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romugh · 17 hours

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SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her.

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

#romugh writes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #romugh's requests #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson reader #marvel #black widow

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xshimaeraxx · 1 day

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okay ik that the fandom LOVES making logan the one who’s the cat-like mutant in the relationship and i LOVE that and it is so canon but like

hear me out here! catboy!! wade!!

a wade who was a mutant long before francis got his grubby little hands in him, wade who was a mutant but it wasnt crazy regenerative abilities or an inability to stay dead/immortality or super-human strength, but a wade who was (still is) a mutant who had the abilities of a fuckin’ cat

a wade who has semi-night vision, not entirely but good enough to help out on jobs; a wade who has lil pinprick pupils like a cat’s and who hisses damn near 24/7 on bad pain days (bc chronic pain-having wade has my entire heart and i will go to the grave w this hc alr); a wade who purrs when happy or in the middle of slicing someone’s head off during a job; a wade who has a cat’s heightened senses- hearing, sight, taste, smell, all of that; a wade who has a cat’s un-fuckin’-canny ability to jump from heights that would’ve killed a human and have at most a small, gone-in-a-day bruise; a wade who has tufts of kitty-cat fur on his elbows and on + behind his knees

and then francis comes along, and the torture happens, and he loses his looks, and then the fur grows back bc fuck but he’d thought he’d lost his og mutation when francis torture mcgee had triggered this new one, had lost the one thing that ness might still recognise him for,,,

and then the start of d&w happens, and during the birthday scene wade’s purring, happy, quietly (so quietly no one hears it half the time, and when they do they assume it’s the faulty heating of wade & al’s shitass apartment, but ness looks at him with a pleased, proud little smile when the sound starts back up after the others’ initial investigation for the source of the sound proves fruitless and it, he gets louder, purely for the way ness’s smile gets wider, prouder in a way that is purely, unabashedly so ness wade wants to go other and kiss her, right then n there) yes but he’s still purring like he hasn’t since pre-cancer-diagnosis him & ness (and also bc francis’s little angel-killer had found the sound annoying as all hell [bc wade also purrs to self-soothe bc I Say So)and so he’d rarely done so since, half out of new-born habit, half out of some primal, hard-learned fear he still hasn’t managed to completely shake, even years later)

and then the honda odyssey scene happens, and wade’s purring, purring, purring, loud and proud and rumbling and happy and he’s also hissing playfully at logan- a motion logan doesn’t notice due to how distracted he is putting his claws thru wade’s left thigh and christ, kittycat, how long’s it been since you had a good hookup for you to be THIS tense?- and logan only notices after wade’s pinned him and his minorly blood-soaked grin freezes; doesn’t drop, but freezes.

wade’s purr stutters a tad, doesn’t stop. he asks, licking the blood off of his cheek underneath his mask and for some reason logan’s sharp eyes follow what he can see of the movement underneath wade’s mask: what’s wrong, peanut, cat got your tongue?

are you- are you fuckin’ purring? asks logan, and the sound abruptly stops, and then deadpool’s stabbing him through the gut with not one word and then they’re fighting again, and while logan notes the moment to think about later, wade also doesn’t say another word other then excited/frustrated grunts and little “haha!”s for the next half hour, and for some reason that about takes up the majority of logan’s attention until he finally, finally, punches wade’s already-broken nose literally not even a millisecond after he’s broken it hard enough that it actually takes a few seconds for wade’s healing to kick in, and for some reason he feels strangely relived when wade lets out a muffled-by-blood ugh! foulplay, wolvie, foulpla-

logan interrupts him via stabbing wade and a like you don’t play just as foul as i do, bub, and wade stabs back in response with some quippy comment or another, and by then the fight’s back on, deadpool-typical quips and all.

like. when i say catboy wade, here, do you see my vision. do you see what i’m imagining. dO YOU SEE IT I SAY

#screaming incoherently into the void of tumblr #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadclaws #poolverine #catboy wade wilson #wade wilson #logan howlett #x’s writing #??? kindaaa??#poolverine microfic #?? maybe

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srslyblvck · 1 day

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a dare too far, james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 1k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ JAMES POTTER AND HIS friends, the infamous Marauders, were no strangers to trouble. Challenges, dares, and pranks fueled their Hogwarts days. This particular afternoon was no different as the four of them lounged on the couch in the Gryffindor common room.

"I dare you, Sirius, to go two whole weeks without getting detention," Remus said, a sly smile on his face.

Sirius scoffed, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. "Two weeks? You’re a sadist, Moony. But fine, I’ll take that bet."

Peter snickered. “It’ll be a miracle if you last even a day.”

With a smirk, Sirius turned toward James, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Alright, James. My turn. I dare you to… make her fall for you.”

James raised an eyebrow, confused. “Who?”

Sirius grinned wickedly and pointed in your direction, where you sat quietly in the corner of the common room, engrossed in a book. “Her. Y/N. The one who barely talks to anyone except her friends. The shy, sweet one. I dare you to make her fall for you.”

James followed Sirius’s gaze, frowning slightly. You were the girl who had always intrigued him—pretty, kind, and gentle, but mysterious in your quietness. You had rejected plenty of suitors over the years, always softly turning them down without ever coming off as harsh or rude. You weren’t one to make waves, yet people admired you for your kind heart.

Remus immediately sat up, his brow furrowed. “Hold on, Sirius. That’s not funny.”

“Yeah, Moony’s right,” Peter chimed in. “You can’t mess with her like that. It’s just… wrong.”

Sirius waved them off. “Oh, come on. It’s just a bit of fun.”

But Remus wasn’t laughing. “It’s playing with someone’s feelings.”

“James can handle it, can’t you, Prongs?” Sirius grinned, looking over at James.

James hesitated, glancing at you once more. The truth was, his heart still ached for Lily Evans, but she seemed as unreachable as ever. Maybe, just maybe, if he made you fall for him, it would make Lily jealous. Maybe she’d finally notice him.

With a shrug, James smirked. “Challenge accepted.”

Remus and Peter exchanged a look of disapproval, but Sirius clapped James on the back. “Atta boy.”

Over the next few weeks, James started finding ways to enter your life. It began with simple things—sitting near you in class, offering to carry your books, sharing small jokes, and asking you questions about yourself.

At first, you were surprised. James Potter, one of the most popular boys in school, was paying attention to you? You’d seen his confidence, his charm, and his easy smile, but you’d never been interested in boys like James. You preferred your quiet life, far away from the chaos that seemed to follow him and his friends.

But James… was persistent. And he wasn’t the show-off you thought he was. He was funny, thoughtful even, and when you talked to him, he made you feel like the only person in the room. Slowly, you found yourself opening up, and soon, you began looking forward to your time with him.

Your friends noticed the change. They teased you about the time you were spending with James, but they could see you were happy. You were falling for him, even though you had tried to keep your heart guarded.

What you didn’t realize was that James was falling too. Somewhere along the way, the dare had stopped being about a challenge, and it had become about you. The warmth of your smile, the way you listened to him, the gentle kindness you always showed—James found himself craving more time with you. Even Sirius, Remus, and Peter had come to adore you. You were, after all, impossible not to love.

One late afternoon, you decided to surprise James at the library, where you knew he often went to meet Remus. As you approached the table where they were sitting, you overheard their conversation.

“Mate, how long are you going to keep this up?” Remus asked, his voice tense. “It’s not fair to her. You’re playing with her feelings.”

Your heart froze. Her?

James shifted uncomfortably. “I—It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

Sirius chuckled lightly. “Come on, Prongs. You’re doing her a favor. She’s having the time of her life.”

You took a step closer, straining to hear, feeling a knot form in your chest.

“But I didn’t mean for it to—” James started, but Sirius interrupted.

“You’ve done your job, mate. If it gets Lily jealous, then it’s all worth it, right?”

Your blood ran cold. The realization hit you like a wave crashing over rocks. The time spent with James, the laughter, the shared moments—it was all a lie. A dare.

You couldn’t breathe. Everything between you and James had been fake. He had never cared. He had only been using you to make someone else jealous.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you stood there, frozen. You didn’t even realize James had spotted you until his voice cracked through the air.

“Y/N…”

You shook your head, your vision blurring with tears. The betrayal cut deeper than you could have imagined. You took a step back as James stood up, his hand outstretched.

“Please, Y/N, let me explain—”

But you couldn’t bear to hear it. You turned on your heel and fled, leaving James calling your name behind you.

James stood in the library, watching you leave, a sinking feeling in his chest. He wanted to chase after you, to explain, but how could he? The truth was out now, and he knew it. He had hurt you in the worst possible way.

For the first time in a long while, James Potter didn’t have the right words. He had lost you, and it was his own fault.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter sat in silence, the gravity of what had just happened settling heavily around them.

Remus sighed, his voice soft but firm. “I told you. You were playing with her heart.”

James slumped back into his chair, guilt gnawing at him. He didn’t care about the dare anymore. He didn’t care about making Lily jealous. All he cared about was the girl who had just walked out of his life—the girl he had fallen for without realizing it.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #james potter #james fleamont potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter angst #james potter x y/n #angst #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

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justhereforxreaders · 2 days

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The Prince and the Dragon Rider - Part Seven: The Rift

Jacaerys Velaryon x dragon rider!reader

Summary: while still reeling from your first day in King’s Landing, you must come to terms with the command given during your private conversation with Princess Rhaenyra.

Warnings: angst, anxiety/panic attacks

part one: the oath

part two: tempest

part three: the dawn

part four: the test

part five: precipice

part six: pieces and players

soundtrack - listening recommendations:

• triassic love song by Paris Paloma • I’d Have to Think About It by Leith Ross • putting a spin on good luck, babe! by Egg • Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan •

After making your way through the endless maze of The Red Keep, and finally finding your newly assigned chambers within the palace, you sat in the stillness trying to calm yourself. Though you’d have likely found more rest if you had continued to wander. The opulence of the vast, unfamiliar space only made you feel more isolated and out of place.

With no other anchor to cling to as you try to soothe your heartache, your mind drifts to your mother.

Six short years of life by her side gave you little insight into the kind of person she was, or the kind of person she hoped you’d be. She was likely kind, and certainly clever, but what you knew without question was that she was incomparably fierce. In your bleakest moments on your journey with Tempest, you’d holdfast to the memory of her strength, using it endure whatever challenges you faced.

Surviving life’s hardships was your way to honor her sacrifices. And though, you told yourself that she’d be proud of who you’d become, you’d always pondered what kind of life she’d have wished for you if survival hadn’t been her primary driving force. If she’d been given the opportunity to be carefree and gentle, what kind of person would that have made you. Surely she wanted more than mere survival for you, but was the life you sold yourself to what she’d have wanted for you? Were you still honoring her memory?

Which was why, as fierce as you had made yourself and as hard as you fought to prove your worth within a realm of dragonlords, you also strived to preserve some of the softness within you that she was denied. If there was hope that you’d be able to find a peaceful life, you wanted your heart to be able to receive it.

However, as you sit alone with an ache so powerful it feels as though your chest has been set alight, you begin to despise your effort to protect that tenderness. If all you were meant to do was simply become a pawn in someone else’s game, what use was there for softness? What need was there for love?

You are so consumed by your thoughts that you do not hear the soft knock at your door or the quiet footsteps that tiptoe across the room as you lie motionless on top of your bedding. When Jace whispers your name from the foot of the bed, it takes you a moment to realize it is not in your head.

“Are you alright?” he whispers slightly louder, voice laced with concern. “I returned to the godswood and you had already gone.”

You sit up slowly, avoiding his eyes, and fold your legs beneath you, keeping your gaze fixed on the fabric below. After a beat and no response from you, you hear him shuffle around to the side of the bed.

“What did my mother speak to you about?” He asks quietly and your breath hitches.

He takes notice and moves to sit at the edge of the bed. Unable to bring yourself to voice the Princess’s command, you force yourself to look up and find his gaze in the dark. His eyes widen at your disheveled state and he darts a hand out to grasp yours.

“What happened?” He asks in a frantic whisper. “What’s wrong?”

You close your eyes and take your hand from his, steadying yourself with a shaky breath before finding your voice.

“I have been instructed to keep my distance from you,” your voice cracks, hoarse from hours of silence following your onslaught of tears.

“By who?” He moves closer to your face to see you clearly, “My mother?”

You sigh deeply and nod your head, he stands from the bed suddenly and you watch as he begins to pace the floor.

“She believes the nature of our companionship could be called into question, thus, jeopardizing your prospects for alliances through marriage.” You mutter.

“I fail to see why anyone would concern themselves with such speculation. You are my friend. Where is the fault in that?” He huffs and continues to pace back and forth.

“Jacaerys,” you say softly, “look at us. The closeness of our friendship is no secret to anyone, but what if you were to be discovered here? Alone in my chambers in the dead of night?” He stops in his tracks, as if this is the first he’s considered this, “Accusations and assumptions would not be difficult to form.”

“Why should it matter what they say, if it isn’t true?” He mumbles, staring intently at the floor.

“It doesn’t matter what they say or what they think,” You stand, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to contain the sorrow building within, “but I cannot allow them to turn me into a weapon to be used against you.”

His head snaps up in your direction, the confusion plain on his face as you continue.

“Look at why we’ve travel all this way in the first place. There are always going to be those looking to undermine and discredit someone in your position. Whether you admit it or not, you know our friendship could harm you and your standing. I will not risk being complicit in your pain.”

“And what of the pain that your absence would inflict? Why must we be forced to choose between happiness and duty?” He pleads and steps toward you.

“Your mother tried to have both, did she not?” You say plainly and he finds your eyes before placing his hands on your arms.

“Yes but this is different, there has to be a way,” there is a desperation in his voice that you have not heard before that breaks your heart even further, “Why must her mistakes determine our future? We can find our own path.”

You step closer and unfold your arms, taking hold of his hands as he makes to pull them away.

“The moment I took my oath, I knew I was giving up my right to my own path, Jace. For a time, it was easy to forget the larger roles we would be called to play. It felt like we could have both…” your voice trails off as you absentmindedly run your thumbs across the backs of his hands, “But the pieces are moving. And we must take our place.” Your voice wavers, if there were any tears left in your body they would be flowing freely.

He looks down at your clasped hands, gripping them tighter.

“But I can’t lose you.” He utters before returning his gaze back to yours, tears beginning to form in his deep brown eyes, “If I am to walk this horrid path then I only wish to do it with you by my side.”

You both stand quietly in the darkness, searching each other’s eyes, letting his words hang in the air around the two of you.

A hushed gasp leaves his lips and he takes a step back. Eyes wide and hands trembling as they leave yours. You cross your arms over your chest, taking a ragged breath which causes Jacaerys to take half step forward. Raising a palm in protest, you step away.

“Please go,” you sob softly.

He opens his mouth slightly, a question forming on his lips.

“Please, Jace,” you interrupt as sternly as you can manage, “I can’t.”

He closes his mouth and stares at you for a moment, unmoving, eyes locked on your face. Involuntarily, he begins to walk towards the door, still watching you intently, conflict and confusion becoming clearer upon his face with every step away from you. You nod silently once he reaches the door and with one last pained glance he exits your chambers, once again leaving you in solitude.

You retreat back to the bed and collapse into the fabric, curling up on your side as the tearless sobs begin to rack your body once more. Cursing the tenderness you have allowed to blossom there. As you desperately will the pain into numbness, you are at last given some relief as you are mercifully pulled into a dreamless sleep.

You awake with the dawn in a daze, taking a moment to remember where you are as you look about your unfamiliar surroundings. Once your mind is fully pulled from the fog of sleep, you stand from the bed and make your way across the room, trying to stretch your tired muscles as you pull fresh clothes from your bag.

As you rummage through your belongings, the red cloak you were gifted when you were sworn into service comes to the surface. You look upon it quietly for a moment before retrieving your other items of clothing and rushing back to the bed to dress yourself, doing your best to stomp out the sparks of anguish that its appearance brings forth.

Dressing yourself slowly and deliberately, you keep your mind focused on each step, trying to avoid inciting any further emotional responses. However, the red of the cloak makes that task all the more difficult as it lingers in the periphery of your vision. After fully dressing you dart back to the bag, intent on burying the cloak deep within, but a knock on the door stays your hand for the moment.

A handmaiden enters and offers you a bow.

“The Lady Baela,” she announces and backs out through the door as Baela steps forward.

“Good morrow, y/n,” she says with a bright smile.

“Good morrow, my Lady,” you bow stiffly, “how can I be of service?”

She walks forward, looking over your chambers until she spies a small table then turns back to you.

“I thought we might break fast together before we make our way to the throne room for the petitions,” she grimaces slightly at the mention of today’s events, “I imagined my cousins would be occupied with other affairs and didn’t want you to be left behind.”

The thought of the Princes causes a twisting pain in your chest but you do your best to smile politely.

“Thank you,” you mutter, “that’s very kind of you.”

She makes her way across the floor to stand next to you, a mischievous glimmer in her eye.

“I wondered if you might tell me about your travels as well,” she quirks a brow inquisitively, “Rhaena has already told me so much but I’d love to hear them from you if you’re willing to share?”

“Rhaena has told you about me?” Your brow furrows as you register her words.

“She has,” she chuckles lightly at your expression, “in letters and through most of the night, in fact.”

“That is surprising,” you say, taken aback by this revelation, “I thought she despised me.”

“She may,” she shrugs, rolling her eyes at her twin,“but more than anything she hates what she was denied. When we lived in Pentos, we had heard rumors of the wild sea dragon that lurked in the waters. For a time, Rhaena had plans to find it and claim it for herself before our mother died.”

You reel back in disbelief.

“I was unaware I had such a reputation,” you breath a laugh, a genuine smile growing at the corner of your lips.

Baela smirks and nods her head.

“You and your dragon have made quite a name for yourselves,” she takes you by the crook of the arm, “I look forward to testing mine and Moondancer’s mettle against yours one day.”

“I look forward to that as well, my Lady,” you nod in agreement.

Another knock rings out and more servants enter with platters of warm food.

“Shall we?” She asks and gestures towards the table where the meal has been placed.

“Yes please,” you say with a grateful sigh.

Conversation with Baela flowed effortlessly, bringing an ease to your soul as the two of you swapped stories over the meal. The relief was much too short lived however, as once the servants had cleared the table, Baela’s handmaiden steps forward.

“It’s time, my Lady,” she informs the two of you and you freeze in place.

Baela sees the change in your demeanor and thanks her handmaiden before she stands and moves to offer her hand to pull you from your seat.

“We’ll be along shortly.” She calls with a nod before returning her attention to you.

Her eyes soften and she sighs quietly.

