#no name for Miss Bee yet

[kaleidoru]

When Miele took up beekeeping for her job, she didn't expect THIS sort of job...

[simcardiac-arrested]

creamverse iterator oc lore masterpost

(LAST UPDATED: 14/08/24)

hi! so if you are a cream fan and a fan of my iterator ocs specifically, you might've noticed that i have been building a storyline around them. most of it happens on the @dj-wayback askblog, but sometimes it gets drowned out by other silly misc asks, and is simply just hard to find if you haven't been keeping up since the beginning so i have decided to try and write a (long) summary of what exactly is happening, what characters are important and what their backstories consist of 👍 make sure to check out the oc tags linked if you want to know more!! i will only be including story-relevant and important comics/animatics, but there are also other drawings that provide context and serve the story (along with just misc art of my ocs)!!

THE MAIN CHARACTERS AND THEIR RESPECTIVE BACKSTORIES:

No Way Back (he/him) (ref + toyhouse info here) is an Iterator who was created specifically to try as little as possible and to put no effort at all into solving the Great Problem. The Ancients thought that by being effortless NWB would actually end up solving it in the end somehow, but that's not what happened, and so his creators turned out to be quite disappointed in him, which resulted in him being blamed, neglected, and more. However, there was one Ancient, who, after finding out that NWB was a dissapointment (just like them), decided to befriend him. The both of them ended up being best friends, almost family, spending almost all of their time together and teaching each other new things about life. In the end, though, despite promising to never ascend and to always be there, Wade ended up leaving NWB along with the rest of the Ancients. Ever since then NWB has been pretty much alone, just making music and trying to still find meaning in life, all the while repressing his emotions regarding the Ancients (including Wade, too). Needless Separation (they/he) (toyhouse) is an Iterator who was created specifically to work as hard as possible and to put all their effort into solving all problems, not just the Great one. In the beginning, they were handling it just fine, even finding the time to indulge in art and many more things that they found joy in. However, after NWB's failure to provide any results, all of his workload got transferred to them, all because their creator was too prideful to let any other Iterators handle it. NS was obviously struggling to keep up with it all, which is when Waves decided to take matters into his own hands and make his creation more 'productive'. Waves ended up purging NS' memories, even those of skills they have taught themself, until all NS could think about was work. Waves ended up ascending before NS could truly fulfill any of his expectations. Ever since then they have been overworking themself to death, unable to come to terms with their trauma, instead blaming NWB for most of it. Wade (any pronouns) (ref here) was an Ancient who was never like the rest, who came from a traditional family consisting of her parents — Waves and Breeze — but hated everything about tradition. She was just a chill guy who wanted to get away from everything and to live the life she always dreamed of: by the sea, with her best friend, doing whatever they wanted. It has not yet been revealed why or how Wade ended up ascending and leaving NWB.

IMPORTANT SIDE CHARACTERS:

Weaving Tales (they/them) (toyhouse) is the senior of the Entwined Local Group. They are most concerned with NS and his overworking habits, even though WT chose to share some of their senior duties with him. Weaving also seems to always be worried about CD and FTA, although for vastly different reasons.

Cognitive Dissonance (she/they) (toyhouse) was an experimental model who caught a virus and basically ended up rebooting. Before that, her and NS used to be very close, although neither of them remember that now.

Fates Torn Again (he/she) (toyhouse) is a younger Iterator who, paradoxically, is both best friends with WT and has a secret vendetta against NS. Is it really just jealousy? Or is there something more to it? MISCELLANOUS STUFF:

NWB has a pet lizard, Slinky (who at one point got the Mark of Communication), and NS has a pet lizard-slugcat hybrid, 33. You can see more of those little guys on the askblog! Both Iterators are also part of an entire local group, who you can read about here — the characters from it will show up in the story and be important (specifically WT, CD and FTA, but others will also play a role). THE CURRENT STORYLINE: NWB opens his broadcasts and begins receiving anonymous messages. That's cool. However, after a bit, he starts getting messages about the Ancients, specifically about how they mistreated him. Which is not something he wants to think about! Ever! But everyone just keeps bringing them up, and NWB ends up having a breakdown over it, all his repressed emotions coming to the surface and making themselves known.

After he is forced to finally start unpacking his issues, he stops messaging NS — who, by the way, he's kind of enemies with! They're the entire opposite of everything he stands for, and he just thinks they suck, and they say they hate him anyway, so he usually only interacts with them to troll them or something (even though they both did share a few good moments together sometimes).

But anyways — he stops messaging NS, who, by this time, has gotten used to talking to NWB (and slightly started caring about him because of that, and started getting slightly worried because of the radio silence, but they'd never ever admit it). After fighting with themself over it, NS, with little warning, decides to contact NWB to see how he's doing, which results in, well...

So, now NWB has to deal with both the Ancients' and NS' bullshit (as well as some not-so-pleasant memories), and he crumbles under the pressure just a little bit. He decides to take a break from receiving messages (he goes to host the Iterator OC Swag Awards specifically, which you would think would be a non-canon event, but, err...) and instead lets NS take the wheel.

Long story short: they do not have a good time. Despite being painfully aware of the fact that they messed up, they try their hardest to avoid admitting it. In the end, after a panic attack regarding their past leaves them vulnerable, their conscience sneaks up on them and forces them to face everything they've been trying to ignore. NS doesn't take it too well and also stops responding to messages, even though they do still read them.

They decide to go to Weaving Tales, their mentor and close friend, for help, who tells them to own up to their mistakes and apologize. So that's what NS does. Or, at least, tries to do—it doesn’t go like they expected at all, but maybe that’s for the better? The both of them make up, in the end, a new start to their relationship. And—even though they do come across some bumps in the road—it seems to be the start of something good.

Well, keyword: seems. Because while NS is indeed trying to be better like they promised, and while they have fun answering messages together with NWB, they keep speaking out of turn. They come to the conclusion that, perhaps this one time, NWB isn't the problem, they are.

So how does NS deal with this information? They do some research on how to improve your relationships with people. And it actually works! Look! See? Or, wait, that's not right... Why does Wayback look so bothered? Could it be that Sep's self-improvement plan actually made everything... worse? Well, there goes that idea. But hey, at least now they know they should be (2% more) honest with each other.

...aaaaaaand that's where the story is currently at! congrats! !!! you now know what's going on in the cream iterator oc universe!!!!! i'll try to update this post as more stuff gets revealed so, er, check this out if you ever feel lost about what's happening? i hope i've explained everything well. like i said at the top of the post, i tried to include everything important, but there's still some stuff that is worth seeing!! so go look boy (plural)

[thedeadthree]

HEHEHEHE 🥀💌☺️🥴

[powdermelonkeg]

I'm a moron they have honey

I am researching an ungodly amount of fish cuisine facts for fictional fish dishes.

A Torilian quipper fish is based on a piranha.

Are piranhas edible? Yes.

Are quippers edible? Well, Waterdhavians eat them.

Cool. What about Tamrielic slaughterfish?

Based on...uh...well, in Skyrim, sockeye salmon in spawning season? Visually?

Is it salmon-like? Doesn't look like it. Seared slaughterfish is a white meat.

Alligator gar? It's got the teeth, size, white fillets, and poisonous (damage health) eggs.

Alright, let's go with alligator gar.

Alligator gar has a similar taste to lobster. Cool, got a baseline.

Hundur sauce is, as described by the creator of Forgotten Realms, a "tamarind and clam sauce, is medium-hot sour-sweet."

Do people cook piranha with tamarind? Internet says yes.

How about lobster? Several recipes for tamarind lobster sauce came up, so that's also a yes.

Clam? Can't find anything on clam sauce being used on lobster, BUT, clam is often cooked WITH lobster for pasta dishes. So I can assume they taste fine together.

All of this to find out if Gale Baldursgate could put homemade hundur sauce on the one fish Taliesin Skyrim will eat. To say nothing of if Tally would LIKE it, just if it would be remotely PALATABLE to anyone at camp.

(Conclusion: yes, it would be palatable. I would eat it)

Can Gale even MAKE hundur sauce in Skyrim, though? *checks replacements for tamarind* If he gets saltrice vinegar and some kind of brown sugar? Yes.

Where does sugar in Tamriel come from? Lavender dumplings are the only baked good in Skyrim that use moon sugar as an ingredient, so I can ASSUME the absence of it from things like apple pie and sweet rolls is intentional.

What else is there, though? All the other recipes have a distinct lack of sweetener to them. Am I supposed to believe the Nords like their snowberries wrapped in buttermilk biscuits? Or that sweet rolls are topped with bland milk paste?

Okay, well, Rare Curios adds in marshmerrow to the khajiit caravans. Let's see what UESP says.

"The sweet pulp of marshmerrow reeds is a delectable foodstuff, and when eaten fresh or prepared, it has modest healing properties."

THERE we go. THAT'S our sugarcane.

So, in conclusion, Gale can put hundur sauce on a slaughterfish, IF he has access to:

Clams

Slaughterfish

Saltrice vinegar (from a khajiit caravan)

Marshmerrow (from a khajiit caravan; both sugar and molasses)

I'm saying the "hot" part of the sauce comes from garlic and/or a smidge of fire salt.

The group is GOING TO CELEBRATE MIRMULNIR'S DEATH with FRESH WATERDHAVIAN CUISINE if it's the LAST THING I DO.

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking. 

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind. 

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?” 

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.” 

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back. 

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off. 

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted. 

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable. 

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing. 

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position. 

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world. 

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid. 

Not when you didn’t know he loved you. 

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.” 

His chest tightened. It was his fault. 

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.” 

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow. 

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.” 

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend. 

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him. 

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck. 

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough. 

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out. 

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence. 

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.  

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out. 

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips. 

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her. 

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes. 

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child. 

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t. 

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied. 

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant. 

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick. 

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?” 

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—” 

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.” 

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes. 

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked. 

“Oh, I—” 

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him. 

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.” 

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side. 

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar. 

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse. 

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead. 

“She’s burning up,” she whispered. 

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.” 

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.” 

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.” 

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you. 

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked… 

You looked as if you were dead. 

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope. 

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.” 

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him. 

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him. 

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.” 

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.” 

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.” 

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.” 

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…” 

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.” 

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left. 

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered. 

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders. 

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.  

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise. 

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again. 

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.” 

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.” 

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern. 

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.” 

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.” 

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms. 

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.” 

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.” 

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.” 

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?” 

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.” 

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?” 

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her. 

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.” 

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?” 

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.” 

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical. 

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.” 

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies. 

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else. 

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister. 

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.” 

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.” 

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around. 

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.” 

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.” 

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.” 

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer. 

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.” 

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again. 

“...Thank you. For being here for me.” 

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.” 

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings. 

-

Your head hurt. 

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes. 

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep? 

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand. 

You smiled. She came for you after all. 

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all. 

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly. 

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.” 

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood. 

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.” 

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?” 

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?” 

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.” 

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.” 

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.” 

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate. 

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have. 

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away. 

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?” 

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?” 

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.” 

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly. 

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—” 

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…” 

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this. 

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?” 

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.” 

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” 

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.” 

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?” 

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.” 

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.” 

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?” 

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.” 

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her. 

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.” 

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?” 

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.” 

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together.  “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted. 

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.” 

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.” 

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.” 

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!” 

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.” 

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced. 

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded. 

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.” 

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?” 

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?” 

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded. 

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.” 

“Mother—” 

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I assumed just as much, Mother.” 

-

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits. 

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it. 

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it. 

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger. 

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym. 

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her. 

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question. 

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.” 

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

“I had to see you,” Anthony said. 

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.” 

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.” 

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down. 

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship. 

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will. 

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes. 

“Is it true?” 

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?” 

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?” 

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded. 

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.” 

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?” 

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?” 

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?” 

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.” 

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?” 

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?” 

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.” 

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head. 

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.” 

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.” 

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?” 

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.” 

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.” 

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever. 

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet. 

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.” 

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.” 

“My lady, are you—” 

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.” 

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence. 

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself. 

You’d never felt so useless.

-

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

[natsaffection]

heyyy so i have this idea and i think no one can write it like you so yeah.

forced marriage between Natasha and reader in the present time. they both don't like each other because of this situation yk but with time they come around each other.

i know this is a really classic one but I've been thinking about this for a long time and sending a request to you seemed like a good idea considering your beautiful writing. but of course it's okay if you don't want to write it! hope you're having a good day!!! (or night idk😭😭) 💗

I see you. | N.R

Warnings: Forced Marriage for a Mission, a lot of arguments, Drinking, mentioned of sex while beeing drunk (both)

Word count: 6,7k

A/n: I hope it makes sense. I thought for a long time about how best to implement this scenario and found this solution to be the most plausible..(The beginning takes place before the invasion of Loki)

Natasha sat stiffly, her gaze sharp and unforgiving, fixed on the man sitting across from her. Nick leaned back in his chair, his one good eye studying her with an intensity that matched her own. “So, what’s this about, Fury?” Natasha’s voice was as cold as the steel walls surrounding them in the underground briefing room of the Avengers headquarters. She had been urgently summoned, pulled out of a mission briefing that had been weeks in the making, and the weight of this interruption hung heavy in the air.

Fury exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the sleek metal table. The silence stretched just long enough that Natasha’s patience nearly snapped. “It’s about alliances.” he finally said, his tone measured, as if he was still deciding how much to reveal. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we had our alliances sorted out. Stark has the tech, Banner is working on the gamma projects, and I’m ready to handle the intel with Rogers. What’s missing?”

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped together as if preparing for what he was about to say. “What’s missing is political stability. The kind that can’t be bought with technology or power. We need trust, and that’s in short supply these days.”

“Trust?” Natasha scoffed. “From whom? What aren’t you telling me?” He met her gaze, unwavering. “There’s a situation with Y/n.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. The name struck a nerve. You were no stranger in her world. Known for your diplomatic skills and sharp intellect, you were a key figure in international negotiations, often brokering deals that kept the world from chaos. You weren’t just a diplomat, you were a force, wielding influence in ways even Natasha respected. But that didn’t explain why you were the subject of this mysterious meeting.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Natasha asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion. Fury’s next words fell like a hammer. “You’re going to marry her.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. Natasha stared at Fury, waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right, Romanoff." Fury replied, his tone unyielding. “This marriage is the only way to secure the alliance we need. Your influence can grant us access to certain..resources and information that we desperately need. This goes beyond SHIELD, it’s about global security.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you think a forced marriage is magically going to solve all these problems?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy.” Fury admitted. “But this isn’t about love or personal happiness. It’s about necessity. We need a visible, undeniable alliance, something that other nations and organizations can see and recognize as a commitment. A marriage between you and Y/L/N would achieve that.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She was a soldier, a spy, a warrior..she had never allowed anyone to dictate the terms of her life, let alone something as personal as marriage. The very idea was repugnant to her, and yet..Fury’s expression told her this wasn’t just an idea, it was an order. The stakes were high, as they always were in her line of work, but this felt different. This felt personal in a way she hadn’t expected.

“And what makes you think she’ll agree to this?” Natasha asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t ready to show more emotion than necessary. “She’s already agreed.” Fury said, and Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “She understands how important this alliance is. She’s as reluctant as you are, but she knows what’s at stake.”

Natasha let that sink in for a moment. She didn’t know you well, but she knew of you, respected you even. You were someone who didn’t back down easily, who saw through lies and acted on your convictions. If you had agreed, then the situation was worse than Natasha had thought.

“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it. Fury’s expression hardened. “You won’t refuse. You’re too smart for that, Natasha. You know what’s at stake. You’ve always done what was necessary.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to be tied down by something as archaic as marriage, especially not to someone she barely knew. But Fury was right. She had always done what was necessary, no matter the cost. And this, it seemed, was just another mission, one that would require all her skills to navigate.

“Fine..” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to play the happy housewife.” Fury almost smiled, but it was a cold, thin smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Natasha’s mind raced as she left the cold, sterile briefing room. Fury’s words echoed in her ears, a reminder that her life was no longer entirely her own. As she walked through the corridors of the SHIELD headquarters, her footsteps echoed ominously, each step bringing her closer to a fate she hadn’t chosen.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Fury again:

Meeting with Y/N in conference room in five minutes. Be there.

No time to think, no time to prepare. Typical. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading to the designated room. Natasha arrived at the conference room a few minutes early. The room was empty, the lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the table. It felt oddly impersonal, a stark contrast to the gravity of what was about to be discussed. She stood by the window, staring out at the headquarters’ grounds, trying to gather her thoughts.

The door opened behind her, and Natasha turned as you entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored suit, exuding the same sovereign confidence that had made you a respected figure in the diplomatic world. But there was something else in your eyes. A hint of irritation, maybe even anger. Clearly, you weren’t any happier about this situation than she was.

“Natasha.” you greeted her with a curt nod, your voice cool and distant. “Y/n.” Natasha replied just as coolly. She crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill, her eyes narrowing as she studied the person in front of her. “So, I guess we’re getting married.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Looks that way. Not that either of us had a choice.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? If you and your people hadn’t been so secretive, we might not be in this mess.” Your face hardened, a flicker of anger crossing your features. “Oh, please. Don’t act like SHIELD is any better. You’re all about secrets and manipulation. This marriage is just another one of your little games.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed further. “You think I want this? To be tied to someone I barely know, just to fulfill a political agenda? Don’t kid yourself.”

“Kid myself?” You scoffed and took a step closer, your voice rising. “Do you think it’s any easier for me? Being forced to marry the Black Widow, of all people? I know your reputation, Natasha. You’re a manipulator, a killer. This is the last thing I wanted.” Natasha’s jaw clenched, her anger boiling up. “And what about you? You’re no saint either, Y/n. You’ve played your games, made your deals behind closed doors, pulled strings to get what you want. Don’t pretend you’re any better.”

Anger flashed in your eyes. “At least I don’t hide behind a mask of false righteousness. I do what needs to be done for the greater good, just like you. But don’t mistake necessity for desire. I have no interest in playing house with someone who doesn’t even know what trust means.”

Natasha felt a sharp sting of anger mixed with something else, something she didn’t want to name. “Trust? That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve built your career on deception. And now you expect me to believe you’re the victim here?” You stepped closer, your voice low and sharp. “I don’t care what you believe. We’re both victims of this situation, but if you think I’m just going to roll over for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Natasha’s anger flared again, her voice turning icy. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not here to make you happy. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We’ll play the part when necessary, but other than that, stay out of my way.”

For a moment, they stood facing each other, only inches apart, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Finally, Natasha turned away, breaking the tense silence. She moved to the table and sat down, forcing herself to focus. “Let’s talk logistics. The sooner we get this sorted, the sooner we can get it over with.”

You took a deep breath, regaining your composure, and sat down across from her. “Agreed. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s secure, and there’s enough space for both of us without stepping on each other’s toes. We can start moving your things tomorrow.” Your eyes narrowed. “Brooklyn? How convenient for you. Always need to have the home-field advantage, don’t you?”

Natasha offered a crooked smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m practical. It’s close to headquarters, and it’s safe. Unless you have a better suggestion?” Your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play the obedient spouse. I need my space, my own office, my own schedule.”

“Fine.” Natasha responded sharply. “I don’t want you around me all the time anyway. We’ll do what’s necessary to make this look real, public appearances, a few shared events, then back to our own lives.” You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. ��And what about the media? They’re going to follow us everywhere, looking for any crack in the facade.”

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll handle it. Stick to the script, and we won’t have any problems. There’s no need to make this more complicated than it needs to be.” You remained unconvinced. “You’re acting like this is so simple. But we both know there’s nothing simple about this.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened. “We don’t have a choice, Y/n. We do this because we have to, not because we want to.” Your jaw clenched, your voice turning icy. “Believe me, Natasha, the last thing I want is for this to work. But I’ll do what needs to be done. Just don’t expect anything more from me.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your mutual dislike hanging heavy in the air. This was going to be a nightmare..

In this silent moment, an agent came in with a pile of paper stuff. He sensed the tension immediately and just put it on the table and quickly left the room.

Thebtable was now filled with details on how your upcoming marriage would be presented to the world. It was an intricately crafted plan, covering everything from the official story of how you met to the timeline of your relationship and your behavior in public. Every detail had been meticulously planned by SHIELD’s PR team to ensure that the marriage appeared genuine.

You flipped through the pages with a grim expression, your fingers gripping the edges of the paper as if you wanted to tear them apart. “This is ridiculous..” you muttered, not bothering to hide your frustration. “They expect us to memorize a script? Like we’re actors playing a part?”

Natasha, sitting across from you, “That’s exactly what we are.” she said coolly. “This isn’t a real marriage, remember? We’re playing a role for the public.”

You shot her a sharp look. “I’m well aware. But this..” you gestured contemptuously at the file “is insulting. ‘Shared interest in global politics and mutual respect for each other’s abilities’? Really?” You read the lines aloud, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’re acting like we’re two diplomats who fell in love over a discussion on trade agreements.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you prefer they invent a fairy tale romance? At least this version is believable. It’s not like we have a real story to fall back on.”

You slammed the file shut with a loud bang that echoed in the small room. “We wouldn’t need to make anything up if we weren’t being forced into this situation.” Natasha’s jaw tightened. “No one’s forcing you to stay. If you have a better solution, by all means, let me know.”

You sighed in frustration, rubbing your temples. “You know as well as I do that there isn’t one! Fury made sure of that.” Natasha watched you silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Then we make the best of it. We memorize the script, play the show, and get it over with.”

You looked up at her, your eyes flashing with anger. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re used to lying, aren’t you? Playing different roles, lying to people’s faces. But this..this isn’t just another mission, Natasha. This is our lives.”

Natasha's eyes hardened at the accusation. "You think I don't know that? You think I enjoy being paraded around like a puppet? I've spent my entire life fighting for control over my own decisions, and now I'm being told who I have to marry. So don't act like you're the only one angry about this." Your lips pressed into a thin line, your anger momentarily softened by a flicker of understanding. "Then why are you so calm? Why aren't you angrier?"

