#so she still has some weird habits

[thesoftestpunk]

My cat is so so so special to me, she is my baby girl.

But she is also so so so dumb (affectionate)

This used to be her litter box because I just prefer pellet litter but she would pee so close to the front edge that it would either leak between the lid and pan or just pee on the white edge. She’s 13 and struggling with jumping now, so I didn’t wanna get one of those tall ones where the entrance is at the top but I’ve been losing my mind over how often she gets piss on the floor. I won’t even go into the steps I’ve taken trying to prevent this, but she still sometimes, somehow, gets it on the floor.

Then in a random search out of desperation, I saw this (which I think is newish??? Bc I don’t remember this one when I bought the other one) and I hoped it was idiot proof and big enough for her to not pee over the side.

(Now this is where I’m dumb as a cat owner bc I don’t change her things a lot so I didn’t think supposed to slowly introduce the new box but I coaxed her in it with a treat. I could tell she kinda needed to pee but was obvi wondering where the fuck her litter box went.)

Anyway. All this to say that she successfully peed in the new box. Albeit a bit close to the entrance but the dumb part is when she was done, she hopped over the tall wall with a tiny struggle. Like. Baby girl. 🤦🏻‍♀️ I am trying to save your arthritic legs. Use the entrance.

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!

[cafterdark]

There's something about gradual mind breaking that drives me wild.

Imagine this. Your life is shit, you're stuck ina deadend cubical job. 9-5 bullshit galore. One day, you're assigned to train a new coworker. She's pretty, way above your league. And yet she's kind. She compliments you and your skills honed to perfection working these bullshit shifts. But still, she's way prettier than you so you feel awkward even acknowledging them.

The two of you have lunch together. The two of you were talking, and she was still complimenting you for some reason. About how pretty your hair is or how cute your smile looks. You can't even comprehend looking anything but shit. She pouts and fiddles with her phone a bit. Then she asks you to watch a video. Suddenly you're back at work. When did the break end? No matter.

She tells you how pretty your eyes were. You smile because good girls accept compliments and tell her how gorgeous her lips are because good girls are honest. The rest of the day the two of you compliment each other.

It's beenmonth since then and both of you just keep complimenting each other. Sure, your compliments are getting kind of weird. You don't know when you started calling her Mistress as a joke, but it's hard to stop now. But she tells you that it's normal for good girls to call their Mistress Mistress so you keep doing it anyway. Besides, her compliments are getting weirder too. Mistress has made it a habit to pin you to a wall before telling you them. Then she just tells you how submissive and docile you are. She kisses you a lot now. Good girls deserve to be kissed by their Mistress ofc, so you don't complain.

Work itself is harder now. You just can't keep up like you used to. You're just so horny and Mistress doesn't help. You know that good girls are horny messes, but it's so aggravating. The tight clothes that show off so much don't help, but good girls are required to wear them so what can you do? Mistress has to pick up a lot of your slack, but she doesn't seem to mind. And besides good girls let Mistress do the work for them.

Breaks are great. Mistress shows you another video and you feel so good and good girls deserve to feel good. You feel so good that you don't remember what happens during them. You've started finding bruises and bite marks on your skin after them, though you don't know why. You don't care because good girls need to be marked. For the rest of the shift, she keeps touching you and teasing. By the end you can barely stand.

At the clock terminal, Mistress pins you to the wall and makes out with you before leaving. You're frozen by lust for several minutes before stumbling to your car.

Three months in and things are now really weird. You can't tell why anymore. Your head feels like cotton most of the time. You ask Mistress why everything feels so weird, because good girls always ask Mistress for help. She gives you some pets and kisses you, reminding you that dumb puppies don't think. Your boss threatens to fire you because of poor performance, but it's not your fault you're a dumb puppy. Everyone knows that dumb puppies don't work. Dumb puppies are to be submissive and docile. Mistress does most of the work, she's so good at it that she's up for promotion.

Breaks are so fun. Mistress shows you another video. When you wake up, you feel sooooooo good. Like all the energy built up during the morning was just released. Mistress cleans you up and then she starts working again while you heel. Then when you clock out, Mistress attaches a leash to your collar and gives you a walkies home. The walkies home is the best part.

Six months in and life is perfect. You don't work anymore and that's okay. Dumb puppies don't work anyway. You and Mistress live together at her place. You sleep in your cage and if you're a really good puppy, Mistress lets you sleep at the foot of her bed. The best time is when Mistress works. She works at home now. Your job is to be adorable by sleeping in a dog bed under her desk. Well, that and pleasure her, because a dumb puppy's only role is to be her Mistress's fucktoy.

During lunch Mistress fills your bowl with kibble and it tastes amazing. She doesn't show you videos anymore. She says you're perfect now. You don't understand what she means but it doesn't matter. Dumb puppies don't think after all.

After Mistress finishes working, she takes you on walkies and plays with you. It's so fun and nice and amazing. And if you're a really good girl, the best puppy in the whole world, she'll let you sleep in the bed with her. Your life is amazing.

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

[roturo]

⋆.˚⭒⋆.˚ WATCH IT!

Gojo Satoru didn't predicted this move... So he ended up fucking you lol ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ G!Satoru x afab!reader and sex pollen!

tags: smut, sex pollen, unprocteted sex (wrap it and pee after sex), overstimulation (like A LOT), use of nicknames (princess, baby, good boy, love...) multiple rounds, praise kink, angst if you squint your eyes till you cry like gojo, sub(ish)!gojo satoru, god complex, fluff if you take one eye out, crack, belly bulgde, creampie, breeding kink, crempie kink, A LOT of cum, dumbfication, cock warming, npr.

A/N: happy holidays! might be my last writing of the year so i wish you lots of love and happiness <3 i might write pt2 for this one and 'she's back', which one would you like first?

o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

DAY 1: HOW IT STARTED

How the fuck at his grown ass age Gojo Satoru could be this stupid. And that’s big coming from him, because this man considers himself the senior of seniors and god of gods. So, how come he falled into this?

And you know what? Maybe it is his fault! For believing he’s a superior and underestimating such a weak and useless curse he just killed. But, this weak and useless curse has him going crazy. That really was karma paying back to him because motherfucker- Why is he feeling all giddy and hot all of sudden? This has never happened to him before, so that’s why he’s losing his mind right now and almost sprinting into his room because of how bothered he was feeling to just teleport. 

Everything was like hell. Really, like hot as hell. And how does Satoru know that? Uh well, because he’s living it right now.

He couldn’t bear the sensation anymore and dialogue Shoko’s number like it was a habit.

“What do you want, Gojo? I’m in the middle of trying to know how Yuuji’s body is capable of being Sukuna’s vessel. Like- It’s quite important right now, and more than debating about some of your dumb tv shows you-”

Shoko’s voice was interrupted by a whine coming from Gojo’s line, seconds of silence continued the awkward moment between the both of them, while all Gojo could do was breathe and maintain his whines inside of his body before he started literally moaning.

“Are you okay, Gojo?...”

“Fuck, no. Some fucking curse sprayed me all over with some fucking stinky pollen. Didn’t even taste great, by the way. And now I'm just feeling really hot, sometimes dizzy… or kinda giddy? fuck. And my breathing became irregular. I’m fucking sprawled out in my bed trying to find a comfy position but my legs won’t cooperate.”

A loud laugh was heard coming from Shoko’s line. It was clear she’s been holding it all this time just trying to make sure she’s gettin it right.. and well. 

“Gojo.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you hard right now?”

Silence. 

“You know what? I’m sending Y/N over there with some medicine. You’ve been sprayed with sex pollen by the way.”

Sex- what?! 

Before he couldn’t even ask Shoko any question since she quickly hung up. Leaving a needy and confused (and hard) Gojo.

Knock. Knock. 

No answer, but a weird sounding moan? You gave yourself permission to enter Gojo’s room since no life signals were heard. But- holy fuck. Was this a reward or a punishment from the gods?