“My mother used to say that The Red Keep was poisonous, but that poison could not harm a dragon.”

You take her hand and she pulls you to your feet.

“You may not be the blood of the dragon. But you certainly have the heart of one,” she smiles softly meeting your eyes to ensure you understand, “Don’t let them take that from you.”

You take a deep breath and stand at attention.

“Are you ready?” She asks calmly.

“Yes,” you pause, looking back to your belongings, “just give me one moment.”

You step over to your bag pull the cloak free, swinging it over your shoulders in one swift motion before affixing it with a black dragon clasp. Returning to Baela’s side, she beams proudly and links her arm through yours.

“Onwards, Dragon Rider.”

• @freefallthoughts @eywas-heir

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cynthiav06 · 1 day

Note

With Percy, we know that he hates going to school and his goals don’t really line up with Annabeth’s, but Annabeth is kind of forcing him to do it with her because he can’t say no to her. Say Rick didn’t make Annabeth Percy’s entire personality, what do you think he would’ve done in the mortal world rather than go to university?

I was checking my drafts cause I am trying to catch up on all the asks in my inbox ( as I said in one of my earlier posts I was in middle of a medical situation so I have at least a month of backlog) and found this draft.

The funny thing is I had already written most of the post in the draft version, and this ask wasn't even being displayed in my inbox, so I was very confused as to when it was from.

But it's such a good prompt and a sort of controversial question in the fandom, so I wanted to post it asap.

Percy doesn't like studies, but he knows the importance of it, so I am sure he will finish his initial college, probably either in the science or arts section. We know at one point he got better grades than Annabeth at one point so he certainly isn't quitting studies and doing way better than what people expect. He also wouldn't like just staying at home and doing nothing (I am looking at certain Percabeth stans here), so he definitely would be doing one job or another.

I don't think he would study marine biology like most believe. After a conversation I had with someone who had taken the course, I am convinced Percy wouldn't like it. It's heavily based on chemistry, and we know how much Percy is affected by sea creatures being mistreated or caged, so having to study marine biology wouldn't really be something he would choose.

An interesting twist would be if he chose to be a writer like his mother.

We all know that Percy writes or at least dictates and narrates the first five books, which are written and narrated entirely from his perspective. Moreover, there are books on Percy just narrating his own sarcastic takes on Greek gods and Greek heroes. What if he did actually catalogue his own adventures in those books as a sort of manual for other demigods on how to deal with certain monsters and gods and such.

Through Percy's thoughts, even as 12 years old, we can certainly say he has advanced vocabulary despite being dyslexic and given how much he admires Sally, why wouldn't he be interested in following her footsteps. Sure, he has trouble reading, but that's not to say he wouldn't love expressing his thoughts through humorous retelling of his own adventures which he can pass as fiction to normal readers but actual experiences in demigod world. Who doesn't want to know the exploits of Percy Jackson?

Plus, it's a good money hack. And don't for a second tell me he wouldn't. Sally petrified Gabe, and then they sold his statute to a museum as a sculpture and earned money off of that. So Sally would definitely encourage it, and Percy would even follow through on it just for shits and giggles and the added benefit of helping demigods and earning money.

[I literally want this to happen just for the Godly reactions. I am all for god slander, especially Zeus slander. Poseidon would be half laughing at the book and half worried cause of the sheer catastrophes his son seems to fall into almost on a daily basis.

Apollo would be having a grand time, and Hermes will be half depressed and half impressed throughout. Overall, it would be hilarious all around, and it might finally make the gods feel a bit more accountable . It's literally the Reading Percy Jackson Series trope, and that's always fun.]

One other option is that Percy will get into environmental preservation, specifically the protection of Rivers and Seas from pollution by actively involving himself and others in its cleanliness and purification. He would also run Beach cleanliness programs.

I think he and Grover would become environmental activists and would definitely get into preserving forest areas and other places where nature spirits dwell frequently. I can see them doing it a lot, long-term wise, too.

I think he would kind of like marine explorations, but that might cause his powers to be somewhat exposed, so he might not do that, but it's a possibility.

That's all I can think of. I would like to hear everyone else's opinions on this.

#percy jackson #pjo headcanons #percy and grover #smart percy jackson #school smart percy jackson #pjo fandom #percy jackson and the olympians #sally jackson #percy and sally #Poseidon and Percy #Annabeth chase #grover underwood

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afreakingdork · 2 days

Text

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 13

RotTMNT x Reader

I'm not gonna lie, I'm obsessed with this week's chapter art by @birdsnout I MEAN LOOK AT THEM

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis: You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

Trigger Warning: The following chapter contains a depiction of assault. There are mentions of bloody injury, a knife, and needles. Please be aware and keep yourselves safe.

You were getting closer to Mikey. It was a day by day evolution and something you deeply enjoyed. He’d given you so much and yet continued to enrich your life. In some ways you thought you’d never be able to repay him and in others you were crushed by crippling guilt because of all the ways your relationship flower bed blossomed from Mikey’s tending sun, there was also an incessant weed that grew back every time you picked it: your damned crush on Donnie.

Your budding feelings were painfully incessant. Upon first glance you thought they would only be one-sided, but it was hard to deny how Donnie acted. While his exact words had been about how he thought your touch was inoffensive, he also clearly found you interesting. Though there had been no more larger encounters, it felt like you had an inside joke with the purple brother. You had since sought each other’s eyes during dozens conversations with others and much was said with singular looks. It was an obvious form of flirting that percolated the cauldron in your chest and sent you in a completely different direction.

Instead of dealing with one aggravation, you prepared for another. The mess of it all was it was occurring simultaneously. The talk with Donatello at the ice rink had reinforced your fleeting feelings for him. It had also opened up new territory with Mikey. Not because you sat with him after his concussion, but because you’d learned more about the Hamato’s trauma regarding the Krang. For Leo and Raph the sparse information you had learned felt more like peaks into the others psyche, but with Mikey it felt like betrayal. Mikey’s story was his own and he seemingly had already shared all he wanted on the matter regarding his tremors. You finding out more detail about it from someone that wasn’t him was prying in your eyes. Though you knew it was a form of procrastination on your crush, you had to relieve at least one guilt from your conscience or you weren’t going to make it.

You relied on your growing faith in your friend. While it had come at clawing expense, you felt as though there was enough trust built between you and Mikey that you could approach the topic without destroying your friendship. It spoke both to his actions and your growth. You were still timid so it was one afternoon during the lull of a hangout that you asked Mikey about the Krang. With a faraway smile, he shared his experience.

His version came with far more detail than Donnie’s. They were different lenses on the same event and Mikey spared no expense. The time on the ship was one thing, but your friend’s journey began from when he ripped through reality. He spoke of lengthy bouts of depression with a contrasting lightheartedness that would have been a red flag if said by anyone other than him. In his eyes, struggle was a stepping stone in one’s path. He was shaped by it and many other trials, which he expounded on in his carefree manner.

You were left sick with sympathy pain and thanked him. He’d bumped shoulders with you, an act he was preferring more and more, and said it was nice to talk about it with someone who wasn’t ready to jump over the table to help him like he was still an invalid. You paled at the thought and he disarmed your anxiety by saying you took knowledge of his trauma better than you did trying to talk to a waitress. You sported puffed cheeks as he teased you about your faint heart and with that you understood a very large piece of Mikey’s past.

You loved him.

It was a revelation that hadn’t come from that conversation, but one of the next. Things were never so linear when it came to Michelangelo. You selfishly asking about the Krang had marked a paradigm shift. By asking him to divulge, you had inadvertently signaled Mikey of your growing strength and feelings of safety with him. He took your questioning as a step in both your solemn and combined journeys and with it he pressed for more.

He asked you out to a bar which Mikey had categorized as a level five event. Akining it to a hurricane, it marked one of the first times that he promised he wasn’t going to leave your side and you believed him. He had never cared to chart or graph your progress and instead chose the liminal space of feeling out when you were ready to push your anxieties. He’d turned to you with severity and said it was time to crank it up a notch. You would meet up for drinks on the peak hours on a Friday and you would have one week to prepare.

It was marked by further milestones. You and Mikey went out the preceding Sunday morning to pick out new outfits. Mikey invited you over to his workplace after hours on a Tuesday so you could meet the sommelier who used to be a bartender and discussed drink options. You asked to meet for lunch on Thursday at a place just down the street from the bar and Mikey had cordially walked you by the closed business more than once to scope it out. It was all little steps to help you prepare for the onslaught.

When it came, it was as expected. It was loud. People jockeyed for the bartender’s attention. You couldn’t believe how the employees could not only keep track of drinks and tabs, but also make anything from a menu that didn’t seem to exist without so much as a recipe. Meanwhile, you could barely remember what drink you had pre-planned to get.

Mikey acted as a tacky barrier, but he could only shield so much of you. Patrons bumped you and you hung your head trying to block out the booming music while a cacophony of voices threatened to swallow you up. Eyes unfocused as the bartender asked you a second time for your drink order, you heard Mikey say the first syllable of it before you squeaked it out. The employee was off and you shrank, wanting to hide beneath the sticky wooden surface of the bar.

There was a bathroom here somewhere.

That might be a good hovel.

Or better yet, you could dive into the dumpster out back.

That was where you belonged.

Mikey had slipped an arm around you to grab the bar without fear of what reside it would leave on his hands. He kept the threading near your body modest and left space for you to freely turn. It brought your gaze up to him where he smiled genially and gestured to the counter. Looking there, two drinks sat, his and yours, and he picked his up to toast. You slipped yours from the dainty napkin it was sat upon and he tipped his glass with a smile.

“I’m proud of you.”

He’d clinked to that and you nearly sobbed on the spot.

Heart swelling to a painful degree, it was the moment you realized the depth of your love. Immediately struck with fear by it, you’d chugged half your drink and then soured. He laughed and his arm jostled you as a connection point through which you could feel every bit of his happiness. You thought his joy might overwhelm you, but you found yourself inoculated. You had spent months adjusting to his light and now you could take a straight shot of liquid sunshine as if it were courage.

From setting your glass back down on its square throne, you had the berth to examine. It might not have been the love he wanted, but it was one you relished in. It carried with it trust and faith. You had once worshiped the sun and you weren’t sure when that point that had shifted. You still considered Mikey benevolent, as you imagined you always would, but it was clear now that he was also someone tangible. He wasn’t millions of miles away and hung in the sky. He was your dear friend and he had journeyed the distance to meet you.

This was a culmination.

You loved him.

He was still authentically him, but he could better use his attention. You didn’t have to fight for him to look at you and when you needed him, asking no longer felt like groveling. He would probably still flitter off for whatever caught his fancy, but it now felt like a touch to his arm would bring him back no matter what.

That was an assured love.

Something reciprocated.

It was love that was heralded.

It was what the Greeks described as philia.

Deep friendship.

He was your best friend and you were going to hurt him.

You’d sipped your drink and numbly talked about this and that for the rest of the evening. When you emerged from the bar, Mikey gave a puff of air. He’d heaved and put his hands on his knees as if he’d given some huge exertion and then turned to you as if waiting for you to do the same.

You felt oddly okay.

You were going to break your friend’s heart and you felt emotionally afloat.

The quiet of the night enhanced his radiance and he approached you with curiosity.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t been a lie.

Why did you feel alright?

By all accounts, you should have been miserable.

You waited for the negative thoughts to emerge.

They didn’t.

Weeks went by and the current of your comfort held steady.

You had love.

You had improvement.

You had happiness.

It was fine.

On all accounts, you were exactly where you needed to be minus one invasive species in your heart.

You were painfully aware of the cause, but refused to give it time.

You missed Donnie.

Those little glances might have been precious slivers of stolen time, but they were just that. You hadn’t been able to truly speak to him since the night at the diner. It felt so far away now. You had shared a lifetime worth of words and your regret was that you hadn’t thinned them out. It made you think about a phrase regarding hearts growing fonder, but that felt moronic. The saying was supposed to mean that time apart illuminated what someone took for granted.

You never took Donnie for granted.

Moments with him were known and brief. Time apart was a given and in it all you found was a war waged on your imagination. You refused to give into daydreams. You had let your imagination run wild long enough. The reason you had started going out was because you were sick of your brain’s excuses. You’d lost your twenties to hope and it was only with the last of them that you were rectifying the situation. Dreams were fine when you were driven toward a positive goal. You were making trip plans with Mikey; those were tangible hopes.

Those made sense.

It was only in that way that Donnie didn’t. What you knew about Donnie was always in close contrast to Mikey. Where you and Mikey had to flounder around each other, things came too easily with Donnie. Being around the older brother was as simple as breathing and there was something foreboding about that. Nothing in this life came like that to you. Mikey and you fought for your friendship and it had gotten you to this place.

It was wonderful.

It was earned.

Mikey had to be removed from the equation time and time again just for Donnie to ever have time for you.

That spoke of something sinister. Not in an evil sense, but of a kind of ancient warning. It wasn’t the same for the other brothers. Leo would join in when he felt like it and you could easily talk to him without discounting your friend. Raph could probably lift you as high as his huge reach allowed and there would be little distance between you and the youngest. The girls were always in a rambunctious tizzy, but none of it took you away from Mikey.

Donnie took up space.

He zapped your attention and caused it to collapse.

You’d almost think he was the one with the spatial powers.

Being around him slowed everything down to just him.

He was distracting.

He was attentive.

He was interesting.

That was allure talking. It was the bitter hand of emotion trying to deviate from logic. Those things made sense because whimsy said they did. This was the one instance where that little worried voice in your head was just. It spoke of ill tidings that you knew to be true. It said this would lead to ruin and you knew it would. It said that tiny pockets of pleasure were drug hits and Donnie was a supplier.

Quitting him was the right choice, you just needed to convince your heart.

Mikey was busy and you had been thinking too much without your best friend’s distraction. Where the younger’s absence revealed the older, the former was also your only tie to him. It marked a strange double standard that frustrated you because there was no helping it. Instead, you tried to focus on yourself while the Hamato were busy. A Junior you had heard whispers about was in town and Mikey had impressed upon you what a big deal that was. He was an illustrious figure among the Hamato lexicon and someone you had learned about during Mikey’s history lesson about the Krang.

There you had been granted the knowledge that Junior was a time traveler. It had been a dizzying enough tale without the dubious additive, but that in and of itself represented the Hamato. It was a precious secret and because of that, you kept quiet as, no matter what happened, a part of you would always feel unworthy of knowing them. The best you could do to make up for that was being dutiful, so you took the task along with your safest method of spending your time: hiding away at home.

The Hamato had plans for vicious catch up with energy levels that you could barely fathom. They hadn’t bothered to invite you and you hadn’t felt slighted. Instead, it spoke to how much they adored Junior because of how ruthless they were. Blood was apparently spilled while drawing straws in an attempt to divvy up Junior’s time in town. Every member wanted to spend their own special time with him and you were moved by how loved this technically displaced man was. You bet it made him feel appropriately wanted so you didn’t mind in the slightest when Mikey had said he’d be unavailable for a bit.

Outside of silly intrusive thoughts, you had a backlog of TV shows that you were pretty excited to tuck into. Being busy with friends was fun, but in some ways you missed the freedom of your hiding. It almost seemed like a staycation outside of work. Buying groceries that reflected fun, you had just gotten settled on your couch for your third night in a row of tame debauchery when your phone rang. Terror ran through you as you dug through your blanket for the device only to see Mikey’s name run across the screen.

Not fully returning to relaxation, worry shifted into fear’s place as you answered. “H-hello…?”

“Y/N!” Mikey laughed and voices battled in the background. “Stop! Stop! Y/N picked up!”

“Uh…” Your voice wobbled.

“Sorry!” You could hear a crackle as Mikey presumably moved. “I forgot something super important!”

“Y-yeah?” You pulled your phone away from your face to check your notes app in case you knew what it was.

“The future test!!” Mikey’s voice clipped.

“The…” You watched your phone time out in your hand. “W-what?”

“The future test!” Mikey parroted at a lower volume. “All new peeps have to go through it! I can’t believe I forgot!”

“Peeps…?”

“You know! That’s like friends, lovers, con-fee-dants, prospects, that one time with the contractor!” You could almost see Mikey trying to count it off. “Everyone who sticks around has to do it!”

“M-Mikey… I don’t…”

“You don’t…? You don’t know what the future test is! Duh!” He laughed heartily and then his voice came in a little too close to the receiver. “Junior is from the future, right? He’s knows the plug on all our futures, but refuses to spill. He says this mumbo jumbo about different timelines and how it could change things or the circumstances, blah, blah! The thing is, he’s got tells and we’ve totally sussed them out. That means we can’t know what he knows, but we can throw our new people in front of him to see if he knows them! Great, right?!”

You quieted and brought a thumb to the plump of your bottom lip.

Churning the information, you heard Mikey muffle as he talked to someone just off the receiver.

He was giving you processing space and you sorted through until you cleared your throat a little. “Your… No… Um… You w-want me to… meet Junior to see if… me and you, um, know each other… in the future? Or Knew…? Knew each other then? In that… timeline?”

“Exactly.” Mikey’s voice flowed with pride.

You smiled to yourself.

“So yeah, sounds like you’re in. What do you say we meet in like, what do you need? Twenty minutes?”

“What!?” You slammed the phone back to your ear. “Mi-minutes!?”

“Oh, sorry. Thirty? We’re about to hit the arcade. I’m sending the deets… Now!”

Your phone gave a weak vibration and a text preview appeared with an address at the top of the screen. “M-Mikey!”

“Tomorrow we’re going up to the cabin! It has to be tonight! Everyone else has Junior booked!” Mikey whined and you could see him pleading. “Please!”

This time you pinched your lip so hard you thought it might crack.

“I know short notice isn’t great for you. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“My… my name…wasn’t enough?”

“No…” Mikey gave an understanding sigh. “He was just a kid. Didn’t always catch ‘em. He’s good with faces though…”

You gave a weary whine. “How… how f-far away did you say you… thought I was… from spontaneous outings…?”

Mikey chuckled. “Gotta be like six months at least! You are nowhere near ready enough!”

You sighed with a bitter chuckle. “Then I guess this really is important…”

“It really is.”

“I guess… I could… test drive…?”

“You don’t even have your license.” Mikey clicked his tongue.

“S-says the a-accident guy…!”

Mikey laughed.

You tapped the pin he’d dropped. “It’s… at least… f-fourty with traffic…”

“Take a cab, I’ll pay.”

“T-that’s-!”

“I’m calling last minute! I’m asking too much! I just got paid!” He sang. “I’m blowing it all! Big money!”

“O-okay…” You could tell he wouldn’t be moved. “I’ll t-text you when… I’m close?”