Natasha exhaled slowly, working to keep her emotions in check. "Because anger won't change anything. We're stuck in this, whether we like it or not. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with it." You stared at her for a long moment, your expression softening just a little. "So we learn the script, smile for the cameras, and pretend we don’t hate each other?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her voice low and controlled. "Yes, we pretend we don't hate each other. But we have to make it believable. People will be watching us closely, if they sense something is off, the whole show falls apart. That means we need to know each other, at least enough to sell the act."

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident on your face. "And how do you suggest we do that? Some getting-to-know-you games? Maybe ‘Two Truths and a Lie’?" Natasha gave a humorless smile. "We start with the basics. We go through the script and fill in the gaps with real information. What's your favorite food? What do you do in your spare time? What’s your biggest pet peeve? Things that couples know about each other."

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "Fine. But don't expect me to share my deepest secrets."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She opened the file again and flipped to a page titled *Personal Details*. "It says here that you enjoy hiking and reading. Is that accurate, or did they make it up?" You rolled your eyes. "It's true. I like hiking when I have the time, and I read a lot, mostly history and politics, but they don't need to know that in detail."

Natasha nodded, making a mental note. "Good. We can work with that. Mine says I'm into physical fitness and strategy games." She paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Is there anything else we should add?" You looked at her thoughtfully before replying. "You like ballet, right? I read that somewhere." Natasha blinked, surprised by this observation. "Yes, that's true. Not many people know that."

"Well, it’s part of who you are.." you said, your tone less confrontational now. "We could use that." Natasha nodded, slightly impressed by this small concession. "Good. We'll add it to the list." You continued to go through the script, exchanging brief, factual information about yourselves, preferences, dislikes and childhood memories that could be used to support your fake story. But every answer was tinged with tension, each of you holding something back, building walls around yourselves.

After nearly an hour of discussion, you closed the file with a sigh and rubbed the back of your neck. "This is going to be a disaster." Natasha leaned back and crossed her arms. "Not if we're careful. We stick to the plan, stay on script, and give them no reason to doubt us."

You met her gaze, your expression weary but determined. "I just don't know how long we can keep this up. People will expect us to act like we actually care."

"We don't have to care." Natasha said, her voice cold and distant. "We just have to pretend we do." You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "And what happens if we slip up? If one of us says something off-script? We can't be perfect all the time."

"We won't slip up." Natasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're both professionals. We've been in situations far more stressful than this. We'll manage." You stared at her for a moment, searching her face for a crack in her ironclad facade. "You really believe that, don't you? That we can just fake our way through this lie without any consequences?"

Natasha's gaze remained unchanged, unyielding. "I believe we don't have a choice." The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your situation pressing down on both of you. This wasn't just about memorizing lines or putting on a good show, it was about maintaining a facade that could crumble at any moment, exposing you both to public scrutiny and potential danger. Finally, you stood up, your movements stiff with unresolved tension. "I guess we'll see, won't we?" Natasha stood as well, her posture mirroring yours. "Yes. We will."

The days passed in a blurred whirl of public appearances, each one a carefully staged performance that only deepened the rift between you and Natasha. Every event, every gesture, every word was meticulously planned, yet the underlying tension between you was impossible to ignore. The first major event you attended as a married couple was a high-profile gala, the kind of glittering affair where the rich and powerful gathered under chandeliers to sip champagne and discuss global affairs. Natasha had attended similar events countless times before, but never under these circumstances.

You wore an elegant black evening gown that accentuated your every movement, while Natasha was dressed in a sharp suit. As you walked into the ballroom, her hand rested lightly on your back, a gesture meant to appear familiar, but to you, it felt like a shackle. "Ready to charm the masses?" she murmured with a sarcastic edge as you entered the room.

The night was a marathon of forced smiles and carefully calculated interactions. You moved through the crowd like seasoned professionals, your hand never leaving Natasha's back as you met with diplomats and high society, maintaining the facade of a loving couple. But beneath the surface, Natasha could feel your simmering anger, mirroring her own. At one point in the evening, as you were cornered by a particularly nosy journalist, Natasha's patience was put to the test. The journalist smiled broadly and inquisitively as she fired off questions about your supposed whirlwind romance.

"How did you two meet?" the journalist asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Natasha suppressed an eye roll, but her voice remained smooth and warm as she responded. "We met at a diplomatic conference. We were both there on separate missions, but we kept running into each other. Things developed from there."

You seamlessly picked up the conversation, though your smile was a bit too stiff. "It didn’t take long for us to realize how much we had in common. After that, everything just fell into place naturally." The journalist seemed satisfied with the answer but continued to probe. "And when did you know it was love?"

You hesitated, your smile faltering for a split second before you recovered. "It wasn't just one moment. It was a lot of little things that made us realize we couldn’t imagine our lives without each other." Natasha forced herself to smile at you, her fingers lightly brushing your arm in a gesture meant to appear affectionate. "Yes, it was all those little moments that made it clear."

As the journalist moved on, Natasha could feel the tension in your posture, your hand pressing a little more firmly against her back, as if you were reminding her of your shared discomfort. "That was close.." you muttered as you both retreated to a quieter corner of the room. "We handled it." Natasha replied curtly, her voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what we do."

The rest of the night proceeded in much the same way, the two of you moving through the room, presenting the perfect image of a loving couple. But every touch, every smile, every word was carefully calculated, and by the time you finally left the gala, Natasha felt as if she were about to snap from the strain.

The ride back to your shared apartment was suffocatingly silent. The driver, a SHIELD agent, wisely kept his eyes on the road, leaving you both to your thoughts. When you arrived 'home', you immediately went to the kitchen to pour yourself a stiff drink. Natasha followed you, already on edge, her patience worn thin by the constant charade.

You turned to her, your expression hard. "You're really good at this, you know that? At pretending. It’s almost like it’s second nature to you." Natasha tensed as she heard the accusation in your words. "I had to be good at it. It's my job."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Your job. Right. I guess that's what happens when you're trained to be a spy from childhood. You learn to play whatever role is required." The words hit a sore spot, and Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Y/n. You don't know what you're talking about."

You took a step closer, your voice dropping to a near growl. "Don't I? You’ve spent your whole life being prepared for this, haven’t you? To lie, to manipulate, to make people believe whatever you want them to. This whole marriage..this whole act..probably means nothing to you."

Natasha felt her anger flare, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy lying about every aspect of my life, pretending to be someone I’m not?" You didn’t back down, your eyes burning with frustration. "But you're damn good at it, aren’t you? Must be all those years in that room. They made you the perfect little actress."

That was the breaking point for Natasha. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward and closed the distance between you. "You have no idea what the Red Room did to me. What it took from me. So don’t you dare try to twist that into some kind of compliment!" You stood your ground, your own anger flaring in response. "I’m not giving you a compliment, Natasha. I’m saying it’s terrifying how easily you slip into these roles. How convincing you are at pretending to care."

Natasha's breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You think I want to be convincing, huh? You think I want to be good at this? I’ve spent my entire life fighting to break free of what the Red Room made me, and now I’m stuck in another damn role..and it’s with you."

Your jaw tightened, your anger now tinged with something that looked like guilt. "Maybe it’s not just a role for you. Maybe you don’t even know who you are when you’re not on a mission." The words cut deep, and for a moment, Natasha didn’t know how to respond. But the anger was too strong, too raw to let go. "You don’t know anything about me. Nothing about what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to survive."

You both stood there, staring each other down, the air between you crackling with fury and unspoken pain. Natasha's chest heaved with the force of her emotions, her mind a whirlwind of anger and hurt that she could barely keep in check. You set your glass down with a sharp clink, your face tight with suppressed frustration. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know you. But it sure as hell feels like you’re more comfortable in this lie than I am."

Natasha turned away, her hands trembling with the effort to contain her rage. "Go to bed, Y/n." You didn’t respond, simply turning on your heel and leaving the room, your footsteps echoing through the apartment. Natasha waited until she heard the door to your shared bedroom close before she finally let out a shaky breath. She was too good at pretending, far too good. And that was the problem. Because despite all her skills, all the years of training and missions, this felt different. It felt personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and your words had struck a nerve deep within her.

As Natasha stood alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen through her facade in a way no one else ever had. The truth was, this marriage, this charade, was wearing her down in ways she hadn’t expected. And the more time she spent around you, the harder it became to maintain the mask she had worn for so long. She wanted to dismiss your words as just another argument, another clash of wills between two people who were forced into a situation neither wanted. But the truth was, you had hit on something she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. With a heavy sigh, she finally turned off the lights and headed to bed, her mind still racing. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up, but she knew one thing for certain. Whatever this was between the two of you, it was far from over.

The days that followed were intense, with both Natasha and you deeply immersed in your respective missions. Despite the tension between you, you had found a certain rhythm, maintaining your cover as a married couple while focusing on the tasks at hand. Your partnership was more functional than personal, efficient, strategic, and devoid of unnecessary emotional entanglements.

But that all changed when Loki appeared.

When chaos erupted in New York, the two of you were thrown right into the conflict, working side by side with the newly formed Avengers. The stakes were higher than ever, and there was no room for mistakes. You fought shoulder to shoulder, defeating Chitauri soldiers and securing key positions as you tried to save the city from destruction.

It was during one of those intense moments, after Natasha's confrontation with Loki, that everything changed. Loki had made it a point to bring up Natasha's past, the "red" in her ledger, the sins she had committed, the people she had hurt. He taunted her with names and events that Natasha had long tried to forget, using her guilt as a weapon to break her. The words were meant to destroy her, to make her doubt her worth, and they hit harder than any physical blow. But Natasha, the eternal professional, pressed on, using her pain as fuel to outmaneuver Loki and secure the information they needed. But the damage was done. The conversation with Loki had revealed more about Natasha’s past than she ever wanted anyone, especially you, to know.

After the battle, when the Avengers had won and the immediate threat had passed, Natasha returned to the SHIELD Helicarrier. The city was still in chaos, but the focus had shifted to recovery and rebuilding. Natasha was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the weight of Loki's words hanging over her like a dark cloud.

You had always had a keen sense for people, always quick to pick up on the smallest changes in mood or behavior. It was one of the reasons you were so good at your job. But now that sharp intuition was focused on Natasha, and it made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

After debriefing with Fury, Natasha retreated to the quiet of your shared apartment, hoping to find a moment of peace. She had barely sat down on the edge of the bed when she heard the door open behind her.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, cautious, as you entered the room. Natasha didn’t turn around, but she could feel your probing gaze on her.

“What is it, Y/n?” Natasha’s tone was curt. She was too tired for this conversation, too drained to face another confrontation. You hesitated, the silence between you stretched out. “I..wanted to talk to you.” Natasha closed her eyes, bracing herself for another argument. “About what?”

“About Loki.” you said, your voice carefully measured. "We need to talk about what he said." Natasha’s muscles tensed, her back straightening as she tried to suppress the rising wave of fear in her chest. “I’m fine, Y/n. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That’s the point, Natasha.” you continued, taking a few steps closer. “I am worried. I know I’ve pushed you before, teased you about your past, but I didn’t..I didn’t realize it was something so serious.” Natasha’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. “I’ve already told you, my past is none of your concern.”

“But it is, Natasha!” Your voice was firmer now, the frustration evident. “We’re supposed to be partners, and I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Natasha finally turned to face you, her eyes narrowing as she stood. “You don’t know me, Y/n. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t ask for your sympathy, and I don’t need your pity.”

Your expression hardened, but there was a flicker of pain in your eyes. “This isn’t about pity, and you know it. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” Natasha snapped, her voice rising. “That I’ve done things I’m not proud of? That my past is full of blood and darkness you can’t even imagine?” You flinched at the sharpness in her voice, but you didn’t back down. “You’re right. I don’t know everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m trying to apologize, Natasha. For pushing you, for not realizing.”

Natasha stared at you, her anger battling with something deeper, something she didn’t want to name. “Why? So you can feel better? So you can feel like you’ve done the right thing?” Your eyes flashed with frustration. “No, damn it! I’m doing this because I care about you. Because, despite everything, I don’t want to keep fighting against you! Its draining..”

For a moment, you stood facing each other, the air between you charged with tension. Natasha felt her defenses beginning to crumble, the walls she had built around herself starting to give way under the weight of your words. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of her. “You want to know the truth?"

Natasha sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her knees as if she needed to hold herself together. “The Red Room..it destroyed me. It took everything I was and made something else out of it. Something that had no choice, no control.” You sat down beside her, but you kept your distance, respecting the space she needed. “You didn’t have a choice, Natasha. You were a child.”

“That doesn’t change what I did ” Natasha said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I killed people. Innocent people. And I..I enjoyed it, Y/n. Back then, I enjoyed it because that’s what they made me.” You reached out, placing your hand gently over hers, but you said nothing. You knew this was a moment where words couldn’t do much.

Her voice was soft and laced with pain. “The things I’ve done..the people I’ve hurt..you can’t just brush that aside. The Red Room wasn’t just training, it was torture, it was conditioning, it was turning little girls into weapons. I did terrible things because I was programmed to. Because I didn’t know any better.” She paused, as the memories came flooding back with painful clarity. “And even after I got out, even after I tried to make up for it, the past still haunts me. Loki knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to remind me of the monster I once was.”

You listened in silence, your heart aching at the pain in Natasha’s voice. “You’re not a monster, Natasha.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s easy for you to say. But you didn’t see what I did. You didn’t live it.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve seen who you are now. I’ve seen how hard you fight to do the right thing, how much you sacrifice. That’s not the work of a monster. That’s someone trying to make things right.” Natasha turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn’t matter what I do, and I can never atone for what I’ve done?”

You took her hands in yours. “You don’t have to do it alone, Natasha. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha looked down at your hands, the warmth of your touch grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. For so long, she had believed that her past was something she had to face alone, that no one could understand the shadow that had shaped her. But in this moment, with you by her side, she realized that maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. “For pushing you away.” You squeezed her hands gently. “I’m sorry too. For not seeing how much you were hurting.” You sat there for a long moment in silence, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift, replaced by something new..something fragile, but real. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was trust, and for now, that was enough.

The days after your late-night conversation were different, marked by an unspoken understanding that hadn’t been there before. Natasha and you continued with your missions, and the world was still recovering from the chaos of Loki’s attack, but something between you had shifted. Where there had once been tension and unspoken resentment, there was now a cautious, growing trust.

You moved around each other more easily, your conversations were less strained, your silences less heavy. The sharp edges of your interactions had softened, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that surprised you both. You weren’t friends yet, and certainly not lovers, but you were no longer just colleagues forced into a marriage of convenience. You were partners..genuine partners.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you returned to the Helicarrier and noticed the weariness weighing on Natasha. Her shoulders were slumped, and her usually sharp eyes were dulled with fatigue. But there was also something else, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, as if the burden she carried was now a little less heavy. “You look like you could use a break.” you said, your voice light but laced with concern. Natasha glanced at you, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. “You’re not wrong. This week has been hell.”

“More than usual.” you agreed. “How about we grab a drink? No talk about missions, just..a chance to unwind.” Natasha hesitated for a moment, her instinct to decline warring with the realization that maybe, just this once, she didn’t have to handle everything on her own. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

You headed to one of the quieter lounges on the Helicarrier, a small, dimly lit room where off-duty agents could relax. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was private enough to talk without the weight of your roles hanging over you. You ordered a couple of drinks, and the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, through which the vast, dark night could be seen. For a while, you drank in silence, the easy silence between you a far cry from the tense moments of the past.

“You know..” you began after a while, swirling your drink in your glass, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About carrying this burden alone.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze steady but curious. “Yeah?”

“I’ve just..been thinking about how we’re supposed to be partners in this, but we’ve been so focused on keeping our walls up that we forgot what that really means." you said thoughtfully. “It’s not just about watching each other’s backs in a fight. It’s about being there for each other when things get tough, when the past tries to drag you down.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I’m not used to that, you know. Letting someone in.”

“I figured..” you said with a small smile. “But you let me in, at least a little. And I want you to know that it meant something. It made me realize that maybe I haven’t been as fair to you as I could have been.” Natasha’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/n. We were both just doing our jobs.”

“I know.” you replied. “But still, I’m sorry. For pushing you, for not seeing how much you’ve been through. I was so caught up in the mission and the cover that I didn’t take the time to really see you.” Natasha took a sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol ease the tension in her shoulders. “You see me now.” she said quietly. “And that’s more than I’ve let anyone do in a long time.”

You sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between you relaxed and open. Natasha realized that it was a relief not to have to be constantly on guard, not to have to keep everyone at a distance. “You know.." you said after a while, your tone lighter, “I’ve been thinking that when all this mess is over, we should take a break. Do something normal. I hear married couples go on vacations.” Natasha chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I’m not sure we pass as a normal married couple.”

“Who said anything about normal?” you grinned. “We could do something out of the ordinary. Like..I don’t know, skydiving or rock climbing. Something that gets the adrenaline pumping without the life-and-death stakes.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you want us to jump out of a plane..for fun?”

You shrugged, a mischievous smile on your lips. “Why not? After everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to do something that gets the heart racing without our lives depending on it.” Natasha considered it for a moment, then smiled, a real smile, not the practiced one she used in public. “You know what? That actually doesn’t sound so bad.”

You clinked your glasses together, and as the evening wore on, you talked about everything and nothing. Trivial things like favorite foods and music, and deeper topics like your dreams and fears. The walls between you continued to crumble, and by the time you finally returned to your apartment, there was a new understanding between you. “Thank you, Y/n. For tonight.” You smiled back, your voice warm. “Anytime, Natasha. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, the words feeling truer than ever before. “We are.” As you parted ways for the night, Natasha felt a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the drink or the fact that she had survived another day, it was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. That for the first time in years, she had someone she could trust.

The following weeks were different. Natasha and you continued to work together, your partnership now stronger as the initial tension had eased. You were still far from being a typical married couple, but the foundation of trust you had begun to build made all the difference. One day, after a particularly successful mission, Fury called you both into his office. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a hint of something, perhaps approval in his gaze.

“You two have done good work.” Fury said, his voice even. “The mission was a success, and your cover held under pressure. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how this partnership would work, but you’ve exceeded expectations.”

Natasha glanced at you briefly, and you shared a small, knowing smile. “Thank you, sir.” Natasha replied. Fury nodded, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharpening. “That said, I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain the appearance of this marriage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Fury sighed, a rare sign of weariness passing over his face. “The situation has stabilized for now, but I have a feeling more trouble is on the horizon. You two have done your job well, but I’m giving you the option to dissolve the marriage if you think it’s the right move.”

Natasha felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify, regret? Uncertainty? She looked at you, searching your face for a clue as to what you were thinking. You met her gaze, your expression thoughtful. “I think..we should talk about it. See where we both stand.”

Natasha nodded slowly, a strange mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” Fury watched you both for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Take your time." With that, he dismissed you, and you left the office in silence, the weight of the decision heavy on your minds.

As you walked through the corridors, Natasha felt a sense of unease rising in her stomach. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to feel anything at the thought of ending the marriage. But now, the idea left a strange emptiness inside her. “So..” you said quietly as you reached your quarters, “what do you want to do?”

Natasha took a deep breath, turning to face you. “I don’t know." she admitted. “This started as a mission, as a cover. But now..I don’t know.” You nodded, your expression understanding. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

Natasha hesitated, then reached out and took your hand in hers. “But I know one thing. Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose what we’ve built. I don’t want to lose this..partnership.”

You stood there for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze, the air between you charged with unspoken possibilities. Finally, you smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. "I have a good Idea where we can talk further.."

The lounge was quiet, with only the occasional murmur of conversations on the other side of the room. Natasha and you had had a few drinks again, the alcohol warming your bodies and loosening your tongues. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you in a way it hadn’t before. The heaviness of your earlier tensions had lifted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate atmosphere.

Natasha took another sip of her drink, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She looked at you, watching as you swirled the last bit of your whiskey in your glass, your eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. Your words slightly slurred, “I never thought we’d end up here. Not like this.”

Natasha laughed, her own voice tinged with the effects of the alcohol. “Yeah, me neither. This whole thing… was unexpected.” You leaned back in your chair, your gaze fixed on Natasha. “But..I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad we’re talking like this.” Natasha felt a warmth spread through her, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Me too.” she admitted, her voice softening. “It’s nice…not feeling alone.”

You smiled, a crooked, slightly drunken smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat as she felt a surge of emotions she wasn’t entirely ready to name. “You’re not alone, Natasha. Not anymore.” There was a charged moment between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of your shared experiences. The alcohol had lowered your defenses, leaving you both more vulnerable and open than you had been in a long time.

Natasha set her glass down, her fingers lightly brushing against yours on the table. The touch was electric, sending a shiver of awareness through her. She looked up and met your gaze, and in your eyes, she saw the same spark of attraction that she felt. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you growing more intense with each passing second. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned across the table, and your lips met Natasha’s in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she responded to the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a way that felt both familiar and completely new. The kiss was tentative at first, an exploration of boundaries, but it quickly deepened as the need for each other became overwhelming.

Without breaking the kiss, you stood and pulled Natasha up with you. Your hands found each other’s bodies, exploring, touching, as you made your way out of the lounge and down the corridor to a quarter. Your kisses grew hotter, more desperate, as you neared the room. You fumbled with the keycard, finally managing to open the door, and the two of you tumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. As you finally made it to the bed, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was only the two of you, entwined with one another, your kisses hungry, your touches urgent. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only the raw desire for each other.

The night passed in a blur of passionate moments and whispered names, your bodies intertwined as you lost yourselves completely in each other. The connection between you deepened with every touch, every kiss, until there was no distance left between you, no more walls to keep you apart. When you finally fell asleep, your bodies were still entwined, your breaths mingling as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep. The alcohol had done its job, lowering your defenses and bringing you together in a way neither of you had expected.

The first thing Natasha felt as she slowly woke up was the dull pounding in her head. She groaned softly, turning over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself, trying to block out the morning light seeping through the curtains. But as she moved, she realized something was off, something warm and solid was lying beside her. She froze, her senses suddenly sharp despite the hangover. Slowly, she opened one eye and was immediately met with the sight of you lying next to her, your face turned toward her, still fast asleep.