He was kneeled down on his bed, one of his hands used as a support placed in his bare calf while his other hand was as fast as possible jerking himself off. You stayed still some seconds before rewinding back to what Shoko told you before coming here.

“He might be another type… of… Gojo?... Anyways. He’ll be really needy and like a lost puppy looking for some salvation. I gave you this backpack with all you would need, yeah? Thank me later and good luck.”

So that’s why her flat ass was quickly sending you off with a backpack full of water bottles and snacks. Sex fucking pollen. Great.

It’s not like people don’t know that both of you have been crushing into each other lately, hell- even his newest student asked about this. But you never expected for it to be like this.

“G-Gojo…?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but it’s like a hawk located his next prey because of how instant his reaction was just for your voice. A drunk smile on his face, while both of his hands fall infront of him trying to hide the act that was going on minutes ago. His sculptured white as snow body covered in a hot layer of sweat. Not being able to catch a breath thanks to this sight, somehow he’s in front of you. 

“Are you here to help me? Y/N?”

His voice sounded so different. But at the same time it was just Gojo.

A small nod was all the reaction he got. You could smell that sweaty smell, looking down you found yourself looking at a large wet spot staining his black briefs. While his cock does nothing to imagination, marking perfectly the shape of it. Moving your gaze to his v-line, a white happy trail proudly adorning it. Eyes moving up, you found yourself looking at his clearly erected nipples, But all this examination was over once he interrupted your thoughts.

“I need a verbal affirmation, princess”

Ah, the nicknames. If you weren’t wet by now, you’re pretty sure you’re leaking right now all because of him.

“Yes Satoru, I’ll help you.”

His knees felt weak. Literally. He kneeled down in front of you, it was like he hypnotized and somehow could smell through your body into emotions. His hands were cold but hot at the same time he roamed your body.

You tried warning him by calling his name while he started kissing the softness of your thighs, telling him to at least move you towards the bed. And his body was doing what you said like if you were controlling him, while his mind was somewhere else. He moved the both of you towards his bed, making you lie down. His head not wasting any second between your thighs until his nose touched where you needed him the most and you whimpered at the feeling. Clearly triggering a new kind of need inside Gojo.

Everything happened really fast. Between some kisses and moaning, Gojo ripped your shorts and pantoes a muffled noise coming out from him of what you suppose was “I’ll buy you new ones later” but right now you couldn’t care less.

Not when his tongue slowly started tracing the way from your entrance until it reached your core. Teasing it with kitten licks, while his hands remained on your hips from preventing moving them.

His tongue quickly found a rhythm between your entrance and your clit, forming infinite signs between them. And the simulation was too much you couldn’t notify Gojo about your orgasm- But he was so lost in the feeling of your thighs suffocating him and the taste of yourself in his lips, he swears he could die as a happy man right now.

And like it wasn’t enough, Gojo kept eating you out even after your intense orgasm. Overstimulation taking over your body, trying to take him off your core, ended up with annoyed groans coming out from him.

“Satoru, love, fuck. I need you to stop, please.”

The nickname had him exploding with happiness, he really looked like a puppy from this angle. His eyes looked ethereal, his mouth covered with your fluids and his face was with a cute smile while he called out your name.

“Will you please let me fuck you?”

A small giggle came out from your mouth, Gojo’s face looked a little sad and embarrassed, but was quickly erased when you pecked his lips. And that was all he needed to clumsily take off his briefs and while he climbed back to the bed, taking off your top while doing so. His eyes were full of adoration looking over your body, before he pressed his lips into yours, locking them for a long moment, clearly enjoying the moment, before the kiss turned more heated and he started kissing every part of your body again.

His tip was now wet thanks to your folds, Easily slipping through it. 

“Ffuck- Ssatoru- Be a good boy and put it in, please?”

Gojo needed no more words before thrusting his cock whole into you with one swift movement, hitting perfectly against that spongy spot that made you see stars. But something didn’t feel right. Not in a bad way. Since you re-opened your eyes to find a glassy eyed Satoru mumbling a lot of ´sorry’s´ while he kept thrusting.

Oh.

He came with just one thrust and was overstimulating himself, still rock hard with no break while he hid his face in the crook of your neck while marking it as his and tearing down from the pleasure. 

You’re pretty sure he came again, when he whimpered your name and moaned against your ear but still continued thrusting into you perfectly. And he was so lost in the pleasure of overstimulating himself he didn’t realize once he confessed to you.

“You’re so pretty- ffuck– I really want to make you mine now. So no one could look at you, not even in a friendly way. Just… have you all for me- sshit. I love you.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, thinking it was all because of the moment, so you just had to enjoy it for now. His thrusts were so  fast and hard, but somehow still felt romantic. Like this was a normal routine on a daily basis. And you would be disgusted by the pool of cum forming under the both of you if you weren’t so close to your third orgasm this night. No matter how many times you told Gojo to stop for a moment and take a break, he would cum again, and still be hard so he had to keep thrusting.

Your mind is lost now. All you could ever think about right now was Gojo Satoru and his immense cock. He wouldn’t stop mumbling praises to you, saying this was all for you to feel good and he would stop once you cum at least 3 times more than him. A hard dare to get over with. Or maybe it already happened?

You begged for mercy, not thinking he could get another orgasm out of you. Hell- to even get an orgasm out of him. His hands interweld into yours, and moved it down towards your tummy.

“Do you feel it, baby? I'm right here. Ahh~ I’m pretty sure my cum is there too heh. Your tummy is full of me and my cum.”

He sounded drunk. Like. Really drunk. But his words took off your last orgasm of the night, apparently your reaction making his trigger off and cum… dry?

How many fucking times did Gojo Satoru came inside you?

Will pills even prevent a pregnancy?

“Ah- shit baby.”

You couldn’t pay attention to him anymore, quickly slipping into dreamland. Gojo not once leaves your side. Literally. He was cock-warming, still hard, but no energy (and cum) to continue his misery.

You were here at 7.45 o’clock, one last look at the clock and it was 3.23 in the morning.

And it was like you just blinked, because a whimper came out of your mouth. Looking again into the clock, it was 10 AM, and Gojo was not over.

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Story #2

I remember asking my mom once, if her dad had gotten ornerier as he'd gotten old. I'd heard about that happening, and it would've made sense for him. He was already the orneriest old cuss I'd ever met. Couldn't even imagine him being grumpier than he was.

Instead of answering the question directly, she told me about what it was like going to church with him as a kid. Their church was a small Mormon ward out in the sticks of Colorado, and he served as their Bishop - mostly by virtue of being the only one willing to do that much unpaid work. He was also the ward pianist. He actually liked playing piano, and he liked having an audience, so it was more or less understood that he was willing to be the bishop in exchange for being the pianist. 

Which could've been a good trade, but there were a few problems.

The first problem was that Grandpa Dale played every song at about triple speed. He was a deeply impatient person, and that extended to how he played music. The second problem was that he had a bad habit of cursing under his breath. That would've been a scandalous  enough habit for a Mormon bishop, but was made much worse (and also much funnier)  by him being pretty damn deaf. So what he thought of as "quiet" cursing under his breath was more of just a verse hoarse way of yelling. I only visited him for a week or two every summer, and I still learned most of my bad words from him. 

So every Sunday would start with a quiet prayer, and then Bishop Grandpa Dale would go to the piano, sit down, and play the nightcore version of Praise to the Man. He would occasionally play other hymns, but he really, really liked that one. This would continue until he hit a wrong note, which was basically inevitable because his music philosophy was that if he could play a song flawlessly, it was time to play it faster. So he'd play until he hit that wrong note, at which point he would scream-whisper SHIIIIIT and, because he did not actually read music so much as memorize it, the only way he'd be able to get his rhythm back was by going back to the start. 

If it was a good Sunday, he could get it in two tries. Some Sundays took as many as five. 

I learned two things about Grandpa Dale from this story. The first was that he could play piano. I'd never actually seen him do that before. Still haven't, come to think of it. Second was that the man that I visited once a year, who always seemed on the verge of exploding, who scared the absolute dickens out of me, was actually the chilled out version of the man my mom grew up with.