“Yes!” Mikey paused for a building. “Yes!! Great! See you soon!!”

You hummed an agreement and watched him hang up. Sitting in stasis for a moment because your whole evening was about to change, you let out a loud groan before rushing to get ready. Your heart rate stayed infernally elevated as you went on to fail at hailing four cabs, caught the fifth, and then sat in agonizing silence with a driver who kept flicking what looked like a glare at you through the rearview.

Tucking yourself as close to the door and wondering how to best keep your limbs when jumping out of a moving vehicle, city lights passed until your maps said you were close enough to text Mikey. Shooting out your imminent arrival along with the exact time table, you spied him on the street, waving frantically, as the cab pulled up to him.

“I got a fare, pal!” The driver rolled down the window.

“Yeah, for me! I’m paying!” Mikey waved a wad of cash.

“This you?” The man’s heavy brows glowered at you through the little mirror.

You squeaked and gave a furious nod.

“Thought you’d puke. Get out before you do.” The cabbie told you.

Bobbing with confusion as that was why he’d been watching, you scurried out as Mikey paid the man.

“Let’s go!!” Mikey quickly got behind you to steer your shoulders.

“A-ah!” Your voice warbled as you shot through two sets of doors and the boisterous drone of dozens of arcade games filled your ears. A crack of a distant bowling alley came along next with prehensile chatter of bystanders. Not packed, but dotted with people, Mikey led you to where the others were gathered around a machine that loaded cards with points to play games.

“Everyone back off!” Mikey snapped once and jumped in front of you to act as a shield.

In your periphery you noted it was just the boys for this outing. They peacefully bowed their heads and backed up to reveal a man with a shock of black hair who still had his card in the machine.

“Almost…” The man held anticipation. “… got it! All by myself! Told you!” He turned and you caught a sliver of an adorable gap shining in his smile and a freshly loaded card in his hand before they both fell. “Not this again…”

“Future test!!!” Leo whooped.

“Mikey…” Junior sighed. “I keep telling you. All of you.” He did a quick sweep that the other’s dodged. “Me knowing someone is not an indication of who you will, should, or don’t end up with! My timeline was different! It changed!”

“Don’t care. Future test.” Mikey bobbed excitedly. “Ready?”

“No, but yes.” Junior shook his head knowing he too also wasn’t a match for Mikey’s determination.

You understood that well.

The others watched on with curious eyes and Mikey stood straighter. He then swished his arms to the side. “Presenting…!”

You did a nervous jog in place.

“Y/N!” Mikey stepped away and you got a good look at the man that had to be around your age, if not a bit older.

You blinked at him once and brought your hand up from your hip in a tiny wave. “H-hello… N-nice to meet… you?”

Junior stared at your face, blinked a few times, and then did a single up and down.

Your lips crinkled as you waited.

Leo was the first to loudly groan and do a lap.

“Nice to meet you.” Junior held out his hand and his grin returned. “I’m Cassandra Jones Junior.”

You shook it. “Y/N… as Mikey said… I’ve, um, heard a lot about you…”

Mikey slid up to Junior’s side and interrupted his response. “Okay that looked like a fail, but you sure you haven't been practicing your poker face?”

“Poker?” Junior sneered. “I haven’t played since someone conned me out of all that money…” He sent a glare at Donnie who whistled his way behind Raph.

Mikey gave into a drop in his features for only a second before bouncing back and hopping towards the others. “Fine, fine!”

“C-Cassandra…?” You asked as the turtles huddled up to discuss.

“Oh, I thought you said…” Junior looked at you with surprise. “They told me you know this version of my mom… Was that not…?”

“No…” You held up your hands. “I d-do! T-that’s not… It’s well… h-hard to s-see her with a kid..? Th-that sounds bad! I’m sorry!”

Junior took in your worries with a minor gawk and then waved you down. “No, no. I get it! You know she says she won’t bother having another because she wouldn’t be able to match my superior genes?”

You bobbed. “T-that… that’s f-flattering… from her…”

“Yeah, but also weird!” His arms dangled forward as he slumped. “She thinks I’m a powerful warrior because I was an apocalypse baby. I survived just like anyone else! It’s not like I was a super powered!”

“Ah…” You nodded to him and in the corner of your eye you saw the turtles break apart with jokingly bitter words. “You… had them…”

Junior checked your eye line and then gave you a warm smile. “Exactly. I had the best senseis and masters you can have at the end of the world. You get it. That’s pretty cool.”

You turned to him in question.

“They tend to attract… Not like the same people as them, but…?”

Picturing the girls, you pursed your lip with understanding.

“The word ‘normal’ has been a tough one for me. I don’t like using it. Normal’s different all around the world.” Junior faced you openly. “I’ve been all over, but here… with them? Even though they aren’t… my them?”

“You feel… safe?” You leaned in a little.

Junior gave glowing embers before he burst into a fierce smile. “Exactly!”

“No new developments. Final conclusion is Y/N is an unknown.” Donnie eyed Junior with his goggles one last time before a flick tossed them back onto his head. “May I?”

Junior stepped out of the way so Donnie could fill his card.

“W-where… did… um… you just… get back from?” You asked, moving with Junior.

“Yemen!” Junior lit up and launched into talk about the humanitarian work he did.

You listened with rapt attention as he stumbled around an untidy timeline. Since Junior had never seen the world whole, he decided to go out to make the most of this one. It took him on a globetrotting adventure where he saw the best and worst of humanity. His passion and strong spirit then led him to aid efforts. Since he knew everything there was to know about survival, he quickly became integral in teaching his ways and being pulled to the harshest corners where he could held those in need. He found his work fulfilling and only seemed a little put out that he couldn’t come back to New York often.

The turtles got their cards situated and Raph pardoned an interruption to call the night a go. Junior apologized saying he would pick up the talk later and he and Leo quickly split for some fighting games with words about a previously interrupted competition. Donnie pointed Raph towards a rhythm game which the oldest told him he’d beat him like a boss at and you were left alone with Mikey.

“O-oh…” You looked around in the different directions everyone had gone.

“Ah… Yeah, I forgot about this part…” Mikey swept a stray lock from his face. “This night’s been confusing and random for everyone, me included.”

You waited for him to expand.

“I didn’t expect to drag you out, for one!” He lifted a hand up in demonstration. “The whole future test. The bets on the future test. Getting you to the future test. It was very future test related.”

“It… didn’t look like it… worked?” You offered, unsure if the talk the guys were having was about split results.

“No…” Mikey looked off toward where Leo and Junior had gone. “Leo’s got the best eye for it. If he tapped out saying Junior doesn’t know you then that’s that. Not everyone has the same faith though so we met up to study Don’s goggle footage and deliberated. Nobody saw any tells, so Junior doesn’t know you…”

You nodded, feeling a little guilty even though there was no way you had any influence over any of this.

“Anyway! Enough about that! You’re here now! So, our whole arcade bit is: split up! We like too many different things and staff always ends up asking us to separate when we get stuck in one place too long, damages or whatever. We do… regroup at the end though! We try to pool our ticket points and see if a prize is worth it, one of the few things we sometimes can agree on, and that’s pretty much it!”

“Oh…” You shrank and tried to calculate how you were going to go about getting a game card.

Mikey held one up as casually as he could muster.

He looked like he was offering you a cigarette.

You giggled as you took it. “Mikey-”

“Consider it a thanks for coming out last minute.”

You nodded. “I’m g-getting a lot of those…”

“It was a big ask! Stop!” He jeered.

You feigned looking away as if you couldn’t help it.

You both shared a laugh and then Mikey rocked on his heels while you waited for him to dictate a game he surely had in mind.

He stopped while hunched forward and examined you long enough to realize you were waiting on him.

“So, uh…” Mikey’s eyes flicked towards some cabinets with a grimace. “I guess maybe this is the part where the thanks stop…? Usually I’d be my best attendant self ever, but I have an IC card for Time Crisis and I’m beating it this time for sure!”

You stared.

Mikey sat still until he blinked with recognition. “And… I’m realizing you don’t know what any of that is.”

You shook your head dutifully.

“Man, Japanese gamemakers are on another level. Not greedy like Americans… well mostly, huh. It is and both isn’t a coin eating game. An IC card is like a paper memory card that saves your progress! You can jump back in where you left off without having to play the whole game again.” Mikey showed you his slip.

You reviewed it genially.

“I kinda had a whole plan to finally beat the game, which you can totally watch, but you might get bored so don’t feel like you’re stuck with me.” Mikey threw a thumb back where you assumed the cabinet was.

“O-oh…” Your gaze lowered.

It wasn’t like you’d been able to prepare for much past getting here.

You also guessed you had drummed up a little hope in that cab that you’d soon be playing games with your best friend.

“I-I’m sorry!” He ducked his head to catch your eye. “This is how it is with us! We had an arcade in the lair for the longest time, so it’s like second nature. We don’t even think about it. I mean, this could be good though! Are there any games you want to play? You can scout! After I beat mine, I can come find you! I’m your bestest game buddy as soon as I’m done.”

You glanced at the space and didn’t have the heart to tell him you had never actually braved an arcade alone before.

“Or…!” Mikey leaned in. “Wandering around without a goal might be too much now that I’m thinking about it… Come with me and we’ll set a timer! Framework! Instead of being aimless, you’ll have a goal. When time’s up, you go find one of the guys! Do another timer and feel out the next. You can see the arcade with purpose. How’s that?”

“I guess… that works…” You reminded yourself Donnie was with Raph.

“Great! C’mon!” Mikey caught your hand and you were soon running through the twinkling lights. Winding through machines with learned ease, you were flung through the sensory cacophony. There were too many cabinets and you got little information off them before Mikey came to a halt and you crashed into him. “Woah!”

He righted you and gestured to one machine in particular. “Time Crisis!”

You stared at the distinct red and yellow pattern.

He went on to explain the plot he’d played through as he swiped his game card. He maneuvered screens without looking and the machine ate up his IC card when prompted. You stood by as his speech tapered off and he became engrossed in firing a little plastic gun. For a while you watched him, forgetting about the timer, and instead admired his aim. That went on until the action became a certain type of repetitive and your eye wandered to the surrounding cabinets. There were all kinds from newer ones geared towards kids to imports that had little to no English. Just as you were rounding from your search, a loud thwack startled you. It sounded distinct from other beeping noises and you tilted your head. You wondered what it could be paired with when you heard Mikey groan.

You returned to find he’d lost and was reloading a life. “How ya doing?”

“A-alright…!”

He flicked you a knowing look before getting back to the game. “I’m remembering we forgot to set that timer.”

You lowered your head in shame.

“You could start one now…” His voice pitched with a teasing edge.

He knew you were losing interest.

He was going to make you say it.

“I… I’m going to…” You tried.

“Fighting cabinets are toward the UFO Catchers and to the right of the prize counter. Can’t miss them.”

Having a map soothed you. “Thank you…”

“Have fun!” He fired off a few shots.

You parted with more appreciation before hearing him yell after you.

“Try the first game that catches your eye!”

They all did so how were you supposed to choose?

Setting that aside, you instead focused on following your scant instructions.

Walking a mostly straight line, you came to row after row of claw games and passed through them with a wandering eye. A few toys looked cute, but the rigged nature of the game kept you from trying one. For now, you passed them up and looked up the prize kiosk before turning the appropriate right. A straight line revealed dozens of cabinets with little stools and Junior and Leo sat side by side among them.

“Get good!” Leo elbowed Junior.

“You’re mad cause I’ve beaten you three times in a row!” Junior dodged and spoke through his bitten tongue.

“You’re cheating cause you have an arcade stick at home!”

“I have five and can’t even use them here!”

“But you get practice in your down time! Online play! Blech!” Leo blew a raspberry and went ham on smashing some buttons.

“H-hey!” Junior huffed having been distracted.

Keeping a certain distance, you watched and saw that, even though they were at different booths, they were clearing playing against each other.

“Hey, Y/N!” Leo responded without ever having looked.

You jolted.

“Wanna play me after?” Leo tossed.

“You play winners!” Junior mocked.

“Loser says what?”

Junior sat in studious silence which caused Leo to get just annoyed enough that he turned to glare.

The game made a loud noise and when Leo returned he cursed.

“Guess you’re playing me!” Junior spun in his stool with that flaming smile.

Your hands went up and your game card flickered between your fingers. “O-oh… I-I h-haven’t…!”

“You just mash the buttons. Newbies sometimes win cause of it!” Leo hopped one seat over and offered you his. “One time won’t hurt.”

You nervously looked between the pair's encouragement and sat down.

“First you pick a character…” Junior and Leo walked you through the process.

Junior then held back as Leo showed you some of the more minute controls. You got in a few hits before the game started up. Much slower than what you had glimpsed from the previous pair, Junior still won, but Leo urged you to go again. You played about five rounds before the tittering excitement made your hands start to shake.

“Tag in!” Leo tapped a nervous digit and you evacuated his seat. “Where you headed next?”

Opting to stand behind them, you stared at the back of Leo’s head.

“You’re scoping the joint out, right? You’re a total deer caught in headlights.”

You shifted. “T-that… obvious?”

“Only cause you look like this guy.” Leo tipped his head toward Junior. “We still surprise him with stuff now and then.”

“I’ve experienced things you can’t even imagine.” Junior’s smile flickered as he played.

“Yeah, yeah, but New York will always have that n'est pas!”

“Je ne sais quoi.” Junior pressed the vowels mockingly.

“Wah! I was a baby of the apocalypse! Get new material!” Leo laughed. “Ha!! Got you!”

“Low blow!” Junior hissed having lost.

You smiled fondly at the pair before turning. Not moving away just yet, you ran your eyes over more machines and a line of doors. Imagining they were for private parties, you heard a holler that sounded very much like Raph cheering.

“Someone’s playing PPR.” Junior chuckled.

“Go check it out, Y/N. Follow the karaoke doors.” Leo lifted his hand long enough to throw a thumb.

“Those are karaoke rooms?” You wondered.

“Yeah, but we probably won’t do that tonight. Junior’s trying to save his voice.”

“I have to talk to the family, don’t I!?” Junior rolled his neck and you could tell it was his eyes without seeing them.

“T-thank you…” You quietly murmured.

“Uh huh! Sure, sure! Junior, dangit!!” Leo lit with renewed anger.

Leaving the pair, you led up to the wall and avoided interrupting the privacy of the karaoke rooms. As soon as you shirked the first glass window, you saw straight down a line where Raph was excitedly jumping up and down on a dance machine.

Donnie wasn’t there.

Heart sinking at the prospect of having to find him, you headed towards the oldest turtle before you heard a bang. It sounded like that same strange one from Mikey’s cabinet and sounded closer since a chorus of kids yelling followed chase it. You searched high and low for wherever the gaggle was, but you couldn’t find them by the time you reached Raph.

He did a spin, hitting multiple arrows on a dance pad at once when he saw you. “Y/N!”

“H-hey…”

“Jump on in, I’ll hang back on the song selection while you swipe your card in three… two… one…!” In a few more taps, Raph got a stellar letter score and wiped his brow.

“I don’t…” You frowned at the machine.

“No judgment. Raph used to suck at these. It’s all practice.”

Gaze low, you thought you should at least try and climbed up onto the adjoining game pad.

“That’s the spirit!” Raph cycled through the songs. “We’ll start with an easy one…”

You nodded and tested out stepping after getting your player marked up as two.

Raph activated the song and spoke each direction out loud as he did them. Between him and the screen, it helped you at first until you got mixed up and fell out of sync. The screen scolding you, you nearly fled when Raph stopped mid-game and pressed himself to the bar that separated your two platforms.

“Hey.” He greeted you casually.

“R-raph…!” You gestured to where his score was plummeting.

“It’s just a game.” Raph folded his arms as if it didn’t interest him. “How’s it going?”

Blinking and still not sure if you could just stop, you struggled before giving him a nod.

“Mike treating you right?”

You blinked so fast that you shook. “Y-yes, o-of course!”

“Good.” Raph nodded. “He gets excited.”

You knew that well.

“Hey, we lost!” Raph glanced with a snaggletooth smile and started up another game that he continued to ignore. “Surprised Donnie didn’t catch ya.”

Your chest tightened. “I don’t…”

“’Is okay.” Raph tipped his head with closed eyes. “Watching the two of you talk the other day was something.”

“I didn’t…”

He reached out only enough to get your attention. “I’m not saying nothing. I’m just saying you looked happy. You look happy with Mike too. I’m glad.”

Your defenses lowered some.

“Doesn’t matter who. Compared to the first time we met you, you looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin. Now look at you! Losing with the best of ‘em!”

You glanced to see the screen still complaining.

“We forget sometimes. Not just us, us, but like… what do they say? The royalty ‘us?’ Whatever, people forget how much effect they have on others. Sometimes ya gotta point it out. Look at all you did for Mike. I’m glad we returned the favor… Or two of us did…? Or just him…?” Raph was clearly puzzled.

“What… could I have done for… Mikey?”

“You changed each other.” Raph lobbed you a meaningful grin. “For the better.”

You had noticed a shift, but you had thought that was Mikey trying to accommodate you.

“Mike’s always been confident in himself, but we haven’t had the best track record believing in him.” Raph leaned so heavily on the bar it creaked.

You checked it with a flick of your eye.

Raph seemed none the wiser. “He’s spooked you a few times. You get it, but lately he’s been… more present? When he was younger, baby bro and all, not paying attention is one thing, but then… Ugh…”

Your worried eye moved to the man.

Raph wiped a hand over his beak. “He gets results in a roundabout way…” He snapped. “His way!”

“R-right…” You couldn’t disagree with that.

“Which doesn’t always… account for others. He’s like the most selfish selfless guy on the planet.” He chuffed.

You pondered with a scrunched brow.

“But you… saw him different.”

Your lip pursed.

“Not the box we put him in.”

Your gaze softened.

“As something more, like the sun doesn’t shine without him.”

You startled and searched Raph.

“Different than hero worship…” He seemed to be juggling words. “Different… Good different. He saw something too. You saw each other as more than meets the eye.”

The machine made an abysmal noise and pulled both your attentions.

“Ah, we got kicked!” Raph only glanced at the ‘faliure’ written on the screen and scanned back in. “Wanna try again?”

“No…” You stepped off the pads. “I’m… I have a lot…” You adjusted your posture to face Raph head on. “I mean… T-thank you…”

Raph hummed with gentle compassion and turned to pick a song. “Don’s still at the drums. He’s mad I beat him.”

“I was… going to… Uh… Mikey was at… Time Crisis so…”

Raph shrugged and returned to dancing.