Natasha’s breath hitched as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. The drinks, the laughter, the conversation that had unexpectedly turned personal..and then how you had ended up here, wrapped in each other’s arms. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to piece everything together. You had both been drunk, very drunk but that didn’t explain everything. How had you gone from reluctant partners in a forced marriage to this point? What had driven you to cross a line she hadn’t even realized you were approaching?

“shit." Natasha muttered quietly, careful not to disturb you as she tried to extricate herself from the sheets. But as she moved, you stirred beside her, your eyes slowly fluttering open. For a moment, you both simply stared at each other, your expressions mirroring the shock and confusion that Natasha was feeling. “Morning.” you finally said, your voice rough and uncertain.

“Morning.” Natasha echoed, her voice just as hesitant. There was a long, awkward silence as you both tried to process the situation. Natasha could see the same questions in your eyes that were running through her own mind: How had this happened? What did it mean? And where do you go from here?

“I..uh..did we…?” you began, clearly struggling to find the right words. Natasha’s cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded. “Yeah. I think we did.”

You rubbed your hand over your face, slowly sitting up as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and alcohol. “Okay, so…how did we end up here?” Natasha bit her lip, trying to recall the details. “We were talking..had a lot to drink. And then..I don’t know. One thing led to another, I guess.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But at least we don’t have to invent any lies if someone asks us about our sex life now.”

You chuckled at her comment, and the tension in the room eased slightly. “True. It’s almost like we’ve fully embraced our roles now. Now that she's finished.” Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I guess we’re just overachievers.”

The laughter died down, and once again, the reality of your situation set in. Things had gotten personal in a way neither of you had anticipated. “So…what do we do now?” you asked, your tone more serious this time.

Natasha sighed, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “I don’t know. We could just pretend nothing happened, but… that feels like we’d be lying to ourselves.”

“Yeah, and we’ve done enough pretending to last a lifetime.” you agreed, your expression thoughtful. “But we also can’t ignore the fact that this all started as a mission. A mission where we were supposed to pretend to be in love, even though we didn’t really like each other.” Natasha nodded, the weight of that truth pressing down on her. “Right. And now we’ve crossed a line, and I don’t think we can just go back.”

You frowned, deep in thought. “But do we need to go back? I mean, we’ve been through a lot together, and… I don’t know. Maybe this was just..inevitable?” Natasha looked at you, searching your face for any hint of what you were really feeling. “Maybe. But now it’s complicated. We can’t just act like everything is the same as before.”

Your smile, “Hey, at least we’re dedicated to the mission, right?” Natasha laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “Right. We’ve more than fulfilled our duties.”

You both laughed, the tension between you beginning to dissipate. The humor was a relief, a way to ease the confusion and discomfort that came with waking up in each other’s bed after what was supposed to be just another night of playing your roles. But as the laughter faded, the reality of your situation remained. You couldn’t just laugh your way out of this, you had to figure out what it meant for you.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked again, your tone more serious this time. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to organize her thoughts. “We figure it out. No more lies, no more excuses. We take it one step at a time.” You nodded, your expression softening. “I can do that. One step at a time.”

Natasha felt a strange sense of relief at your words. This was new territory for both of you, but at least you didn’t have to navigate it alone. You had each other, and while it was still a complicated mess, it was something you could rely on. As you both got out of bed and began to dress, the weight of your new reality settled over you. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were in it together, and for now, that was enough.

“Hey, Natasha?” you said as you pulled your shirt over your head. “Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, your expression thoughtful. “I know this isn’t what either of us expected, but..I’m glad we’re here." Natasha smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Me too, Y/n. Me too.”

As you left the room and stepped back into the world, you did so with a new understanding of each other. You had started as reluctant partners, forced together by a mission, but now…now there was something more. Something worth exploring, even if it was still messy and confusing. The mission had brought you together, but it was your shared experiences and growing bond that would keep you together. And as you walked side by side, ready to face whatever came next, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something new.

[mononijikayu]

delicate — geto suguru.

Suguru glared at Gojo. “I’m not concerned, I just—” “Uh–uhuh, keep talking.” “I’m just some friend—acquaintance. Worried.” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, Satoru. I don’t know what you’re going on about. If I'm in love with them, shoot me.” Without missing a beat, Gojo grinned, “Bang.” He made a playful gun gesture with his hand and gave Suguru a wide grin. “Cupid’s bullets confirm!”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU!;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance,, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Getting Together, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Kissing, Profanity, Mention of Fighting, Mention of Bruising, Outcast! Geto Suguru, Popular Cheerleader!Reader;

WORDS: 6.9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i made this while thinking about what dynamic i wanted to see between cute couples. and here we are. this was supposed to be shorter too, but it ended up way way longer than 4k words. but im satisfied with this. i hope you enjoy!!! i love you all <3

ADDENDUM: i just found out gege akutami said jjk ends in five chapters and i just want to say that this is going to be hard for me since ive been a fan since 2019.

but i will say ill continue to write as much as i can for this story, enjoy the anime with you for years to come. im sad of course, but im thankful. im grateful for gege akutami for letting me meet his lovely story and his bountiful characters.

and of course because of him, i met all of you. i am very grateful. from beginning to end. i am crying but i am happy too. i love jjk a lot you guys. hugs and kisses to manga fans everywhere. lets hope for a happy end to the story we have loved 🥹🫶

main masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌌*ੈ𑁍༘⋆

YOU WEREN’T LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. You were the it-girl, so sought after. The shining star. You were the girl everyone wanted to be—effortlessly beautiful, charming, and the center of attention at Jujutsu College. As a cheerleader, you had it all: the admiration of your peers, the envy of others, and the kind of popularity that opened every door.

Everywhere you went, eyes followed. Whispers trailed in your wake, a symphony of awe and envy that only fueled your rise to the top. You were untouchable, your smile a weapon, your presence a force. Parties, events, and the campus buzzed with your name. Everyone wanted to be near you, to bask in the glow of your effortless charisma. But all of that came crashing down when you chose to stand up for what you believed was right.

The whispers got worse the moment they took to the locker room. One of the newer cheerleaders, a girl named Emi, was their target—shy, awkward, and an easy mark for their cruelty. You watched it unfold for days, biting your tongue, hoping it would stop. They were the same, the seniors who already graduated. You let them do it then, because you hoped they’d stop like the seniors did. But they did not. Instead, it went too far.

You looked at them for a moment, trying not to be obvious. This was going too far. The girl was about to cry, maybe she’d even get even more hurt. This is enough. You cannot stay and just stay silent anymore. Maybe it was the memory of your own first days on the squad, when you weren’t yet the queen bee, when you still had something to prove. Or maybe it was just a sense of fairness that you couldn’t ignore. But you knew that this had to stop. This has to end.

"God, Emi, you can’t even get a basic cheer right. Why are you even here?" one of the girls sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Emi stood frozen, her eyes welling up with tears. The other cheerleaders laughed, egging each other on, pushing her closer to the edge. You bit your lip, closing your locker with a loud bang, causing everyone to look at you. You could feel Emi’s eyes on you too, shaking with fear as tears fell from her cheeks. 

“Leave her alone, you freaks!” you said, your voice sharp as you stepped forward. “That is enough. She doesn’t deserve this. You’ve gone too far, even more than our seniors!”

They turned to you, surprise flickering across their faces before it morphed into mockery. You moved forward to the captain, eyes narrowed as you glared at her. You shook your head at her. “Just leave her alone. She’s a freshman. She doesn’t need your shit.”

“What, are you her knight in shining armor now?” one of the lackeys taunted, crossing her arms. “You’re supposed to be on our side, aren’t you? This is a tradition for us seniors.”

“I’m on the side that’s not full of bullies.” you shot back, your anger boiling over. “Being bullied doesn’t mean you should be one!”

“What’s your problem?” another girl snapped, stepping closer, her tone threatening. “She’s dead weight, and you know it.”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your temper in check. “My problem is that you’re all acting like a bunch of jerks. If you can’t see that, then maybe you’re the dead weight.”

The tension in the room exploded like a storm that had been brewing for too long. You could feel it in the way the air seemed to thicken, in the way eyes narrowed and lips curled into sneers. It started with a harsh word—one of those sly, cutting remarks that slid under the skin like a blade. But this time, you couldn’t let it slide. Not when it was aimed at Emi, the quiet girl who had been on the receiving end of too many of those slights.

You were on your feet before you even realized it, the words spilling out of you in a rush of anger and defiance. “What’s your problem? Why do you always have to pick on someone who’s done nothing to you?”

Your voice cut through the chatter, silencing the room. The others stared at you, shocked that you—of all people—would dare to break ranks. The lead cheerleader, the queen bee, glared at you, her eyes narrowed into slits. “What, are you her bodyguard now? Don’t act like you’re better than us.”

It was the spark that lit the fire. The room erupted into chaos as insults were hurled back and forth. You didn’t back down, not when they turned their barbs on you, not when they sneered at Emi. It all escalated so fast—too fast. Suddenly, hands were shoving, nails were scratching, and before you knew it, you were in the middle of a full-blown fight.

You could barely make sense of it all. The adrenaline surged through you, drowning out the pain as someone’s fist connected with your cheek, leaving a nasty bruise that would bloom later. All you could think about was protecting Emi, keeping her out of the fray, even as the world around you descended into chaos.

The chaos only ended when the coaches rushed in, their voices booming as they waded into the mess of tangled limbs and flaring tempers. They pulled you all apart, demanding to know what had happened, their faces a mix of shock and anger.

But it was too late—the damage was done. You could see it in their eyes, the way they looked at you now, like you were the problem. The principal was called in, and you found yourself standing in his office, staring at the floor as he lectured you about school spirit and the responsibilities that came with your position.

Your words fell on deaf ears. They didn’t want to hear about the bullying, about how you were just trying to protect Emi. All they saw was the fight, the disruption, and the girl who had gone from golden to tarnished in a matter of minutes.

When you returned to the locker room, it was like a slap in the face. Your things had been removed from your team locker, stuffed unceremoniously into a bag and left on the floor. You were no longer welcome. The cheerleaders, the same girls who had once been your closest friends, looked at you with cold eyes and turned their backs.

You had wanted to protect Emi, and now you were left with a throbbing bruise, a reprimand from the principal, and a cold emptiness where your friends used to be. But even as you walked out of that locker room, head held high despite everything, you knew you’d do it all over again. Because some things were worth fighting for, even if it meant losing everything else.

The next day, you found yourself officially kicked off the squad. Well, Emi was also kicked out too, but you were glad that she wasn’t at all hurt. That was what mattered. The news spread like wildfire, and the people who once idolized you now whispered behind your back. Your world felt like it was crumbling, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the biggest mistake of your life.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself sitting alone outside, trying to process everything that had happened. Emi had repeatedly apologized to you today, but you kept waving her off and told her to stay safe around school. It wasn’t really her fault. Maybe if you had acted much earlier, maybe Emi wouldn’t have had to go through the worst. Perhaps this was your punishment. This was what happened because of your inaction. And you feel like you deserve this. You deserve to be punished like this. You could only sigh.

That’s when you heard someone approaching.

“You know, I always thought cheerleaders were supposed to be a tight-knit group.” a voice drawled. 

You looked up to see Gojo Satoru standing there, hands in his pockets, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Guess I was wrong, huh?”

“Guess so.” you muttered, feeling the sting of his words even though they weren’t meant to hurt. “I’m sorry, have I met you before?”

“I don’t think so.” He says, removing his round sunglasses. “Have we met before too?”

“Don’t think so.” You admitted also, face scrunching in confusion. “I don’t meddle around with unpopular kids.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not unpopular.”

“Then why have I never heard of your name before?” You raised your brow.

“I don’t know, maybe you were too focused on being a cheerleader and me being a Digimon stan?” 

“Oh, so you’re a nerd!” You clapped your hands together. “That makes sense why I haven’t heard about you.”

He sighed. “You cheerleaders are cut throats, aren’t you?”

“I’m an ex–cheerleader now. Not really much of a cheerleader anymore.” You snickered. “Those pom pom waving mean girls, goodbye them!”

He plopped down next to you, stretching out his long legs. “So, what’s the plan now? Are you gonna go all lone wolf, or are you open to a new company?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why do you care?”

Gojo shrugged, his smile widening. “Because I’m curious about the girl who went from queen bee to outcast in one day. That takes guts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out a little bitter. “Or stupidity.”

“Or both, you know?” he agreed easily. “But I like guts. So does Shoko. And Suguru. And Kento and Haibara. You’d fit right in with us.”

“Fit in?” you echoed, not sure if he was being serious. Your face reminded Satoru of how Kento reacted to him asking to be his friend. 

“Yeah.” he said, leaning back on his hands, looking up at the sky. “We’re not exactly the most popular kids on campus, but we’re fun. And we don’t care about that petty stuff.”

Before you could respond, Shoko Ieiri appeared, hands stuffed in her lab coat pockets, a cigarette dangling from her lips. “You’re not bothering her, are you, Gojo?”

“Me? Bother someone? Never, Sho.” Gojo said, feigning innocence. “Just making a new friend.”

Shoko rolled her eyes and looked at you. “He’s right, though. You’re welcome to hang with us if you want.”

You hesitated, glancing between them. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shoko said with a lazy grin. “We don’t bite. Well, maybe Gojo does, but only if you ask nicely.”

You laughed again, this time more genuinely. “Okay… I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

As the days passed, you found yourself drifting away from the cheerleaders and into a new circle. It started subtly at first, with Gojo casually inviting you to sit with him and Shoko during lunch. Gojo’s easygoing nature made it hard to say no, and Shoko’s dry humor quickly drew you in. 

They didn’t seem to care about the drama that had turned your life upside down. Gojo’s bright grin and carefree attitude were a stark contrast to the cold shoulders you’d been getting from your former friends. Shoko, with her sharp wit and laid-back demeanor, offered a kind of friendship that felt refreshing, real in a way that the cheerleading squad never had.

Soon, Geto Suguru and Nanami Kento joined in. Suguru had a quiet confidence about him, a steady presence that was both comforting and intriguing. He didn’t ask about the fight or why you weren’t with the cheerleaders anymore. Instead, he offered a warm smile and an understanding nod, as if he knew without needing to be told.

Nanami, on the other hand, was more reserved. He didn’t speak much at first, but his presence was reassuring. There was a steadiness to him, a sense of reliability that you hadn’t realized you craved. He welcomed you into their group with a subtle nod, a small but genuine gesture that told you he saw you for who you were now, not who you had been before.

Each of them, in their own way, made room for you. They didn’t treat you like the fallen star or the girl with the tarnished reputation. With them, you didn’t have to pretend. You could be yourself—no masks, no expectations.And slowly, you began to feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time: belonging.

That afternoon, all of you were sitting together under a tree on campus, watching the world go by. Geto Suguru was in the middle of explaining something, his voice calm and soothing, while Nanami listened quietly, offering his thoughts every now and then. Yu was more excited trying to make friends with you than before. You think it's interesting, how this ball of sunshine saw you as some sort of superhero for what you did, even if you didn’t.

Yu Haibara, ever the sunshine in human form, plopped down beside you with a grin. “Hey, I heard about what happened with the cheer squad. Pretty badass, if you ask me.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of genuine friendship for the first time in what felt like forever. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing, but…”

“It was! You’re so cool, you know?” Haibara said firmly. “Standing up for someone who needed it? That’s always the right thing.”

“Besides, it’s just what it is, you know?” Geto added, looking over at you. He was smoking his cigarette roll, one he made himself. “You don’t have to be what you aren’t.”

“Yeah.” Nanami agreed, his voice steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not with us.”

You looked around at them—this group of people who had taken you in without hesitation, who saw you for who you really were, not just the image you had projected for so long. And for the first time in a while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As the weeks went by, you found a surprising sense of belonging with Gojo, Shoko, Suguru, Nanami, and Yu. They had become your new circle of friends, and their acceptance gave you a fresh start that you didn’t know you needed. They were a new sort of fun, a different kind of excitement that was worlds apart from the polished, high-pressure life you’d known as the it-girl.

With them, your days became filled with spontaneous adventures. Gojo was always dragging everyone to the arcade, where his competitive streak made every game feel like a high-stakes challenge. Shoko would roll her eyes at his antics but still join in, her laughter adding to the cacophony of beeping machines and cheerful music. Suguru, ever the cool-headed one, had a knack for choosing the perfect music stores to visit, introducing you to tracks that soon became the soundtrack to this new chapter of your life.

Nanami and Suguru were more reserved, especially at first. You could tell they were still feeling you out, trying to figure out if you really fit into their group. But even in their uncertainty, they made an effort. Nanami, despite his serious demeanor, would show up at the burger joints Gojo loved, quietly indulging in the greasy food and ridiculous banter. Suguru, with his calm presence, would often give you a slight smile or a nod, a small but significant sign that you were being welcomed, even if it was cautiously.

Yu was the glue that held it all together, his infectious energy and boundless enthusiasm pulling everyone along. Satoru was as enthusiastic as he was, but unlike him — Yu was someone that tried to keep everyone in good peace together. And he was good. He had a way of making you feel included, whether it was by handing you a spare controller at the arcade or making sure you got the best seat at the burger joint.

That’s just how it was with them. You didn’t have to worry about the petty dramas or the constant pressure to be perfect. With this group, it was all about the moment—the thrill of a high score, the taste of a greasy burger, the discovery of a new song. And you liked it. You liked who you were becoming with them.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, tossing a sugar packet from one hand to the other. “You know, you fit in with us better than you did with that cheer squad.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Are you saying I was too good for them?”

Shoko rolled her eyes. “Stop teasing, Gojo. You’re ruining the vibe.”

“Hey, I’m not!” Gojo argues as  his grin spreads, “Just that our new friend here is way cooler than they ever gave them credit for.”

You looked at Shoko, who was sipping her coffee with a look of amused tolerance, added, “He’s right. They were just too busy with their drama to see how awesome you are.”

Suguru, sitting across from you, offered a more thoughtful observation. He bit into his fries. “Sometimes, it takes getting knocked down to realize where you truly belong. You were always meant to be with people who appreciate you for who you are.”

Nanami, who had been quietly observing, nodded in agreement. “You’re a good blend with us, I think. We’ve had a lot of fun since you joined us.”

Yu Haibara, always the optimist, leaned in with a grin. “Yeah, and you’ve made things a lot more interesting around here. It’s not every day we get someone with your… spirit.”

You smiled, feeling a warm flush of gratitude. “Thanks, guys. I wasn’t sure where I’d fit in after everything that happened, but I really appreciate how welcoming you’ve all been.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time. It was a refreshing change from the pressure and pretense of your previous life. 

As the night wore on, Gojo suddenly stood up and stretched. “Hey, who’s up for a late-night walk? I heard there’s a new food truck downtown.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “You just want an excuse to get more snacks.”

“Guilty as charged.” Gojo admitted with a wink. “But you’re all welcome to join if you’re up for it.”

“Sounds good to me.” Suguru said, standing up and grabbing his coat. 

You looked around at your friends, feeling a genuine sense of contentment. “I’m in.”

“You feeling cold?” Suguru asked as he saw you stand from the booth. 

“A little—” He threw you his jacket, which you were barely able to catch.

“Put it on.”

“O–oh, okay.”

As you all walked together through the city streets, the cool night air filled with laughter and conversation, you realized how different this life felt from the one you had left behind. There were no superficial judgments, no hidden agendas—just a group of people who valued each other’s company and had each other’s backs.

Later, as you shared food and stories under the streetlights, you found yourself in a moment of quiet reflection. You had come so far from the popular girl who had been kicked out of the cheer squad. You were no longer defined by your past status or the mistakes you’d made. Instead, you were part of a new chapter, one where you were valued for who you truly were.

Gojo’s laughter broke through your thoughts as he tossed a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it with a grin. “See? This is what life’s about—good friends, good food, and not taking things too seriously.”

You laughed, feeling the weight of the past lift off your shoulders. “I couldn’t agree more.”

In that moment, you knew that despite everything you had been through, you had found something real and genuine. And as you walked beside your new friends, you felt a renewed sense of hope for the future, knowing that wherever life took you next, you would face it with people who truly cared about you.

But in that moment, Geto Suguru looked at you and thought to himself for a moment, just for that moment — how good happiness looks on you.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌌*ੈ𑁍༘⋆

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, HE’S NOT ONE TO TRUST PEOPLE EASILY. But coming from a rough place in life, it was something that can’t be helped. So, in the beginning, Geto Suguru had his reservations about you. He’d heard the rumors about the cheerleader who had once been the queen of Jujutsu College, and he wasn’t impressed. To him, you seemed like just another snob who was used to getting their way and couldn’t be bothered with anyone outside her circle.

When Gojo tried to blend you into the group, Suguru’s attitude was guarded, and for a good reason. So, he kept his distance and even interacted with you, he tried to be casual, trying to not get too deep into it.

He remembers what he said then — “I’m not really into the whole ‘cheerleader’ thing,” he’d said with a shrug. “Not my style. So they're still not my style either.”

You had sensed his cold demeanor but tried not to let it bother you. Instead, you focused on being yourself—friendly, outgoing, and always ready to lend a hand. You wanted to prove that you weren’t just the image people had of you. Even though you could still be rough in the edges with your personality, it didn’t stop people from enjoying your company. 

And over time, Geto Suguru began to see a different side of you. You didn’t just laugh at his jokes or offer superficial compliments, nor were you as stuck up as people make you out to be; you were genuinely kind and considerate. You had a really good way of making others feel comfortable, and it wasn’t long before he found himself intrigued by the real you, the one who went out of their way to help others despite their own struggles.

One evening, as the group hung out at a quiet park, you were sitting on the grass, talking animatedly about a new project you were excited about. If he was being honest, excitement was a beautiful color on you. And he thinks that he wants to see more of that in you. He could only sigh as he thought about how much you’ve occupied his mind. He shakes his head. Suguru looks above the sky, trying to distract himself while Satoru spoke to everyone about his new date. 

“You know, Suguru.” you said, glancing over at him, snapping him back to reality. “I really appreciate how you’ve been around lately. And how not awkward it is between us now. It means a lot to me.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “I’m just here because Gojo dragged me along. Don’t get any ideas.”

You laughed, unfazed. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be. I guess we’re not so different after all.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe. But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here because I have to be.”