And it helped knowing that, actually. I'm actually a pretty anxious person, and my mom is, also, a pretty anxious person, and as a teenager we'd sometimes get in these doom loops where we'd wind each other up until our springs cracked. She'd be worried about me growing up to be happy, and I'd be worried about letting her down, and my worrying would make me unhappy, and my unhappiness would make her unhappy, and we'd just kind of dissolve into these anxieties like cotton candy in the sea and become totally unbearable to be around for a bit. Then my dad would sit us both down and very politely tell us that we were being crazy. He had this quote how being sad that someone else is sad that you're sad is the emotional equivalent of being a Klein flask and that at some point you have to just say I am allowed one (1) single layer of emotional recursion, at most, and ideally zero. 

And it was always kind of embarrassing and silly, but when I was tempted to be more upset with my mom about it, I could remember the piano story and go: Sheesh. She has more of a right to be anxious that I do. For me it's really just genetics, but she grew up with the Cactus-Killing Gopher-Smasher. A whole 18 years of that. I spent two weeks every summer with that guy, and I love him, but I always came home feeling like I'd survived something. She's a trooper.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Obkk ghost marriage fic where after kannabi bridge, the Uchiha decide Kakashi can keep the eye but only if he agrees to marry Obito's ghost in a traditional ghost marriage.

(This also means he officially joins the Uchiha clan. Maybe lean into how he knows very little ab his own clan history, so there's like some minor complexes playing off of that as he ultimately takes up the Uchiha name and traditions, effectively abandoning his own -> which could also play interestingly into his negative views of his father at that age. This also means he moves out of his clan compound and into the Uchiha district— which is actually really good for his mental health)

Kakashi doesn't argue, he sees it as the ultimate atonement actually. He's incredibly dutiful but especially so at that age. He'd take it dead fuckin seriously and be the best ghost bride possible. Instead of constantly going to the memorial stone he has like a proper shrine to honor him in the house where he leaves his favorite foods n stuff

Like little 13 year old widower Kakashi w Rin as his witness rip

I'm not the biggest Rin fan bc her canon characterization feels like that usual boring "girl crush turned martyr" (naruto misogony strikes again rip) and I've yet to find any interpretations that really strike me— with one exception.

I don't remember the fic, and Rin only showed up for part of it, but I remember being rlly taken by her in it. It highlighted her being as struck by Obito's death as Kakashi, with her an official mednin working overtime in the hospital as the war ramped up. Also it gave her a smoking habit!! I can appreciate a well played addiction to cope in text. Idk I just read it and kinda went "woah she suddenly feels like a real person to me"

But like, that for Rin here. She's working triple overtime in the hospital, day and night. The war is getting worse and worse and some nights she comes home w her gloves still stained in the blood of her patients from back to back surgeries where her patients died on the table. They have her listed for eye trauma specifically after her successful transplant for Kakashi, and she's proving to be invaluable for the patients w eye based kekkei genkkai. She wants to go into specifically researching and healing for eye bloodline limits, but is struggling to convince the clans to allow her access to that information.

Kakashi's new home is closer to the hospital that Rin's parents, and stuff w her parents is starting to get... tense. It hurts them, to see their daughter struggling like this. To see her coming home with dulled eyes and bloodied hands. To be waken by her nightmares and then not know how to comfort her.

Rin slowly starts staying over with Kakashi more and more and after a while she's just kind of fully moved in, but neither of them actually really talk about it

Let them be best friends w a kind of codependency on eachother that would be concerning if not for how it's very clearly keeping both of their heads afloat as days go on and things get worse.

Queerplatonic besties Rin and Kakashi sharing the same bed so when they wake up screaming they can help eachother go back to sleep easier. Rin likes it when Kakashi summons his ninken to sleep w them. They sleep easier w eachother bc they feel safer knowing they're there to have eachothers back, just like they would on the field

Anyways, Kakashi moves out of his clan compound and into the Uchiha's. He's neighbors with a little 6 year old Shisui and is kind of picked up by the scruff by a lot of Uchiha who have really weird complex feelings ab Obito's death (many of them feeling bad ab not having reached out before to him / seeing him die so young, and then projecting that onto Kakashi)

Kakashi and sometimes Rin kind of accidentally becoming a babysitter for Itachi both bc of proximity and bc Mikoto is friends with Kushina

On that note -> Minato does not really get the ghost marriage thing. He's civilian born, and the practice is really old and hasn't really been used since like, warring states era. So Minato is kind of weirded out and very "uhhh. Are you SURE this is what you wanna do?" But Kakashi seems set, and like, if it helps him cope???

He is however very supportive of getting Kakashi out of the fucking tomb of his father's house and into the much more populated and lively Uchiha clan compound

Minato makes Kakashi ANBU and designates him as his home guard specifically to keep him off the battlefield. He lowkey does the same to Rin (minus the ANBU part) positioning her in the hospital and making sure she's getting that good good mednin education. If pressed on why she doesn't go out as a field medic, he insists it's because she shows too much promise as a healer to risk— not now that they've lost Tsunade. If Rin can grow to be even half as good as she is, it'll be worth keeping her away from the fighting.

Neither Kakashi nor Rin feel very good about this decision (tho hypocritically, they agree w it when it comes to the other, bc ofc they do)

Rin doesn't die bc I say so and Obito does a comedy spit take when he inevitably learns he's legally married to Kakashi under the eyes of the Sage, Amaterasu and all.

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

ten. ruin

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. uhm....... yeah.

warnings: swearing, phone sex

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“No you didn’t-”

“I did!” Suna laughs on the other end, and you giggle into your cup in response, brain fuzzy and warm. “I walked into a room full of fourth years and pulled out my canvas and when I looked up— boom. Naked ass man, dick in my face-”

“Stop!” you wheeze, shaking your head. “How the hell did you not realize-”

“I was nervous! I was so nervous to be there that I didn’t even realize I was in the wrong fucking room.”

“Did you leave?!”

“No! Of course I fucking didn’t!” You hear two sharp thuds on the other end and know just by the sound that Suna’s pounding his fist on the table. “I tunnel-visioned my way into a nude modeling class as a first year — you really think I had the courage to get up and leave after that?” 

You take a long sip of your mixed drink, leaning back against the arm of your couch and sighing deep after you swallow. “So? Then what happened?”

“Uh – I missed syllabus day of Art as Identity and drew a charcoal recreation of some random guy’s penis. Komori has it framed in his kitchen. It’s a talking point for guests and friends alike.” 

“I can’t believe you’re this much of an introvert,” you say, shaking your head with a giddy grin. “You’re so loud with me-”

“Okay, go ahead and add salt to the wound-” he barks sarcastically, snickering when you break into laughter. 

“You’re funny, Suna,” you say openly after a minute, sighing into the admission. “More people should know how funny you are.” 

“Just you’s enough, I think — and maybe your friends, just so they like me,” he responds, quiet filling the space between you for a moment. You chew on your lip while you think.

“What’d you think of them?” you whisper after a moment. “My friends.”

“Your friends?” he repeats, confusion seeping into his voice. “I mean, I always thought Suga was a weird dude, but he’s overall pretty chill and funny. Especially with Alisa – they fight a lot, don’t they?”

You smile fondly. “She likes to make him angry. He’s really easy to rile up.”

“Yeah, I could tell. They seem like good friends. I feel like I got to know you better by meeting them.”

You sigh quietly, the question burned into your mind starting to feel like guilt. You shouldn’t ask, because the truth is that your friends are the perfect friends. They’re both perfect, and you don’t know where you’d be without them. And you’re not in the habit of comparing yourself to your best friend, because you know she’d kill you for doing that.

But still, the question lingers.

“And… Alisa?” you ask, feeling the terrible guilt burn in your throat like bile. “What’d you think of her?” 

You can hear the wheels turning in Suna’s head, the silence on his end growing haunting as the seconds tick by.