Not wanting to interrupt further, you trailed away. Spatially, you thought you were to the east of Mikey’s cabinet was which meant if you cut west you could find him. That also meant you’d be going through uncharted territory which concerned you. Glancing back and wondering how Leo and Junior would react to you passing by a second time, you looked down a new line of games and inched forward with the intention to be brave. You saw few people as you venture forward and, from glances at the machines, these games seemed like ones that weren’t as obviously attractive. You took solace in the fact that you wouldn’t be in anyone’s way and felt more comfortable in walking at a leisurely pace.

Without anyone to worry about, you took your time to review each selection. The games here were primarily in other languages which was what you guessed was keeping others from playing. As if to make up for the folly, each machine had a video screen with visual instructions on the game mechanics. You watched a few seconds of each as you drifted down the line until you reached one that had half a fake table sitting within its confines.

There weren’t any controls and the whole machine was set low to the ground. You stooped a bit on approach so you could easily look at the screen. On it, an angry person flipped the table and the wreckage that followed decimated everything in its path. Little polygonal people kept their neutral faces as they were tossed about and things like hitting office supplies seemed to garner extra points. Chuckling at how ridiculous it was, you reached down and patted the table’s plastic surface. The object immediately bounced underhand and knowing that it had a spring mechanism made you connect the banging sounds you had kept hearing to this game.

Pulling your hand back, you stepped away, wary, and trailed toward where Mikey was. Without realizing it you had stepped out far enough to glimpse him. In just a sliver you could tell he was still firing his plastic gun. You didn’t catch his eye so you walked over. Instead of bothering him, you stared on the screen as a digital gun representing him fired away at miscreants. He eventually caught wind of your presence and checked in with how things were going. You told him about the fighting and dance games to which he nodded and gave you little factoids about the brother’s preferences.

“Was Dee not playing PPR?”

“Uh!” You turned away and hoped he was distracted. “R-raph said… he was… still playing drums…”

“Taiko’s fun! How’d you like that one? You didn’t mention it.”

“I didn’t… There…” You lifted your gaze. “There was this… um… like… table flipping game?”

“Table… table?” Mikey murmured first before he lit up. “Oh! Chabudai something! I know that one! That’s a silly one. It doesn’t give tickets or anything. It’s like stress relief.”

“It’s… loud…”

“Yeah!” Mikey reloaded. “That’s what’s so fun about it! Bang! Ha! Take that judgey family! I had a tough day!”

You tried to make yourself smaller.

“If you’re looking for something easier on the ears, there’s a piano game that’s pretty fun.” Mikey took aim. “It’s behind me kinda. The tower!”

You turned and located the black and white pillar.

“A calm game might be your speed?”

“O-oh…” That did sound nice.

“Hey.” He stopped and turned to you. “Are you having fun?”

“Y-yes!” You leaned away from his attention.

Mikey frowned and studied you closely.

Your chin dipped down into your body to hide.

The game said he was getting injured.

“Fifteen minutes and I’ll find you so we can explore the prizes.”

You did like a timeline. “Y-you s-sure?”

“Yeah.” Mikey’s features complained and returned to his game. “I’m still too far to beat it apparently.” He gave a loud sigh that turned wistful. “One day!”

“One day.” You reassured him and trailed toward the piano game. It had a seat so you sat down and had time to review the game before you started. The keys were too large and too few to look like a real piano, but you tapped away in rhythm. It was the perfect amount of calming and distracting that they time flew by until Mikey came to fetch you. He regaled you in his game’s history as you slipped past a sleeping attendant and into the prize area. Wandering the brightly lit space felt like a stark contrast to the arcade floor. You and Mikey alternated showing each other the silliest items you could find. From giant glasses to gaudy hats where the ears could flap, you laughed at golden poop and mimicked an electronic lucky cat.

You soon broke apart where Mikey was doing math for a skateboard and you checked the glass counter where both the cheapest and more elusive small prizes were held. Down near the bottom was a series of tiny plush key chains that looked like they would have been more at home in the claw machines. They were clearly dog-like, but their shape was strange. Their eyes gazed up at you with a quality of sad puppies begging to be adopted in a shelter. Squatting down to study them, you found they were some kind of brand name unknown to you and seemed to have something to do with beans based on their names. The longer you stared the cuter you thought they were.

“Hey, Don!” Mikey suddenly chirped.

You hunkered further down where you were.

“Michael.” Donnie addressed breezily.

“So let’s say I came here every day, for five hours a day, do you think I could get that skateboard?”

There was only a second of silence. “With that time frame, I estimate five years.”

“Years?! No way!”

“With the games you play.”

“I’m good!”

“True, but you need to play with tickets in mind.”

“Ugh, the ticket games are boring!” Mikey groaned.

“Five years.” Donnie repeated.

“Five years.” Mikey clicked his tongue, annoyed. “You hear that, Y/N!?”

Your body tipped and your arms flailed to keep you upright. “U-uh… y-yeah!”

“Find something?” Mikey’s voice wandered up behind you.

“N-no…” You got yourself upright and took little steps in place to shake out your legs.

“Liar. What are those?” Mikey dropped similar to how you had been and pointed at the plushes. “‘Mameshiba?’”

“A pun.” Donnie loomed overhead. “Bean dogs.”

“They’re gross shaped.” Mikey chuckled and tipped his head back to you. “Which did you like? I’ll get one for you.”

You waved your hands furiously to stop him. “N-no…! I w-was just l-looking!”

“You sure?” Mikey hopped up to his full height and his grin grew smarmy. “Ah, I see…”

You looked around, not sure where that was coming from.

“You like the orange one.” He tossed an arm over your shoulders to rock you back and forth. “It’s okay. I know I have a trademark, but I’ll let you in on it just this once. What do you say?”

“O-orange?” You had to look because you hadn’t noticed one in that color.

A little guy with glasses in the back stared back at you.

A frown must have painted your lips because Donnie had to turn with bubbles of laughter.

“H-hey!” Mikey’s offense skyrocketed. “H-he’s like smart or something! He’s cute!”

You chewed on a smile.

“Rude.” Mikey released you.

Donnie returned and glanced down at the case for his own look.

“Wanna help me max tickets in your boring way?” Mikey looked over Donnie expectantly.

“Not with that attitude.” Donnie returned one for his insolence. “I came in here to grab something.”

Mikey’s head lolled with surprise. “You said the stuff in here is ‘cheap crap you can literally buy anywhere else for half the price.’”

“True.” Donnie gave a nod. “There is also a children’s science set available here that was banned in the states due to its volatile nature. Overseas shipping price and times are nonsensical. I wish to recreate said results.” A growing grin split wickedly across his face.

Mikey rolled his eyes as if it couldn’t be helped. “We’ll start without you! Meet up at the fish game!”

“Coins make more sense!” Donnie yelled after as Mikey led you out.

You helped Mikey with a few games until Donnie joined. He kept back and walked Mikey through strategies to maximize ticket output. You listened curiously for a while and were almost conscripted into the fervor, but your distraction was just enough that only the two brothers got sucked in. They went back and forth, cheering when a load of coins would fall and you looked across the room to where that table flipping game was.

You had already forgotten what Mikey had called it.

It was too disruptive.

You wondered what kind of timeline it would take for you to be able to play it without worry.

It seemed as unlikely as you flipping a real table which struck you as a comical image. You couldn’t imagine yourself getting that mad. The closest you’d come was knocking a drink over at a restaurant once and your family had berated you all night long until you’d cried. Shoving that memory down, the only scenario you could come up with for actually flipping a table would be one of distraction so you could run.

Gaze lowering, you matched patterns on the dizzying arcade carpet.

“If we keep this up it’ll be skateboard time!”

“The cards are only worth triple. Unlikely!” Donnie scolded.

“Cards, smards!” Mikey responded and a coin fall sounded. “Let’s go!”

“Guys!” Leo ran up with several plushies hanging from his jacket. “Guess what?!”

“We’re busy getting a skateboard!” Mikey responded.

“It’s not likely!” Donnie chased him.

“Whatever.” Leo rolled his eyes at them and then landed on you as the likely prospect to listen. “One of the claw machines is busted and you’re guaranteed a prize!”

You blinked.

“Want one?” Leo gestured to his full color set.

“Um…”

“Not these. These are mine!” Leo turned his body away protectively. “I meant I’ll show you which machine.”

“Um…” You glanced at the two other brothers still playing their slots. “S-sure?”

Leo nodded you along and you followed just a step behind him.

“How many games have you played?” He tossed over his shoulder.

“Four…? I think…?”

“Not a lot.” Leo didn’t look back and maneuvered you to a UFO catcher.

“No…” You admitted sullenly.

Leo offered the machine to you and you didn’t miss how he scanned his card for you to play.

You looked over your options as the game twinkled out a melody.

Leo leaned against the adjacent machine and watched.

Studying closely, you picked a likely toy candidate that was also cute and moved the claw into position.

“Be honest.”

You almost pushed the button to release too early. “W-what…?”

“What are you avoiding?”

You split tiny glances between him and the game. “I’m… not… I…”

“There’s a game, isn’t there? Which game are you not playing?” He seemed to clarify, but there was something in his tone that made you think that wasn’t what he was referring to.

Getting the claw in place, you hit the drop button and didn’t watch the machine go about its capture. “Leo… I’m sorry… I don’t… I’d rather… not…t-think about… it. The night’s… almost over…”

You could feel Leo watch for a moment before he sucked in a breath and sighed. “You won.”

You grabbed your prize and stared into the plushie’s cold gaze.

You almost missed the bean dogs’ curious gaze.

You weren’t sure if you really wanted this other one, but you pulled it close.

“Change your mind or don’t…” He ruminated. “It’s not really my business, but I think you should at least make a choice. I get not making a choice is choosing too, but…”

You glanced to see his beak wrinkled.

“Kind of a boring, don’t you think?”

“Boring… can be… fun?” You held your plush to your chest.

“Sure, if you know you’ll get a prize.” Leo nodded to your win. “Unknown’ll get you farther. Risk-reward and all that. Isn’t that what you were doing? Risking it for the going out biscuit?”

You wondered how much Mikey had told him.

Leo shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I…”

“Hm?” There was an airy tone to him like he knew you’d bring something up.

You weren’t sure you liked that. “I… w-want… to… f-flip a table…”

He snorted loudly. “What!? What does that mean!? Flip a table?!”

You scrambled. “T-there’s a-a g-game..!”

“A game?!” He reared with laughter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“T-there i-is!” You pointed feebly.

“Show me.” He seemed unconvinced amongst his giggles.

You pursed your lips and tripped over your feet as you started to move. Just barely catching yourself, you moved with as much determination as you could muster over to said machine.

“Oh, this thing!” Leo gave a few more plucked strings of chuckles. “Let’s see it then! Show me your rage!”

You wilted at the actual prospect. “Oh… um…. “

Leo reached into your person and you whimpered before he showed that he’d stolen your game card. You frowned at him and watched as he scanned it into the game system before offering it back.

You snatched it from him.

“Guess you gotta flip!” Leo took a step back and waited.

Heart racing out of your ears, you drowned in the rush and caught the edges of the table. An announcer yelled at you in Japanese before a countdown started. Feeling very much like you would pass out right as it hit whatever number it was leading to, you squeezed your eyes shut as it screamed at you to go. With a surge, you meant to throw your force into the flip, but a cropping of nervous sweat meant the table slipped from you without smashing all the way back.

You stared a sort of numb as you watched barely anything in the room get knocked over and the game sneered at your terrible score.

Leo sniveled beside you.

You turned to find his whole body quaking with withheld laughter.

“Look at you go! Look at your f-fiery s-spirit!” He choked out. “G-good j-job!’

“I-I messed up!” You quacked and slammed your card through the scanner again.

It pinged with another game and you wiped your hands off before grabbing the table. Only wanting to make Leo stop, you gripped tightly and the countdown started. Each tick came with a strange distorted memory of you hiding away and by the time the game called, you roared to meet it. Feeling like fire was in your eyes, you tossed the table up so hard, it smashed into the machine. The resounding clatter blew your ears out and the table flapped on its springs. Bouncing up for a second crash, you stumbled backward and fell to the ground. On screen, destruction wreaked havoc and you watched multiple walls get blown out before a party started up.

There was a slow clap beside you, but you couldn’t look away from the game until it returned to playing idle animations.

“Now that’s the stuff.” Leo offered a hand.

You took it, gawking at him.

You’d done it.

No one was coming to yell.

It was so loud.

Was any of it real?

“Wanna share the good news or keep it between us?” Leo asked genuinely as he let go.

“Us.” The sound popped out of you nearly as fast as you’d just played. “Um…”

“Just us.” Leo confirmed. “Let’s go meet up with the others. Unless you wanna keep throwing down?”

“O-one is e-enough…” You fell in line close to him and he passed you a proud smile.

You were going for a full house of impressing the turtles.

You had no idea what you’d do with that kind of win.

Returning to where Raph had been added to the coin army, Junior soon came along and he walked you through a few more games while the brothers went all out for the skateboard. Time passed and you heard what seemed like rare stories shared as you moved around racking up experience points in a literal sense. Merging the groups at a later time meant you caught Mikey with his prize in hand. He tore into the box for the expectant crowd only for everyone to immediately realize it was a child’s skateboard. Way too small for actual use, Mikey toyed with it anyway as if he hadn’t wanted to admit his coveted item was a dud.

Exchanging your tickets for some candy, you split with the boys as you all walked outside. Fulfilled and hearing them bemoan the early hours they needed to leave for the trip, you listened comfortably to their excitement. Splinter and Draxum would be joining them and it would be an entire affair. April and Casey were meant to drive up later and there was talk of which rest stop they were going to hit. Everyone seemed on board and ready for more family time and you ruminated what that was like. They still lived together, had grown in different ways, but still excitedly pursued time together.

They were something special and you were glad you’d gotten a chance to know them.

Nearing a point only a few blocks from your apartment, you felt everyone idle at the separation point. Raph lamented not getting food at the arcade and Junior asked Mikey to make nachos. Mikey said it wasn’t time for that and that he was missing a few ingredients. One crestfallen look from Junior had Mikey backpedaling about how he could do grilled cheeses instead and that seemed to hit the guys in a nostalgic way. Presumably a childhood delicacy, you watched on favorably while feeling the pull of your time to go.

“T-thanks…. Everyone…” You snuck in between lulls in conversation.

“Oh!” Mikey bobbed. “Want me to walk you?”

“I-it’s only a couple m-minutes.” You dismissed him politely.

“Mkay. Text me.” Mikey offered a fist bump and you took it.

“Night!” Junior waved. “Nice meeting you.”

“See ya!” Raph grinned.

Leo shot you a peace sign and Donnie gave a little nod of his head.

You bobbed yours back and hoped you weren’t obviously averting your eyes to instead give Mikey the final goodbye. “Have a good trip.”

“For sure!” Mikey waved after you and you took off.

The first thing you did was check that you hadn’t dropped your plush. It watched you at the ready and you picked a bit of fluff off its face while wondering if you should name it. It probably already had a name like the bean dogs so you turned it over to check the tag. It was written in a language you couldn’t read and you tried to figure out what sort of internet search could reveal it.

Soft fluffy crane game prize?

Round orb plush UFO?

Staring plushie doll Japanese?

An arm grabbed yours and pulled.

You had a scream on your lips but something musty slammed over them.

Shoved and then tossed, your knees scraped the ground and you lost your toy.

“W-wha…?” You came out of a wince to find you were staring down black boots.

You were in an alley.

Mugged.

You were getting mugged.

Your heart slammed in your chest cavity.

Stupid.

You always watched.

You never once let your guard down.

You were smart.

You were wary.

You paid attention.

You had forgotten because you were thinking about search phrases.

Why had you let something so stupid distract you?

“Empty your pockets.” A gruff voice spoke above you.

You knew the procedure.

In a scramble with your head down, you tossed the person everything you had.

You even made a show of touching your socks to illustrate nothing was hidden in them.

“T-that’s… e-every…thing… I did-didn’t…s-see y-you… p-p-please…!”

The mugger choked on a laugh. “What the fuck?”

You kept your hands out and obvious while refusing to look up.

“You just rolled over? Wow…!” You saw clips of gloved hands grab your belongings. “Never been so easy. What’s wrong with you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and waited.

A boot made contact with your face.

Not a kick, more of a pressure, he forced your head up.

Tears fled down your cheeks as you refused to open your eyes.

“Look at me.”

You couldn’t shake your head. “T-that’s… a-all… I-I… h-have…!”

“I said-” Something cold and sharp bit into your cheek. “Look.”

You cracked your lids and saw a man with stubble staring down at you along with the hilt of his knife.

“You’re a scared one…”

This time you nodded.

The knife slid along the plump of your cheek.“Shame. I always thought I wanted it easy. Guess I got used to a little complaining. It doesn’t feel like I earned it otherwise.”

Your eyes widened.

“You’re really just gonna keep crying?” Keeping the knife steady, he used his other hand to fist your shirt.

You squeaked as he yanked you up.

Something whistled through the air.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried not to vomit as you waited for impact.

Metal came in contact with flesh and the gush that followed was one etched into your very core.

You dropped to the ground and felt the wet pavement cut your palms.

A second strike happened and this one came with a splat against bricks.

“Y/N!”

You shuddered, waiting for consciousness to fade.

Of course, Donnie’s voice would be the last you heard.

Stupid imagination.

“Y/N!” Your shoulders were taken.

A shake opened your eyes.

There was light pollution marring the murky blacks.

The clip of brick.

The mouth of an alley.

You were alive.

“Hey!”

Your head lolled down to where Donnie was fervently petting your cheek.”Y/N? Can you hear me? Were you injured?”

Yeah, you meant to say, you were hit by…

Nothing.

You were fine.

Suddenly fighting to get away, Donnie lifted his hands in a show of release and you scrambled backward.

Laying on the ground behind him was the mugger in a heap.

Slung through one of Donnie’s arms was a large staff.

The silver tip of it was darkened.

“D-Don…nie?”

“Hey… It’s okay…” He continued to hold his hands up. “I went to make sure you made it and found… this.”

“You… what…? Why…?” Your brain screamed about the point.

“You… should have texted…” Donnie’s gaze flicked away exactly one time. “After seven minutes and me asking three times for Mikey to check his messages, Leo told me to go look if I was so worried… I… left right then.”

“Mikey…”

“Said you were probably settling in…”

“Mikey…” Tears burned your vision. “Why…?”

“Are you okay…? I don’t blood, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Why you!?”

His gaze opened up.

“Why…!?” You choked on a sob. “I-it c-can’t b-be you! You know that! I k-know you know!!”

Donnie’s fingers curled into fists. “I… see…”

“I’m… not hurt… Not p-physically…” You tried to get up, but fear had taken your legs.