Despite his words, you noticed subtle changes in his behavior. He was more engaged in conversations around you, his smiles more frequent, and he’d even started teasing you back. You found yourself drawn to him more and more, your feelings shifting from admiration to something deeper. The way he would look at you, even with his usual aloofness, made your heart race. 

After a particularly lively conversation about your favorite books, Suguru caught you off guard with a rare moment of vulnerability. He looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. 

“You’re really persistent, you know that?” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t think I’d be saying this, but you’ve managed to get under my skin.”

You grinned, feeling a rush of hope. “Is that a good thing?”

Suguru looked away, his expression turning more serious. “I’m not sure. I told myself I’d just tolerate you, but… the more I hang around, the harder it is to keep my distance.”

He was fighting it, trying to convince himself that his growing feelings for you were nothing more than an annoyance. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” he continued, frustration evident in his voice. “But I’m not someone who easily changes his mind. So don’t expect too much.”

Despite his words, there was a softness in his eyes when he looked at you, a clear sign that he was fighting a losing battle. The more you interacted, the more he found himself charmed by your genuine warmth and infectious enthusiasm. And he didn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know how to react to you.

You were infatuated with him, and it became clear that you wanted his attention—more than just casual conversation, more than friendly banter. You wanted to be the one who made him smile, the one he thought about when he was alone.

And though Suguru tried to keep his distance, you could see the cracks in his resolve. His stoic exterior was melting away, little by little, with every shared laugh, every meaningful conversation. He couldn’t deny the way he felt any longer, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

In moments of quiet, when it was just the two of you, Geto Suguru’s demeanor softened. He would catch himself gazing at you with an expression that betrayed his irritation with his own feelings. He was torn between his desire to remain aloof and the undeniable pull he felt towards you. As you continued to be your bubbly, charming self, Suguru found himself drawn to you more and more, fighting a battle he wasn’t sure he wanted to win.

The house party was in full swing by the time you and your friends arrived. The sorority house was buzzing with energy, and the crowd was a mix of familiar faces and new ones. You were excited to be there, especially because you had a date with you—Mark, a guy you had been seeing for a few weeks. 

Suguru Geto, always the reserved observer, was there too, though he seemed more detached from the festivities. He had taken a spot near the snack table, his gaze scanning the room. When he noticed you with Mark, he gave a curt nod but didn’t say much.

As the night progressed, Suguru found himself cornered by Mark, who was chatting animatedly with a group of people. You had gone off to mingle with others, leaving Mark to his own devices. Suguru, being the stand-up guy he was, decided to introduce himself.

“Hey, I’m Suguru.” he said, offering a polite smile. “So, what’s your story, bro?”

Mark took a swig of his drink and grinned. “Oh, I’m just here to have a good time, mess around, party hard. You know how it is.”

Suguru nodded, trying to make conversation. “Yeah, I get it. So, how long have you and my friend been seeing each other?”

Mark’s smile faltered slightly. “A few weeks. But, honestly, they're kind of a handful.”

Suguru’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his tone neutral. “Oh? How so?”

Mark shrugged, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. “They’re always so cheerful and in-your-face. It gets old pretty fast. And don’t get me started on their mood swings. Sometimes they’re all sunshine and other times, they’re just… exhausting.”

Suguru’s smile faltered, and he could feel a simmering anger rising. “I wouldn’t say that. They’re actually really kind and caring. Maybe they’re just passionate around you.”

Mark snorted. “Passionate? More like over–dramatic. You must be used to it, though, considering you hang out with them.”

Suguru’s jaw tightened. “I think you should stop talking about them like that.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting. “Why? It’s the truth. You know, they could be a lot better if they just… toned it down a bit.”

Suguru’s eyes darkened as he took a deep breath. “Seriously, stop it.”

Mark continued, oblivious to Suguru’s mounting frustration. “They’re always making everything about themselves, always trying to be the center of attention. I don’t get why you’d even bother with them. They’re literally like….a bitch..”

Without warning, Suguru’s hand tightened around his beer bottle. He took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. “I said, stop.”

The tension in the room was thick, a simmering undercurrent that everyone felt but no one acknowledged—until Mark pushed too far. He had been needling Suguru all night, his criticisms growing more pointed, more personal with each passing minute. The rest of you tried to steer the conversation away, but Mark wouldn’t let it go, his words becoming sharper, crueler.

Suguru had been holding back, his calm facade cracking only slightly as he tried to keep his temper in check. But when Mark ignored him and continued with his relentless criticisms, something inside Suguru snapped.

In an instant, he moved. With a swift, fluid motion, Suguru swung his beer bottle, the action so smooth it was almost graceful. The bottle connected with Mark’s face with a sharp crack. The impact was immediate and satisfying, sending Mark stumbling backward as beer splashed across the floor, the bottle shattering in Suguru’s hand.

The room fell into stunned silence.

“Goddamn it, Suguru!” Shoko’s voice was the first to break the quiet, a mix of shock and exasperation. She stepped forward, ready to pull Suguru back if needed, though there was a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Couldn’t you have at least waited until he finished his drink?”

Nanami, who had been lounging in the corner, raised an eyebrow but didn’t move from his spot. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Shoko sighed deeply, looking around. “I’ll call someone to clean this up. And maybe get some ice for Mark.”

Mark, clutching his face where Suguru had punched him, looked up in stunned disbelief. “What the hell, man? You’re crazy!”

Suguru’s eyes were cold as he glared down at him. “No. I’m done listening to your crap. You should’ve known when to shut up.”

“You all are a bunch of crazy freaks! Especially that bitch!”

“You don’t get to talk about them like that!” Suguru said, his voice steady but filled with a cold edge. “Not on my watch.”

Mark looked up at him, a mix of pain and surprise in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just backed away slowly, still holding his nose. Yu came between them. “Hey, hey. Let’s all calm down, okay?”

Suguru turned on his heel and walked away, heading outside to cool down. He needed some fresh air and space to collect his thoughts. You, having witnessed the altercation from a distance, rushed over to Suguru, concern etched on your face.

You spotted Suguru standing alone in the hallway, his gaze distant as he tried to calm down from the confrontation. Determined to get some answers, you made a beeline for him, your concern and curiosity palpable.

“Suguru, what happened back there?” you asked, trying to piece together the events of the night. “Why did you hit Mark?”

Suguru glanced at you, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “It was nothing. He just… he crossed a line.”

“No,” you said, putting the pieces together with a sudden burst of realization. “He called me a bitch, didn’t he? That’s why you hit him. You hit him for me!”

Suguru looked away, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “No, that’s not—”

“Yes, it is!” you interrupted, your excitement and relief bubbling over. “I know I can be a lot sometimes, and I am a bitch! But you actually care about me. You love me, don’t you?”

Suguru’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he mumbled, “No…I didn’t…”

Suguru’s thoughts were still a whirlwind, his mind racing to process the events of the night and the emotions that came with them. He needed to clear his head, and talking to Gojo seemed like the quickest way to do that. He excused himself and quickly went back inside. As he entered the kitchen, the room was a stark contrast to the chaos outside—bright, warm, and filled with the comforting aroma of Gojo Satoru’s sandwich-making.

Gojo stood by the counter, casually assembling a towering sandwich with practiced ease. His movements were relaxed and carefree, a stark contrast to the tension that Suguru was radiating. He glanced up, taking in the scene with a curious, slightly amused expression.

“What’s going on, man?” Gojo asked, his tone light as he continued to layer on the ingredients. “I heard there was a bit of a commotion.”

Suguru tried to compose himself, but the frustration was evident in his voice. “Mark was being a complete jerk. He was bad-mouthing them, and I… I lost my temper.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “He was talking about them? What did he say?”

Suguru’s jaw clenched as he recounted the encounter. “He kept going on about how they are a handful and how they’re exhausting. He was just being really disrespectful. Even called them a bitch, mind you!”

Gojo’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise. “And you punched him for it?”

Suguru nodded, his gaze intense. “Yeah, I did. He wouldn’t stop, and I just couldn’t let him keep talking like that.”

Gojo’s expression shifted from amusement to genuine concern. “Are they okay?”

Suguru’s frustration softened a bit as he considered your well-being. “They’re fine. I mean, they did seem surprised, maybe in some way upset, I don’t know. But they’re okay. It’s just… I don’t like seeing them being talked about like that.”

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and understanding. “So, you’re defending them, huh?”

Suguru’s face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not just about defending them. It’s just—”

Gojo looked up from his sandwich-making with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, but is your lover okay?”

Suguru froze, caught off guard. “They are not my lover, Gojo.” he snapped, defensively. “They are just—”

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh? Then why’d you hit him? Seems like you’re more concerned than you’re letting on.”

Suguru glared at Gojo. “I’m not concerned, I just—”

“Uh–uhuh, keep talking.”

“I’m just some friend—acquaintance. Worried.” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, Satoru. I don’t know what you’re going on about. If I'm in love with them, shoot me.”

Without missing a beat, Gojo grinned, “Bang.” He made a playful gun gesture with his hand and gave Suguru a wide grin. “Cupid’s bullets confirm!”

Suguru stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you serious? This is not—”

Gojo laughed, clearly enjoying the confusion. “Just kidding, Suguru. You know I’m just messing with you.”

Suguru sighed heavily, his frustration giving way to a reluctant chuckle. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Gojo shrugged, still grinning. “Just having a bit of fun. But seriously, if you need to talk or if something’s going on, I’m here. Just don’t let things like this get you too worked up.”

Suguru nodded, a mix of relief and embarrassment on his face. “Thanks, Gojo. I guess I needed that.”

With a final, reassuring pat on Suguru’s shoulder, Gojo returned to his sandwich-making. He took a deep breath and went back outside. You were talking with Shoko when you noticed Suguru come back outside towards your way. You were about to speak when Suguru turned back to you. There was a softer, more earnest look in his eyes as he met your gaze.

He looked at you with a determination, his voice steady but kind. “Take your coat, doll.” he said, offering it to you. “We’re getting out of here.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden decision but relieved by the prospect of escaping the party. Without protest, you slipped on your coat and followed him out into the cool night air. The contrast between the cold outside and the warmth of the party was a welcome change, the crisp air a refreshing balm against your senses.

As you walked to the parking lot, Suguru’s silence was a comforting presence. His demeanor was calm and purposeful, a stark contrast to the turbulence of the evening. He led you to his car, and you both got in, the engine’s hum a soothing sound against the backdrop of the night.

Soon enough, you found yourselves parked in the lot of a nearby fast-food chain. The neon lights of the restaurant flickered against the dark sky, casting an almost surreal glow over the scene. It felt like a world away from the party, a simple, unpretentious refuge.

Suguru ordered a handful of burgers and fries, his movements deliberate and focused. You followed suit, choosing your favorites with a sense of familiarity. As you both settled on the hood of the car, the comfort of the fast food and the tranquility of the night began to ease the tension.

You took a bite of your burger, the flavors surprisingly comforting. Despite the simplicity of the setting, there was something deeply satisfying about the moment. “This is the best date ever.” you said with a grin, the warmth of the food and Suguru’s presence making the night feel a little brighter.

Suguru looked at you, a bemused expression on his face. “We haven’t talked in half an hour.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s nice just being with you, even if this doesn’t seem like much.”

Suguru looked away, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not as bad as going bowling.”

You blinked, puzzled. “Bowling? I didn’t know you liked bowling.”

He shrugged, leaning back against the car. “I do. It’s something I enjoy, and being with you is kind of like that—enjoyable and relaxing, even if it’s not always fancy.”

You tilted your head, contemplating his words. Then, feeling bold, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Suguru’s eyes widened slightly, but he responded, kissing you back with a tenderness that melted away any remaining tension.

When you finally parted, you looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips. “Not too bad?”

Suguru’s gaze softened as he met your eyes, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Not too bad.” he agreed, his voice warm.

You both shared a comfortable silence, the world outside the fast-food restaurant feeling a million miles away. As you finished your burgers and settled back into a peaceful quiet, you knew that despite everything, moments like these were what mattered most.

You and Suguru remained on the car hood, finishing off the last of your burgers. The night was crisp and clear, the occasional hum of passing cars providing a steady backdrop to your conversation.

“So, what’s your favorite part about bowling?” you asked, genuinely curious and trying to keep the mood light.

Suguru chuckled, a soft sound that warmed the chilly air. “It’s the combination of skill and luck, I guess. Plus, it’s fun to just throw the ball and watch it knock down the pins. It’s simple, but satisfying.”

You smiled, enjoying his enthusiasm. “Maybe we should go bowling sometime. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun.”

Suguru’s eyes twinkled as he looked at you. “I’d like that. I think you’d be pretty good at it. You’ve got a good arm from throwing those frisbees around at the park.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “You think so? I’ll hold you to that.”

Suguru wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “It’s a promise.”

The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and you snuggled closer, resting your head on his shoulder. The night was quiet, and for a while, you just enjoyed the peacefulness of the moment.

Suguru glanced at you, his expression softening even further. “You know, despite everything that happened tonight, I’m really glad we ended up here. I like these moments with you. They remind me of why I care so much.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the streetlights. “Me too, Suguru. It’s the simple things, like eating burgers and talking about bowling, that make me realize how much I enjoy being with you.”

Suguru gave a small, affectionate smile, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. “Sometimes, it’s the simple things that mean the most.”

You sighed contentedly, feeling a deep sense of connection. “I guess that’s true. And, even though tonight didn’t go as planned, it ended up being pretty perfect in its own way.”

Suguru chuckled softly, his gaze fixed on you. “Yeah, it did.”

You both sat there for a while longer, sharing soft kisses and quiet laughter, savoring the simplicity of the moment. The night air was cool, but the warmth between you made it feel like the coziest place in the world.

Eventually, Suguru shifted slightly, pulling you closer as he gave you a tender kiss on the forehead. “Let’s head back. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

You nodded, standing up and stretching as Suguru helped you off the car hood. “Sounds good. But we definitely need to plan that bowling trip soon.”

Suguru laughed, offering you his hand. “It’s a date.”

As you walked back to the car, hand in hand, the night seemed a little brighter, and the world a little warmer. The small, spontaneous moments were what made your time together truly special, and you both knew that, no matter what, you’d always find a way to cherish them.

[misaerabl]

Dead Girl Walking

(You do not need to watch Heathers to read this!) Ellie as JD and Reader as Veronica

Minors and Men DNI / Word Count: 9.4k words

SUMMARY: You just made the biggest mistake of your high school life: crossing the most popular girl in school. She was supposed to be your friend, but even you couldn’t ignore her ruthless, queen-bee ways. The fallout is inevitable—she’ll not only banish you from the social circle but will likely make your life an endless nightmare. Or worse, she might make you regret you ever dared to challenge her. Knowing that your time in this school, and maybe your life, is running on borrowed hours, you decide to do the unthinkable: live like you’ve got nothing left to lose. You’ve got 30 hours to squeeze every moment out of life before the storm hits, and there’s only one person you can imagine going to—Ellie. Something about her defiance, the way she breaks the rules but still outsmarts everyone, draws you in. If this is your last day, you’re going to spend it doing what you want, consequences be damned.

WARNINGS: the characters are fucking insane, fingering, use of those strap-ons where it's double-edged, referring to strap-on as cock and dick, slapping, aggressive sex, mentions of self-harm and suicide, murder, toxic characters!

A/N: you don’t really need to watch Heathers for these to make sense, but it does take place in the Heathers universe so it does help if you've watched/know heathers! Also to all the Heathers fans, this isn’t like on the dot completely the same as Heathers, of course. 

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The thump of the bass pulsed through Heather’s car as she sped down the dimly lit road. The night felt electric, charged with the promise of the unexpected. You leaned against the window, the cool air biting at your skin as Heather drummed her fingers to the beat, impatient as always.

A sharp turn of the wheel, and the car slid smoothly into a 7/11 parking spot. Heather didn’t look at you as she pushed a crisp hundred-dollar bill into your hand.

“Don’t take forever,” she said, her tone laced with irritation. “And get the sour cream and onion chips.”

You slipped out of the car, the chill of the night settling around you as you made your way into the brightly lit store. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in an artificial glow. As you grabbed the chips, your gaze drifted toward the register—and that’s when you saw her.

Ellie was there, leaning casually with a cherry-red Slurpee in hand, her eyes glancing lazily around the store. She was a walking contradiction—messy auburn hair in a half-up, half-down style, clothes that screamed rebellion, yet a calm confidence that belonged to someone who could take on the world. When her eyes met yours, her lips curved into a knowing smirk.

“Hey, Miss Ivy League,” she drawled, her voice a slow, teasing melody.

You felt a grin tug at your lips, despite yourself. “Ellie.” The way her name rolled off your tongue felt familiar and electric, like a spark you hadn’t known you’d been carrying.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

She took a slow sip of her Slurpee, the straw making a low, gurgling sound before she replied. “What, you think I only haunt alleyways and dive bars?” She quirked an eyebrow, the playfulness in her tone offset by something deeper. “Nah, 7/11s are where it’s at.”

You tilted your head, leaning into the banter. “Yeah? What’s so special about neon lights and convenience store hot dogs?”

Ellie chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Consistency. You know, no matter how messed up life gets, there’s always a 7/11 open at 2 a.m. A place that doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t judge.” She lifted her cup, swirling the ice around. “A brain-freeze that reminds you you're still alive, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

The way she said it, with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, made the moment heavy. For a second, it felt like she was letting you peek behind the armor, at the girl who needed the chaos to feel normal.

Before you could reply, Heather’s shout cut through the air. “Hey! I said move it!”

Ellie’s eyes flicked to Heather, and her smirk returned, more mischievous this time. She took another sip, then set the Slurpee down with an exaggerated flourish.

“Remember, Ivy League,” she said, her voice softening, “when the world tries to break you, sometimes you’ve gotta freeze your brain, just to feel something.” Her gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer, her expression almost wistful. “Build walls, but don’t let them lock you in.”

She pushed off the counter, slipping out into the night with the ease of someone who didn’t quite belong anywhere—and liked it that way. The glass door swung shut, leaving you standing there, chips in hand, with her words echoing in your head like the last note of a song.

As you made your way back to Heather’s car, the cold night felt sharper, the air humming with a feeling you couldn’t quite place.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

The party at Heather Chandler’s house is blindingly vibrant, neon lights casting deep shadows across the crowded living room. The air buzzes with music and gossip, a mix potent enough to make you feel on edge. You stick to the periphery, watching as Heather Chandler moves through her domain like a queen inspecting her court. Every smile she flashes is calculated, every tilt of her head a silent command.

Then you notice her—Emily Tran, a girl from your AP History class. She’s standing near the snack table, looking uncomfortable, eyes darting around like she doesn’t belong. You remember how she once lent you her notes when you were out sick for a week, her quiet kindness making a rough time a little easier.

Heather Chandler sweeps over, her entourage in tow, McNamara and Duke smirking behind her. Heather’s voice cuts through the chatter, sharp and loud. “Oh, look who decided to show her face here. Did you get lost on your way to the library?” she sneers, the words dripping with mockery. The girls around her laugh, the sound cruel and high-pitched.

Emily’s face flushes, eyes dropping to the floor as she tries to shrink into herself. Something inside you snaps. The sickly sweetness of Chandler’s dominance, her candy-coated cruelty—it’s too much. You step forward, voice clear. “Back off, Chandler,” you say, loud enough for those around to hear. The conversations falter, whispers bubbling up in their place.

Heather Chandler’s eyes snap to yours, narrowing into slits as the music’s beat pulses around you. “Excuse me?” she says, voice cutting through the tension. “Did you just tell me what to do?” The room collectively holds its breath, eyes darting between you and the queen bee.

“Yeah, I did,” you reply, swallowing the fear climbing up your throat. “You don’t get to treat people like that.”

Heather smirks, but there’s no humor in it. Her smile is hard, saccharine, like she’s gearing up to chew you up and spit you out. “Oh, look at you, little hero. Have you forgotten who made you into this? You’ve come so far, clawed your way into my circle, and now you’re turning on me?” Her voice lifts on the last word, as if she can’t believe you would dare.

The crowd gasps, a collective inhale that adds to the pounding in your chest. Heather Duke’s grin widens, enjoying the spectacle, while McNamara looks on with a raised eyebrow, more amused than shocked.

“Do you really think you can play in my world and come out clean?” Heather taunts, louder now, making sure everyone hears. “Because if you think this is over, you’re wrong.”

The room watches, anticipation crackling in the air. Emily’s wide eyes meet yours for a moment, gratitude and worry mixing together.

“I’m not scared of you,” you say, even if your voice trembles at the edges.

Heather lets out a sharp, cold laugh. “Well, you should be,” she whispers, leaning in close enough that only you hear. “Because once I’m done, no one will remember your name.”

With a wave of her hand, she turns away, leaving you standing there, breathless and shaken. The crowd splits to let her pass, the music picking back up as if nothing happened. People shoot you looks—some impressed, some sympathetic, but most afraid to even acknowledge what just unfolded.

The adrenaline only carries you so far. You push your way out of the suffocating room, past curious eyes and muffled whispers, until the cool night air hits your face. Your heart is a drum, thundering in your chest as you move down the dark, empty street, the confrontation replaying over and over.

You didn’t think. You didn’t plan. Your feet moved on their own, driven by the panic coursing through your veins. The fight with Heather left a gnawing emptiness in your chest, every harsh word, every sidelong glance, looping over and over in your mind. Thirty hours till Monday, till consequences came crashing down. You couldn’t tell if your life was over metaphorically or if you were teetering on the edge of something far worse.

But Ellie. She was the one person who made things make sense, who managed to pull you back from the spiraling mess your mind created. You didn't know what you expected from going to her house—comfort, distraction, maybe just to see a face that didn’t make you feel like the world was caving in.

As you stumbled into her neighborhood, the streetlights casting pale glows on the pavement, your eyes caught the lone tree leaning against the side of her house. You didn’t know why you chose to climb it, only that the ache in your chest wouldn’t let you just walk up to the front door. You scrambled up, bark scraping your palms, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just you and the rush of adrenaline. Each foothold, each rough branch digging into your skin felt grounding, tangible, and real.