“I think she’s beautiful,” he says, and – through the horrible, disappointed swooping in your gut – you realize that him being this honest even when he can tell what’s bothering you only makes you trust him more. He knows what you’re looking for, and he makes no move to sugarcoat his thoughts for you. Your respect for him grows. “But me acknowledging that she’s beautiful and me having feelings for you can both be true. Can’t they?”

You shut your eyes, sighing. You feel like an idiot. “Yes.”

“Just because your best friend is beautiful, that doesn’t mean you’re not.”

“I know.”

“I can think she’s beautiful and also think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen-”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, embarrassed. “I get it, Suna. It was a stupid question.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says, and you can hear his smile. “Promise not to do it again?”

“No,” you mutter. He laughs.

“Okay. I can live with that.” You feel the conversation end there, and, despite the embarrassment, you feel glad that you asked. “I was thinking about something a minute ago actually,” he says, interrupting your thought. “You call me by my last name.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, the previous conversation forgotten, and purse your lips. “Is it not your name?” 

“Yeah, but…” He swallows audibly and then laughs to himself. “Your friends also call me Suna.”

You warm, seeing where this is going. “Would you rather me call you Rintarou?” His name feels foreign in your mouth, as if your tongue is just as nervous as you are, but you kind of like the taste of it.

His name feels important.

The other end of the line goes completely silent, long enough that you pull your phone away from your face to check that the call’s still connected. 

“Shit,” he breathes finally. “I dunno anymore. I was gonna suggest it, but I dunno if I can handle that, Y/n.”

Your name sounds important on his tongue, too.

Your chest starts to flutter with nerves, but the alcohol wants you to push it. “What about Rin?” It tastes intimate and presumptuous, that cut of his name from three syllables to one. You want him to taste it, too.

“Christ,” he laughs. “God, Y/n. You tryna kill me? You sent your friends to wound me critically and now this?”

“I think I like that one, actually,” you breathe. “Rin.”

“Stop it,” he laughs weakly.

“Rin.” You roll it around in your mouth, sinking deeper into your couch while you consider it.

“Cut it out,” he whispers, soft and breathy.

“Rinnie.” You like the way your lips wrap around it. You like the space it takes up and the way your voice cradles it, round and warm.

“Y/n.” His voice isn’t round and warm. It’s sharp. Thick with warning. Dragging your own name down your back like the back of a blade, leaving your skin pebbled with goosebumps and the base of your spine tugging at a knot under your navel dangerously. “Cut it out.”

You shiver and press your thighs together. “Okay,” you breathe, a soft whine coating the sound. The alcohol wants you to push your luck, and it’s so wonderfully easy to listen. “Sorry, Rinnie.”

“Shit,” he groans quietly. “Don’t do this to me, Y/n. Please.”

“Do what?”

“You know exactly fucking what.”

Your stomach flips at his tone, and there’s a pulse of desire between your thighs that has you biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your head is warm and staticky and desperately likes the sound of Suna’s voice, especially when he talks to you like that. 

“So?” you whisper, the courage there but incredibly small and entirely driven the liquor in your cup. “Are you hard?” 

Suna’s exhale is sharp, surprised. “W-What?” 

“You said over text.” Your face burns, but the idea of Suna Rintarou getting turned on by a combination of your voice and the way you say his name has you pushing out of your comfort zone. You want him too much. “That if I called you, you’d get hard. Are you?” 

He breathes hard for a beat, the sound shaky. And then he whispers, the sound soft and right in your ear in the most delicious way. 

“You know I am, pretty girl.” 

“How long?”

“Since you said my name.”

You shiver, pressing your thighs together hard. The flip of your nerves, low in your gut, is sharpened and heightened by the buzz of vodka in your veins, and you gasp quietly, trying to bring your heart rate back to normal.

“You should do something about that,” you whisper, skin vibrating when you do. You’d never be this confident sober.

He whines in response.

Suna Rintarou whines in your ear, desperate and impossible to deny. 

You feel your body become addicted to a man you’ve never met. 

“‘re you sure?” he breathes. “I don’t wanna do anything that you don’t-“

“Want you to do it,” you whisper, pulse racing and legs damn near going numb from how nervous you are. “Wanna hear you touch yourself.”

“Fuck,” he says, sharp and laced with frustration. “Fuck, Y/n — how am I supposed to say no to that?”

“You’re not,” you try. “Unless you really don’t want t-“

“I do. Fuck, I do.” He sounds the most sober he’s sounded all night, direct and honest and making your heart feel like it’s going to rip out of your chest. “Will-I…” You hear him swallow. “Will you do it, too? Are you turned on?” 

Your heart jumps into your throat, hope and desire mixing dangerously with the vodka. “Yes.” 

“What’s that an answer to?” he laughs, weak and nervous. 

“Both.” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Will you? Want you to feel good, too.”

“Really?” Your voice sounds insecure, even in your own ears. You still aren’t used to that — to him. 

“Yes,” he urges. “God, yes. I want to make you feel good so badly, baby.” He swallows. “Can I talk to you? Make you feel good like that?” Your shaky exhale must speak for you, because he just gives another weak laugh. “Yeah? Is that okay?”

You’ve never been so full of want that it makes you cry, but you’re pretty damn close at this singular moment in time. 

“Okay,” you say, voice wavering. Suna’s exhale on the other line is just as shaky. 

“Okay,” he whispers back. “Shit-Uhm. C-Can I have a picture, baby? If that’s okay?” 

You whine in protest, already embarrassed, but you can hear how nervous he is. How unused to this he is. That this is just as terrifying and embarrassing for him, that he’s putting himself out there for you. 

It would be rude not to reciprocate. 

You take a steeling breath and pull the phone away from your face, setting it on the coffee table and putting it on speakerphone. “I look kind of messy,” you say. You start to adjust your clothes, grimacing at the frumpy shirt and shorts you’re wearing.

“I like messy,” he says, and you laugh pathetically. 

“It’s not very sexy.” You pull your hair down and ruffle it to be as attractive as possible, and then you consider your shorts for a full two seconds before throwing caution to the wind and getting rid of them. They land on the floor with an audible fwip, and Suna’s silent on the other end.

“Please tell me you didn’t just take all your clothes off,” he breathes finally. “I don’t know if I’m in a state to emotionally handle that right now.” 

You giggle, face burning and heart pounding in your ears as you open your camera and angle it favorably. ”Not all my clothes.”

“Shit.” 

You cross one arm over your torso and use it to push your breasts up, watching them swell in the camera. A rush of heat burns at your ears and neck, and your lip wobbles while you take the picture. 

Lifting the phone close, you examine the photo. You can see all the flaws that you’ve always seen, and it makes you freeze with insecurity. Makes you want to delete it and back out.

But then you hear him, his quiet ‘baby?’ on the other end, and you remember who you’re talking to. 

You hope he won’t see all the flaws you do — but there’s a piece of you that knows he will see them, but not as flaws. Because that’s who he is. 

Breath held tight in your lungs, you send off the photo, and then your head starts to pound with anxiety. 

Will he like it? Will he think it’s awkward? Will he realize that maybe he thinks you’re pretty, but he’s not sexually attracted to you the way he thought he would be—

“Oh, holy shit-” Suna’s voice is tight, thick with an emotion that’s so clearly lust that even you can’t deny it. ”Holy shit, Y/n. You’re so fucking-” He cuts off, taking a shuddering breath. “Fuck, I might start drooling.” 

You laugh, the tension breaking a little. “You’re funny-”

“I’m not joking.” Your breath catches at the sharp snap of his voice — your heart lurches, and desire swirls violently in your gut, because Suna Rintarou’s voice is starting to do that to you. “I’m not fucking joking, Y/n — you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

You blink, sinking low on the couch. “What?” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Y/n, you turn me on so much. I’m so fucking-” He laughs. “God, it’s embarrassing.” 

Your fingers shake as you press the phone desperately to your ear. “You’re so fucking what?” you ask meekly, nervous but craving more with every second that passes. 

He laughs again, self-deprecating. “I’m so fucking hard right now. Because of you. Because of this one photo.”