“I called the police, if you want to make a statement…”

Another sob broke from you, but it was enough to get you upright. You stumbled and watched Donnie in your periphery struggle to keep himself from catching you. You felt all the worse for it because you wanted him to and made it a few steps out of the alley before you felt compelled to see the scene of the crime for what it was.

It was a dirty alley.

The mugger was on the ground.

Donnie looked up at you from where he was gathering your belongings.

More tears came and you tucked yourself against a brick to keep what was left of you together. He seemed to get everything and then came to stand quietly behind you. From there you moved, watching bitterly for every shadow as you headed straight to your apartment. The walk a short one, it was still enough time that you got space and clarity.

A cop car whizzed by.

You watched it drearily as you reached your stoop. You stopped just shy of the first step and gave a nasally sigh as your nose was plugged. A hanky appeared over your shoulder. You went to take it when you saw a silver thing clutching it instead of a green hand. Turning out of deadened surprise, you found some sort of mechanical arm coming out of Donnie’s back. You pinched unconsciously at the tissue and the mechanism let go to disappear back into his person. Not having enough energy to deal with that, you blew your nose far louder than you were proud of. Smearing the still clean parts over your face for any semblance of decency, you hid behind the cloth to look at him.

His eyes were down to give you privacy.

“I’m… sorry…” You croaked. “I…want to t-thank you… for saving me…”

He gave a single nod.

“That… wasn’t fair… I’m sorry… I don’t know where… that came from… I don’t know… where I’d b-be if you h-hadn’t…” Tears rushed you again and you despised them.

He surfaced with worry. “No… You’re right… It shouldn’t have been me. I should have forced Mikey-”

You shook your head. “No… I mean… I just…”

Donnie met you with a pinched expression. “You’re sure you aren’t hurt?”

You nodded. “You… got there just in time…”

“I should call Mikey.” He went for his phone.

Your hand pushed into his stiff chest to stop him.

You both startled at the appendage.

“S-sorry…!” You scrubbed away errant tears. “I can’t… handle him… like this…”

Donnie continued to stare at your hand.

You wanted to hug him so badly.

He would hold you.

You knew he would.

He would offer that same comfort he always did.

Even if he didn’t return the hold, it’d flood you.

Those ridiculous feel good chemicals that came from an illogical source.

You couldn’t fold.

Not as you were.

You were too weak.

You’d just been mugged.

You’d been threatened.

That man was going to hurt you.

You pressed into Donnie as more tears came.

He swept you up tight against him and you soaked his shirt for a length of time that you lost count of.

“I’m sorry!” You choked against him on repeat.

Each cry came out more wrangled than the last and the phrase refused to stop.

He seemed to squeeze more with each utterance and you hated how much better it made you feel.

Him.

He was warm.

Him.

He was safe.

Him.

You turned your head to try to make use of what was left of the hanky.

He petted your head as you did so.

“It’s gross…” Your voice broke.

“Very.” He agreed without delay.

You bobbed with a bit of comedy against him.

“I have another.”

“Give it.” You held out your hand and a mechanical arm gave you another tissue.

You blew your nose again and felt the way Donnie twitched ever so slightly with disgust.

When you came up, you cleared your throat and looked at him.

He stared down with a swirling gaze.

Concern.

Care.

More.

“Damnit, Donnie…” You grumbled, leaning into him.

He nodded above you.

“We can’t keep doing this…” You pushed him back.

He slid away save for his hands at your elbows.

Even that was an act of attrition.

“I’ve… I’ve been trying to avoid you…” You told him.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry…” You threw your head up. “That sounds terrible…!”

“It makes sense.”

“But you…!” You gestured to him and it broke your arms from his hold.

It brought you a little closer to eye level.

His gaze was down.

“I don’t want to…” You whispered.

He slowly blinked before looking up at you. “I’ve had a thought.”

You leaned against the railing.

“This could not be a worse time to share this and I’d labeled this particular idea as… absurd. You see, I have many ideas that aren’t applicable to anything. Be it because the technology doesn't exist yet or fleeting one’s that society frowns upon.”

From the hanky giving robot you’d just seen, you figured the former was one he could easily rectify.

“In this case, I thought it would never come up. I assumed this would pass or you would not be receptive.”

You needed to see him better.

You took another step back and it raised you to his height.

He looked over your maneuver before shuffling as far forward as he could to close the gap between you.

You held out a hand.

He took it.

“I see… and correct if I’m wrong, that we both feel it… Are we drawn to one another?”

You nodded and added your other hand.

His second joined and split the pair.

A hand for a hand.

“I’ve long considered how to dispel it. It’s… good…” There was heavy disdain in the word. “… to hear we agree…”

You swayed slightly.

He felt it too.

He liked you.

How?

Why?

He bobbed as if to hurry. “I believe it’s the taboo.”

You jarred still.

“I’ve considered every possibility and the list of aggravations is aggressively long. There’s, for one, my penchant for wanting objects I’m expressively told I can’t have. I also dislike being told what to do and try to find work arounds to get what I want.”

“I think this is different from being told not to… hack the… Pentagon… or… something…”

A glint in his gaze said that was a likely scenario. “We also have to acknowledge the timing. It’s why I’m stalling! Scientifically, we can prove that no matter what your answer is, you are not in your right mind. By that means, it can only be labeled manipulation which is why I’m trying not to say it because you will be swayed regardless and-”

You pulled on his hands to reign him in.

He gave you a withered look before it was clear he gave in. “I will stress that this is only a hypothesis, but I believe we can dispel these feelings if we acknowledge them. If the allure is only for that which we cannot have, then we see to it and move on.”

“Isn’t that what we just did…?” You leaned into him.

He came his own marked distance. “I was thinking… something more concrete…”

“We say it…? Your face smoked with growing embers.

“I like you.” Donnie said, his own skin looking flush.

“I… like you… too.” You responded.

For a moment it felt like your tethered fingers were the only thing keeping you from floating away.

Then Donnie winced. “It’s not enough.”

In an intangible way, you agreed.

You only wanted more.

You wanted to hear it again.

You didn’t want to let go.

It seemed obvious that he didn’t either.

“This was what I feared.” He squeezed your hands. “A confession under duress is one thing…”

You had a dawning thought. “Saying it… wasn’t what you meant. That wasn’t your thought.”

He looked painfully guilty.

“How…?” You tried to catch his eye and translate your presence.

He checked first then studied you.

You waited, feeling a little more stable by the second.

“A… kiss…” He finally admitted and his gaze flicked down to your lips and back up. “One. That is how we dispel the desire. That’s tangible. We both acknowledge this was a mistake of greener grass and nothing more.”

“One…?” You drew close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“One…” He confirmed and had to blink heavily to keep his eyes open. “I dislike the state you’re in. These circumstances…”

“Would we even be talking about this otherwise?”

He searched you.

“How… long were we going to pretend this wasn’t happening? It… hurts. I hate… the feeling. I hate feeling like I’m doing something behind Mikey’s back… You’re right… I was just mugged!” You shook your head. “But we like each other and knowing that-!”

Your heart stuffed itself into your throat.

It felt great to hear.

Donnie’s confession was still running on repeat in the back of your mind.

For the terrible thing that had happened tonight, you imagined in the long run you wouldn’t remember it.

You’d remember this.

Euphoria flooded your veins.

“How long, indeed…?” His lids lowered and you could tell he was imagining possibilities. “I guess until one of us moved on and made a smarter choice or until it drove us mad and we did something out of sheer desperation.”

“Is it dopamine?”

His head tipped with in question.

“When you cry. Is that…?”

“Oxytocin and endogenous opioids…” He caught your meaning.

“Sure…” It hadn’t really mattered which, you just needed him to understand “Don’t they… make your head clearer too…?”

Donnie’s gaze flicked as he processed. “I suppose… the parasympathetic nervous system does shift the body out of fight or flight… You know the opposite is called ‘rest and digest,’ but it’s not a term that’s often used…” He trailed off sheepishly.

You smiled and very much wanted to kiss him just cause.

You also wanted to listen to him.

You wanted this, forever.

“I’m sorry…” His thumb caressed your knuckles.

“What I meant was… I can make this decision. Yes, you saved me. Yes, what just happened was haunting. Yes, I’m indebted to you, but I also owe you way too much already. It won’t sway me…”

“You’re… agreeing?” He balked. “That we should kiss?”

“One.” You nodded. “We need to… move on. To stop this. I don’t… I don’t want to be scared to be around you.”

Donnie gave a withheld nod. “I refuse to hurt Mikey.”

“I wish I could say the same.” You gave him a watery look.

He understood and leaned his beak into your cheek for reassurance.

He was there.

You pressed hard into him and turned it into a nuzzle.

For those blissful seconds of contact, it felt like your worries melted away.

He pulled away like he had to.

“We shouldn’t…”

“I know…” You softened in spite of yourself.

Donnie ate the expression up.

“Isn’t that the point…?”

Donnie gave a bare nod.

“None of this makes sense so one… and the magic is gone.”

Donnie shook himself out and adjusted his posture as if to decide that was the truth. “It was mystique. We wanted the unknown. Now, we’ll know and be better for it.”

“This is the choice. My choice.” You mumbled, feeling ghosted by a strange memory.

Donnie took you in with an arched brow.

You gave him your best hopeful smile and tried to translate you weren’t sure how to explain it. “Risk-reward.”

“Which am I?” His curious air shifted to a teasing one.

“Let’s see...?” You moved closer.

You both stood staring at each other for what felt like too long.

Your lips pursed to break the silence and he leaned in.

It surprised both of you.

Sharing the farce and nerves, it brought the two of you together. Arms slipping away to make room for bodies, you perched your hands wide on his shoulders to steady yourself. His slid comfortably around your waist to balance you and, in a flick of your gaze, you were back in his space. Tilting your head and with him mirroring, goosebumps ripped through you in anticipation. It came with a bump of his beak to your nose where you both smiled before your lips caught.

For a moment there was nothing.

The cold lunar surface.

Then, there was warmth.

So much of it you thought you might explode.

It flooded every single neuron as you pushed all your weight into him to siphon more despite its scald.

Everything else fell away.

If he took up space in the sky as just him, touching him like this made him everything.

No worries.

No anxiety.

Only him.

You were safe.

How many times had he saved you?

You were comfortable.

Talking to him came so easily you forgot yourself.

It was effortless.

The gravity a light one, you could make leaps and bounds with him around.

Just enough that you wouldn’t spiral off into space.

His arms held you tight.

What a guiding light he was.

Why had you ever thought the moon was cold?

The moon controlled the tides.

The moon kept everything in place.

The moon was.

With a final needy nudge, Donnie disengaged.

It took every fiber of your being not to chase him.

He openly panted some sort of exertion and butted his forehead to yours.

You stroked his cheek and held each other like that.

Warmth settled a heavy weight in your stomach and you committed his blurry visage to memory.

You weren’t going to see him like this again.

“How do you feel?” You whispered something like a wisp.

“Light.” He spoke.

You giggled.

You could feel a ferocious grin on him more than see it.

He tugged lightly and it bumped your noses together again.

You turned it into the faintest nuzzle.

He made a sweet chirpy noise.

“That…” You spoke and something about it dispelled the magic.

You were both pulling away.

The self-consciousness set in.

“Well!” Donnie cleared the air. “I will… see you around… I suppose…”

“Y-Yeah…” You folded your arms around yourself to trap the heat leaking from you.

“I… apologize. I’m going to watch you go inside. I want to make sure you make it…” He took a calculated step back from the stoop.

“Yeah… I don’t blame you…” You readied to go inside before a different emptiness caught your attention. “Um, my… my stuff…?”

“Your…?” For a second, he didn’t understand and then he did. “Y-yes!” He patted himself down and grabbed several objects to pass to you. “Here.”

The largest object was your plush which was now covered in muck. “Oh…”

“Raph knows a way to wash them…!”

“O-Oh…. G-good… I’ll ask… Mikey to… uh, send that over…”

Donnie nodded so hard it affected his balance.

“I just need my…” You searched for your keys in the pile and found a smaller foreign object stacked amongst your things.

Time slowed as you turned over the object in your palm to find it was something soft, small, and black.

Its face emerged like a little puppy looking up at you hopeful for adoption.

You immediately recognized it as one of the bean dog key chains from the counter. “This-! Where-!?”

Your gaze shot to Donnie.

He was grimacing with his entire body.

“I… meant to keep that…” He wheezed.

Your heart plummeted as you held it out for him to take back.

“No!” He shouted too loud for the both of you.

Your hand closed to protect the dog.

“That…” His gaze weighed down with guilt. “It is for you. It was always for you. I mean… I wasn’t going to give it to you. I wanted to, but…”

You waited.

“Its name is Black Bean…” He spoke as if that would explain everything. “The tag says it has a tendency to… stare and hide…” Donnie glanced away.

It was a simile if you had ever heard one.

It was a memento for you.

You felt your very being percolate.

“You should keep it…” He gave a little giving gesture with his hands.

You weren’t sure you could have given it back to him.

You needed Black Bean like your life depended on it.

He was now your prized possession.

He was your memento now.

Something tangible.

“I’ll tell Mikey about the mugging…” You managed, squeezing your prize tight. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course!” Donnie rubbed an arm. “I hope you’ll be alright…”

“I’m sure the trauma will hit me when I lay down…” You gave an awkward laugh before what you said sank into your spine like a cold injection.

“That’s bad…” He remarked with a sort of stunted horror.

“N-Not different from any other night-!” You held your full hands out. “I’m gonna go inside!!” You turned around. “Thank you!”

“O-of course…!”

“Good night, Donnie!” You wrangled your keys and yanked the door.

“Good night-!”

You rushed inside.

“… Y/N…”

The door closed behind you.

(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #sunshinemoonshinefic for updates)

This big papa chapter was kindly reviewed by my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#sunshinemoonshinefic #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt Donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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orions-choker · 2 days

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I HAD A BIG OLE THOUGHT WHILE WATCHING

S&M!!!! okay, so 1999 Jamie and reader who is part of the San Fran Sisco band, and she plays flute or like a "danty" instrument. Reader has never been like flirted with by older dudes and gets nervous around James. I'm thinking like sweet smut at the end (possibly virgin reader) if ur comfy with it. U were the first person I thought of when I was gonna request this I loooove ur writing 😚😚

Warnings: Nsfw, Loss of virginity. Word Count: 3,863

The harsh lighting beat down across Y/N’s back. A light layer of sweat formed across her skin beneath her concert blacks. The fabric of her blouse sticking to her skin. She didn’t fully understand why they needed every house light on to do rehearsal, the heat was almost unbearable.

As she lowered the gleaming silver instrument from her lips she was quick to place it in its case. The final notes reverberated off the walls and Y/N was standing from her seat. She along with the rest of the orchestra members shuffled off the stage. Her fingers coming to undo the top buttons of her shirt in a desperate attempt to cool her skin.

Still she couldn’t complain, there weren't very many Twenty-Something year old's apart of a professional orchestra such as this. Let alone ones who could say they were about to play with one of the biggest powerhouses of music. She couldn’t wipe the grin off her face as she moved backstage, she may be most accustomed to playing classical music, but her personal preference was metal.

When she had been told they would be performing alongside Metallica she could hardly contain herself. Lost in her thoughts amongst the rush of people moving to the dressing room’s Y/N found herself face to face with someone's chest. She stumbled back, rubbing at her now throbbing nose from the collision. “Shit, I'm so sorry I didn’t see you there.” She hissed as tears sprang to her eyes.

Her gaze drifted upwards, through her now watery vision she could hardly make out the hulking man Infront of her. “You okay?” His voice was smooth against her ears. Even without her vision she was positive she knew exactly who it was standing in front of her. There was a heavy hand on her shoulder and suddenly her knees were buckling.

“Holy fuck.” She mumbled, blinking once, then twice. Suddenly James’s face was clear now. His lips were downturned, concern etched into his strong features. Sure she was well aware she was about to be on the same stage as him in about an hour, but nothing could compare to being face to face with the James fucking Hetfield. “I am so sorry,” She repeated herself, at a loss for words.

James’s brows furrowed further as he shook his head. “Hey stop apologizing, you’re good.” He assured her, his hand still present on her shoulder. She could feel a soft tingle run down her body. “Sit down for a second chick.” He moved her to the side easily, planting her down on one of the benches lining the now emptying hallway.

She moved on his command easily, still rubbing at her nose, she was thankful it wasn’t bleeding. His chest could only be compared to that of a brick wall. “Y/N,” She offered her name to him shakily. Surprise flooded her features as he sat beside her, his eyes still scanning her face.

James’s smile that followed upon learning her name had Y/N’s cheeks burning. “Cute name, suits you.” He hummed thoughtfully. “What instrument do you play?” He asked, head nodding towards the laminated pass around her neck, signifying she was part of the band. It felt like holes were being burned into her skin as his gaze landed on the top of her chest. His eyes lingered across the hint of cleavage beneath her blouse from where she had popped open her buttons.

The whole interaction had her practically squirming in her seat. Slowly her hand came down from her face, coming to rest awkwardly in her lap. “I'm second flute.” She managed to speak, though the shakiness of her voice betrayed her nervousness. The tips of her fingers dug deep into the fabric of her black slacks.

James leaned back against the wall, an eyebrow raised. “Obviously they don’t choose based on appearance, otherwise you would be first.” He seemed overly pleased with the joke, the corner’s of his lips turning upwards. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now, James Hetfield was flirting with her.

Obviously she had no idea what to do. Like a knee jerk reaction she corrected him. “It’s uh…actually called being principle flute, not first.” As his smile fell slightly she kicked herself mentally. That was not how you reciprocated the advances of a literal god. But then he chuckled easily. A small sense of relief flooded over her.

Slowly he got up and Y/N found herself panicking, she wasn’t done soaking in his presence. “Our turn” His back cracked lightly as he stretched it out. “Don’t go smashing your face into anybody else, I wanna see it tomorrow night.” His smile was almost devilish as he bid his farewell, heading down the hall towards the stage.

Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest. The only thoughts in her mind being that of ‘holy shit what was that interaction’. She practically floated back to the shared dressing room for the symphony. Ignoring the pleasant chatter amongst her bandmates as she placed her stuff in storage and stripped down to something more bearable to wear in this heat.

Logically she knew this wouldn’t go anywhere. Rock Stars were like that, they pretty much flirted with anything that moved. Even if James had been serious, she was at least 10 years his junior, not to mention completely inexperienced with the opposite sex. Not gonna happen in a million years. She shook the thoughts from her head. Leaving any hopes of sharing another moment with James at the door, she left the venue for the day.