At the top, you hovered by her window, the realization of what you’d done crashing in. You knocked softly, heart racing. The sheer absurdity of it all struck you; you hadn’t been to Ellie’s house before, hadn’t so much as looked up her address, and yet, somehow, you were here.

The curtain shifted, revealing Ellie’s face. Surprise sparked in her eyes before melting into worry, then something else you couldn’t quite place. She pushed the window open, her voice a whisper.

“What are you doing?” A smile flickered, half-bemused and half-concerned, tugging at the corner of her mouth.

You opened your mouth to speak, but words failed, caught in the mess of panic and exhaustion. You looked at her, the one steady thing left, and swallowed the tremor in your voice.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you admit, the tightness in your throat making your voice crack. You’re hyperaware of the seconds ticking by, of the clock that seems to be counting down the hours left until Monday—until everything Heather promised becomes real. But right now, in the glow of Ellie’s room, it feels like maybe the world can stop, just for a moment. Just long enough for you to catch your breath.

Ellie’s eyes shift, scanning your face as if reading every fear, every question you’re too afraid to say out loud. The look on her face—half worry, half resolve—reminds you why you came here, why you needed to see her. You need someone who knows the real you, someone who can ground you when the floor falls out from under your feet. And right now, Ellie is the only thing keeping you from breaking apart completely.

She steps back, making room as you slip inside. The glow from her bedside lamp paints her room in warm golds and deep shadows. Ellie crosses her arms, eyes searching yours. 

Without thinking, you move closer to her, your heart thudding louder with each step.

Ellie pauses mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you—?”

Before she can finish, you’re kissing her, your lips crashing against hers with a sudden urgency. It’s frantic, unexpected, and entirely out of nowhere. The shock in Ellie’s eyes is evident, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she stiffens, her hands hovering uncertainly as if she’s unsure of what to do with the sudden intimacy.

You pull back just a fraction, breathing heavily, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. “I—I don’t know why I did that,” you stammer, your pulse erratic.

Ellie looks at you, confusion flashing in her eyes. “How the hell did you even find my address?”

You blink, thrown off by her question. Of course, she’d wonder. You hadn’t exactly planned this. “I—uh—Student Files…” you admit, a bit embarrassed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s... kind of a weird story.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, her confusion shifting into curiosity.

“I—well, I helped Mrs. Turner with the student records for a while. She needed an extra hand with some administrative stuff, so she let me go through the files a few times. It was mostly just sorting things, but I guess I kind of memorized some of the addresses along the way.” You swallow, trying to steady your breath. “I—I didn’t think about it at the time, but when I got here... I just remembered yours.”

Ellie stares at you for a long moment, her lips parted slightly in disbelief. “You’re telling me you broke into my address book from some random school paperwork?”

You wince, feeling a rush of heat spread across your face. “Yeah, I guess that sounds bad when you put it like that.”

She snorts, shaking her head in a mix of disbelief and amusement. “That’s... honestly a little creepy.”

“I know, I’m not proud of it,” you say quickly, guilt bubbling up, “but I swear, it wasn’t like that. I just—needed to get away from everything. And you... you’re the only person who doesn’t seem like they’ll judge me for it.”

Ellie falls silent, her eyes narrowing, but not in anger. She’s just processing, trying to make sense of what just happened. Finally, she shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Well, I guess I'm stuck with you now. Might as well make the most of it."

You exhale a shaky breath, relieved that she’s not freaking out. The tension between you is still there, but somehow, it feels like something else is shifting, too—a kind of quiet understanding.

You’re both sitting beside each other on her bed now, the air between you thick with unspoken words. Ellie watches you, her gaze steady, but there’s a hint of curiosity behind it. The silence stretches between you two, the weight of the night pressing down on your shoulders—the fight with Heather, the pressure of the thirty hours looming over you. It’s too much to handle on your own, and in this moment, you need something, anything, to make it stop.

You could still back out, apologize, and explain that you didn’t mean to make things awkward. But you don’t want to. You don’t want to walk away from this feeling like you're still running from your own choices.

In one sudden, impulsive motion, you push Ellie back onto her bed. The action is quick, almost reckless, and she gasps, taken off guard as her body sinks into the soft sheets. You move on top of her, your hands still shaking slightly as you hold yourself above her. Her eyes widen in confusion, and for a moment, she seems unsure of what just happened.

The heat rises to your cheeks, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from her. For the first time in what feels like forever, you're not thinking about anything else. Your mind is too full of the chaos in your chest to focus on anything but this moment.

"What the hell?" Ellie breathes, her voice a little breathless, but there’s no anger, no rejection. There’s only surprise, and maybe something else you can’t quite place. She doesn’t push you away. Instead, she just stares up at you, lips parted, waiting for you to say something.

The room feels smaller now, the air thicker, and your pulse is pounding in your ears. You’ve crossed some invisible line, but you’re not sorry for it. You’ve gone too far to care about what happens next.

"I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore," you murmur, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I’m done trying to please everyone."

Ellie blinks, her gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something softer, but there’s a challenge in her eyes now, like she’s trying to figure you out. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks, voice quieter, but still probing, looking for answers.

But you don’t have one. Not really. All you know is that, in this moment, you want to feel something—anything—other than the fear and pressure that’s been crushing you. You need to feel alive again, even if just for a few minutes.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

You know exactly when it all started—the moment you first felt something for Ellie. It was in the cafeteria, and you’ll never forget it. Ram and Kurt, two of the biggest assholes in school, had cornered someone—probably just because they could. The usual bullying, the usual sneers. But then, for the first time, you saw Ellie.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t hesitate. Even when they tried to intimidate her, Ellie stood her ground, her voice sharp, her posture a quiet defiance. When Ram made the mistake of getting too close, Ellie didn’t back down. She swung a fist at him—hard.

You watched the whole thing, frozen in your seat, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the fight that caught your attention. It was the way she carried herself—the raw, unapologetic confidence she exuded, even in the heat of it. You weren’t exactly a fan of people who get into fights, but damn... in that moment, Ellie was something else.

Something that made your chest tighten, and for the first time, you weren’t sure whether you were scared or impressed.

One thing is for sure though, seeing that scene… Made you so fucking wet. 

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The moments were flooding your mind—those stolen glances, the subtle touches, the things left unsaid. They were all piling up on you, overwhelming you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. It felt like everything had led to this point: you, on top of Ellie in her bed.

Her breath hitched, and for a split second, everything around you froze. Your heart hammered in your chest, the rush of blood in your ears drowning out everything else. There was something electric in the air between you two, something that had been building for what felt like ages, but you hadn’t known how to recognize it until now.

Ellie was looking up at you, her eyes wide, lips parted. But there was something in her expression that you couldn’t place—was it fear? Or was it something else? You couldn’t tell, but you couldn’t pull away now. Not when everything felt so intense, so real.

You’d spent so many nights wondering what it would be like to finally be close to her, to feel her warmth, to understand what it was that pulled you in. But now that you were here, with her beneath you, everything—every little moment, every glance—crashed down on you all at once, and you couldn’t think straight.

Her hand found your shoulder, not to push you away but to pull you closer. The world around you seemed to shrink until all that existed was you and her, suspended in a shared tension you didn’t know how to escape. There were no words, just the raw intensity of the moment, the feeling of being trapped in something you hadn’t fully understood until now.

And just like that, all your self-control, all your attempts to hold back, evaporated. You couldn’t think of anything but her—only Ellie, and the pull between you two that had been simmering in silence for so long.

Ellie’s hand tightened on your shoulder, her eyes never leaving yours. The room seemed to grow quieter, the outside world fading into nothingness. You could hear her breath catch, a clear sign that she wasn’t immune to the weight of the moment.

“You’re going to be my last meal on earth, Ellie Williams,” you whispered, your voice raw and unsteady.

Ellie's eyes darkened with desire as she watched you fumble with the buttons of your shirt. Smirking, she reached up and tore the fabric open, buttons flying everywhere. "I hope you know this is going to create one hell of a mess," she breathed, her fingers trailing down your chest.

Ellie's hands roamed your body, leaving trails of heat in their wake. She hooked a leg around your waist, pulling you flush against her. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" she growled, nipping at your bottom lip. I've been wanting to do this for so long.

“I know. let's fucking break this bed… You won't be getting any sleep tonight you know?” Her eyes widen at your sudden boldness, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She knows you’re not the type to throw caution to the wind like this. Something’s different about you tonight—more raw, more desperate. Ellie studies you for a moment as if trying to decipher the shift in your demeanor.

"Has that fight with Heather really gotten to you this much?" she asks, voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

You can see the question hanging in the air between you, her eyes searching for the truth. “Do you really believe the Heathers would go that far? That they'd actually try to destroy you over something this stupid?”

Her gaze is sharp, unrelenting. You’ve always known Ellie as the type who doesn’t just take things at face value—she digs, pulls, challenges. But tonight, she seems almost... protective, as if she can sense just how badly this whole mess has broken you. You didn’t come here just to escape the night. You came because you truly believed your life was about to end. 

Nobody could control you. Not even yourself. 

You tossed your shirt away, lifting yourself off Ellie for a bit to slip off your panties. Ellie lifted her hips to help you push her pants down, kicking them off the bed. "You're so impatient,”

“I need you…” You leaned in and whispered in her ear, kissing her neck aggressively. 

Ellie moaned softly, her nails digging into your back. "Well, how can I resist such a request?" she purred, unhooking your bra. 

Ellie's back arched as you pushed two fingers into her, her body clenching around them, making her hiss at the suddenness. She nipped at your breast, her moans muffled by your curves.

Ellie's free hand reached down to join yours, her thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles as she fucks herself with your fingers. The sounds of her eating your tits and the wet squelching of your fingers in her pussy fill the room. “Fuck...fuck...fuck…”

Ellie's hips bucked against your hand, her breath coming in short pants. "Harder..." she hissed, biting down on your flesh. Her hand gripped your wrist, guiding you to that magical spot inside her. 

You started moving even faster, more aggressively, making the cheap bed squeak and move. You moaned as she sucked your nipples. 

Ellie cried out sharply as an intense orgasm crashed over her, her pussy clenching rhythmically around your fingers. She released your nipple with a gasp, burying her face against your neck. "Holy shit...holy shit…” 

You chuckle, staring at her as you lick your fingers. 

Ellie's eyes were glued to your mouth as you licked her juices off your fingers, her chest heaving. “You're...you're so hot," she stammered, her hand sliding down to cup you between your legs. She found you soaking. “My turn.”

Ellie pushed you onto your back, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she nestled between your thighs. She teasingly blew cooling air across your heated flesh, making you shiver.

"Make me—Make me scream so fucking loud, the neighbors will think we're murdering each other,”

Ellie winked mischievously. "Challenge accepted." She dove in, her tongue lapping at your glistening folds, probing and teasing. Two fingers plunged deep inside you, curling just right to hit that perfect spot. "Mmmm…”

Ellie pulled back, a strand of your juices clinging to her lips. She stood up, her eyes gleaming with a hungry intensity. “Why'd you fucking stop?” You asked. 

She smirked as she reached for her large strap-on, buckling it around her waist. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet. I'm just getting started." Ellie stroked the thick cock, grinning wickedly.

Ellie grabbed your legs, hiking them over her shoulders. She ran the head of the strap-on through your folds, coating it with your slick heat. She leaned forward, bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping your thigh.

Ellie slowly pushed forward, her eyes locked onto yours as she stretched you wide. "So...tight," she grunted, feeling you clench around the intrusion. "Relax for me, baby. You can take it." She leaned down to kiss you, muffling your moans. 

“Fuck yeah I can” 

Ellie smirked against your lips, slowly pulling back before slamming forward with a grunt. "That's it, fuck yeah," she panted, setting a hard, fast pace. The room filled with the slap of flesh and your cries of pleasure. "Scream for me,”

“Let me ride your cock…” 

Ellie pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your hands and knees before grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto the strap-on. "You want to ride, huh? Then ride," She sat back, guiding you to bounce on her lap as she held your hips steady.

Her hands tightened on your hips, controlling your pace as you rode her. "That's it, bounce that ass on my dick," She growled, leaning forward to grab your hair and yank your head back. "Look at me while you ride me, damn it.”

You were in shock at her sudden demeanor, but you fucking loved it. You stared into her eyes as you made pornographic noises, gripping the sheets… 

“Fuck I think you tore my mattress” Ellie chuckled darkly, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow as you tossed your head back. 

“Just get a new one…” You mumbled. “You're not fucking sleeping tonight. Make yourself useful for me, Williams!”

"Damn, you're insatiable tonight, aren't you?" Ellie smirked, gripping your hips tighter as she rolled her own, changing the angle of penetration.

"Fuck, just like that," Ellie panted, one hand snaking around to toy with your clit as she continued to relentlessly pound into you. "You're gonna make me cum, riding my cock so good like this.”

“Yeah…? Good.” 

Her words trailed off into a growl as her other hand grabbed your thigh, spreading your legs wider to accommodate her powerful thrusts. "Shit, shit, shit..." She grunted, her body tensing up as she prepared to erupt inside you.

At this point, the only thing you two could hear were the lewd noises you were making and the bed creaking. It's as if the whole town has disappeared.

For some fucked up reason all you could think about was…

“Slap me” You mutter under your breath. 

“What?” Ellie replied confused at your request.

“I said slap me!” 

Ellie's rhythm faltered, her brow furrowing as she looked back at you. "You... you want me to slap you?" She asked, her voice hesitant, checking for consent even in the heat of the moment.

“Yes! Come on just do it” You take her hands and lead them to your face.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was something you actually wanted, before finally giving in to your demand. "Fuck, alright..." She brought her hand up and slapped you across the face, the loud crack echoing through the room. "There?”

“Harder” 

Her hand came crashing down against your face again, harder this time. Her handprint was already visible on your cheek.

“Fuck… Yes!” You scream, tossing your head back, picking up your pace as you continue to ride her. 

She looked at you with confusion and fascination, her hand still stinging from the force of the slap. 

Ellie's eyes widened as she realized what was happening. A dark smirk spread across her face. "Oh, You're into that, huh?" She grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, exposing your neck which she bit down hard. 

You continued to bounce on her lap. Ellie's movements became more erratic as she struggled to keep up with your demanding pace. She slapped your face again, and again, each blow landing with a loud crack. "Fuck, what's gotten into you?!" She screamed, her voice hoarse from exertion.

Her grip on your hips tightened, nails digging into your flesh as she pulled you down harder onto her with each upward thrust. Her own breathing was ragged, punctuated by grunts and growls as she fought to maintain control. "Answer me... " She hissed through gritted teeth.

“I'm a dead girl Ellie… In a few hours, I'll be nothing but a memory” 

Ellie's face contorted with emotion. She wrapped an arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back. She loomed over you, her eyes filled with a mix of passion and determination. "Then we'll make these next few hours count," she whispered hoarsely.

With a fierce intensity, she began to move inside you once more. Her touch was both tender and demanding as if she were trying to brand the moment into both of your memories. "Look at me..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sounds of their joining.

Ellie leaned down, pressing her forehead to yours, her breath mingling with yours as she continued to fill you. Her hand wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing as she looked deep into your eyes. “Look at me…” She panted, her pace quickening as she neared her release.

Ellie's movements became more erratic, her grip on your throat tightening slightly as she felt her climax approaching. Her eyes, usually so fierce and intimidating, now held a vulnerability that took your breath away. "Fuck... I can't... I'm gonna…”

Her words turned into a guttural moan as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, her body convulsing as she found her release. The sensation pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your fingers digging into her back as you came undone beneath her.

Spent, Ellie collapsed on top of you, her weight grounding you in the moment as both of you struggled to catch your breath. The room was thick with the shared silence of heartbeats and whispered sighs. After a while, she shifted, rolling onto her side and pulling you into the circle of her arms so that your faces were inches apart on the same pillow. Her gaze found yours, unreadable yet intense, as though she were searching for an answer you hadn’t yet asked.

You let out a soft laugh, breaking the silence. “I should probably apologize to Heather, right?” Your words hung in the air, teasing, with a hint of guilt.

Ellie’s lips quirked up, but her eyes stayed serious, studying you as if memorizing each line of your face. “Apologize? For what? For not being a bitch like her?” She tilted her head, the question more genuine than you expected.

A silence settled between you, heavy but not unwelcome. Her hand brushed over your arm, fingertips tracing lazy patterns that sent shivers down your spine. The moment felt fragile like it could shatter under the weight of what was left unspoken.

“Maybe she’ll forgive me.” you finally said, voice softer now.

Ellie’s expression softened, the edge slipping from her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “What matters is now.” She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the touch lingering as if trying to convey everything she couldn’t say out loud.

You closed your eyes, sinking into the warmth of her, the world outside forgotten. Whatever storm awaited beyond these four walls, you knew you’d face it when the time came. But for now, in this stolen moment, the rest of the world could wait.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

The sun was still low in the sky when you pulled on yesterday’s clothes, feeling the fabric cling to you like a reminder of the night before. Ellie shot you a glance from across the room, a smirk tugging at her lips as she threw on her jacket and grabbed the keys to her dad’s old car.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice husky with the remnants of sleep.

You nodded, a tightness in your stomach as the reality of facing Heather settled in. The drive was silent except for the rhythmic hum of the tires on the road, Ellie’s fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel. You caught yourself glancing at her profile, the early morning light outlining the sharp line of her jaw. It stirred a strange mix of dread and comfort in you, like everything was about to change.

Heather’s front door stood slightly ajar, swinging gently in the breeze, as if even the house was recovering from the chaos of the night before. You exchanged a quick look with Ellie before climbing the familiar steps to Heather’s room. You knocked, the sound loud in the silence. A moment later, Heather appeared, her eyes rimmed with red, bleary with sleep. Her gaze shifted between you and Ellie, confusion furrowing her brow. Then, the realization hit—betrayal mixed with something darker.

“Why are you here… with her?” Heather muttered, her voice hoarse.

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Ellie before meeting Heather’s gaze. “I came to apologize,” you said, the words tumbling out quickly, awkwardly.

Heather’s eyes narrowed, skepticism battling the exhaustion on her face. She sighed, rubbing her temple. “My head is killing me,” she groaned, dismissing the tension for the moment.

“I’ll get you something for that,” you volunteered quickly, relieved to have an excuse to escape the weight of her glare. Ellie followed you down the stairs, her presence a familiar shadow at your back.

As you rummaged through the kitchen, pulling out random ingredients in a half-hearted attempt at a hangover cure, Ellie leaned against the counter, one eyebrow raised. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” she teased.

You shot her a tired smile. “Not even a little.”

She laughed, the sound sharp and unexpected in the otherwise quiet house. She spotted something in the cabinet, a bottle in her hand, her eyes glinting with mischief. “How about we give her this?” she joked, waving it like a prize, before pouring it into a cup.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly reached out, batting her hand away. “No, fuck, I’m not going to kill Heather,” you said, exasperated. You set the cup down on the counter, the tension in your chest loosening slightly at her playful grin.

Ellie’s expression softened, and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around your waist. “Relax, I was just kidding.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. Just grab the cup and let’s go.”

Ellie nodded, grabbing the cup without a second glance as you led the way back upstairs. Heather was still sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the cup Ellie handed her. She hesitated for a moment, eyeing it suspiciously before taking a long sip.

It only took a few seconds for her face to go pale. Her eyes widened in horror, and she gasped, a strangled noise tearing from her throat before she collapsed, crumpling to the floor.

Time seemed to stop. You froze, heart hammering in your chest as reality crashed over you in icy waves.

“Oh my God, Heather!” you shouted, rushing to her side, shaking her lightly.

Ellie stood frozen, her eyes wide, the cup rolling to a stop at her feet. The room spun, and panic surged in your chest. The weight of the moment hit you all at once.

You fumbled for Heather’s wrist, your hands trembling as you felt for a pulse, even though you knew Ellie had already checked. The silence that followed was deafening, pressing in on you like a vice. Panic clawed at your throat as you stumbled backward, staring at Heather’s lifeless body on the floor.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, voice cracking. “This is it. My future… it’s over. We’re screwed.” The words rushed out in jagged breaths, and tears stung your eyes.

Ellie dropped to her knees beside Heather, her face pale but composed, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “Hey, hey. We’re not doing this,” she snapped, looking up at you. “We’re not giving up.”

You shook your head, fingers running through your hair. “Ellie, she’s dead. There’s no coming back from this. We need to turn ourselves in and tell them it was a mistake. Maybe—”

“No,” Ellie’s voice cut through your spiral like a knife. Her eyes locked onto yours, fierce and unyielding. “That won’t work, and you know it. No one’s going to believe this was an accident, especially not with our history.”

You swallowed hard, her words sinking in. She was right. It didn’t matter that it was an honest mistake; nobody would buy it. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as the reality of the situation set in.

Ellie’s gaze flicked to Heather’s desk, cluttered with remnants of last night’s party—crumpled notes, an empty bottle, a pen lying askew. An idea sparked in her eyes, wild and desperate. “We have to make this look like it was her choice,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “We need a note.”

Your stomach twisted. “What? Ellie, no. That’s insane.”

“It’s the only way,” she insisted, stepping closer. Her hands found yours, squeezing tight enough to ground you, even in the chaos. “Listen to me. You’re good at this—you know how to make it look real.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you met her eyes. They were wide with fear, but steady with resolve. You pulled away, pacing the room as her plan took shape in your mind. The thought of forging a suicide note felt sickening, but the image of everything you’d worked for slipping away was worse.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, voice cracking as you reached for the crumpled notebook on Heather’s desk. You picked up the pen, your fingers numb against the cold metal.

Ellie hovered behind you, her voice a whisper in the silence. “We don’t have a choice.”

Your hands shook as you opened Heather’s notebook, filled with neat handwriting, doodles, and half-finished notes from classes you all shared. The sight of it twisted your stomach into knots. You glanced at Ellie, who was pacing behind you, her footsteps restless on the creaking floorboards.

“Write this down,” she said, her voice strained but sharp. “Something about how no one really knows her. How they only see her for her looks, her parties, but never who she really is.”

You nodded mutely, the words flowing from the pen as if it had a mind of its own. Each sentence felt like a betrayal, but you couldn’t stop. Your mind swirled with memories of Heather—flashes of her laughter, the way her eyes crinkled when she was truly happy. The notebook beneath your hands felt like a violation, turning those memories into something twisted.