Your free hand drops between your thighs before you can think too long about it. “And you haven’t done anything about it yet?” 

“Oh, my God,” he groans, and you can hear the want in his voice. The strain in his tone as he tries to keep himself in line. “God, I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna last with you, Y/n.” 

The pads of your fingers press to your clothed clit when he says your name — important, full — and it makes your desire curl and snap. You moan quietly, pursing your lips together to stop the sound — just a moment too late. 

“Fuuuck-” he says, reacting immediately to your voice. You hear shuffling, and then a burning, brutal exhale of relief, and you know he’s touching himself. The low whine trapped in his throat tells you as much. Tells you how badly he’s trying to keep his head on straight for you.  

You don’t want him to do that. You want him as lost as you are.

So you shut your eyes and lean your head back and let the alcohol take control. Let the fuzzy static in your head grow louder, let the desire throbbing in your core grow stronger. Let the choked whine in Suna’s throat take over, pulling you that much closer to the edge.

“Rin,” you breathe, yielding control to your limbs and smothering all hesitation in favor of slipping your hand past the band of your underwear. When your fingers touch down to your core, cold fingertips to searing hot skin, you moan louder. Loud enough to be heard and not caring enough to stop it. “Fuck, Rin— Can I have a picture, too?” He groans on the other line, shaky and uneven, and you whine in response. “Please? It’s only fair…”

He doesn’t say a single word back — just gives a trembling breath when you beg — but your phone buzzes against your face a moment later.

He’s got his hand down his sweats, the outline of his cock clear and the outline of his hand wrapped around it even clearer. His face is flushed a deep, searing red, and his parted lips are swollen and pink, eyes hooded with desire as he looks up into the camera. 

He’s in bed. He’s in bed, drunk and touching himself while thinking about you — the you in the photo, the you on your couch, touching yourself while you think about him, too. 

“Christ,” you whisper, eyes flying across the screen while your fingers dip low and slip with terrible ease past your entrance — two fingers in, the stretch heavenly, when your eyes land on the outline of his cock. “I don’t know if I can take you, Rinnie.” 

His inhale is shocked and laced with a moan, and then he’s coming undone in your ear. 

“You can take it, baby. I know you can take me so well.”

“Oh, God,” you gasp, back arching off the couch and fingers curling hard against your walls. “You would make me-”

“Gonna make you take it,” he finishes in a voice so rough and broken that you know he’s stopped trying to keep control, too. “Wanna make you take it, wanna show you how good you are for me. How much you’re made for me-”

“Oh, my God, I’m-”

“Wanna make you come around me. Wanna make you fall apart on my cock, pretty girl.”

“Rin,” you squeak in warning, your gut curling hard with desire, tension so close to snapping. “Rinnie, I-”

“Want my name on your tongue when I come inside you.” His voice is pitching up, breath stuttering and syllables twisting short in his mouth. “Want my name in your mouth when I ruin you for anyone else.”

It’s only right, then, that you cry his name when your orgasm slams into you full-force, pulsing and crashing down over you without warning.

By the time you come back to yourself, your walls are twitching with aftershocks around your fingers, and your breath is loud and heavy in your ears. 

Suna’s own breath is shaky in your ears, too. He whispers your name, tired and drained but still full. Still important.

You might have ruined him for anyone else, too.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

FLUFF TIME!! (While I’m in class don’t mind me) Reader and her boys surrounding her, everytime she heads to bed the boys follow, and when she has to get up, they whine (Soap). Why is she leaving? Isn’t it cuddle/eepy time?? Whenever she has delivery and has to receive it at the door (and has to leave in bed) they whine but follow anyways.

9/10 chance one of them tugs her clothe towards the bedroom because they are eepy and want to sleeb and that means it’s also her sleeb time.

Imagine she to take work home and is in bed typing in her laptop at 1 AM (while the sound of the keyboard is luring them to sleep, the light is a bother). One of them just pushes the laptop close and softly borks (it is past eepy time)

(I, too, am currently in class as I write this, and should probably pay more attention because we're covering Fourth Amendment rights BUT ANYWAY—also combining this with another Anon’s ask bc they were talking about their German Shepherd getting them to bed on time lol)

The boys may be strange and chaotic, but they're always hell bent on taking care of you. And that often means forcing you to take care of yourself.

Before them, you were just barely clinging to life. Now that you were out of university, there was no rigid routine to keep you in line, so you kinda just... fell apart. An inconsistent sleep schedule with 2-3 hour naps in the afternoon, only to stay up 'til 4 AM. Skipping breakfast because some days, you'd wake up at 11. And on days when you did have breakfast, it would just be a leftover slice of cake or pie, because you didn't wanna cook.

Things have gotten much better since you adopted these weird floofsters, seen as you've finally set an alarm so you can walk them in the morning, and are forced to buy groceries on a regular basis. Still, that doesn't mean there aren't tougher days when you fall back into old habits. That's when the boys come to the rescue.

Nobody eats until you eat. It's like a pact between them—even Soap refuses, and he's the most voracious eater. Price also insists that you eat properly—even when you're picky, he'll refuse to budge unless you grab some fruits and veggies from the supermarket. And Gaz straight up sneaks snacks into your cart when you're not looking, so you only notice when you're already in the check-out line, and it would be rude to go back. They also tug on your clothes or nip you to get you to bed on time.

You’re allowed no less than seven hours of sleep minimum—and bed is, at latest, midnight. Whereas the other boys are more occupied with taking care of your daytime activities, Ghost, true to his breed’s instincts, herds you at night; he’s the first to follow you out of bed if you try and sneak away, and he WILL stare creepily at you while blocking the doorway if you attempt to leave the room. The intimidation is extra effective in the dark and you see those reflective eyes peering out from the shadows. At first, you panicked and threw a blanket at him so he'd stop with his cryptid-ness. Nowadays, you throw the blanket over yourself, knowing he’s not gonna let you crawl back to your laptop.

You've tried to control his herding instincts by following tips on YouTube and Reddit, but it's like bargaining with a brick wall. Sleep—or else.

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

[musashi]

aai2's english translation has done an amazing thing in furthering franziska's juvenile tendency to address people she's close with like she's a child.

here are some facts about franziska:

she addresses nearly every single person she meets aggressively formally and professionally. firstname lastname. sometimes, mr. or ms. firstname lastname. other characters point this out. it's weird, clunky, and a quirk specific to her.

franziska is obsessed with appearing more grown up and professional than she is.

despite her dedication to this facade, she cannot break the INCREDIBLY JUVENILE habit of calling her murderous, long-dead father "papa."

(it pisses me off when people erase this about her. she only ever calls him "my father," twice in canon. he is almost ALWAYS "papa")

to the contrary, franziska does not seem ashamed/embarrassed about this tendency at all, even though she seems very embarrassed about other childlike things she thinks/feels/does.

until aai2 this was exclusive to manfred... but it is now canon that she does it to anyone she considers family, or close to family.

in the fan translation, blaise teases her about being a little girl and calling him "unky boo boo" once upon a time. in the official translation, franziska still calls him uncle in the present day. her first inclination is to call him uncle winner, wholly informal, absolute (pun) whiplash.

okay, cute, but probably not worth noting... AND THEN SHE'S OUT HERE CALLING HILDA "GRAMMA" AS WELL. one thing about me is that when i was TODAY i learned about her having some optional dialogue that alludes to the two of them knowing each other.

(i could go ON about how manfred must have loved her so much more than we see in canon--how often did she insist upon coming along with hm? how often did he find himself unable to say no to her big sparkling eyes? hilda does not say "that's franziska" hilda says "that's von karma's little girl!" which means hilda knows her through manfred. every single person who spent any amount of time around manfred von karma in his heyday knows franziska, which means that she was following her papa around like a little duckling, and he loved her enough to make space for her at his back)

my fave thing they do with franziska is the little hints that her facade is just that. too many of them spoil the subtlety, of course, but they are there--the flavour text about her shaking and looking scared the two times she's a victim of gun violence and thinks no one's looking. the hints here and there that she has a terrible sweet tooth she's trying to control. the meltdown at the end of JFA. and "papa." these are all little ways that the writing nudges us and says franziska is a professional, but she's also quite young, and never really let herself be a kid. she does a great job at hiding most of it, but these little tendencies leak out here and there.

by giving her two more people in life she does this to, it's no longer just that papa is Special Enough that he gets the same treatment from a 3 year old franziska as a 30 year old franziska. no, she does that to everyone she grew up looking up to, any odd work friend that manfred brought around or let her pester.

adorable. absolutely adorable.