Unfortunately, those thoughts were waiting for her at the door as she returned the next day. Like an obedient dog it overwhelmed her upon return. It caused her hands to shake violently the entire time she got ready. Looking over her shoulder every few seconds in hope she could even catch a glimpse of him. She would be screwed if she messed up her performance tonight because of this.

She had never been nervous for a performance in her entire career, yet now as she heard the increasing sounds of concert viewers entering the lobby, she was scared. Just as she was about to take her place on stage there was a rough voice behind her. “Do good out there, I’ll be watching.” She jumped, spinning around to find James leaning against the wall. “I’ll give you something if you do.”

A lump formed in her throat, all she could do was nod lamely before being ushered out to her seat on stage. A sudden sense of familiarity washed over her, the weight of her instrument in her hand calming her. This was her speciality, she knew what she was doing. She thumbed through the sheet music in front of her as the lights began to dim. She raised the instrument to her mouth, placing the lip plate in place. It was a sudden flood of music, the roar of the crowd fueling her adrenaline as Metallica took the stage in front of the symphony.

Y/N had an unfortunately good view of James from where she sat. His figure was imposing even from behind, the way he had to lean down into his mic. The broad span of his shoulders and the gentle rippling of his muscles as he played the guitar. Still her brows furrowed as she concentrated, eyes dropping down to the sheets in front of her.

This performance would be the best of her life, she was determined to make it so. Before she could comprehend it she was on the third song of the night. A bead of sweat trailing from her forehead down the bridge of her nose. It was sudden, the shadow over her. She hadn’t even noticed the vocals weren’t present at the moment.

James had a small break from singing as Kirk’s guitar solo raged on. He was right in front of her, holding the chords for the rhythm steady. He glistened in sweat, his hair a little damp on the ends. But he looked in his element as he smiled at her. It was inconspicuous enough to not raise questions from the players around her, but she could feel the intent behind it.

Y/N’s finger slipped for just a moment, undetected by anyone else but she cursed herself nonetheless. Even the most gorgeous man in front of her couldn’t distract her from this. Her eyes dropped once more away from him as she played on. In her peripheral vision she could see his retreating form.

Based on the energy from the crowd she could confidently say the night was a success. A wide smile plastered on her face as they closed out the show. They all took a moment on stage to take in the praise. The lights dimmed and Metallica was first to leave the stage. Y/N almost got caught up in the wave of people exiting the stage, her eyes scanning the crowd for James’s much taller figure.

Suddenly there was a strong hand grasping onto her wrist, tugging her out of the herd. She didn’t need to see him to know who it was. Wordlessly she was pulled down a side hallway, into a dressing room that was clearly labeled ‘Hetfield’. “Woah,” Y/N gasped, stumbling into the room.

“Sorry about that sweetheart, I didn't want to lose you.” James’s voice was smooth against her ear as he pressed himself to her back, closing the door behind them. She visibly shivered at the sudden scratchy feeling of his beard against the side of her neck. “You did great out there.”

The praise went straight to Y/N’s tightening core. “I-it was really all you guys.” She stuttered out. Her body turned in James’s grasp so they were facing each other. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. His piercing blue eyes bore straight into hers with no mercy.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hands coming to rest casually on her hips. “What’s got you so nervous?” He asked teasingly. As he did, his hips were pressed against hers and there was an unmistakable hardness between the two of them. It knocked a gasp out of her lungs.

This was going exactly where she thought it was going and she didn’t know if she could handle it. “I- uh,” She was stumbling over her words like an idiot. “I just, I’ve never…done this before, and you’re so much older than me with so much experience I'm worried about being bad.” The embarrassment from her confession settled as a blush on her cheeks.

Suddenly James took a hesitant step back. “Shit, how old are you?” He asked nervously. There was a clear panic in his face. His hand’s no longer touched her and she whined at the loss. She could see the frantic gears in his head turning so she shook her head quickly.

“I’m twenty two!” She assured him, though she wasn’t sure if that was enough to ease his concerns about the large age gap between them. “I don’t care that you’re older, I just don’t want to disappoint.” She tried to save the situation as best she could, scuffing the tips of her shoes against the floor.

James sighed loudly in relief. “Shit babygirl, don’t scare me like that.” His hand was suddenly cupping the side of her face, forcing her to look up at him directly. “That’s fine, by never done this before do you mean a hookup? Or fucking in general.” The crudeness of the question had Y/N gasping.

James’s chuckle did little to ease her nerves. “Sex…in general.” She confirmed. She blinked as she looked up at him, his eyes pierced into her soul. “If that’s okay with you I want to try.” Her hands hooked around his arms, squeezing his biceps tightly as she used him for leverage to hold herself up.

It was quick the way in which he captured her lips. He tasted mostly of booze and cigar smoke but it was intoxicating nonetheless. His experienced movements guided her easily as he maneuvered the two of them onto the dressing room couch. Never breaking apart once. His hands were working on undoing the buttons of her blouse with a skilled expertise that left her shaking.

Slowly she was granted air again, greedily drinking it in as James’s mouth moved down along the underside of her jaw. Her chest was suddenly exposed to the room, quickly she shimmied out of the sleeves, allowing the fabric to pool beneath her on the couch. Warm calloused hands cupped her breasts through the lace of her bra. She sighed contently, her legs spreading just enough for James to slot himself in between.

“I don’t feel like I'm doing enough.” She voiced her concerns. Her hands were tangled in his hair as he continued to nip and suck at the flesh of her neck. His hands trailed down from her chest to the button on her pants. “What can I do for you?” She asked breathlessly.

James pulled back with a slightly wild look in his eyes. His fingers popped open the button, pulling down the zipper slowly. “Nothing, You don’t have to do anything, baby girl I’ll take care of you.” Y/N lifted her hips to assist him as he tugged her pants down past her legs. Quickly he pulled off his own shirt, exposing the few tattoos he had on his arms.

The sight knocked the air out of her lungs. She was left dumbfounded as she drank in the sight of him. Suddenly both of them were left in nothing but their underwear and she couldn’t help but feel a touch self conscious. She curled in on herself, hands coming down between her legs to cover her sheer underwear.

He clicked his tongue at her, his large hands coming to grab hers and pin them above her head. “No.” He commanded her gently. “Wanna see all of you.” He held her down on the couch with one hand as his other hooked in the waistband of her panties, tugging them down. The cold hair hitting her warm skin caused her to gasp. “Knew you were pretty everywhere.” He sighed.

Leaning back on the couch, James released his grip on her hands to push her legs further apart. His grip was heavy on her inner thigh as he spread her open. A flush covered her whole body in embarrassment as she felt like she was almost being examined. Suddenly there was a prodding at the wet heat between her legs. “Oh my god.” Y/N whimpered as two thick fingers sunk into her.

“Fuck you’re tight.” James grunted as he gently pushed his fingers in deeper, curling them slightly in a way that had Y/N’s back arching off the couch. “You’re doing so good though.” He praised her gently. There was a slight sting as James scissored his fingers apart, stretching her further. She winced lightly in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Slowly James found a rhythm as he fucked his fingers into her. A chorus of moans and whimpers spilled past Y/N’s lips, her fingers gripping onto the couch cushions beneath her. The room was filled with the wet sounds of her body sucking him back in with every pull of his wrist. There was a building tension in her stomach that left her writhing. “James, I think I’m gonna…” She trailed off.

The words only seemed to encourage him. James’s rhythm stayed steady, adding in the rotation of his thumb across her sensitive clit. “Good let go baby, I got you.” The pads of his fingers pressed up inside her, hitting the spot that caused her to let out a shaky moan. Her body going limp beneath him as she rode out of the high of her climax impaled on his fingers. She could feel the warmth drip between her legs down onto the couch. Her breaths were heavy and ragged as he pulled out with an almost embarrassing ‘pop’.

James grinned down at her as he slowly got up off the couch. He leaned over to one of the side tables in the dressing room, grabbing a foil wrapper. Y/N watched wordlessly as he tugged his hard cock out of his briefs. She didn’t have a reference for size but he looked impossibly big. He easily pulled the latex from the package, rolling it down his length. “That's not going to fit.” She said dumbly, her eyes wide as she watched him settle back down between her parted legs. A fear bubbling inside her as the head of his dick knocked against her overstimulated clit. She whimpered, her body pulling away from the touch.

“It’ll fit baby dont worry.” He assured her as his hands landed on her thighs once more, rubbing soothing circles into the skin. “If it’s too much just tell me.” His voice was so gruff but she felt comforted by the words nonetheless. She allowed herself to trust his experience over her and nodded slowly. Her body relaxing once more. His smile was almost blinding as he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, holding on to her for leverage. His other hand left her thigh to grip the base of his girth.

It was a slow glide as he directed the head of his cock to Y/N’s waiting entrance. With each inch that pushed in it pushed the air from her lungs. James let out a low growl as he sunk deeper into the heat. The stretch was overwhelming, feeling like she was being split in two her hands flew up to James’s shoulders, her nails digging deep into the skin. She bared her teeth as she braved through the pain.

Suddenly James’s hips were fully pressed against her. She couldn’t believe it as she looked down between them where they were connected. If she had the mental power to make note of it she would have been impressed with herself for taking him all in. “Fuck,” She mumbled out, looking back up at James with wide eyes.

“You did so good Y/N.” He grunted, a bead of sweat formed on his eyebrow as he held himself back from moving more. He leaned forward, capturing her lips to distract her as he slowly pulled his hips back. Starting off with shallow thrusts as she gre accustomed to the feeling. “So fucking good.” He whispered across her lips.

The gentle movement was enough to send her wailing. Her blush deepened as she couldn’t hold back the embarrassing noises, though James seemed to be drinking them in. Her eyes looked back down, watching as James cock repeatedly disappeared inside her. It was mesmerizing. Slowly the burn dissipated leaving her with only an overwhelming sense of pleasure. “Y-you can…m-more.” She managed to stutter out.

With that permission the floodgates opened. The gentleness melted away as James set an almost brutal pace. The couch creaked beneath them as he pressed her down into the cushions with the force of his thrusts. He was mostly silent aside from the animalistic grunts rumbling deep from his chest. Y/N’s nails dragged across the skin of his arms as she lost her hold on him. It was relentless the way he chased his own release inside her.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Y/N chanted out. It felt like her insides were being rearranged as James made space for himself. Subconsciously she thought she would be forever ruined by him, nothing could compare to the way her body molded to him. His forehead was pressed against hers as he loomed over her.

Her hand flew down between them, her fingers furiously working her own clit. It caused her body to tense around him as she easily came again. The sudden gush of her release making the slide easier, wetter, sloppier. “Fuck, Y/N.” James choked out. The way he growled reminded her of the way he sang, raw and violent. His thrusts grew sporadic as his own climax raced towards him.

In sync their chests heaved as he pushed himself as deep as possible inside her. His head dropped to her shoulder as moaned in her ear. There was a pulsating sensation and she clenched down around his cock, squeezing him as he finished. His body was heavy against her, their skin sticking together with the sweat that had formed across them.

They lay like that for a long moment until the heat between them grew too unbearable. Slowly James pulled his softening cock from her cunt. The sudden emptiness had Y/N whining, her hips bucking up to chase him. James laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek as he pulled off the filled condom, tossing it into a nearby garbage bin. “You okay baby?” He asked, settling back down onto the couch and tugging her naked body into his arms.

She sighed in relief at the comfort of his touch once more. Slowly she nodded, resting her head against his chest. “Yeah I’m good,” She sighed. James' hand came to tuck a strand of slightly damp hair behind her ear, away from her face. “Thank you,” She mumbled, looking up at him appreciatively. “For being my first.”

There was a soft tenderness in his eyes as he returned her look. Being this close Y/N could see the faint crow’s lines forming at his eyes, just the suggestion of wrinkles forming in his skin but it seemed to make him all the more handsome. “Yeah?” He said, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “Wouldn’t mind being your second as well.” Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, confusion evident on her features as she tilted her head curiously. “Were in town a couple more days, let me take you on a date?” He asked her sweetly.

“I thought this was just a one time thing?” She pulled away from him lightly, not missing the way his arms tightened around her to hold her in place. “I would love to.” She nodded sweetly. In a sudden swift movement her body was hoisted into the air. She yelped in surprise, wrapping her arms around James’s neck as he walked them across the room.

She tilted her head, seeing the shower stall and she laughed lightly, understanding the mission at hand. “You’re lucky, we don’t have showers in our rooms.” She said as she was placed back down against the cold tile floor. She was thankful for the stream of cool water pouring over her. It cooled her burning skin as James pressed himself beside her. Truthfully there wasn’t enough room for the both of them, but with James pressed up behind her she couldn't complain. “I could get used to this.” She hummed.

“You will.” James mumbled against her shoulder as he pressed a kiss there. It almost seemed like a promise. A promise for this and more. She liked the way his words wrapped around her like a blanket of comfort and she found herself hoping it would ring true.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica/reader #james hetfield/reader #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield

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angel-calypso · 1 day

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oh i need one with erik🫦 where y/n thinks he and raven have something and she gets really sad and heartbroken… (I leave the ending to you) (srry english not my first language)

i hope this is sorta what you were asking!!! i did my best 😽

Mistaken part one

i really loved writing this. but be mindful it's my first work in probably over two years since school ended for me. i tried my best so sorry if it's not up to standards i'll get back in soon. I also don't have a laptop, so this is all being typed out in my phone and edited. I'm so sorry if there's mistakes i'm trying my best i swear

erik lehnsherr x reader. not sure if there's any warnings or triggers. just a heartbroken reader for a tad. hope you all enjoy. it is part one, i'm working two jobs right now and im going to try and put out part two soon

It had been a few weeks since you moved into the mansion. Charles had invited you to stay with the team after you had helped them on a mission. You hadn't known there were other people like yourself. Mutants. You always thought it was a derogatory word, but when you had stumbled upon the team fighting some lunatic, you had seen how beautiful and powerful the word mutant could be. You were seven when your mutation appeared. It allows you to control plants, dirt, small pebbles, you could feel the Earth in your veins. Since moving in, Hank has studied you, absolutely fascinated with your mutation, as he is with all of theirs.

The first couple days, you kept to yourself. Keeping quiet during dinners, just observing and listening. occasionally someone would ask you a question. Normally Erik, who seemed to always be wanting to know more about you. He would smile at you, always ready to start a conversation. Eventually, with time, you found yourself invited to Charles' office at night, having a drink and watching him and Erik play chess. You grew incredibly fond of these nights. The three of them were laughing and talking into the late hours of the night. Sometimes you would fall asleep there, but seemed to somehow always wake up in your bed. As you grew to love those nights, you found yourself falling in love with Erik. His beautiful eyes that followed you everywhere you went, the way he would catch your eye and walk over to you every time. The morning tea and lunch picnics. You had just barely started convincing yourself that maybe, he felt the same. that maybe you had a real chance at something with him.

“you know, we outta teach you how to play darling.” Charles pulled you out of your thoughts one night. They had been in silence for a few minutes, awaiting his next move. You had been watching intently trying to balance your thoughts, the game, and if you were honest the occasional stare at Erik. The way he sat calmly in the back of his chair, holding his drink in one hand and tapping his armrest with the other. Plotting his moves. He always looked so handsome in the warm light of the office. The drinks are always getting to you, always having to stop yourself from reaching out and taking his hand.

“I'd much rather watch you two play.” You had finally pulled your eyes off of Erik to look at Charles with his knowing smile. you blushed slightly, hoping charles wasn't in your head, always forgetting of the telepath. Erik laughed unaware of the interaction between the two.

“I think y/n would have you beat Charles” Erik chimed in. You smiled, sometimes you thought he thinks too highly of you.

“Yeah right, she'd be too distracted,” Charles playfully scoffed. At this you asked if they needed another drink. She got up, noticed the bottle was left in the kitchen tonight, and walked out with hers and Erik's cup. When you came back, you noticed a new arrival had joined them for the first time. You hadn't met her yet but assumed it to be Raven, Charles’ sister. She had been on a mission for the last couple months. you would've loved meeting her, if it wasn't for the sight you walked in on leaving your heart in your stomach. Raven was hugging Erik, her legs wrapped around him. You didn't hear anything being said, the blood rushing through your ears a loud roar. But you had seen enough. You walked over to your seat. Charles knew something was off, you begged him not to be in your mind for this. you hoped he wouldn't. You didn't notice upon seeing you, Erik grew the biggest smile, almost immediately letting go of Raven and whispering to her. She also smiled, putting her hand out to you.

“you must be y/n!!! I'm Raven, I've heard so much about you. I'm so glad to meet you! “ Under other circumstances you would've loved meeting her, finally meeting charles’ sister he would always talk about. But the tinge of seeing her all over Erik tainted the meeting. You told her it was nice to meet her, sending her a small smile while shaking her hand. It wasn't her fault. You let go and hand Erik his drink.

“Thank you Meine Liebe” You would normally love and melt at this, Erik had fooled you. You just nodded your head. you were willing yourself not to cry just yet. The stinging in your eyes daring to disobey you. A few minutes go by and you excuse yourself off to bed. Before anyone could say anything you were out the door.

translations Meine liebe- My love in german

I know i know, it's pretty short. I'll work on part two as quickly as i can. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in part 2!!!

#erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x reader #magneto #x men #x men first class #charles xavier #magneto x reader #charles xavier x reader #erik lehnsherr x reader x charles xavier #x men apocalypse #x men au #x men movies #x men comics #x men x reader #i don't know what else #x reader

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shan-yee · 2 days

Text

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝

Daryl Dixon x younger!fem!reader ๏𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 = 950 ๏𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 = death, gun, reader lost her sibling and her parents, reader lost her sanity, age gap, Daryl saw the reader grow up. ๏𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 = Sometimes you have to do things that you don’t want to for the sake of your loved ones. ๏𝙰/𝙽 = I KNOW I HAVE REQUESTS TO DO, but i rewatched TWD and damn Daryl… ๏𝙰/𝙽 2 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

Save me from the nothing i’ve become

Daryl had never believed in love, that is, if this « love » concerned him directly. He had always been happy for his people when they found the boot that fit them. But the idea that he could one day find someone who would accept him for who he was despite his damn character and his many emotional wounds, still open, was inconceivable to him.

And if one day someone had told him that he would indeed find love in a young woman whom he had watched grow up and protected for a good part of his life, he would have laughed out loud. Even more so if this said person had told him that he would also be the one to take the young woman’s life.

He didn't understand how everything could have taken such a turn, was it too much to ask to have a happy and simple life, in a house with blue walls and a garden, with his family.

Accepting the fact that he loved someone much younger than him took courage but he did it. And when he was finally living a somewhat normal life in this apocalyptic world, he now had to take the life of the woman he loved to protect his found family.