Ellie leaned over your shoulder, reading the words as they took shape. “‘I just wish someone could see me beyond the mask I wear every day,’” she added softly, a tremor in her voice.

You glanced at her, and for a moment, you saw something in her eyes—vulnerability, maybe even regret. But she didn’t look away. She couldn’t afford to.

You finished with a trembling signature, one that mirrored Heather’s, your heart pounding so hard it felt as though it was echoing in your ears. The note was done.

Ellie exhaled shakily, stepping back. “This… this has to work,” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

You stood frozen, clutching the notebook like both a lifeline and a curse. The room felt colder, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, impossible to ignore.

The note sat on Heather’s desk, the ink still drying. You and Ellie exchanged a glance heavy with fear and silent understanding. Your heart hammered in your chest, every instinct screaming for you to run, to put as much distance as possible between yourselves and this room.

“Let’s go,” Ellie whispered, her voice tight, urgent. She grabbed your hand, grounding you enough to snap you from your stupor.

You stumbled out of Heather’s room, casting one last glance at her lifeless form sprawled on the floor. The sight twisted in your stomach, but there was no time to dwell on it now. Every step down the stairs felt like an eternity, the creaking floorboards and muffled noises from the outside world blending into a nauseating symphony.

As you reached the front door, morning light filtered through the glass, illuminating the remnants of the party—empty cups, forgotten jackets, a broken picture frame. You swallowed hard and pushed the door open, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

Ellie’s grip on your hand tightened as you both hurried down the driveway. She didn’t let go until you reached her dad’s car parked a few houses down. The two of you climbed inside, and Ellie fumbled with the keys, her fingers trembling as she shoved them into the ignition.

The engine roared to life, cutting through the morning silence as she pulled away with a jerky start. You couldn’t look back; you didn’t dare. The road ahead blurred as your vision swam, the reality of what you’d just done slamming into you with full force.

The silence between you and Ellie was suffocating, filled with all the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. Finally, after a long stretch of tense moments, Ellie spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“We’re going to be okay. We have to be.”

You stared out the window, the familiar streets of your neighborhood passing by like scenes from someone else’s life. The weight of the lie you’d just created pressed down on you, an unshakable truth that would follow you both, no matter how far you drove.

The car sped down the road, the hum of the engine doing nothing to drown out the thundering beat of your heart. You clenched your fists in your lap, knuckles white as the gravity of what had happened sank in. The silence was unbearable.

Finally, the words burst out of you in a shaky gasp. “What the fuck have we done, Ellie?” Your voice trembled, cracking under the weight of your panic. Admitting it aloud made everything feel too real, like saying it would bring everything crashing down.

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her eyes fixed on the road, but you could see her hands shaking where they gripped the steering wheel. She swallowed hard, taking a breath as her neck tensed. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice fragile as the morning light seeping through the windshield. “I don’t know, but we did what we had to.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes as you looked at her, searching for answers that weren’t there. “Had to? Ellie, we just—”

“Stop.” Her voice was sharp now, cutting through your panic like a knife. She glanced at you, eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. “If we break now, it’s over. We have to hold it together, alright? Just… just breathe.”

But how could you? How could you breathe when the weight of what you’d done sat so heavily on your chest? The road stretched endlessly before you, each passing moment taking you further from Heather’s house and deeper into a future you couldn’t begin to understand.

The silence that followed Ellie’s words was deafening, a chasm between you. Your vision blurred, and you turned your gaze toward the window, watching the neighborhood blur into smears of familiar shapes. Memories of Heather flooded in, each one twisting the knife deeper.

Heather Chandler. Larger than life, with her sharp sarcasm and effortless command of any room. The girl who annoyed you endlessly with her need for attention, but who had also shown up at your house with ice cream and a playlist of your favorite songs when you had a bad day. You’d shared secrets, inside jokes, late-night talks when the world felt safe.

Despite her flaws, Heather had always been your best friend. She could be self-absorbed, reckless even, but you knew behind the façade was someone just as scared and insecure as anyone else. She trusted you in ways she didn’t trust anyone else, and in a twisted irony, that trust now lay shattered on her bedroom floor.

A lump rose in your throat, guilt clawing at you with an intensity that was almost unbearable. “She was my friend, Ellie,” you choked out, your voice thick with grief. “My best friend.”

Ellie’s expression hardened, eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road. She didn’t say anything, and the silence that filled the car was deafening. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand; you knew Ellie well enough to know she carried her own shadows. But right now, understanding didn’t change what had been done.

Heather was your best friend, and now she was gone. A casualty of a moment that had spiraled so far out of control that you couldn’t even breathe.

Ellie’s eyes flared with frustration, and her hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles white. She snapped her gaze to you.

"Seriously?" she barked, her voice laced with frustration. "A few hours ago, you were freaking out about Heather trying to tear you apart. You thought she was gonna come after you, right? That she was out to ruin your life, and now you're losing your shit because—what? Because she’s gone?”

The words hit you like a slap. She was right. That’s exactly how you’d felt—like Heather’s rage was a ticking time bomb, and you couldn’t breathe without thinking she was waiting for the right moment to make your life hell. But now, everything was different.

Ellie’s eyes narrowed, her voice rising, becoming sharper. “We took care of that problem, and now you're acting like it’s the end of the world?” She laughed, but it was bitter, almost a sneer. “Are you really this worried about killing someone when a few hours ago you were terrified she was gonna ruin your life?”

The truth hit you like a cold wave. You had been consumed by fear of Heather’s wrath, so focused on her anger, so terrified she’d destroy everything you’d worked for. And now, somehow, she was... gone. Just like that.

But that didn’t make this better. It didn’t make it right.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. How could you explain to Ellie that, even though Heather had been a threat, she had still been your friend? How could you say that this was a mistake, an irreversible one, no matter how much you tried to justify it?

Ellie’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, colder now than before. “Make a decision,” she said, voice steely. “Either you're with me, and we handle this, or you lose it and ruin everything. No middle ground. Pick one.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. There was no turning back. You could feel the tension crackling between you, daring you to say the wrong thing.

You stared at her, at the frantic energy in her eyes, and for a moment, you almost wanted to pull away, to scream at her to take responsibility, to make this right. But deep down, you knew that would only make everything worse. And a part of you—the part that had once feared Heather—knew that sticking by Ellie was the only way to survive this.

You took a slow, shaky breath and met her gaze, locking eyes. You didn’t speak, because you both knew there was nothing left to say. The promise was unspoken, but it was there. Both of you understood it in the silence that filled the car.

Never again. That was the promise. No one could ever know. Not Heather’s family, not your friends, not anyone. This was the end of Heather Chandler—and the end of the lives you’d known before this moment.

You could feel it, the weight of it settling in your chest. But there was no way out now. So, as much as you hated it, as much as it twisted your insides, you nodded. The promise was sealed between you and Ellie.

A promise that would haunt you both... forever?

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

A week later, it felt like the whole town was playing a part in a twisted play where everyone pretended Heather Chandler was some tragic saint. In reality, she had been anything but. Heather’s smile was sharp, a weapon she wielded as easily as a laugh. She was untouchable, rich, popular, and cruel when she wanted to be—which was often.

But now, the school halls were lined with flowers, photos of her with wide grins and perfect hair, as if she had been everyone’s best friend. As if she hadn’t left a trail of bruised egos and whispered stories behind her. The memorial was set to take place in the gym, with its polished floor and banners that Heather herself had probably ordered others to hang while she stood back with a critical eye.

You sat at your desk, the speech paper in front of you nearly crumpled from the force of your grip. You were expected to speak, to stand in front of everyone and tell them who Heather had been. Not the girl who snapped at you during rehearsals or spread rumors just for entertainment. Not the Heather who wielded secrets like knives, knowing exactly where to cut. But the version of her that the school wanted to remember—sanitized and perfect.

"Heather Chandler was... complicated," you wrote, then scratched it out immediately. The truth couldn't live in this speech; it wasn’t allowed to. What people wanted, what they needed, was a story that fit their idea of her. A tale that made sense of the mourning, justified the tears. And so you wrote a lie instead.

"Heather was a leader, a voice that demanded to be heard. She pushed those around her to be better, even when it was hard to see."

Your stomach twisted as you read it back. It was true, in a way. Heather did push people—but only when it served her. And yet, the guilt coiled tighter, because even if she had been sharp and demanding, even if she'd hurt others more times than you could count, she hadn't deserved this.

Ellie’s idea to forge the note had seemed like the only way out that morning. You’d done it, hands shaking so hard you thought the pen might break. And now, that act hung over you both like a storm cloud, pressing down on every breath.

The knock at your door barely registered. "Sweetheart, it's time to go," your mom said softly, unaware of the storm raging inside you. You forced yourself up, folding the paper into neat, straight lines, as if by making it perfect, you could convince yourself that it was okay to stand up there and tell this story.

As you walked into the gym, eyes followed you, their faces expectant, tearful, pretending that Heather had been something more than she was. Your gaze met Ellie’s from across the room, and for a moment, the mask slipped—both of you wearing the same haunted look. You knew that as you spoke the words written in shaky pen strokes, the real Heather would remain forgotten, buried under a lie that bound you and Ellie together forever.

“Heather... was my best friend,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to make it believable. The gym was silent, the air thick with the weight of collective grief and whispered memories. You took a shaky breath, feeling every eye on you, watching, waiting. “I had no idea she was struggling like this.”

The tears that welled up stung, but they weren’t for Heather. They were for the guilt gnawing at you, tearing through your chest like a beast. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this. Because beneath the surface, behind the eulogy and the sympathetic nods from the crowd, you knew the truth. You knew that you were the one who had killed her—accident or not.

As the words spilled from your lips, painting a picture of a girl who was kinder, more misunderstood than she ever was, your throat tightened. You blinked rapidly, letting a tear fall, and from the murmurs and shifting bodies, you knew it had the intended effect. The speech ended with a final echo, your voice cracking at the right moment.

The teacher stepped forward, a solemn smile on her face, and spoke. “Thank you for that beautiful tribute. We know this is a difficult time for everyone. The school counselor will be available for anyone who needs to talk.”

You descended the podium, the weight in your chest pressing heavier than before. The applause felt hollow, a charade, just like everything else.

Ellie found you by the corner of the room as people began to disperse, some going up to lay flowers, others wiping tears. She sidled up next to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re such a good actor, you know that?” The words had an edge, sharp enough to make you flinch.

You raised an eyebrow, your expression hardening. “Those were real tears, Ellie. This... what we did... it’s eating me alive.”

Ellie’s smirk fell, her eyes narrowing. “She was a fucking asshole to you, to everyone. Maybe she deserved it.”

Her words struck you like a slap. Memories flooded back—the way Heather had humiliated you in front of others, the cruel jokes, the power she wielded like a weapon. But you shook your head, the panic creeping up your spine. “No, Ellie. Not like this.”

A shadow crossed Ellie’s face, and she looked away, her jaw clenched. The silence between you stretched uncomfortably. Then a thought slammed into you with such force that it made your stomach churn. That morning, before it all unraveled, Ellie had joked about giving Heather the wrong cup—the one with your experiment, the mixture that was never meant to be ingested. At the time, you’d laughed it off, thinking it was just dark humor.

But what if it wasn’t a joke? What if she hadn’t made a mistake at all?

Your heart raced, the blood thundering in your ears. What if this wasn’t an accident, but something much darker? You glanced at Ellie, whose eyes remained distant, a coldness settling there that you hadn’t noticed before. And for the first time, you realized you didn’t know her as well as you thought.

Ellie’s eyes, once so familiar, glistened with something unreadable as the tension crackled between you. She turned back, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, the gym, the memorial, and the hushed sobs around you all faded away. It was just the two of you, bound by the secret that threatened to suffocate you both.

“I would do anything to protect you,” she said, her voice low and steady, but with a strange, fervent edge. The words sent a shiver racing down your spine as if she’d just revealed a part of herself you weren’t supposed to see.

Ellie’s words lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and suffocating. You searched her face for any hint of guilt, any sign that she was as trapped in this as you were. But instead, there was a flicker of something else—something more complicated. Protective, maybe. Defiant. But not malicious.

The realization loosened something in your chest, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter if Ellie had meant it, if the poison had only been meant as a scare tactic, a mistake. The fact remained that Heather was dead, and the weight of that truth was too much to carry.

“It’s over, Ellie,” you said, your voice hollow, almost mechanical. The words tasted bitter, final. Her eyes widened, the mask slipping for just a second to show the raw shock underneath.

“What do you mean?” Her tone cracked, breaking through the confidence she always wore like armor.

You shook your head, stepping back as if the distance could somehow cleanse the guilt seeping into your bones. “I can’t do this. I can’t look at you and pretend everything is okay. We’re done, Ellie. I don’t want any contact with you anymore.”

Her face fell, the sharp edges softening with a kind of disbelief. “But I—”

“No,” you cut her off, each word like a knife. “I don’t care what your reasons were. We crossed a line, and I can’t come back from that. I don’t want to.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. For a moment, you thought she might argue, try to convince you that she did what she did out of love, out of loyalty. But instead, she nodded slowly, the acceptance stinging more than any fight could have.

“Fine,” she said, voice tight and low. “If that’s what you want.”

You turned and walked away before she could see the tears that threatened to fall again—this time for everything you’d lost, everything you could never take back.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

Part Two??

Tag List : @mimasroom2 @pixelllliess @elliessgfsstuff @abandonedstars1

A/N : okay guys it's like 1am and i have to wake up at 4 for school. I hope you guys enjoy this! (ps. i only tagged people who said they wanted to get tagged!)

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

More "Bumblebee and Optimus meeting as ✨Adults✨ but still being Father and Son" stuff I came up with, plus extra because I can't get these chuckle-fucks out of my head.

Link to my prev. post for context. incase yall missed it bc I'm not explaining myself, we're just diving right into the deep end

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

Bee knows Optimus isn't one for physical affection, and he fully understands and accepts that. He doesn't want to make Optimus uncomfortable by disrespecting one of his boundaries, that's just a shit thing to do. And Bumblebee is not a shit person. But... he's also desperate. Look, being deprived of physical parental affection your whole life fucks you up something good, let Bumblebee tell you, it makes you do some odd shit just to get a taste of what you've been missing out on. And! And most of the stuff Bumblebee has done are perfectly normal things to do! Plenty of casual stuff, leaning against his chair to look at what Optimus is working on, high fives and fist bumps (Optimus rarely, if ever, does these but for Bee he'll do anything just to make him smile, see Optimus acting totally normal about his feelings what are you talking about), leaning against him for a second when he's tired, totally normal! There are, less normal things, like when one of Bee's legs nearly got torn off on a mission and Optimus had to carry him back to base and Bee curled up close in Optimus's arms the whole time- because of the pain, totally 100% definitely only the pain that was Not mostly taken care of by some field anesthetics. It felt nice to be carried like a kid, sue him.

Getting injured is a special case with giving and taking affection. For example, when Bumblebee had to drag Optimus to a med bay after he passed out from a mission. They were walking into the common room together; Optimus was telling Bee he was fine when he CLEARLY wasn't because he didn't want to wake the medics for something as Trivial as THEIR LEADER and FREIND'S HEALTH (Bee is this close to strangling him) when Optimus just pitched over onto the floor.

Optimus, clearly tried and hurt: I will be fine, there is no need to wake the medics, I just need some energ... *faceplants*

Bumblebee: What did I say? What did fragging I say?! *Hefts Optimus's limp body onto his shoulders* fragging, stupid, slagging, moron, 'I don't need a medic, I'll be fine' he says, if I had been the one doing this, you would have torn the base apart getting the medics up, fragging idiot. *drags Optimus's body out of the room*

Optimus: *Mumbles something about not wanting to bother anyone*

Bumblebee: Too fragging bad, big man, you are going to take care of yourself and you're going to like it!

So now Bee has to drag a bot much bigger than him back down the hall and into the Medbay, just because Optimus was being fucking stupid. Yes it looks as funny as you're thinking. Optimus is semi-conscious but delirious as they make their way down the halls of the base and says "I don't want to take anything that would be better served helping any of you, I care about all of you so much I don't want to see you hurt. I love you." and Bumblebee's like Optimus, I feel so loved and so angry right now, but fuck what you want you're getting taken care of. No, you did not just make my fucking day, I lOve yoU tOo dAd-. He gets Optimus into the medbay on a berth then goes to forcibly wake the medics up to calm himself down because he is seconds from crying.

Optimus eventually gets better with affection, and now Bee gets a hug whenever he asks. He has yet to come down from this high.

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

Bumblebee calls Megatron his "Shit Ex-Stepfather". The entirety of team prime thinks this is hilarious. Even Optimus can't help but smile, though he tries to hide it. Someone, probably Jazz, changed Megatron's file name to "Worlds Worst Stepfather". After the war, if Megatron is still alive, he will mysteriously acquire some kind of award saying "Cybertron's #1 Worst Stepfather". He is very confused.

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

If you could get Optimus drunk, he would become such a sap. Like, insufferably soft and emotional. And he would be talking about Bee damn near the whole time. He would be so annoying.

Optimus: *Drunk* Did I ever tell you about Bumbl-bee? He's, he's my boy, my bumble boy, my gold'n boy, my buzzy boy, my sweet cheese. An, he's really yellow, you'll know it's him, he looks like- he's really yellow, it's hard not to see him, but he's really really good at sneaking. Even though he's so yellow. He can sneak around so good, no one sees him. I can see him, 'cause he's my boy. He can sneak around and nooo one finds him, 'cept me, 'cause he's my boy. He can hide so good, he hid under sshockwave's chest once. Riiiight under his eye, his big purple eye. Bee's so funny, he tells such funny stories. He tells his stories better then me, they're a lot funnier. I'm not good at funny stories. He's really good at it. He's really good at lots of things. Bee's so cool. I'm so happy he's here, he's so cool and funny and nice and cool. And he fights real good too, he's so cool. he once- Bee once punched my ex once, right in the face. Riiight in the kisser, just, boosh. My ex sucks, Bee's so cool. I like him, he's my boy. An-and he taught himself how to do aaaaall the cool things he does. He didn't have anyone to teach him, he did it all by himself. All alone... I wish I met him sooner, when he was small. He says he was really cute when he was small and I want to see him small. I like him big though, he's really fun when he's big. He's- *Sobs* He's my booooy, and I love him so muuuuch.

This continues for hours. Luckily he never drinks so no has to suffer through this.

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

If you thought Optimus was the Serial Adopter, you'd be wrong. It's Bumblebee. No bot is safe from his clutches. He scoops up family members like a pelican scoops fish. Optimus is barely aware of how many family members he technically has, he stopped keeping track a long time ago.

Bumblebee: *Bursting into the room dragging some bot he was on an extended mission with* OPTIMUS, I GOT ATTACHED AGAIN YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER FAMILY MEMBER

Optimus: *Not looking up from his data pad* That's great, son, go put it with the rest.

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

Optimus would be such a good grandparent. In the future, after the war ends, Bumblebee comes into possession of a kid; whether he finds someone and takes them under his wing or he just fucking makes one, I don't know nor care, but he gets a kid. And when he introduces them to Optimus, Optimus just fucking melts. He was already a huge softie before but he's so much worse now. He goes full grandma mode. He has snacks in his pockets (or whatever bots have) that he sneaks to the kid every time he sees them. He gives them money at random. You best believe he would destroy anything that even looked at his grandbaby wrong (Bee: Optimus, stop attacking the door. Optimus, the door just bumped them, they're fine. Dad stop, omp(rimus))

The "Bee finds a kid and both of them get attached and now are a family" is the funnier option. Because the kid knows who these guys are, they saved Cybertron. The kid's still getting used to having Bee as their guardian, so when they meet the 13th Prime: Holder of the Matrix of Leadership, Savior of Cybertron, they don't expect Dotting Grandparent Extraordinaire.

Bumblebee: and this is Optimus Prime. He's your Grandpa.

The kid : *nervous* He's my what?

Optimus: *on the verge of tears* mY grAnDbABy-

The "Bee made a kid" version is still pretty funny.

Bumblebee: *Exasperated* Optimus, give me my child back.

Optimus: *violently crying* nO, It'S mY bAbY nOW.

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

Imagine, if you will, Optimus and Bumblebee sitting on a roof together, not talking, not touching, just watching the sun set. Just enjoying the silence together, maybe with some energon to go with it. Because they get it, oh they get it. Sometimes you just need to be alone with someone. That good mutual respect and love from a found family that understands you. this is why I need bee to be an adult, I need both of them to be hurting and find some comfort in each other, to find solace in each other, to be a family and to be equals, is that too much to ask?

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

A list of things Bumblebee is allowed to get away with:

Interrupting Meetings to Tell Optimus Something, important or not (hi dad)

Casually touching the Usually Touch Adverse Optimus (Physical affection ftw)

Calling Optimus out on his self-sacrificial bullshit (you're going to see the medics and you're going to like it, old man)

Using the three points above to drag Optimus into the Medbay by force (Ratchet is so smug about this)

Getting Optimus to do something fun and relaxing (father son bonding time, as Bee says.)

Swearing aggressively (for everyone else it's unprofessional, for Bee its therapeutic. He stretches this excuse as far as it goes)

Making Insulting comments about others to their face (look they deserve it if the Perpetually Friendly Bumblebee is saying it)

Talking about Megatron (Usually team prime avoids talking about Megsy outside of war related convos out of respect for Optimus's history with him. Bumblebee does not give a shit, Megatron is a bitch and he's going to make his opinions known (Everyone thinks it's funny dw))

Illegal activities (this fucker street races in every universe, you think he isn't doing shit like this on the daily?)

Murder

Stealing/Sneaking snacks (he shares with Optimus)

Making jokes about Optimus being his dad (he thinks it's funny bc they're not related and they met like 6 years ago. Optimus explodes with emotion every time bc you consider me good enough to be your dad?)

Bee is a fucking menace, Optimus loves him so much.