[knoxic]

Teasing and Loving

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: smut, Eris being a simp, smut, emotional talk, smut

wc: 2,8k

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, trying for a baby (hinted at), oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, no beta

a/n: technically it was part of the How to be a High Lady series but it works better as a one shot imo

"Love?" Eris called out to her, pushing her office door far enough to fit his head in, at her nod he let himself in, closing the door behind him. "A letter arrived from Winter." He gently set the letter on her table, away from the other papers scattered around the place.

"Oh, what did they want?" She looked up from the book she was studying, catching the amused grin he tried to hide.

"I don't know, it's for you." He slid the letter closer to her as if to make a point.

"Ah, I'm still getting used to receiving letters like this..." She felt slightly embarrassed but brushed it off, she closed the book carefully and placed it aside before picking up the letter. Eris had made his way around her table and was leaning against it by her side, watching her every move.

"Hello, fellow High Lady! I was hoping we could spend some girl's time together, perhaps while our males discuss some court business, let them handle all the work for a while, now that we are allies, they ought to be friends too. So, what do you say? We could meet here in Winter and I could show you the wonders we have, or, you could show me what Autumn has been hiding all these years, Kal and I have always wanted to visit Autumn, the few hours we get to spend there for the meetings do not do it justice, that I'm sure of.

Eagerly waiting for your response,

Your fellow High Lady, Viviane."

"Viviane is asking if I want to spend some 'girl's time' with her," she giggled, "And I think Kallias finally crowned her High Lady." She showed Eris the letter, pointing to the first and last phrases.

"About time," Eris uttered, "Was starting to think he didn't have it in him."

"Eris." She gave him a pointed look. Sometimes his old self would come up, a natural response, they were both working on it.

"Habit, sorry." He smiled at her, faking innocence but quickly erupted into laughter, making her join him. It was so weird for him not having to insult someone at any opportunity encountered, that when he did, out of nowhere, it was funny.

"You're so stupid." She said, stomach cramping from how hard she was laughing.

"Darling, you marry this stupid, deal with it." Eris sighed, running a hand through his perfect hair trying to compose himself. "So, will you?"

"Yes, it's been way too long since I've had a girl's time." She started searching for some paper so she could write back to Viviane.

"Not to sound insecure or anything but... what exactly do you females do on your 'girl's time'?"

"Just girly things, males and our sex life, you know," she responded nonchalantly, "Last time I had one, one of my friends had even reenacted some scenes..." Eris' face at that moment was something she'd paid to see again. His eyes looked like they'd pop out of his head, his cheeks flushed redder than she'd ever seen before, his mouth was hanging open and he looked like a fish when he trying to talk.

"Relax, Eris! I'm just joking." She laughed, her belly protesting. She saw through watery eyes the moment Eris regained his composure, his smirk gave her a hint that they had a long night ahead.

Two big hands pulled her body up, making her squeal and laugh even harder. Eris picked her up and turned them both so he was now sitting on her chair, his lips kissed her neck while his hands found the ticklish spots around her body.

"You think you can fuck with me and not be punished for it, little witch?" His voice was rough with lust, her laughter died down and turned into soft moans.

"Careful, I might reenact what you'll do next with Viviane..." A hand smacked her cheek, the warm feeling of the scalding fire that ran through his veins made her shiver with goosebumps, the whisper of his slender fingers running up her spine only making her tremble harder. The effect Eris had on her was insane.

"Don't you dare. Not the time to play, love." He bit her shoulder. She nodded, knowing Eris wouldn't actually be mad at her for misbehaving, but he would be stressed, and while he'd never act like his father, an stressed Eris was more sad than anything, and she hated that. He was done being used and beaten, the stress he endured all these centuries was enough to mess with his head so hard that now he could barely bear feeling stressed.

She nodded against his neck, kissing and nuzzling his shoulder. In response, he tugged her closer to him, his fingers finally working on the buttons of her dress, pulling apart and setting her down on her desk to take their clothes off.

When Eris was done unbuttoning his shirt, her hands found his muscular chest, pushing him back, signaling for him to sit. She quickly got down on her knees, Eris purposely slipped the fabric of her dress where her knees would meet the floor, making sure they wouldn't hurt so much. Her fingers worked on the strings of his trousers, when they slipped inside the waistband, Eris lifted his hips for her to slip them out, his briefs following suit, during their undressing, Eris had also taken his boots off.

Her hands danced around his torso and tights, lightly scratching his skin, her fingers followed his happy trail before touching his cock, squeezing him the way he liked while running her hand up and down. His warm fingers caressed her arms, encouraging her to keep the pace.

After he was completely hard, she started licking his tip, running her tongue against the underside, slowly going down and licking the whole expanse of his member. His quiet sights and humming making her skin tingle, leaning away from him she admired her artwork, the way his skin was redder in certain spots, his breath was ragged even with so little action, his eyelids almost fully closed and his hair the same messy hair she saw at home. His vulnerability came with a messy version of Eris that would make anyone question if it was really him, his usually perfect styled hair seemed to have never seen a hairbrush, his enviable posture sometimes slumpy.

"Don't stop..." He whined, his head lolled from one side to another.

Taking pity on him, she brought her mouth back down, taking as much of him as she could, bobbing her head slowly, taking him deeper everytime she went down until her nose was pressed against him.

"Gods... What did I do to deserve you?" Eris mumbled, when she looked up, his eyes were fully closed and his mouth had formed a pleased smile.

Eris wasn't really into blowjobs, at least not like the other males she knew, he'd never refuse it of course, but he wasn't one to ask for it. She never asked and Eris never said anything, but she had an inkling that it might have something to do with his father, the way he viewed and treated females, Eris was bound to have heard and, perhaps, seen some disgusting things.

Her mate's hand gently cradled her head, not moving her, just holding. His hips twitched every time her mouth fully enveloped him, she noticed how much effort he was putting into not thrusting up.

"You can fuck my mouth if you want." Her voice was raspy and breathless when she spoke, immediately going back to sucking on him, paying special attention to his tip. His eyebrows furrowed like he was in pain, mouth opened in a silent moan, the muscular thighs under her finger tensed. Suddenly Eris was pushing her head away and yanking her up into his lap.

"For someone who claims to hate teasing, you're doing it way too well, sweetheart." His hands slipped through her hair until he had a good hold of the back of her head, he pushed her closer to his mouth, just enough that she could touch him if she stuck her tongue out, when she tried to lean in for a kiss, he pulled at her hair. He laughed at her pout and gave a mocking peck to her bottom lip, a mere brush that could never be called a kiss.

"You're mean, you know that?" She pushed at his chest, not exactly trying to push him away, all her strength went to keeping her smile at bay.

"But my love... someone needs to take that seriousness off your pretty face."

"You just say that because you can't be serious around me, I smell envy..." She sniffled jokingly, the only scent that filled her nose was arousal, the musk smell of Eris and the slick coating her thighs.

Eris giggled, throwing his head back, one of his hands left her waist to rest at his abdomen, his body convulsing with soft laughter. None of the males she met before laughed like that, in fact, she wasn't sure if they ever truly laughed. Eris, despite his upbringing, knew how to have a good laugh.

"Oh Gods... I couldn't have asked for a better mate." His  head was still thrown back, if the sight of his body slumped in her chair didn't say anything, his relaxed smile sure did. "Kiss me." The hand that remained on her waist ran up to her cheek, "Kiss me." He repeated, bringing her head closer. "Drown me with the taste of you." Their tongues danced. "Make me forget how to breathe without your hands on me." Her hips lifted enough to take him inside her warm cunt, the feeling making them both groan. "My body is yours, my soul is yours, my heart is yours, take my mind too. My every thought is yours, everything I think is formulated with your face in my mind, everything I plan is thinking of you and us, our future, our family..."