When Rick told him about it, he refused, he even got angry and shoved his friend before storming off. Then he thought, really thought, about what Rick had said to him.

Looking at [Y/N], sitting towards the many graves that the inhabitants had dug, with a blank look and the skin of her lips bleeding from the many open wounds they had, he realized that maybe, maybe it was the best solution.

Daryl understood that after losing the only living member of her family the young woman might be devastated and need time. But there was something else behind this sadness, a feeling that Daryl had only seen in his father. Such destructive hatred that he came to shiver every time his gaze met that of his beloved.

She had never been the type to always be full of energy or cheerful, how could you be when death lurks near your house every day, but this look had nothing to do with her usual detached and grumpy morning look.

So finally, he accepted. It was out of the question that anyone other than him would do it. He had gripped the grip of his gun with a trembling hand and that same evening he had found the young woman in the garden, where she spent most of her time, looking at the flowers that Carol was growing with disinterest.

When he got close enough to clearly see the outline of her body, he stopped abruptly, like a stake. And the [H/C] haired woman seemed to know he was there, why he was there.

He saw her turn her head slightly and glance at his weapon before turning it around and returning her attention to the many flowers.

—I’m tired. She whispered, her voice raspy, as if she hadn't slept for several days.

—I know. He answered her, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt like he had never blinked so much in his entire life.

—I’m sorry.

—I know. he repeated.

The young woman's shoulders sagged before she slowly stood up, Daryl's gaze following her every movement with an eagle eye. He knew she wouldn't try to run away and deep down he hoped she would, that she would hit him before running away at full speed. But she wouldn't do it, even if he asked her.

She approached slowly and Daryl was able to admire her one last time, she didn't smile at him, she hadn't done so for a while, but he saw a certain tenderness in her eyes, a tenderness that she always reserved for him and their friends.

Decided, the man took her in his arms, her head against his chest and she let him do without saying anything, her eyes closing.

—You’re not going to kiss me one last time ? She asked him with a touch of humor in her voice.

But he didn't answer her. She knew that her question was selfish, she was going to rest forever but he would have to live with that, live with the act he was going to commit and the distant memory of a woman he had loved but could not save.

—Will it hurt ? Her voice resonated like a sweet melody in the older 's ear.

—I don’t know.

—That’s the only thing you didn’t know tonight. The young woman laughed without any real amusement.

He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that he didn’t know what he was doing right now, that his action was surely going to be the biggest mistake of his life, but he didn’t. He decided to keep his feelings to himself, tonight was not about him but about her and for his peace of mind he was ready to bury everything.

She finally felt the soft coldness of the muzzle against her temple before taking a deep breath, she felt ready, ready to finally find her family in the afterlife and stop this infinite race against death.

—I love you Daryl, i really do.

The corners of his mouth twitched and he held her a little closer to his chest as if to reassure himself.

—I love you. He murmured in the corner of her ear, leaving aside his usual disinterested tone before pressing the trigger.

Daryl never spoke of that night again, refusing even to pronounce the first name of his former lover and no one ever found the young woman's body.

#i lost my blog #i’m a shit #x reader #x oc smut #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead daryl #dead city #rick grimes #angst x reader

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misterfynn · 2 days

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cw // kidnapping, intox, heavy bdsm, honestly this one I'm letting my imagination run wild, so proceed with caution.

You woke up with a start, you could finally see again, but when you went to tried to speak, realized you were muffled by a gag. You looked around the room, only to see dimly lit space with empty walls, save for a mirror. You tried to get up, but found yourself tied down to something. It's inside you, and it feels good. *click* It turns on, and instantly you struggle to think, how did this happen? Using the last of your brain power you think back to all that has happened.

Two weeks ago you saw an ad online. "Start a new life, whatever you think you're worth, pay me and I'll increase your investment tenfold". You were skeptical, a whole new life and you just have to "pay your worth?". You figured it was worth a shot, life hadn't been kind as of late.

This dear reader, is where you can insert your own struggles. I want you to picture how nice a new life would be, no more dead end jobs, no more wasted time in classes, you could start over, be someone new. You'd like that wouldn't you? But how much do you think your current life is actually worth? I'm curious, tell me in the comments.

You recently got an extra hundred bucks you were planning to gamble away in a few weeks at the casino anyways, you figure why not give it a shot here. You send the anonymous poster the money and move on with your day. You're let down when you don't hear anything for a week, you assume you got scammed and start looking for a way to get your money back. But that's when the first email arrives.

It asks, "What kind of life do you crave?". Followed with several options, an easy life, an exciting life, or the high life. You've had enough excitement lately, easy sounds like it could be boring, so you choose the high life. Images of richers and power flash through your mind, but still skeptical this is all a scam you don't get your hopes up.

A week later you got the call, "they're on their way, leave your house at 08:30 exactly, the rest will be handled from there, welcome to your new life." The phone immediately went dead. As you were told, you started to head to work and left your house at exactly 8:30. You almost got to your car, before the masked men appeared. They roughly grabbed you, tied your arms behind your back, gagged and blindfolded you, and hauled you off to their van. You hated to admit it, but the whole thing felt straight out of a fantasy, you were wet instantly.

Then a sharp pain in your leg, like a needle stabbing you, and you don't remember much from there. You remember being in a haze, as men in masks tied you down to a surgical table. You remember blurry faces, and how wet you were when they inspected your holes. You remember the pain that you felt when the tattoo gun marked you behind your ear. Now you remember how you got to where you are now, able to see for the first time in what feels like days. Straddling something vibrating between your legs, it feels amazing you realize.

'I feel so good?' You think with a shock, whatever drugs are in your system, you secretly want them to give you more. You start bucking against what you can only assume is a Sybian. Within minutes, you've cum twice, and are begging for more when the machine stops. Another masked man walks in, he removes the gag. Before you can speak, he has placed a pill on your tongue, and placed water to your lips expecting you to swallow. You don't give it much thought before the pill is already down your throat.

"What is your name", he asks.

You try to make a word form but are unable, you weakly motion for more water.

He provides you with the water as requested, then present another opportunity.

"If I pull out my cock and you make me cum, I'll have the boys turn the machine back on for you until you're ready to start your new life, would you like that?"

Would you really stoop that low? Are you that desperate to cum? The wetness you immediately feel as he pulls out his already hardening dick gives you all the answer you need. Maybe it's the drugs, or maybe this is who you were deep inside all along. You take his cock deep in your throat. Before you know it, you're rewarded, not just with what you realize is surprisingly tasty seed, but also you get to cum again, again, and again.

The next several hours are a blur of pleasure and drugs taking a stronger hold. The higher you are, the harder you cum. Enough time has passed you feel you might be reaching your limit as another masked man enters. The machine is turned off, you are collared and leashed, and for the first time today, you get to stand on your own two shaky legs.

You're so high you can't walk straight, he helps stabilize and guide you with one hand around your neck, the other holding your hand until you're moved into a cage.

"This one's ready for auction", you hear.

"Make sure she takes one of these before being presented", the man hands the other another pill.

"And don't hesitate to crank up the power, we need her to show she's worth 10 times her investment."

Next thing you know, you're in a cage, on stage. You're so high you can barely process anything, you feel yourself drooling, you hear yourself moaning, and most importantly, you feel yourself cumming on the dildo being thrust deep inside you. It's pumping so quickly, so deep, it feels amazing. As you cum one final time, you just barely make out

"SOLD, to the man in back for one thousand dollars!".

Would you look at that, you did make ten times your investment, and you're about to start your new life!

#fynn's fantasies #cnc free use #intox kink #intox cnc #cnc kidnapping #kidnap fantasy #bd/sm slave #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #bd/sm daddy #bd/sm dom #bd/sm kink #bd/sm brat #bd/sm babygirl #bd/sm pet

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differentpostrebel · 3 days

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Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

This gif cause wait til yall read that section (hehe), like hell I would have folded too...

This gif because we get Cavendish in this also! and well I tell you its hilarious and next chapter too.

Chapter 32: Blood and Bounty

A/N: We are back at it again with another Chapter! Woot! This was originally suppose to be posted yesterday but I had been working on more chapters and I completely forgot, we are getting to the long awaited fight yall! we got some Sabo, Sanji and Y/N POVs. And in the next chapters we get some more Sanji POV, to see how he is holding up with everything and what is going on in Zou… I cant wait for you guys to read these chapters!, Thank you guys for everything! And without further a do let the adventure begin!. Also P.S the masterlist will be available tomorrow!

Word Count: 5.7K

Sanji X Reader, Sanji x Y/N, One piece X Reader

Sabo POV…

As Doflamingo continued his announcement, he began naming the 12 individuals with bounties, promising rewards to those who could bring him their heads. His voice echoed menacingly through the palace, and with each name, my jaw dropped further in disbelief.

“Now for the head hunchos, worth three hundred million berries each…” Doflamingo declared. My name popped up first, followed by Luffy, Law, and King Riku. My jaw dropped. “Looks like you have some fans,” Hack commented, a mix of amusement and concern in his voice.

“Seriously!” I said, my voice tinged with frustration.

Doflamingo continued, “And the final one for this tier…” As the name “Usopp” appeared, worth 500 million berries, I let out a relieved breath. “Good, Y/N isn’t in any danger,” I thought.

But my relief was short-lived. “And lastly, as an added bonus, we have the six-star bounty worth 600 million berries,” Doflamingo said. My heart sank as I braced myself. “Please don’t tell me it’s…”

The image of you appeared on the screen. You weren’t in the outfit I left you with. Instead, you wore a red corset dress and a red ruby tiara, your appearance a cruel mockery of your dignity. My blood boiled. “Bastard!” I gritted through clenched teeth, fire beginning to emit from my clenched fists.

“Sabo…” Koala said, sensing my rage. “Calm down.”

Doflamingo’s voice grew even more sinister. “This princess… is to be brought to me alive. That’s right, alive. For those of you wondering why… well, let’s just say I have special plans for her. After all, royalty deserves a proper welcome.” His voice dripped with malice. “And once I have her, I’ll make sure she never escapes my grasp again.”

Beside us, Bartelomeo was geeking out at your image still displayed for all to see. “The beautiful Princess Y/N looks even more stunning in red!” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t believe she’s actually here!”

“Quite the fanboy, isn’t he?” I remarked, trying to mask my fury with a forced calmness.

“Ah, this is the infamous woman you speak about every so often, Sabo,” Hack said, a hint of understanding in his voice.

“Mmm, she’s... incredible,” I muttered, barely holding back my anger. “She means everything to me.”

Nearby, murmurs from the pirates and civilians filled the air. “Did you see her? She looks amazing, even if she’s in danger.”

“Six hundred million berries for her? She must be important.”

“There’s no way someone with a bounty like hers isn’t the deadliest pirate out there. I’ve heard rumors—she’s not just some princess. She’s lethal.”

I gritted my teeth, the flames around my fists flaring up as I fought the urge to punch something. The idea that they were talking about you like some prize or target, especially after what Doflamingo said, made my blood boil.

"Hey! I spot some 1 stars, and a 3 star!" yelled a pirate from behind us, pointing in our direction.

Koala instantly tensed up, her fists clenched and ready for a fight. "Sabo, what do we do?" she asked, eyes darting to me.

I quickly scanned the surroundings. "We need to make our escape. Get to the surface, hurry!" I ordered, leading the group as Robin, Bartolomeo, Hack, Rebecca, Koala, and I bolted from the chasing bounty hunters.

As we raced through the underground of the colosseum, Robin pulled out her transponder snail. "Zoro?" she said, breathless but composed.

"Yeah?" Zoro's voice came through, rough but calm as usual.

"Where are you?" Robin asked as we weaved through narrow alleys, trying to keep our pace.

"I think it’s called King’s Plateau. Anyway, I’m here with Luffy, Y/N, Viola, Riku, and Law," Zoro replied.

"Y/N!" Her name instantly grabbed my attention. Relief washed over me for a moment. So she's with Luffy... I thought. At least she'll be safe with him for the time being.

"Things are getting a bit messy, aren’t they?" Zoro continued.

"Hey, Robin!" Luffy’s voice chimed in, his usual energy evident even through the snail. "Did you see Mingo? Man, he makes me so mad!"

"You and me both, Captain. That bastard’s got another thing coming, that’s for sure," she said onto the transponder snail, feeling a surge of anger again.

Finally hearing your voice over the transponder snail, took every ounce of self-control not to grab it from Robin’s hand. Just hearing you made my chest tighten.

"The whole thing with Usopp is pretty hilarious, though," Luffy laughed, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"Shut up, Luffy!" Usopp yelled, clearly not amused by the situation.

"Come on, Usopp," you chimed in, trying to stifle a laugh. "You gotta admit, it was kind of funny."

"Ohh, you’re one to talk, Miss 600 Million Berri bounty!" Usopp shot back, his voice strained as he was carried by the Tontattas. "What did you do to piss him off so much that he’d slap you with that amount?"

"Simple," you said, frustration lacing your voice. "I kicked his ass three times, outsmarted him every chance I got, and, above all, I won’t back down to him. So, yeah, he’s got it out for me bad. What’s worse is the whole island’s probably hunting me down, and I can’t even change out of this outfit!"

"Don’t worry!" Luffy cut in, his usual confident tone lifting the weight of the situation. "I’m going to give Doflamingo the beating of his life! Make sure you all live to see it, okay? I’ll end this stupid game in no time, so just stay safe, you hear me?"

I clenched my fists tighter, both proud of your defiance and angry at the situation that put you in such danger. Luffy’s words were comforting, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be rushing to find you myself.

The transponder call ended, leaving us all momentarily silent as we continued running.

Y/N POV…

Luffy ended the call with Robin, and I exhaled, trying to ease the tension running through me. Releasing my hair from its bun, the tiara slipped from its place, and I held it gently in my hands. But my thoughts were far away, with Sanji. A pang of guilt hit me as I whispered, “Sanji, wherever you are… I hope you’re safe. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

I turned to King Riku, who was kneeling, tears streaming down his face, clearly lost in painful memories of that tragic night. Viola stood quietly beside him, offering support. I stepped forward, holding the tiara out toward him.

“King Riku,” I said softly, gaining his attention. “This tiara belongs to you. Doflamingo may have put this ridiculous outfit on me, but this crown… it was never mine to wear.”

King Riku’s eyes filled with emotion as he slowly looked up. “Princess Y/N…”

“No,” I shook my head, interrupting him. “I’m not a princess, not really. Although my wanted posters dub me as ‘Princess Y/N,’ that title… It was given to me by King who rules the all male island. But in truth, I’m simply Y/N.”

My words lingering in the air. I held out the tiara again. “This crown… it belongs to its rightful rulers.”

King Riku stood there for a moment, eyes filled with emotion, but he shook his head with a soft smile. “No, Y/N. This tiara represents more than just royalty—it represents strength, honor, and the will to protect others. You’ve earned that, and more. Keep it, as a reminder of what you’re doing for Dressrosa, and for what you stand for.”

I stared at the tiara, the weight of his words sinking in. Before I could respond, Luffy chimed in with his usual boisterous tone. “Yeah! You’re not just a princess on paper. You’re our princess too! A badass one!”

Viola smiled at me warmly. “It suits you, Y/N. Not because of what the world sees, but because of who you are to all of us.”

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, feeling a strange sense of acceptance. “Alright… but I’m still just Y/N. I’ll never stop fighting for what I believe in, tiara or not.”

As I gently placed the tiara on my head, my gaze lingered on Law, still cuffed in sea prism stone handcuffs. His shirtless torso was covered only by his coat, the exhaustion clear in his face despite his usual stoic demeanor. Feeling a pull toward him, I walked over and rested my head on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin easing some of my own tension.

I sighed, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as I pressed closer. "You know," I whispered, my breath teasing his neck, "even with all that’s going on, you still manage to make being chained up look good."

His body tensed slightly at my words, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head just enough to glance down at me, his eyes meeting mine. A flicker of something passed between us.

"Is that so?" he said, his voice low and teasing, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I thought you preferred me when I’m free to use my hands."

I chuckled softly, tracing a finger along his chest. "Maybe I do. But I think I like this view too." I bit my lip, holding his gaze a moment longer before I pulled back slightly, feeling the weight of exhaustion but also the warmth of the moment between us.

After a few minutes of silence, Law’s voice cut through the air. “Do you even know what you’re doing, Strawhat?” he asked, drawing the attention of Luffy and Zoro.

“Maybe you need a reminder,” Law continued, his frustration clear. “We needed to destroy the factory to provoke a conflict between Kaido and Doflamingo. Did it ever cross your mind that if we kill Doflamingo prematurely, it’ll just redirect Kaido’s wrath towards us? Is that what you want—taking on an enraged emperor?”

I stood up, meeting Law’s gaze with a determined expression. “Listen, Law,” I said, “sometimes things don’t go as planned. You have to ride with the current or risk being swept away. We can’t always control everything.”

Luffy chimed in, his voice urgent. “Did you even think about the Kingdom? If we take it out now, what happens to them?”

I turned to Luffy, understanding the weight of his words. “I know it’s complicated,” I said, trying to stay calm. “But we have to make decisions and deal with the consequences as they come. We can’t let fear of what might happen stop us from acting.”

Luffy’s rubber arms pulled us into a tight group hug with him, Zoro, and Law. “Well, let’s go!” he said cheerfully.

“Wait! What about my handcuffs?” Law said, clearly frustrated.

“They’ll fall off... eventually,” Luffy said, waving off Law’s concern.

“That’s not how it works!” Law argued.

“Luffy, maybe there’s another way down!” I suggested, pressed closely against Zoro due to the tight squeeze.

Zoro’s gaze drifted from my chest to my face, his eyes lingering with a mischievous glint. “You’ve got a way of making things... unforgettable,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to maintain my balance. “Not exactly the kind of unforgettable I had in mind,” I replied, a hint of warmth in my cheeks.

Zoro’s smirk widened, his eyes meeting mine with a playful intensity. “Well, it’s certainly a memorable situation,” he said, his gaze moving from my eyes to the subtle contours of my corset. “You know, it’s hard not to notice how… close we’re getting.”

I met his gaze, feeling the heat rise in my face. “You’re really not making this any easier, Zoro,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Just making the best of a tight situation,” he said, his tone light but warm.

“One sec, I’ll help,” Viola said, her voice steady. “You know where the key is?” Law asked.

“Sorta, it fell, so it has to be somewhere around the plateau. Hold on, I’ll look…” Viola began, but Luffy was already moving.

“You know how we’re getting there?” Zoro asked as Luffy sprinted with us.

