomgyu just watches lol, choking, bulge kink, i think thats it >< wc: 2.5k an: its been a whilllleeee since ive written and posted anything let alone smut sooo im a bit rusty and this is not really proofread sorrry >< ive had this ask in my inbox for so long sorry it took me a while <333 [m.list]

It always started right at the mirror, your hands sliding down the front of whatever you were wearing to try and smooth down the fabric. Fingers tracing patterns only you could see on your skin, down the bridge of your nose, along the plush of your cheeks. It was never something you had to say aloud; the slight downward tilt to your lips was enough to draw in Soobin's attention.

You would hardly notice him watching, set on mentally circling the things you didn't like about yourself with a red pen, as if you were grading a test you knew you wouldn't be able to ace. But he would lean back on the bed, the perfect view into the bathroom when you had the door slightly ajar, his eyes following the way you pushed at your chest, hand moving down like you were showing him a road map of his favorite trails he had created on your body.

Teeth sinking into your cheek, you would huff like it would keep your chin from wobbling. You had talked yourself into a mood that felt impossible to get out of when standing right there at the edge of the sink, judging yourself when there was no need for you to judge. And now so focused on not crying, you didn't even see soobin get up from the bed, already half undressed for bed with only his sweatpants low on his hips.

He leaned his chin on your shoulder, arms circling around you, pulling you from the depths of yourself and into the cradle of his arms. “What are you doing?” his words falling heavy into the still air, ready to reprimand you. Looking into the glass, he found your stare moments before you lowered your head like you had been caught.

“Nothing,” even if it was clearly a lie, and you knew he must have seen you, his hands following that same path you had been following. One hand reaches up under your shirt, cupping you over your bra, squeezing just enough for you to look back up at the mirror.

He hummed a mix of want and understanding that you wouldn’t come clean even when directly asked. His lips now ghosting over the shell of your ear, “So you don't mind if I use you right here?” his other hand slipped down to the hem of your shorts, squeezing your thigh just as you had, only his hand ate up more space.

“H-here?” the words a whisper of concern. In the room away from the blinding lights in the bathroom you could push away the thoughts of yourself, focus on him and him alone, how his body reacted to yours, and not watch the way you moved against his.

“Right here,” you were just far enough from the counter to see the way his fingers slid across your inner thigh, the added view of it heightening the feel of the sensation, your body jolting from the sudden onslaught of sensitivity. “So my pretty girl can see exactly how good she looks to me,”

You whine at the words, knees pulling in trying to trap his hand from moving any further up, his hand on your chest holding you flush against him, kneading at your skin, greedy to have more. “But-” the word falling flat when he pushes his hips closer to you, the bulge of him felt right against your ass.

“Hum? But what?” he grinds into you, hands tightening on you to keep you in place, “If you want to stop just say the word,” and you knew he would, he'd teased you before, your joking denial making him pull away in less than a second. He wouldn't mind leaving you aching and wanting more, he would make you beg to have his hands back on you.

“Don't stop,” the words breathed out even when you felt like falling apart not just because of his hands but because of the battle you were having with yourself only moments before. You wanted him more than you cared to watch yourself and already the way he was curving into you, holding you against him like you were the only thing keeping him standing was addicting to witness.

“You know I like it better like this,” he tilted his chin towards the mirror, your eyes tracing the movement of his lips, down the length of his arm, corded with fine muscle straining as he desperately dug his fingers into your thigh. “Having you on display,”

Your head rolled back onto his shoulder not being able to take in the sight of him slipping past your shorts, fingers sliding against the damp fabric of your panties. Soobin squeezed at your chest in a warning, tisking in your ear, “No, no, I want you to see what I'm doing,”

But you don't want to listen, not when it feels easier to melt into him still grinding against you, your lashes fluttering closed when he draws a slow circle around on your clit. “It would be a waste to leave you this soaked but I will if you don't look,” your hips moved involuntarily on their own as he dragged his fingers along the outline of your cunt, teasing you into following his demand. “I mean you're already so wet over nothing but a few small touches,”

“Soobin-” it was a soft plea as you looked back in the mirror, back at the way you were leaning against him, both of you moving with slow strokes of your hips. Your body tried to ride against the heel of his palm while he circled your entrance through your panties. He was no better, the heat of him rubbing against you to the pace of your grinding.

“Are you going to let me show you or are you going to fight me the whole way?” you twitch in his hold, his teeth sliding down your neck like a warning, his lips going back up the trail. The sight alone makes you want to fall into him, let him use you because in his arms like this it's so easy to see how well the two of you fit together, no need for second guessing anymore.

You whine when he pulls away just enough to peel your shirt away, leaving you in your bra, half spilling out of it from all the groping he couldn't keep himself from. “Maybe all you needed was a bit of attention? Have I been neglecting you? Should I apologize?”

Your nails dig into his forearms, keeping him in place when he finally goes past your panties. You could almost cry from the teasing, your eyes locked on his through the mirror as he catches the way your face softens at the feeling of him finally pushing his fingers into you. His groan felt along your back as he slowly pumps in and out of you, “Look at how pretty you look already a mess from nothing but my fingers when I've hardly done anything at all,”

You tell yourself you should be embarrassed, watching yourself like this, so desperate over so little being given to you but he makes it hard to think of anything else besides him and his slow demonstration. His free hand pinching at your nipple, the straps of your bra sliding low down your arms. Your whimpering is loud, coming from your throat and yet you can't grasp the full spectrum of it when you're watching the way your lips fall open.