Their heartbeats synchronized, their mouths dancing, the rhythm of her hips rocking their bodies, their chests collided with rapid breaths, hands here and there squeezing and feeling. "Eris–"

"Yes! Yes, yes, please!" His hands went back to her hips, helping her bounce on top of him, her head dropped to his shoulder, nodding.

Eris gasped, as pleasure threatened to push him off the edge, he braced an arm on her waist and lifted himself off her chair, his unoccupied hand pushed the paper off the desk, he'll help reorganize them later. Feeling the kisses she planted on his neck, combined with her sigh of pleasure when he slipped her down his cock, almost made his knees buckle.

He set her down onto the desk, curving an arm under her head, giving her time to adjust to the new position before he started to thrust, his forehead resting on hers, their breaths fanning each others faces.

Her hands ran the whole expanse of Eris' back, encouraging him to thrust into her, each snap of his hip against hers threatening to push her off the desk, the arm he slung under her head being the only thing keeping her from doing so. The intensity of having sex with Eris never failed to amaze her, she wasn't sure if it was because he was her mate, or if it was really just in his nature to be intense, probably both. Due his accidental edging, Eris already felt close to cuming, the fact that she kept squeezing him didn't help, he was sure she was doing it on purpose, brat, he really taught her well. He couldn't stop his hips from stuttering so he just stopped, resting his cock fully inside her, his head dropping to her chest to suck on her perky nipples, trying to pretend it was all in purpose, unfortunately for him, it didn't foul her. Her soft giggles filled his ears, both her hands moving to his head, running her fingers through his wild red hair.

"Have I already told you I love your messy hair?"

Eris pulled back from her breast to look at her, a expressionof shock on his face before a breath burst out of him, "My hair is not messy, love." He answered while giggling, thinking she was joking. She only rolled her eyes in response, moving her hips against his, Eris' mouth feel open, his eyes slammed shut.

"Close already?" She smiled up at him, knowing too well the effect she had on him. Her legs moved so she had a firm grip of him, now being able to move her hips better, squeezing his cock whenever he was pushed deep inside her.

"Keep doing that–" His words were cut off by a groan, "And I'll cum before you." Eris' whole body trembled.

"It's okay." She pulled his head closer to hers, nuzzling his nose before initiating a kiss. She doubled her efforts to make him cum, moving her hips harder and faster, licking into his mouth like an starved female.

Eris groaned, his body tensed, his knees buckled, his arms gave up and he fell fully against her, she could feel his thighs shaking and a hot liquid filling her cunt. She felt every spurt of cum, his cock throbbing, the way that even when he was finished he was still hard. As soon as he regained control of his legs, he trusted slowly into her, pushing his cum as deep as he could.

When he came down from his high, Eris pulled back from her mouth, not once had she stopped kissing him, his eyes roamed through her beautiful body, his hands squeezing her breasts and stomach, sliding down until his thumb met her clit, rubbing lazy circles on her, just enough to feel good.

Eris slid his cock off of her slowly, catching the small spurt of cum that came out and pushing it back inside her. After meeting her gaze one last time, he fell to his knees, his mouth placing gentle kisses and nibbles on her plump thighs.

His nose brushed her clit, their scents mingled together filled his nose, his tongue licked her slit like the starved male he was, slurping his own release mixed with her wetness. Her moans drew him insane, she was a quiet female so to know she made those beautiful noises because of him, was maddening. Her hands brushed his hair out of his face, careful fingers touching his pointed ear, making it twitch involuntarily. She felt more than heard her mate's groan, the vibration directly on her clit pushed her off the edge she didn't even know she was treading. Eris didn't stop, the pleasure building up inside her as if she never reached her release at all. His slender fingers pushing through her throbbing slit, curling into a spot inside her that made her see stars, after years of experience, Eris could definitely bring her orgasm after orgasm if he wanted to, and that's what he did. Pushing his fingers as deep as they'd go and pulling them out before she could slip off again, he played with her until he was sure she was too deep in pleasure to hold it back.

When he was done, she could barely feel her own body, still tingling with pleasure and her mind too fogged up. She felt warmth and his scent enveloped her, her cheek pressed into something hard, his heartbeat helped bring her back to herself. Eris' hand brushed her locks behind her ear, caressing her hair mindlessly, he planted kisses where he could reach, head, forehead, eyes, nose, until she stared back at him, eyes still shining as she smiled.

"That was good." She said, voice barely a whisper. Eris hummed in response, smiling back.

He helped her into his shirt, knowing she was too sensitive to wear her dress again. After that they went back to their chambers, still holding one another as they went. All the servants had gone to bed by now, so no one saw their half dressed High Lord and Lady walking through the corridors.

"Are you too tired for a bath?" Eris asked agaisnt her neck, never one to stay away from his mate. "Hungry? I can go make us something." He brushed her jawline with his nose, arms tightly holding her against him.

"Not too tired, and kind of hungry but I'd rather have you here with me." She answered with her eyes closed, bathing in the affection he poured on her.

"I'll draw us a bath, and then we'll go eat something." It was natural for them, so many times had Eris gone to visit her in the middle of the night with an empty stomach, right after finishing all of his work for the day. It only got worse when he became High Lord, so many things to be fixed that the only moment they got to themselves was at night, when Prythian was asleep.

Taglist: @callsigns-haze , @lilah-asteria , @mybestfriendmademe , @coldmermaidhologram , @rcarbo1 , @andreperez11 , @st4r-girl-official , @tenshis-cake , @pirana10 , @esposadomd lmk if you want to be added/removed

A/n²: I accidentally wrote "you can duck my mouth if you want"... and when I read it midway through the smut it was... cringe, I stopped writing. had to go feed the ducks

[rainrot4me]

Better Than Him

Summary: Nina wanted nothing more than to impress Jeff. So, as her best friend, she sought your help on how to get his attention. But when a quick lesson on how to kiss turns intense quickly, you feel it's only right to prove to her she's worth more than him.

Characters: Nina the Killer x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Friends with benefits, humiliation, Jeff is a douchebag, inexperienced, teaching, vaginal grinding, tribbing, eating out, overstimulation, first time, revenge, mention of broken bones

Words: 4.3k

As a creep, you knew all too well the weird tendencies that the other members of the mansion had. 

Especially Nina. But she was your best friend, so of course you let her habits slide more than others. But as she lay in your lap, sobbing about how Jeff brushed her off again, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. It was exhausting, truly. Her every waking thought and action seemed to revolve around the pale killer, but you could never understand why.

Jeff was ugly as shit, face all mangled and gnarly. His personality was a drainer to be around, always cussing you out or telling you how shit you were at something. But the worst thing about him was the constant stench of rot that came off of him, the aftermath of him murdering some helpless guy and never showering after. He wasn’t pleasant to you, but no guy in the mansion was. The only one you could stand was Jack, his quiet demeanor was his only saving quality.

You rubbed Nina’s back, cooing some bullshit about how he would come around eventually and how he didn’t deserve her. You honestly couldn’t care less about him, but it was anything to get Nina to hush. She finally sat up, holding your hands as her highlighted hair sat dishevelled on her forehead. “You have to help me.” She gasped out, eyes frantic as she gripped your hands tight, her neon press on nails digging into your skin. You stared at her, confused. “Help you how?” She smiled, her gapped teeth shining bright. 

“Jeff doesn’t pay any attention to me.” You knew that, obviously. “So, I have to impress him somehow. Like, with something he likes.” She grinned, waiting for you expectantly. You tried to wrack your brain of all the crap Jeff has mentioned liking before, but all you could think of was the porn magazines he hid not so well under his bed. You had found them by accident after Jeff stole your guns over some petty argument, that being the first place you thought to look but ending with an even bigger argument than before. It ended with you locked out of his room and his reputation amongst the other guys little to none. But at least you found an answer.