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

Misc. funny word vomit I came up with that have no context, reason, or sense

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Optimus is working at a desk focusing on some data pads. A tiny energon cube flies into frame, bouncing off Optimus's forehead and landing on the desk. Optimus grabs the cube and eats it without looking up from the datapad. A few minutes pass, another energon cube flies and bounces off Optimus's head. He eats it without looking. Bumblebee is sitting off to the side in the room with Optimus with a bag of energon snacks, periodically throwing one at the distracted Prime. This is Bee's and Ratchet's newest scheme to get Optimus to actually eat, and it's working splendidly. (Actually, Bumblebee originally was throwing the energon onto the desk, but over time he got bored and started just throwing the cubes directly at Optimus. He hasn't noticed any of the cubes hitting him at all, so Bee's started trying to do trick shots.)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Bumblebee?"

"Absolutely, now throw me."

"Alright... Three, two, one- Ngha!"

*distant loud metal slam*

"..."

*distantly* "I'm good! We're in business!"

*quietly* "oh thank primus..."

*distantly* "Okay, I'm done. I'm coming back down."

"Wait-"

*distantly* "Hup!"

*loud crashing metal noises*

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's early morning, everyone got back to base late the night before. Everyone is tired. Optimus is sitting at the table in the common room, slowly drinking a cube of energon. His eyes are half open and bleary. Bumblebee is beside him, head in his hand, dozing. Bee's head falls from his hand and slams onto the table. Optimus doesn't even blink at the noise, just takes a sip of energon.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bumblebee takes a lot of pictures. Mostly of his team. He's pretty sneaky about it too, usually just taking a capture from his visual feed and saving it to his personal datapad. And at a glance none of the pictures are all that special, captures of a group of bots hanging out between missions, selfies of Bee and company on missions, drunken mishaps, quiet moments, he's got this really funny one of Cliffjumper stuck in a storage closet, but Bee keeps all these photos out of sight. The others are aware of his habit but they never see most of the photos, they never ask. Bee only opens his photos folder when ever he has a quiet moment alone and just scrolls through, reminiscing. His favorites are the ones where he caught someone's genuine smile. Sometimes they're in the background of a larger group shot, or it's just them smiling at Bee in conversation. He's got a lot of Optimus's smile. Optimus doesn't smile a lot, but he always seems to smile when Bee's around. Bee's proud that he can do that for him.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this could literally be anyone on team prime: *teasing* You playing favorites, Prime? Giving Bumblebee all this special treatment is making the rest of us feeling left out.

Optimus: You all treat him the exact same way I do.

again, literally anyone on team prime: ... Touché, Boss bot, touché...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After spending an extended period of time in close proximity to Megatron (for what ever reason), Bumblebee and Optimus talk.

Bee: You had terrible taste in partners.

Optimus: *sighs*

Bee: Physically, I can see the appeal, but everything else is a wild thing to say yes to.

Optimus: ...

Bee: His personality, his interests- just why none of that clocked you onto how fragged up he would be is beyond me.

Optimus: ........

Bee: You're not stupid, I hope that your next partner will be leagues better than him. Ratchet maybe, oh or Elita, they would make great partners (and even better step-parents), or maybe-

Optimus: CanwePleasestoptalkingaboutmylovelife??

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bumblebee: If you get back together with Megatron I'm disowning you.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BB: This is... so dumb.

OP: The higher I am the better I can see.

BB: You can- You can fly.

OP: Hush now Bumblebee! I am searching...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk man, brain rot hits something different when I think about it for long periods of time

[thesummerestsolstice]

A Birdwatcher's Guide to Rivendell - Expected Sightings

(Exerpt from Bilbo Baggins' A Hobbit's Traveling Companion)

Many species of singing finches, some of the color and kind of the Shire, but some of bright hues– dusty pinks, deep purples, and gentle greens– that I have yet to see anywhere else.

A great number of sweet-singing nightingales.

Ducks. For the avid birders among you I would recommend visiting in the spring and early summer to ensure you see the duckling season.

An exceedingly small type of shimmering bird which does the work of a bee and which the elves refer to as "hummingbirds." Feeders are set up for them around the valley and, with much patience and time, they can be convinced to eat out of one's hand.

A number of swans, both black and white. Very elegant, though best witnessed at some distance. One of these has silver feathers and often seems to be "laughing." This one you will find on certain days only, usually following Lord Elrond.

A small population of chickens. Apparently they were a gift to Lord Elrond, and intended to be eaten, but instead have become the collective pets of the valley. They are dark-feathered and, apparently, dark-fleshed, though I can't be sure of that last bit.

Addendum to the previous note about nightingales: there is one in particular, which sings much better than the rest, though much more sadly. It is easy to recognize, as unlike all the others, it is pure white.

Owls. The natural kind in Rivendell are the horned ones, though you will occasionally also spot barn owls, which are apparently messengers from the witch of Lothlorien. They are given time to rest and eat before being sent back, and enjoy perching on any in the valley who will let them.

Doves and pigeons, of all shapes and colors, taken as both messengers and as pets by various inhabitants. Lord Elrond is occasionally numbered amongst these, though I can always pick him out.

Eagles, which are magnificent to behold. One particularly large bird– which can speak in elvish tongue– occasionally joins the household for dinner. I am told his name is Thorondor, and that he has a long-standing friendship with the Lord Glorfindel. He has also obliged my of my questions about the history of the First Age.

Pheasants and quails of many varieties. They appear to gather in the valley because hunting is forbidden there, and enjoy mostly peaceful lives because of it.

One magpie. Initially I thought there was a small population, but after careful observation, there really is just the one. He's a fiend about shiny objects, and difficult to spot, but has a rather remarkable singing voice, especially for such a bird. I have found him often in concert with the white nightingale– a behavior I have not observed amongst any other birds. It is a marvelous performance, and I wouldn't miss it.

Lindir, who has the most birdish mannerisms of any elf I've ever met, and who therefore counts as one, by my reckoning. He does also sing very nicely.

[hereforhalstead]

home.

Spencer Reid x reader fluff!

thank you SO much for the love on my first post, I’m so glad you liked it! Ill be honest, I started this with a completely different plot in mind but, here we are! Enjoy!

*****

5 days. That’s all it had been, but to him it felt like a lifetime. 

The more he thought about it, he realised, it was the longest you’d ever been apart.

You’d been asked to stay for a week in London with Garcia and Morgan to assist on a case that Emily so lovingly emailed over late last week. 

One minute it simply words on a screen in your inbox, the next you knew you were on a plane over the Atlantic.

Every night you and Spencer had spent as much time as possible on the phone, some evenings only getting 5 minutes but others being hours. But it still wasn’t enough.

You missed him. More than ever.

The case was tough and starting to take its toll on you, it felt never ending and you started to wonder when you’d actually be able to return to the place you called home.

The truth is, London was your actual home. Being born and raised there until your early 20s when you transferred over to the BAU unit and the rest was history.

Yes, it was nice to be back in familiar territories. Moaning about tourists blocking the pavements, stopping every 2 minutes to take photos of a bird sitting on a fence..

 The god awful weather still going strong as you were now on your 5th day of rain, wondering if you would actually see a glimpse of sun before you left.

But home wasn’t London anymore, it was wherever Spencer was. 

And he wasn’t here. 

****

You’d taken the papers back to your hotel room, the sheets all spread across the floor in a disorganised manner yet you still knew where everything was and that worked for you.

You were still in the same clothes that you had put on about 26 hours ago, cold coffee in hand, staring at the black text on the papers as if the answer would just jump out at you if you continued to do so.

Your phone ringing is what brought you out of your trance, letting out a loud yawn before answering it.

“How’s my favourite girl?”

Was all he said and it had you melting, bringing your knees to your chest as you leant back onto the bed.

“Hey Spence” you mumbled back, you could practically hear his smile on the other end of the line forming, just at the sound of your voice. 

“What time is it there?” You added 

“about 2 ish” 

Shit. That meant it was 6am for you, and you didn’t even realise. 

High praise for the blackout curtains in the room I suppose.

“And you’re still awake?” Your voice was sturn

“So are you?” He hit back. Fair play.

“I could’ve just woken up, you don’t know”

But he did. He knew you, sometimes better than you knew yourself.

“This is me you’re talking to baby, do you want me to hang up and ring back so you can see my name on the screen again?” 

Again, you could practically see how he would be sitting. Arm folded across his chest, either book still open in one hand or a hot cup of tea hooked onto his thumb. Smile as big as could be.

“Point taken” you mumbled 

“Tell me about your day” he was quick to respond, you hated yourself for how there was a quick second of the feeling that you couldn’t be bothered. 

You were exhausted and missing him.

You didn’t want to be talking to him over the phone about the same thing you’d been discussing with endless people all day. 

You wanted to be back at home, enveloped in his arms as he pulls you back into him as you try to leave the bed.

Or running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair as he tells you yet another fact about how despite its significance, London was actually the smallest city in the UK.

You missed the little things, you missed him.

“Y/N?” His voice broke the silence as you sighed, words leaving your lips before you had a chance to even process them 

“I miss you, Spencer” 

There was yet another pause, almost a huff coming from his end of the line as he replied

“I miss you too, sweetheart” 

“Spence, honestly I’m drained” you began to ramble 

“I’ve been staring at these same pieces of paper for days, I’m starting to think I’m just wasting their time being here”

He could hear you throw some of the documents onto the floor, bringing your hand to your forehead to relieve some of the tension.

“He’s killed 5 women since I’ve been here Spencer, 5. How useless am I that these women are literally depending on me and here i am, failing them” 

He was hurting, he was hurting because you were hurting. 

“Baby, don’t talk about yourself like that” he assured, you could feel tour bottom lip quiver as the tears formed in your eyes 

“You know they asked you to be over there for a reason, you’re good at your job. You deserve to be there with the best of them and don’t forget that” 

“But I do-“ you tried to cut him off but he was quick to interject “uh uh”

“I will stay on this phone with you until you can tell me you’re good at your job, I don’t care how long it takes, Y/N. I want to hear you say it”

“What about if I don’t say if, just to get you to stay on the phone with me?” You lightly chuckled, heart fluttering as you hear his huff of laughter you so dearly missed.

“I mean, I have to be on the jet in 6 hours so if you’re happy for the whole team to hear our conversation then that works for me”

“Spence, I just feel as though I’m losing my mind. Tell me what I’m missing” you almost pleaded, knowing that if he was here he probably would have this case solved by now and back on the plane home. 

“You know the most important thing? Honestly, it’s what I do all the time and it truly does work”

You sat up in hope, waiting to hear his groundbreaking methods of solution.

“Sleep, Y/N”

You huffed, returning to your hunched back, cross legged position of defeat.

“That’s not fair” you scorned, his light laugh flooding through your ears “I thought you were actually about to help” 

“I mean it sweetheart, you can’t give your best to something on no sleep. I’m worried about you and if I can’t be there to look after you, I need to know that you’re looking after you” 

His words hurt, you knew he was worried but never thought he would just come right out and tell you.

“Fine” you huffed, crooking your neck to keep the phone in place at your ear as you start to get undressed.

“I’ll have a quick shower and then I’ll get into  bed” you assured “then I’ll text you in the morning with how many hours sleep I had”

You waited to hear his laugh but there was nothing.

“Can I ju-“ his tone was filled with doubt, like he was second guessing what he was about to say 

You let the line go quiet, waiting for him to finish his thoughts 

“Can I just stay on the phone with you?” 

You felt as though your legs could give way at the pain in his voice, the desperation to just have more time with you had you filling with guilt.

“Of course, Spence”

There was a hum of happiness and content, practically seeing how he slumped back into the headboard of the bed in the comfort of your words

“Why don’t you tell me about your day?” You questioned, giving up on the idea of the shower as you climbed into bed

“Oh! Funny story actually. Hotch had….”

There it was, the voice of such piece and familiarity that you so badly missed. 

He was your home.

[p0orbaby]

more Arsenal x young r please

Birds and the Bees

summary: now matter how old you are, you’ll always be a kid to the girls

warnings: suggestive themes but nothing explicit

a/n: more you say

word count: 716

-

"Hold up, what is that?"

You frustratedly swat away the hands that pull at the collar of your hoodie. "Quit poking at it, Steph”

"Is that a love bite?"

"No, Steph, it's not. It's a 'didn't duck fast enough during a corner kick' bruise. Real thrilling, I know”. The team snickers, and you continue, "Anyone else got an investigative report they want to file on my neck? No? Good, let's move on”

Steph grins, "You sure know how to kill the vibe”

"I'm here for football, not to be the subject of a teenage gossip column," you retort, the edge in your tone really showcasing your opinion on the matter.

The locker room falls into a momentary silence before Katie dares to speak up, "Alright, tough cookie. But seriously, who'd dare to leave a mark on you?"

You scoff, "Someone who I don't actually mind invading my personal space. Now, can we get back to training or are we starting a tabloid in here?"

“I’m all for tabloid. I missed Love Island last night so I’m running low on gossip” Alessia says as she settles into her cubby, arms crossed and already invested. “Spill it”

“No! My personal life is none of your businesses”

“Teammates share everything. Don’t be boring”

You shoot Beth a glare, “Teammates share strategies, not the ins and outs of my love life, okay?”

Steph smirks, “Come on, we’re practically family here. No secrets. It’s the rules”

“The rules? Since when?” You argue.

Katie adds, “We’ve all got our stories, kid. But yours just got a bit more interesting and we’ve still got a few minutes ‘til training starts”

Alessia, ever persistent, grins, “We won’t judge. Promise”

You relent, knowing you weren’t getting out of this, “Fine, but this stays within these four walls. Her name’s Eden. Happy now?”

The room erupts into whispers and excited murmurs. Caitlyn leans in, “Eden? And what does Eden like to do in her spare time? Other than suck the living daylights out of your neck, that is?”

You shoot her a deadpan look, “Eden happens to enjoy normal activities. Reading books, going for runs, you know, typical human stuff”

Alessia smirks, “Sounds acceptable enough. How about you bring her to one of our games?”

You roll your eyes, “She’s not into football, Alessia. Besides, I don’t want any of you to meet her”

A collective gasp echoes around the room, and you can’t help but laugh at how dramatic everyone is being.

Beth raises an eyebrow, “Why not? Afraid we’ll scare her away or something?”

You scoff, “yeah, actually. And I really like her so I don’t want you guys to ruin this for me by being all weird and annoying”

“We’re not annoying!” Katie exclaims. “We just look out for you”

Steph adds with a grin, “Exactly, like big sisters. Speaking of which, we might need to give you the talk, you know, now you’re sucking face with someone”

“No. Nope. That’s it. This conversation has officially ended” you state, mortified.

Despite your attempt to escape, the team forms an impromptu blockade, preventing you from leaving the locker room. Steph locks the door with a theatrical click.

Beth smirks, “Looks like you’re stuck with us for a little while longer”

You shoot another annoyed glare at Beth. "This is not what I signed up for today”

Katie chuckles, "Consider it an intervention. You'll thank us later”

Steph adds, "Exactly, it's time for the birds and the bees I think. Big sister style”

"No way. That's not happening," you state firmly, crossing your arms.

Caitlyn, leaning against a locker, grins mischievously. "Oh, we've got to cover all the bases. Safety first”

You roll your eyes. "I'm well aware of safety, thanks. So, for the record, I don't need 'the talk’”

Alessia smirks, "Come on, it's a rite of passage. We all went through it”

Steph raises an eyebrow, "Wait, you haven't had 'the talk' yet?"

"Of course I have, I’m not a child” you snap.

Beth nudges Alessia, "Should we give her the pamphlet?"

Alessia nods in mock seriousness, "Absolutely. And maybe some diagrams for good measure”

You groan, "this is ridiculous. Can we please stop this. You’re all insufferable”

Steph grins, "Sure we can, just not quite yet. We all missed Love Island, remember”

[arieswritez]

golden boy

golden boy | yandere stepbrother!mark grayson x afab!reader

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!! pseudo-incest, panty thief!mark, roofies, victim blaming, non-con video taping, voyeurism, rape, reader's anatomy is sexualized, forced breeding, time skip (mark is an adult & nolan never killed the guardians), mark is a sicko you've been warned

about; life was easier when mark was an only child. he wishes it would've stayed that way. (1.9k words)

a/n; an anon asked about a platonic yan sibling duo so i raise you: big pervy step bro who hates your guts but also wants to rearrange them

step brother mark who's used to being the light and joy of the grayson home. as the only child, he's spoiled beyond belief. he's spunky and cute and the graysons love him to death, constantly showering him with love and adoration.

step brother mark who gets a new sibling after villains make you an orphan. nolan finds you in the ruins and it's like he's on auto-pilot: carrying you to that secret hospital and handing you off to the doctors that rush to his aid. . but not before your tiny fist closes in his suit.

as he watches you being taken away, barely alive, something inside his chest pangs.

debbie notices nolan acting strange. he's restless and he's late for dinner, more so than usual. something's very clearly wrong. and it's not like her to grow suspicious of nolan but she does.

nolan's never given her a reason to believe his head may have been turned but for some reason, she starts to believe there might be someone else.

only to find he's been visiting you at the hospital, staying at your bedside for hours on end as you recover. you're in bad shape. doctors aren't sure how you survived. . if you even will. debbie's never seen nolan so torn over a survivor before. he's seen many things: deaths, disasters, you name it. yet, you're who's causing the sleepless nights.

of course, debbie has a kind heart and, soon, it's not just nolan who's worried. the graysons keep tabs on you. and when you come to, they’re the first thing you see.

you look confused, scared, but as nolan soothes you, you offer a meek smile and nolan finds himself feeling that same giddiness he felt when he first saw a tiny mark cradled in debbie's arms.

the graysons become your legal guardians and, suddenly, mark isn't the golden boy anymore.

you take up so much of their attention. now, christmases and birthdays all revolve around you. suddenly, marks good grades and the fact he hit a home run isn't all that impressive. mark's late for his baseball practice and games more times than he can count. . yet they never miss your dance recitals.

you got an A in an absurdly easy class and that was a cause for celebration. in the meantime, mark won a spelling bee & all he got was a 'good job'.

they treat you like you're made of glass, like you'll shatter into a million tiny pieces the second someone so much as looks at you the wrong way. mark still remembers being reprimanded whenever he said the smallest things to you. he doesn't think he's ever lived down that one orphanage joke that made you bawl. god, he was just kidding. . its not his fault you're sensitive.

soon, you're calling his parents 'mom and dad'. and worse of all, they reiterate the fact that you should be calling mark your 'big brother'.

fucking fantastic.

you are everything to them while mark is pushed aside. and it only worsens the older the two of you get. mark gets his powers - there's literally nothing more impressive than that - yet he still has to do a million and one things in order to outshine you. nothing ever works. and despite the fact that mark is - quite literally - saving lives. . your stupid birthday is still more important.

you are the light of their lives and mark bitterly remembers when they used to look at him that way, too.

you are perfect in their eyes. just like he once was.

and mark wishes you would've died in that accident, just like your parent(s).

as you start to develop a sense of self, mark gets into the habit of stealing your clothes. it's the only thing you seem to care about: the way you present yourself to the world.

they're small things at first. like a single shoe when his parents had bought you new ones yet refused to get him the ones he wanted. he'll admit it, it was petty and spiteful. but you were distressed and the graysons seemed upset you'd already misplaced your brand new - expensive - shoes.

at first, he was content with telling himself that what he was doing was solely to spite you. but that was a lie. when his kleptomania made him steal one of your shirts. . it wasn't spite that made him press the material to his nose and pump his cock until he came. no, it wasn't just spite.

all your simpering and whining, following him around like some lost puppy, that one time you asked him why he hated you so much. . it made him feel more than just hate.

he didn't know what to do with you then.

so, at first, he settled with stealing your clothes.

a couple more shirts.

a pair of shorts.

knee-highs or your favorite tights.

and finally, a pair of panties.

his favorite are a lacy pair. sheer and tiny, he recalls lifting them out of your drawer with a finger. . and thinking, seriously? what're these even meant to cover?

he's extremely sure you aren't supposed to have these~

mark is content with secretly stealing your things. he doesn't get in trouble for being mean to you anymore.

you don't think he hates you.

it's a win-win situation, really.

and mark would've been happy - he would've been fine - with the little game he's been playing. soon, the two of you would part ways for college and he'd forget all about you.

he'd forget the way you'd foolishly walk to your room in only a towel when you knew the two of you were home alone.

he'd forget the way you looked when you changed out of clothing, you never truly believed in fully closing the door, did you?

he'd forget the way your moans sounded, when you touched yourself at night, thinking everyone else was asleep. he'd forget the way he'd concentrate on hearing your pretty sounds - and it's not like he'd have to try hard, another perk of having powers.

he'd forget about how he could almost envision you: humping your fingers and biting at your lip, desperately trying to get yourself off. it was like he was in the room with you. . you were so wet he could hear the wet clicks of your cunt.

he'd forget all about you.

you, you, you.

he was sure of it.

but if it's one thing about you is that you could never just let things be.

you could never just let the graysons be a normal, happy family.

and you could never just let mark forget about you.

because the first time his parents say no to you - the very first fucking time - you don't listen.

you're just not used to it.

that stupid party you weren't supposed to go to.

that stupid party mark sneaks off to, too.

and when you see him there, you're surprised.

he pretends to be, too.

because it's not fair if only one of you was forbidden to go. no, you had to fuck it up for the both of them.

it's a good thing you're so spoiled, though. and it's even better that mark eavesdropped on the conversation you had with your friend, the one in which you planned to sneak out.

you're so fucking naive. so stupid.

you think the two of you are finally getting along when he gets you a drink and whispers, don't worry, i won't tell if you don't. and you laugh and wink at him like you'll keep his secret, drinking from whatever concoction he's prepared for you.

you were too young when your parent(s) passed and the graysons never seemed to sit you down for the talk. . or maybe they did and you were just too stupid to understand why you should never accept an open drink.

it's easy to blame it on you being a lightweight. the way you sway and slur your words, the way you stumble into him, the way your body overheats.

you've had too much to drink. you're not used to it, is all. he'll take care of you, don't you worry, big brother always does.

first, he's got to lay you down, you poor thing.

he doesn't want you to hurt your pretty little head by falling!

so, he lays you down in the empty room of the house as the party continues downstairs. as you fall to the bed in a heap, you swear you can see the throbbing beat of the music, now muffled behind the closed door.

in the dark room, the moonlight leaking through the pale blue blinds look like drunken undulations, wavering like heat shimmers, yet you can't keep your eyes open long enough to ogle at them. your body doesn't feel like your own, but you're not as nervous as you should be.

mark yanks his shirt off over his head - practiced, ready - and stalks over to your semi-limp body that's nearly hanging off the bed.

it's not hard to undress you, considering you're dressed like some cheap slut. and, honestly, if it wasn't mark that night, he's sure it would've been another dude at the party. the way you're such a fucking tease, he doesn't think anyone would be able to keep their hands off of you for long.

so, really, it's only fair your older brother is the one to get his hands on the goods, first. afterall, he was there to watch them grow.

the little camcorder he took from his parents - the old silver one they used to record all their trips around the world, mark's first steps, your first birthday with them - blinks red, on and off, on and off, as he strips you. he makes sure to capture your body: your bare tits as your chest rises and falls with each panicked breath, the smooth skin of your tummy, then down, between your legs, as he records your sopping cunt taking his fingers.

you mewl and your vision's swimming. and you feel here, there, everywhere, and it's so, so confusing.

you don't know what's happening and it's distressing because you know something is.

your hands weakly try to push at the foreign body on top of you. . inside of you. . but mark is stronger than anyone will ever be and you are far too drugged to do anything about it.

they're gonna be so mad, mark thinks, as he slides into you and tries to keep the camera recording the way your cunt grips him as he feeds his cock inside of you.

they'll be so mad when they find out you've snuck out.

and maybe you'll tell them. . you think something happened. . someone did something to you. . when you try to wash his cum out of your pussy.

maybe you won't. maybe you shouldn't. they'll already be mad at you, best keep quiet about it~

but the graysons will feel even worse in the next few months. . when you start puking your guts out.

and like the perfect parents they are, they'll take you to a doctor. . only for the results to come back positive.

mark may not be a golden boy, anymore.

but in nine months, maybe you'll give him one, instead 💗

[ziggyzolch]

Queen Bee-atch II (Regina George x Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of weight, implied eating disorder, Insecurity. No numbers mentioned.