You want to muffle the sound because you know you're not alone in the shared apartment but it's hard when he's working you like this. Caught in a web you don't think you even want to be pulled from, not now when he's deliberately working your clit to match each stroke of his curling fingers. It's almost too much, your eyes squeezing shut before you fall forward, bracing your hands against the counter as your orgasm crashes over you, too caught up on the way you are falling apart to notice the way soobin is quick to pull your shorts and panties down until they are pooled around your ankles.

“So loud,” he teases, that mocking tone sending heat up your spine, your arms trembling as you hold yourself up looking at him in the mirror as he shakes his head, “and you didn't even get to see how perfect you look when you cum,”

You can feel the tip of his cock tracing between your folds, spreading your wetness around as your body clenches around nothing, whimpering when he circles your sensitive clit, “Do you promise to look this time? If you don't I won't let you finish,” he waited for your answer, his free hand sliding down your back until it could grip your hip to steady you.

“I promise,” your eyes caught on his in the mirror, your body flush all over, hot under his touch, “I'm sorry-”

But the last words did not only come from you, no, because neither of you had shut your bedroom door, and there standing at the foot of the bed, looking in on soobin behind you in the mirror was beomgyu. His mouth caught agape at the sight of you two, body frozen in place as he felt himself go numb at the sight.

“Oh god-” your gasp not just from the shock of beomgyu now standing witness to the scene but from the stretch of soobin finally pushing into you. Soobins throaty moan followed by a chuckle as he bottomed out.

You were trembling under him, a mess of contradictions. Embarrassed because you had been caught, but finding it hard to want to pull away when soobin was holding you so tightly in place, so still and deep inside you that it was driving you crazy, your body clenching down on him enough to drive soobin insane.

Dropping your head, you had to look away from Beomgyu's stare, from soobins, because both of them had all their attention on you, your chest laid against the cold counter, making you gasp out at how sensitive your nipples were. “Dont be shy now, let beomgyu see just how pretty you look when you get fucked,” soobin leaned down over you, the heat of his chest radiating over your back as he whispered into your ear, “Besides how rude would it be to just let him hear how good I make you feel when he could watch? You were being loud enough to basically call him in,”

You turned your head just enough to see him standing there with the swell of his bulge so visible through his jeans, soaking in the sight of you like he had found an oasis at the edge of a desert. Soobin could tell you like being watched just by the way you fluttered around him, could tell you didn't want to stop when your hips were squirming against his for him to move again, to give you more. But he still wanted you to watch yourself.

In one swift move soobin reached around to lightly wrap his fingers around your neck, pulling you up until you were back to looking at yourself in the mirror, back arched just right as he steadied your hip with his free hand. “Tell her how good she looks gyu or you can leave,”

You were a mess, chest rising and falling in time with the rate of your heart, eyes watching the way beomgyu devoured the sight of you with soobins hand like a necklace on your throat, the weight comforting enough to make you dizzy. “Fuck- you look- you look so good,” the words hard to get out, his fist clenched at his side.

“You see, I told you, fucking perfect,” soobin muttered finally moving his hips just enough to hear you start to whimper again. Slowly he starts to pull out, drawing out your pleasure as you feel every inch before he rams back into you, the jolt of the movement sending you to your elbows. You're moaning, not caring if you're loud anymore, not like you had cared much before. Soobins pace built up enough to pull out any sound he wanted from.

And there beomgyu was standing, watching the way you gasped, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to swallow down his soft whine still heard over the soft slapping of soobins skin against yours. Soobin watches you lock eyes with his friend, watches the way your head falls back more, your body arching against his displaying more of your chest to the mirror just for beomgyu.

The hand he had used to hold your hip falls down to your pelvis, pressing in deep until you let out a squeal, legs nearly giving out from the feeling of him with his palm against the bulge he had made inside you. “You see how good she is to me? How lucky I am?” his thrusts now slow as he questions beomgyu, “Watch how pretty she is when she finishes on me,”

It's the only warning you have before his hand on your stomach slips further down, fingers circling your clit before he starts back up his thrusting, his hand on your throat tightening just enough to make your eyes lashes flutter, but you don't close your eyes, you listen to him and watch yourself, watch him, watch beomgyu. You should care, but you feel no ounce of shame having your friend watch you get fucked, not when he both of them look at you like you are the only thing holding them down to the earth.

Soobins moans in your ear mix with your own as he pulls you up and flush against him again, your whole body on display, held in place only by his hand because without them you would have fallen right back to the counter. “Show me, pretty girl, show him how pretty you look when you cum on my cock,”

And it's when beomgyu falls to sit on the bed that you cum, watching the way he palms himself over his jeans like it will help any. Your body tightens, crying out as soobin grins wolfishly against your skin, his rocking into you as you ride out your high, panting desperately as his hips stutter against yours.

You're almost surprised by the sudden rush of warmth you feel, your body melting back into soobins as he pumps you full of his cum, using you like he was made to. The sight of you in the mirror was intoxicating enough to silence anything you had been thinking before because soobin was holding you to him like you are always made to be his to hold.

His breath is hot against your cheek, “next time you look in the mirror I want you to think of this,” his hand that was on your clit sliding back up to press on your stomach just like before, right over the spot he was pressed in deep, your whimper making him twitch inside you. “And if I didn't make it clear how good you look, I'm sure I could invite beomgyu back over so we both can make sure the lesson sticks,”

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