“Yeah, straight through!” Luffy replied, preparing to jump.

“Luffy, wait!” I called out as Luffy leaped off the plateau, taking us with him. I screamed, feeling the rush of the descent.

“Y/N! Grab on!” Zoro shouted, his hand reaching out. I grasped it tightly, holding on as we landed with a jolt.

Luffy and Law landed first, then Zoro and I touched down. I was still holding onto Zoro’s hand, feeling the warmth of his grip.

“That was some ride, Luffy,” I said, trying to steady my breath.

Zoro looked at me with a smirk. “Well, I guess you’re not letting go of me anytime soon,” he said, his eyes lingering on our clasped hands before meeting my gaze. “Could be worse, though. At least you’re holding on to someone reliable.”

I felt a flush creeping up my cheeks at his words, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “I suppose I’m just trying to avoid another surprise landing,” I teased.

Before Zoro could respond, Law, still shackled, interjected with a touch of irritation. “Zoro, back off,” he said firmly.

The spot that Luffy had choosen however, was surrounded by marines, and pirates, looking to claim their bounty. “Dammit, Luffy! You just had to pick this spot,” I muttered, grabbing both my blades from the thigh halter. The familiar yellow light began to emanate from them, casting a warm glow in the chaos.

“Hey, Strawhat!” Law shouted, struggling against Luffy’s grip. “When these cuffs are off, I’ll kill you myself!”

“Law, now is not the time for threats,” I said, stepping closer to Zoro as guns and blades were pointed at us, surrounding us.

“Come on, Law,” Zoro said, drawing his swords. “No place is safe. We’re targets wherever we go.”

“Don’t let them escape!” one of the bounty hunters yelled. “It’s the 2-3 stars, a 2 star, and the 6 star!”

“We’ve got to move!” I shouted. “Zoro, cover me.”

“What?!” Zoro responded, still running beside me.

“Just do it!” I urged, feeling the weight of our situation pressing down on us. “I’m going to block their path!”

Without waiting for further confirmation, I leaped into the air, the glow of my blades lighting up the surrounding chaos. “There she is!” someone shouted from below. “Get her!”

In midair, I raised my right leg and spun, gathering energy for my attack. “Tremor Strike!” I called out as my foot descended. The impact created a powerful tremor, causing the ground to shake violently. The force sent several of the bounty hunters tumbling and created deep cracks in the earth.

As I landed, I saw the stunned faces of the hunters and the damage I had caused. The path was now clear, at least for a moment, allowing us to continue our escape.

I began to catch up with Zoro, Luffy, and Law, breathing heavily as I wiped the sweat from my brow. My blades still glowed with a faint yellow light, a testament to their power.

“Well, I bought us some time,” I said, catching my breath.

Zoro turned to assess the damage with a smirk on his face. “Nice job,” he said, his gaze lingering on me with a hint of admiration. “You really know how to make an entrance.”

Luffy, still carrying Law, glanced back at us with his usual exuberance. “Great work, Y/N!” he shouted, his grin wide.

Just then, a figure appeared next to Luffy, running alongside him. “Big brother Law! It’s so good to see you!” the voice called out with excitement.

“Who’s that?!” I asked, my gaze shifting to the newcomer.

“That’s Dellinger,” Law warned, his tone serious. “Take extra precautions with him.”

Dellinger was already closing in on me. “My, my, and you must be the princess the young master wants,” he said with a smirk, aiming a swift kick in my direction.

I deftly dodged the kick, my movements precise. “Hahaha, not bad,” Dellinger chuckled, clearly amused.

Suddenly, Luffy stumbled, his voice filled with confusion. “I tripped, some weird swimming man baby grabbed me,” he said, looking back.

“Luffy!” I shouted, alarmed.

“Vice, you’re up!” the man baby called out as Vice appeared overhead, preparing to crush him with his weight powers.

“Watch out! He’ll crush you with his super weight powers!” Law shouted, urgency in his voice.

Luffy managed to avoid the initial attack but found himself in a tight spot.

Dellinger appeared in front of Luffy, preparing to strike. “Last time I made a boo-boo—pistol heel” he sneered, readying a kick.

Without hesitation, I sprang into action, lifting my left leg and dashing towards Luffy. In a fluid motion, I positioned myself next to Dellinger and landed a powerful blow to the side of his torso, sending him crashing into a nearby building with a resounding thud.

Zoro turned around sharply, his expression serious. “Let’s go!” he commanded.

“Right!” both Luffy and I replied, ready to move.

But just as we attempted to advance, we were blocked by a group of pirates, their expressions eager. “Hold up! You guys are worth 800 million berries, and they’ve got the Princess with them too!” they exclaimed.

“Crap, Zoro, got any ideas?” I asked, my stance still tense and ready for action.

“Damn, what a pain,” Zoro muttered, scanning the area for a way out.

Before we could react further, a familiar voice cut through the chaos. “Shut it down!”

“It’s Fujitora!” I said, recognizing the authoritative tone.

“It’s the gambling old guy!” Luffy said, his voice tinged with frustration as we now faced a new challenge.

Sanji POV..

My frustration was palpable as I paced the deck of the ship. “Damn it! Why isn’t this thing picking up?” I growled, slamming the transponder snail down.

Brook, sipping his tea, glanced up with a concerned look. “I’m sorry, Sanji. The signal’s not coming through.”

My anxiety was mounting. “I can’t stand this! My angel Y/N could be hurt! She could’ve been shot by Doflamingo!” I said my voice was tight with worry.

“You heard her say ‘Damn it!’ and then a bullet fired. She could be in serious danger!” I started pacing faster, the gripping on my hair becoming tighter.

Brook’s gaze softened with sympathy. “Sanji, you’ve got to keep your cool. We’re all worried about her.”

I ran a hand through my hair, already having gone through three cigarettes. “I should’ve stayed behind. We should’ve gone back! I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“Sanji, relax!” Nami’s voice cut through his panic. “Have faith that Luffy and the others will reach her.”

I shook my head, frustration evident in my eyes. “I can’t just wait around. I need to know if Mosshead managed to get to her in time.”

Unable to contain myself any longer, I stormed upstairs to cool off. I stumbled into a room that I hadn’t seen in a while—Y/N’s room. The sight of her belongings brought a fresh wave of sorrow. Her sword was tightly wrapped in a corner, and the shirt I had given her to sleep in was sprawled out on the bed.

I picked up the shirt, holding it close to my chest, my voice trembling as I spoke softly to the empty room. “Y/N, please, please be okay.”

I laid down on the bed, the memory of a night I had cherished rushing back to me. I remembered the first time I had seen her in this bed, wearing my shirt and looking so adorable. I was about to leave when Y/N had pulled me close, cuddling against my chest while still asleep.

With a choked sob, I gently laid my head on her pillow, trying to find some comfort in the memory. “I didn’t want that night to end. I just wanted to hold you close and keep you safe.”

The room was quiet, save for my muffled sobs, and the only thing I could do now was hope that Luffy and the others were making their way to you in time.

Y/N POV…

We were all silent, Fujitora's presence unnerving, every one of us on high alert. Surrounded.

"I'm about to go kick Doflamingo's sorry ass, you're in my way!" Luffy said with defiance, his voice echoing across the square.

"That's quite a mouth on you," Fujitora replied calmly, his blind eyes unwavering, "but it'll take more than words to shake me."

Without hesitation, Luffy dropped Law with a heavy thud onto the ground, causing me to quickly make my way over to him, kneeling down to assess the situation. My eyes darted between Law and Fujitora, feeling the weight of the moment.

Luffy charged forward with Armament Haki, fists darkened and ready to strike. Yet, to all of our surprise, Fujitora effortlessly blocked the attack with his blade.

"How is he blocking Luffy's attack?" I muttered, watching in disbelief.

"He's using that weird technique again!" Zoro growled as he lunged at Fujitora, swords clashing with the Admiral’s blade, each strike getting blocked like it was nothing.

Just then, the ground began to shake violently, the rumble unsettling everyone. "What the hell is happening now?!" I said, trying to keep my balance as the earth seemed to quake beneath us.

Our gazes locked onto a massive stone figure rising from the ground, its size towering over the battlefield.

"What the hell is that?!" Luffy exclaimed, eyes wide.

"The wall guy?!" Zoro echoed, disbelief lacing his tone.

"Any fool who opposes our family shall be dealt with by me!" Pica's voice boomed, but it was absurdly high-pitched, completely mismatching his imposing figure.

The moment he spoke, Luffy, Zoro, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Luffy was the first to burst into laughter, doubling over. "Hahaha, his voice!" he cackled.

"It's funny!" I said, barely able to contain my own laughter as I pointed at the stone giant.

Pica, clearly insulted by our laughter, took action, his massive stone arm swinging down to crush us.

Zoro, Luffy, and I bolted, with Luffy grabbing Law and carrying him as we scrambled to avoid the blow.

"We didn't think this part through, huh Luffy?" I shouted, glancing back as the enormous fist came crashing down.

"Y/N, Luffy! You two really gotta stop screwing with the enemy," Zoro huffed, but even he couldn't hold back a snicker.

Just then, Luffy stumbled, losing his grip on Law and falling behind. Zoro and I both turned our heads, shouting in unison, "Luffy!"

Before we could react, Pica’s powerful punch slammed into the ground, the force of the impact sending both Zoro and me flying into the air.

"Luffy!" we both yelled again, spinning through the sky as the force of the blast threw us like ragdolls. Zoro’s hand shooting out to grab mine. He pulled me close, twisting mid-fall to shield me from the impact. We crashed hard onto the ground, Zoro taking the brunt of it as I landed directly on top of him, my face buried against his neck.

For a moment, everything was still. His chest rose and fell beneath me, his steady breathing almost calming against the chaos around us. Zoro’s strong arms were wrapped around me, holding me securely in place.

“You alright, Y/N?” His voice was low, almost amused, as if the entire situation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience to him.

“I think so…” I managed, slowly lifting my head, my heart pounding as I realized the position we were in. My cheeks flushed instantly, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Zoro’s smirk deepened as he stared up at me.

“You sure?” he teased, his voice laced with mischief. “You don’t seem so steady. Maybe you should stay right here.”

I froze, my face inches from his, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. His grip on my waist tightened slightly, holding me in place as if he wasn’t in any hurry to move.

“Zoro…” I began, trying to push myself off him, but his hand slid up, gently tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered there, brushing against my cheek before slowly tracing along my jaw.

“I think I like this position,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with a hint of something more. “You on top of me like this… feels kind of nice.”

I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. His hand remained on my waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my dress, the touch sending a wave of heat through me.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I shot back, trying to sound stern, but my voice wavered, betraying me.

“Oh, I’ve already got a few,” Zoro smirked, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my lips. His free hand rested on my lower back, keeping me close, as if he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. “You look comfortable right there.”

I swallowed, feeling my heart race. “I… I should get up.”

“Should you?” he teased, his voice dropping lower as his thumb traced circles against my waist. “You’re not complaining much. Maybe you like it here too.”

I tried to form a coherent response, but his teasing, combined with the intimacy of our position, left me completely flustered. I felt his breath brush against my cheek as he leaned in slightly, his lips just inches from mine.

“Zoro…” I whispered, but before I could say anything else, he tilted his head, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear.

“Admit it,” he whispered, his voice husky, “you don’t mind being this close.”

I blushed deeper, my mind racing as I felt his fingers tighten slightly on my waist, his body warm beneath mine. He wasn’t letting me go anytime soon—not until he had his fun.

“You’re impossible,” I finally managed, trying to regain some sense of control, but Zoro’s teasing grin only widened.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he said, finally loosening his hold just enough for me to move. But before I could fully pull away, he caught my hand, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles.

I shot him a glare, my heart still pounding as I stood, but the teasing glint in his eyes made it clear he was enjoying every second of this.

Zoro stretched as he got up, his smirk never fading. “You might want to watch where you fall next time… unless you plan on making a habit of it.”

I rolled my eyes, my face still flushed, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” Zoro said with a lazy grin, “but you didn’t seem to mind.” His playful tone made me flush slightly, though I tried to ignore it as we continued to search for Luffy and Law.

“Luffy!” I called out, my voice echoing in the surrounding chaos. “Law!” Zoro added, his frustration evident. We looked around, searching for any sign of them.

“I have no clue where they could be…” Zoro was cut off mid-sentence by Luffy’s enthusiastic shout.

“Hey! Zoro! Y/N! Hi! We are up here! Up here!” Luffy’s laughter carried through the air.

“Luffy!” we yelled in unison, relief washing over us as we followed the sound. As we approached, Luffy fell on top of Law, laughing uncontrollably.

“Get your ass off of me! What’s wrong with you! You know I’m injured!” Law’s voice was filled with annoyance.

Both Zoro and I exchanged a knowing look before turning back to the scene in front of us. “I’m starting to think that you want us all killed,” Law grumbled, still in his sea prism handcuffs. “Laughing at Pika’s voice is a death sentence on its own.”

“Well, his voice was kind of funny,” I said, giggling despite the situation.

“That stone bastard is something else,” Zoro said, scratching his head. “Damn, never thought we’d see someone bigger than Oars, but here we are. How am I supposed to fight someone that size?”

Just then, both Zoro and I sensed a new presence approaching. “Strawhat,” a voice called out. We turned around to see a figure approaching.

“Cabbage!” Luffy exclaimed, recognizing him.

“Cabbage?” I muttered, puzzled by the name.

The man’s eyes narrowed as he looked at each of us. “Pirate Hunter Zoro, I presume? Trafalgar Law, is it?” He eyed Law with disdain. “And you,” his gaze fell on me, “you’re the infamous Princess Y/N, aren’t you?”

Before I could react, he pulled out his blade and made a move towards me. My eyes widened in shock, but Zoro was faster. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of harm’s way just in time.

“You worst generation scoundrels!” the man spat, his anger palpable. “Why do you steal all the glory from me!”

Zoro’s grip on my arm was firm but reassuring, and I glanced at him gratefully.

“Stop yelling! Got a beef with my crewmates or something?!” Luffy shouted, his usual carefree demeanor overshadowed by the seriousness of the situation.

“I’m not in your crew!,” Law snapped back, clearly irritated.

“Let me guess, you still have a grudge against us?” Luffy asked, crossing his arms.

“You’re wrong,” Cabbage said, his tone unexpectedly calm. “I shall no longer be a threat to the Straw Hats.”

“You sure about that? Because that dent on the ground says otherwise,” I said, pulling away from Zoro’s embrace.

Cabbage’s eyes softened, and he continued, “It’s because of your brave crewmate, God Usopp. He selflessly saved me from a life of doom and gloom.”

“Usopp did that?” Zoro asked, clearly surprised. “Are you talking about the same Usopp we know?” I said.

“That’s right,” Cabbage affirmed with a nod. “I won’t forget his valiant deed. He spared the lives of hundreds… or so it’s been rumored.”

Luffy scratched his head and smiled, “Well, thanks! It’s nice to hear you compliment my crew!”

“Oh, also Trafalgar,” Cabbage said, pulling out Law’s hat. “I happened upon it outside of the Colosseum. I’m sure you’ve been longing for it... lend me your head for a second!” Cabbage’s eyes were menacing as he eyed Law.

“Get away from me! I don’t trust you!” Law retorted, trying to move away.

“I’ll take that!” I said, stepping forward and yanking the hat from Cabbage’s hand. I made my way to Law and gently placed the hat on his head. “There we go, much better,” I said with a warm smile.

Law’s cheeks flushed as he looked at me, clearly touched by the gesture. “Thanks, Princess,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on me.

As I turned to face Cabbage, he continued, “As for you, Princess…” I rolled my eyes at the title. “Yes… Cabbage?” I said, unamused.

“You are just as lovely as everyone makes you out to be,” Cabbage said, stepping closer, causing me to instinctively take a step back.

He pulled out a rose from his coat and extended it towards me. “Why don’t you and I become an item? Just think of the press coverage—everyone would be talking about us, and the glory would come back to me.”

I took a step back, feeling a bit flustered. “Cabbage, is this really the time for this?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation polite while maintaining my distance.

Cabbage’s eyes sparkled with a hint of ambition. “Imagine the headlines: ‘Princess Y/N and Cavendish—the perfect match!’ All the fame and glory would be mine again.”

Before Cabbage could continue, Zoro stepped forward, his expression darkening. “Like hell it wont!,” he said, pulling me into his embrace once more. “You’re not touching her, not after what you just tried to do.”

“Listen, Cabbage, now’s not the time for declarations like that,” I said, trying to stay close to Zoro to keep Cabbage at bay. The tension between us was thick, and it was clear that Zoro wasn’t about to let Cabbage get any closer.

Law, still restrained by his sea prism stone handcuffs, glared at Zoro. “Roronoa, quit gripping Y/N like that!” he said, his voice tinged with frustration and jealousy.

Zoro tightened his hold on me slightly, his eyes never leaving Cabbage. “And why should I? After everything that’s happened, I’m not letting anyone near her.”

Cabbage’s eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and calculating interest. “How very protective of you,” he said with a smirk. “I’m sure the press would have a field day if they saw you like this.”

I could see the frustration on Cabbage’s face as he envisioned the fame and glory he could regain. “You see,” Cabbage said, “if you and I were seen together, the headlines would be all about how I’ve won the heart of the famous Princess Y/N. The spotlight would be back on me where it belongs.”

Zoro’s jaw tightened as he pulled me even closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Like hell it will!. She’s not some trophy for you to flaunt.”

Just as I was about to respond, Cabbage cut in with a smirk.

“Very well,” Cabbage said, “I have a busy schedule to uphold. My offer still stands, Princess.” He then shifted his attention to Luffy, who was watching the exchange with his usual casual demeanor.

“Aren’t you going to inquire why I’m so busy?” Cabbage teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“I’m good,” Luffy replied nonchalantly.

“Very well,” Cabbage said with a flourish, “I shall tell you all! I have decided to repay your debt by getting the head of Doflamingo.”

“What the hell!” Luffy exclaimed, his eyes widening. “No thanks, I already said this was my way of repaying Rebecca for the lunches she bought.”

“Seriously? You’re going head-to-head with a warlord over some food?” Law interjected, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration.

I slapped my forehead, watching as Luffy and Cabbage began to argue over who would get Doflamingo first. Cabbage went on about how killing Doflamingo would bring him fame and riches.

“He’s got a loose screw, I see,” I muttered to Zoro.

“Alright! Time to go!” Luffy declared, grabbing Law and lifting him with ease. “Let’s move, guys.”

With that, Zoro and I joined Luffy, heading away from the scene. We left Cabbage to his fantasies and delusions, focusing on the more immediate task at hand.

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