✮✮✮

"Class isn't over yet, I haven't dismissed you!" The teacher's demands fall on deaf ears as the students pack up before the lunch bell rings, eager to see their friends. Your first three classes were relatively uneventful, the only entertaining thing being this ginger girl you've never seen before attempting to leave class without permission. Your eyes scan the hallways after you exit the classroom. Janis and Damien are the only people you can tolerate at this school, so they're the only people you ever seek out. There they are.

You make your way through the crowded hallway and purposefully shoulder-bump your target.

"What is wrong with you- oh you asshole!" Janis curses lightheartedly. She pulls you into a hug and kisses your forehead while you stand awkwardly with your hands at your sides. Instead of waiting for his turn, Damien joins in and wraps his arms around you and Janis. "I missed you guys so much!" You manage to get out while still in the bone crushing hug. "Where were you this whole summer? You went completely, like, radio silent." Damien asks with a suspicious look in his eyes. "Sorry, I got grounded for the whole summer. My mom found my cigarette stash." You confessed. "Idiot. Anyways, did you see that new girl?" Janis switches topics and Damien chimes in, "Yeah she's, like, a total disaster. We need to save her." Their words are background noise to you. You're staring through Janis, zoned out. Damien and Janis give each other a look.

Flick

"Hey what the hell!" You whine as you rub your forehead. "You weren't with us man, your eyes were drifting apart from each other and everything. Pretty sure I saw a bit of drool dribble out-" you lightly punch Janis before she can continue. "Yeah I was! You were saying something about that new girl. I think her name was 'Caddy' or something.", you defend. "She's a disaster, we should probably help her." Damien stares at you. "Babe, I just said that." Janis stares between you guys before interrupting. "Anyways...let's go look for her!"

Janis and Damien were your best, and only, friends. You wouldn't know what to do without them. As such, you basically stuck to them whenever you could in school. Following them to the cafeteria, you take your seats at your designated table. You spot female Ed Sheeran standing awkwardly in the middle of the cafeteria. She looks so stupid.

"Hey guys should we call her over?" You ask your friends. They stop their conversation and look at where you're pointing. Janis nods and yells out, "Hey ginger! What did you say her name was? Was it Caddy? Caddy!" The girl turns and points at herself, mouthing out a 'me?'. She comes over after we confirm and we all introduce ourselves. "...and that's Damien, he's almost too gay to function." Janis concludes. "So Cady, what do you think of the school so far?" You question. "Oh, I don't really know, I used to be homeschooled so I don't have much to compare it to." Cady replies.

You, Janis, and Damien all look at each other and back at her.

She raises an eyebrow.

You all begin going on about what to know about the high school: The best hiding places, teachers to avoid pissing off and such, and the various cliques in this school. "...and those are the sexually active band geeks. Don't walk too close, lest you get dragged into their never-ending orgy." You finish. Cady glances behind her and asks "What about them? They're kind of pretty." You all turn to see who she's looking at. "Oh honey, no no no, those are the plastics..." Damien goes on his little cautionary rant about how evil they are. You looked towards Cady and smiled while rolling your eyes.

While you're both giggling, your eyes lock onto Regina's...who is currently approaching your table. Perfect. "Hey, Gerard," Damien gives you a confused look at the name, "Who's this girl with you? Why don't I know you?"

You zone out looking at her when she turns away from you, gushing over Cady. You wish her attention was on you. Wait what- You're taken out of your reverie as Cady gets up and follows behind Regina towards her group. "Finally back to the present? What is up with you dude you've been out of it this whole day!" You shrug your shoulders at Janis and turn your gaze back to Regina. What's so great about 'Caddy' that caught the attention of Regina? You could look just as helpless if you wanted to, but you won't! Not on purpose anyways.

You get up.

"I'm going to the bathroom"

Janis replies while looking towards the plastics, "We'd come with, but we kind of want to see where this goes."

✮✮✮

The sounds of her friends taking Cady through the requirements to be a Plastic fade as she makes her way to the bathroom. She had forgotten her pocket mirror and had to re-apply her lip gloss, duh. A stench that can only be accomplished by a high school bathroom gets stronger as she opens the door. She stops in her tracks when she sees you reapplying your mascara at the sink.

"Hey Brendon Urie."

You hadn't even noticed someone walking in.

"God, that's actually worse than Gerard." You look at her through the mirror.

She moves a bit closer, "You look so familiar."

"Must've seen me in your dreams," You say while awkwardly winking at her.

She raises an eyebrow, "No, I know you. I swear I do!"

"Well yeah, I'm the one and only Gerard Way! Lead singer of My Chemical Romance-"

"Enough," She rolls her eyes.

You finish up and make your way out of the bathroom, cautiously walking around her with your arms up. "You'll figure it out. Don't worry, Blondie."

She watches you exit the bathroom.

✮✮✮

"Oh my god! Regina, remember this?" Regina glared at her mom as she continued trying to seem cool to her friends. She's known them for years! Why does she keep doing this? Cady looks at the book in Mrs. George's hands.

"What is that?"

"No way! We used this book to make fun of the freaks in our school. We'd tape photos of people then write down insults-"

"She understands, Gretchen. Can you get us some snacks, Mom?"

As Regina's mom walks out of the room, the girls are looking through the various insults in the book. They eventually land on a page with a picture of you and Janis.

'Janis, Pyro Lez' 'Y/N, puts in 110% effort because she takes up 110% of the room.'

Cady's eyes widen. "That's not even her." She says while looking at the picture of you.

"I think she moved schools, wait how do you know her?" Gretchen stops what she's doing to ask.

"I sit with her at lunch"

"What? There's no way, that Gerard Way girl?" Regina chimes in and moves from her spot at the mirror to look at the picture.

"Woah, did she just melt off half her body weight since freshman year?"

"I'm so jealous." Karen adds.

Regina stares at the picture of you. So that's why she knew you.

✮✮✮

You, Damien, Janice and Cady are all gathered around at your locker. "...and it's just a collection of insults, basically." Cady had been giving a summary of the events from the previous day.

Janice's eyes go wide. "Does it say anything about me?"

"Uhm, nope. Nothing about you."

"Ugh, those bitches."

You didn't want to ask if you were in it. You had an idea of what the insults towards you could be, and you'd rather not have your suspicions confirmed.

The bell rings, interrupting the powwow. You all bid each other goodbye, and make your way to your classes. PE was your next period, and you couldn't wait. It was a break from all the thinking you had to do.

You head towards the gym after switching into your exercise clothes. Most of your clothes were oversized and baggy, including your gym ones. You hadn't really upgraded your wardrobe since you lost weight. Everybody was already in, gathered in a circle, so you pushed yourself in, not paying attention to who you were standing next to.

"Alright! Today, we'll be playing soccer! Or football, as some of you may call it." The PE teacher announces, mumbling the last part of his sentence. "We will work in pairs today, so find a pair. Or partner, I mean. Whatever, just get moving."

"I can't believe they assigned that guy to teach us Sex-ed." Was someone talking to you?

You look behind you to find Regina looking down at you with a...genuine smile on her face? That can't be right.

"Right! He gives off the same vibe as those Reddit incels."

"That's so funny."

Are you having a normal conversation? With the queen bitch?

"What did you call me?"

Oh shit, you said that out loud.

"Uh-"

"Whatever, you wanna pair up? None of my friends are in this class, and you're the least annoying one here."

Thanks. You look around to make sure there are no other possible options. Regina rolls her eyes and grabs your arm, pulling you to an empty spot.

She was actually decent at football. You guys were practicing passing to each other while running and you were starting to feel lightheaded.

You waved to Regina, "Hey, I'm just going to get a sip of water."

"I'll come with."

"You should play football more often, you're more tolerable like this."

"Bold, are we?"

"I mean, I basically just called you a bitch and you haven't punched me in the face. So I'm right"

She laughed! What is up with her?

✮✮✮

Regina enters the locker room and spots you with your shirt halfway up. You really did lose half your body weight. Guilt pierces through her. Freshman year Regina was cruel. Somehow crueler than she is now, and fat girls were just easy to bully. Did you drop weight because of her?

Your shirt had gotten snagged on both your necklace and bracelet. After watching you twist and wriggle around for a while, Regina deems you sufficiently embarrassed and walks towards you to help you out.

You feel someone pull your shirt up and off of you. You had made sure to go into the locker room after everyone had already left. So when you were finally free of your cloth prison and came face to face with Regina. You felt nauseous. Of everyone!

She looks you up and down and suddenly you're more self conscious than you've ever been. Wrapping your arms around your stomach, you mumble out a 'Thanks' and put on your other shirt then hurriedly pack up and rush out of the locker room, leaving a guilt-ridden Regina behind.

✮✮✮

[smallestapplin]

Hello! you can make Yandere Blurr, Pharma and Tyrest x Cybertronian female reader wife

I always did like them crazy. Also I apologize I don't feel confident in writing Tyrest, even reading and reading his wiki I can't get a good read on his character QwQ

🔞Warnings : toxic behavior, threats, talks of harm, implied noncon, past murder. I wrote little scenarios too ^^ 🔞

-

-

-

Blurr

- Blurr is a puppy, if you could place him in a category. He is always so happy to see you, always at your side attached to your hip, and if he's on a mission he gets it done in record speeds just to run back to base for you, yelling your name and tackling you into a hug.

- He's so sickeningly sweet to you, always showing up for you, helping you work, and always does something spontaneous to keep you on your pedes!

- You'd never believe a soul that Blurr could harm friends or allies, not unless you saw it for yourself. He is always such a sweetie, and the reason you agreed to bond your spark to his.

- You even told Bee you just couldn't believe him without evidence "I know Blurr can get a bit sassy, but threaatening to crush your spark in his servos? That's just not like him."

- Blurr knows this, he's not dumb, he knows you placed your blind trust and faith in him, and he will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. It's why he glares, snaps, and makes snide comments to any boy getting too close to you. Even puts on the waterworks, crying about how mean the bot you finished speaking to is, just to make you comfort him and avoid that bot unless for work.

- He loves you, he loves you so so much and never fails to tell you or show you.

- But sometimes it's overwhelming, you never get a moment to yourself, you are never alone to collect your thoughts or to process your feelings on anything, Blurr is right there, cooing at you and nuzzling his helm into your neck cables.

- Even though you're tired, you never ask him to leave you alone, last time you sighed and asked for space he was sobbing, clinging to you harder, pleading with you to not leave or abandon him, that he can't live without you.

- "I want you, i need you! I-I can't live without you! I don't know what I'd do without you- pleasepleaseplease don't leave me, I love you!" Over and over and over again. It had you worried and guilt ridden, leaving you to never mention space again.

- You even apologized to him after that, never meaning to upset him.

- It's like he's draining your battery dry, sucking away your life force.

- But you stay by his side like a dutiful wife, helping him on missions when it's needed, smiling when he comes back, kissing him any chance you get.

- You feel like you're drowning in his love, suffocating you.

- Even as you lay in your shared berth, wide awake, Blurr sleeps in a peaceful stasis laying on top of you.

You sigh, your neck cables stiff from such a long time staring at your data pad and working on reports, but you're glad you got a large chunk of it done, you can finally go to your habsuite and relax.

Your spark clenches at the sound of rapidly approaching pedesteps. You try to hide your exhaustion, just in time to turn around and get a blue glob lunging for you.

You catch your husband with ease, use to his antics by now.

"Ohhhh I missed you so much! The mission was terribly boring but nothing I couldn't handle. Have you eaten yet? I want to have energon with you."

He speaks so fast, excitement showing in his words.

"M'sorry Blurr, I was just about to go to our habsuite and go down for a cycle. Prowl has been on my aft about reports, and I'm tiring."

He looks so crushed, his face plate a mix of sadness and rage.

"He's so pushy and such a workaholic! I have half a processor to go into his office and give him a piece if my brain module! I can't believe that guy, pushing my poor wife for his stupid reports."

He goes on such a long rant about Prowl, pointing out everything the bot has done wrong or the frankly harsh things he's said, you hate to admit that Blurr has a point but you are fond of Prowl.

He's rough around the edges but a nice friend to you when he opens up.

"Blurr, sweetie, it's fine really. Prowl has been swamped with reports and I don't mind helping. He's actually a nice bot once you get through his walls."

Blurr's expression looks like you just shot him. He clings to you, digits practically sinking into your back strut.

"Y-you've been hanging out with him without me?"

"It's just for work. Blurr, you know I love you and would never dream of leaving you, but I'd like to have some friends, even if they are just work friends."

Your spark aches at the sight of his optics welling up with liquid.

You just know you're going to have to start comforting him and avoid Prowl at all costs if it makes him this upset.

-

-

-

Pharma

- lying to yourself in hopes you'd believe it. Pharma is a menace, you tried so hard to be kind to him, yet your kindness is what lead you here, bound to him in everything but your spark, it's at least the only thing he can't force upon you, no matter how many times he opens your spark chamber.

- No matter how many times he's tried to force the bond, always so calmly muttering his love for you, it never works.

- You once had such a fiery spirit, such a fiercely protective and loyal bot before Pharma got his servos on you. He broke you. The last time you managed to escape him and find help, he just killed them, toyed with them for fun no matter how much begged him to spare them. New parts for him.

- You never forgave yourself for being the reason those innocent bots met their ends, and Pharma takes great pleasure in that. You curl into such a cute ball and silently cry yourself into stasis, with him right behind you, curling around you and buring his face plate into the back of your neck. You want to scream, to sob, to upchuck and empty your tanks at the disgust of feeling his touch. His arms around your waist, holding you so tenderly, rubbing his thumb across your mesh like he's been an adoring lover this entire time.

- If you leave he will just find you.

- "What, you're not going to run again? My, but it was such a fun game we played!" He laughs.

- Pharma flips between knowing you don't love him in return, but not caring as he loves you and that's all that matters, to having moments of truly believing you're just playing games with him, such a playful darling he has! You just want to keep your marriage exciting, right?

- You try to lie to yourself, that you do love him, you love being at his side, you love ensuring he has plenty of energon, you love him.

- You miss the old him, the old Pharma you married, the old Pharma you promised to spark bond with once he returned form work but he never came back. Only for him to come back some years later to...being like this.

- He's draining, but he always makes sure you've eaten today, always makes sure you're safe, always makes sure he's kissed you and said he's loved you today.

- You can't fight him forever, you both know that.

- Why keep fighting when you can be a good little wife and accept his love?

Everyday it's the same, every cycle is new but nothing changes, you're still in the same dark abandoned building. You avoiding leaving your makeshift habsuite and a few other areas, not wanting to hear anything Pharma is doing further in the back.

You don't want to hear screams that get cut short, and the whirl of a saw.

You don't want to hear or see anything, you just want to pretend this is all a nightmare, but you know you can't wake up from it.

You just want a sense of normalcy back, to be back at your nice home on Cybertron before the war, laughing with coworkers and friends, greeting your husband with a smile.

Now you can barely stand to look at him without fear gripping your spark.

He's not the bot you married.

You lay on your berth, back facing the door as you don't want to see him, you don't even want him to see your face you don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

Your body trembles hearing his pedesteps growing closer. You will your body to freeze and squeeze your optics shut, just in time for the door to open. Pharma pauses in the doorway, looking over your resting form.

You've been going into stasis a lot more than usual, and a lot more than is recommended, but he can't be too upset with you, after all you look adorable when you're resting.

He moves quietly throughout the room, cleaning up the energon from his face, servo, and saw, knowing you don't like him leaving such a mess.

"I know you're awake, Dear."

You bite your derma holding back a whimper, but remain unmoving

"I'm worried you're sleeping too much, that's usually the first sign something is wrong. Funny how you could be sick, and don't you come to me with it, I am trained in this you know."

You can hear the smile in his voice, as if he didn't kills bots just to meet a quota, tortured someone you called friend, and then all of this.

You'd rather die than let him know anything.

"Are you truly so tired you can't tell me? No matter, I'll find out next cycle, yeah? I'll let you get some rest."

Your optics widen as he lays down behind you, his saw moving to rest under his helm, and his free arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your back against his Chassis, his face into the back of your neck, pressing feather light kisses across your cables.

Pharma hums, chuckling softly at the feeling of your body shaking. His servo tightens its grip on you, keeping you flushed with him.

"So cute, I wish you'd let me dissect you to figure out what makes you so irresistible."

He laughs at hearing your involuntary whimper.

"No, I could never, but I'd much rather you be my pretty nurse."

You just want to go home and away from this monster.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hello, there! I would like to request a Regina George x reader fluff, please! Regina and Reader are from two different worlds--Regina is the Queen Bee, with plenty of admirers and puppy dog followers, even after the Burn Book. Reader, on the other hand, has a reputation more like Karen. Yet when reader is nominated for Spring Fling--and wins---people bully R. Regina sticks up for R's defense.

This Year's Spring Fling Queen Is...

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, reader isn't the brightest, mentions of reader being bullied, regina being a bitch but not to reader, soft for reader regina, brief mentions of killing in a threat

|| Summary; when reader wins Spring Fling Queen, there's mixed emotions in the crowd.

Requests open!

Started; october 25th

Finished; october 26th

~~~

Were you the brightest tool in the shed? No, you were a spaced out idiot more than half the time. But you were Regina's idiot. She doesn't know why she loves you sometimes, she just does. The two of you were walking through the hall, hand in hand as you made your way to Mr Rapp's class. People would stop and stare while others simply whispered in quiet murmurs. Not that you were ever really paying attention, but Regina was. She was always aware of what people were saying about the two of you.

She bit her lip though, she knew she could fight everyone. But Regina didn't want you getting caught in her battles. She just kept her head high. Showing to people that she was unaffected. After all, she was Regina George. Nobody else's opinion mattered. Besides, tonight was the Spring Fling. Had to keep things positive.

The rest of the day went by pretty dully, soon enough you found yourself on stage with the plastics (including Cady) as everyone held their breaths. Waiting to hear who this year's Queen was.

"And this year's Spring Fling Queen is..." Duvall looked down at the little letter in his hands, reading the finer print before looking to the audience," Y/N L/N!"

Cheers erupted from those who voted; but the crowd was mixed. There were others who were upset by this, but everyone was surprised regardless. How did you out beat Regina or even Cady for that matter? They didn't get it. The people who stayed quiet were those who voted for the plastics, Cady and the rest just didn't care. But the people who did care were loud, so it hardly mattered.

You didn't hear your name be called, having zoned out completely. When Regina noticed she gave you a little nudge," babe.. you won." She murmured.

Slightly startled by the sudden nudge, you turned to her and blinked. Looking beyond confused," huh? Won what?"

Regina sighed and held back a laugh, God you were something alright. She found it cute though she would never admit it," just go see Duvall."

You would do anything Regina asked of you without hesitation, even if you didn't know the reason behind it. You happily skipped over to Duvall and gave him a smile," hi, Duvall!!"

"Hello, Y/N." He smiled back and handed you the crown, placing it on your head," congratulations."

"For what?" You tilted your head, the crown nearly slipped but he caught it and adjusted it.

"I can't wait to retire.." He sighed, muttering a quiet murmur before turning to the crowd. You stood beside Shane Omen, who was Spring Fling King," your King and Queen!" Duvall announced.

Shane punched the air in excitement and cheered for himself as the crowd got louder, you just gave a little awkward wave.

The next day, you didn't miss the murmurs this time. Hearing clearly for the first time what people thought about you. Leaning against your locker, trying to seem casual you listened to some people making fun of you. A frown on your lips.

Regina walked up behind you and wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as she kissed your neck." Baby?"

"They're being mean." You murmured, looking up at Regina. You could see the anger in her eyes when she realized what exactly you'd meant. Her head snapped to the group and they fell silent.

"Not so brave now, huh?" If looks could kill... Regina would be behind bars. She marched right up to them and pointed back to you," what the fuck did she ever do to you? Shut the hell up before I make you wish you were dead." She threatened, the group scattered. Bumping into each other as they ran off in every direction.

Regina looked back at you and softened as she saw the tears in your eyes, she walks over and brushed them away." Ignore them. They're all fucking idiots that don't matter. Got that? Anything they said about you isn't true."

You nodded a little and she gave you a kiss that made you relax. Regina was right. As always.