“Listen, Nina, I don’t thi-” She brushed her bangs from her face, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh please, I don’t care. Whatever Jeff likes I’ll be sure to like too.” You groaned, letting go of Nina’s hands and laying back on her bed, her dark room comforting you. Nina wasn’t at all the porn star type, especially not what Jeff was after. He was still mentally stumped as a horny teenager, so any girl wasn’t good enough unless her ass and tits stuck out farther than the rest of her two-inch waist. It was sick, but you knew Nina wasn’t at all what he was going for. The crazy don’t go for even crazier. Nina was just out of cards. You grumbled.

“Jeff is a pervert, alright? Like… only goes after girls that look like supermodels type shit.” You groaned, refusing to look her in the face. The silence was awkward, you only glanced up to see her lost in thought, that same look she got every time she was contemplating something. “Nina-” But she was already up, already pulling her closet open and shuffling through her clothes. You sat up, trying to get a look at what she was searching for before she pulled it out.

It was a tiny pleated skirt, black and leather that was way too tiny for your liking. She tugged down her patterned skirt, your eyes flicking towards the ceiling quickly to not stare as she stripped. When she stumbled over to her full-length mirror in the corner of her room, you glanced back down, cheeks flushing red. She turned in the mirror, getting good luck with the short shirt that barely even covered anything. Her ass was practically out, the miniskirt just centimeters away from showing her clothed cunt as well. Her panties were purple and pink striped, but you didn’t even have to guess. “Oh, this has to work.” She giggled, shaking her tiny ass teasingly as you shook your head, standing up to meet her. 

“Listen, Nina-” But she was already rushing towards the door, swinging it open as the skirt swayed against her pale skin. “I’m gonna go look for Jeff. Wish me luck!” Before you could say anything else she was out in the hallway, skipping down the stairs and out of view. Jeff was going to kill her if you didn’t first.

-

You heard the crying before you even saw her. It hadn’t even been an hour, but you groaned as you sat up on Nina’s bed, already knowing exactly what was coming. You stayed in her room, opting for the comforting space in case something like this did happen. 

Bursting through the door, Nina’s mascara-streaked cheeks were flushed from crying. She fell on top of your lap, you were quick to scoop her up and sit her comfortably against you as she cried into your shoulder. You knew it wasn’t going to work, but you were going to kill Jeff anyway. You rubbed her back, shushing her as she sobbed loudly, her tears soaking into your shirt and making you cringe. It was routine at this point. Nina would storm in crying, come up with some new hope as to how to impress Jeff, and then disappear before starting the whole cycle over. But this time, there were no questions of what she should do or pleas for compliments. She only lay there, face tucked into the crook of your neck and crying softly. You continued to rub her back, wondering what in the world had happened to make Nina, the most talkative girl you knew, stay silent. 

“Nina?” You cooed, pushing her shoulders back to get a look at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, mascara smudged against her eyes and running, her jagged smile anything but happy. “Wanna tell me what happened?” She wiped her eyes, unzipped her jacket and tossed it onto the floor before laying down on the bed, dragging you down to lay next to her. You held her close, the dark room giving a nice blanket of comfort around the two of you.

“Well,” She started, sniffling. “He liked it, I guess.” You were stunned honestly, turning to look at her face as she continued. “He was in the living room with the other guys, so I walked through, hoping I would catch his attention. It did, and he followed me down the hall, pushing me into the bathroom. I kind of panicked, so I asked him to stop. I pushed him off of me, but he kept grabbing me, trying to pull my panties down.” Your blood was boiling, hands already pressed against the couch and ready to storm downstairs and give Jeff a piece of your mind, but Nina held you close, keeping you down. “Eventually, I guess he got tired of me fighting and shoved me off. He told me I was an ugly… an ugly bitch and that I was lucky he didn’t embarrass me in front of everyone.” 

Nina went quiet, holding your waist close as she silently cried. You held her close, staring at the ceiling as anger raged inside of you. You knew Jeff was a prick, but to do this to her was uncalled for. You sat up, brushing Nina off as you stormed to the door, but Nina’s arms quickly wrapped around you, pulling you back to her bed. You groaned, glancing at her as she quietly begged you not to say anything. She didn’t want him more upset than he already was. You wanted to tell her off, but you guessed that was her fangirl talking. But against your better instinct, you sat back down, Nina quick to hold you close again. 

Her crying had subsided, small pitiful whines replacing them as she wiped her mascara. It was breaking your heart. “Nina. You have to understand that Jeff is a sick fuck. If you’re not willing to do whatever he says, you’re no good, alright?” You grumbled, rubbing her smeared eyeshadow off of her eyelid. “But you’re beautiful, gorgeous even. You can’t let a man who’s set in his dumbass ways dictate your feelings.” She nodded quietly, staring anywhere but into your worried eyes. You hoped your words had reached her, but as she sat up, determination in her face, you knew your hopes were already useless. 

“You’re right. Jeff isn’t going to like me if I don’t like what he likes.” You rolled your eyes hard, groaning into your hands. “I have to show him I can do it!” She was hopeless. But at least the girl had determination like nothing you ever saw. Nina turned to you, wrapping her hands around your shoulders, excitement in her eyes. “You have to teach me how to kiss.” 

You were taken back a second, eyes scanning her flushed face for any signs of some joke. But she was dead serious, smile wide and goofy and she held you stiff. “Nina, I-” But she was already pressing closer to you, crisscrossed knees pressed flush against yours. “Listen! You’re my best friend, [Y/N]. I need you to teach me how.” She was pleading, bright eyes begging you. This was becoming awkward, your weight shifting uncomfortably in her hands. But if you knew Nina, she wouldn’t stop, no matter how badly she needed to. 

“Fine.” You gritted, her smile lighting up. “But this is it. I’m done with your dumb Jeff fantasies.” You were stern, but it was the only way you knew she would listen. Nina nodded quickly, her body pressing close eagerly. In truth, you had fucked around with some relationships before becoming a full-fledged creep, but you were no expert in the sport. Nina, on the other hand, was completely clueless. As far as you knew, she was a stone-cold virgin, her obsession with Jeff giving her some fucked up chastity belt for the killer. You figured you would rather her go in somewhat familiar with the whole deal than get laughed out. 

You brushed your hair off your shoulders, focusing in on her as you spoke delicately. “Firstly, just follow me, or, Jeff, I guess. Don’t try to force anything, just let your lips glide with his. He’s probably going to be pretty rough, but I want you to just learn how to go slow first.” It was like teaching someone how to drive, except you were all nervous and hot. Nina didn’t seem fazed as she mentally jotted down what you were telling her, excitement running through her small frame. You smiled nervously, unsure how to initiate the whole thing. “So, I guess just… uhm…” You sat forward, eyes glancing nervously between Nina’s big eyes and her lip-glossed lips, wrapping your hands around her forearms. From this angle, it was almost impossible not to get a full shot of her panties from the tiny skirt she still wore. You blushed, focusing on her before leaning forward, her eyes flicking excitingly at your lips. “Just do what I do…” You mumbled, your lips inches from hers. 

When Nina pressed forward quickly, finally closing the distance, it shocked you. Your heart was pounding in your ears, fingers gripping her arms nervously as you began to slide your lips against her smooth ones. Her lipgloss tasted sweet, both of your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to slowly make out with her. Nina was pressing close, her lips moving just a little too eagerly for your pace, so you had to slow her down. Letting her arms go, you slid your hands on either side of her head, tangling your fingers in her dark hair and angling her head, guiding her lips to move against yours easily. She happily complied, her hands reaching up to cup yours as her lips followed yours nicely. You were making out eagerly, every brush of your lips more electric than you thought it was supposed to be. But you had little time to contemplate your confusion as Nina slid her arms around your neck and swung her leg over your thighs, straddling you as she refused to let off your lips. 

This was quickly spiralling out of control, but when Nina’s little breathy whines broke through every gap in your kissing, your resolve was beginning to melt. Your hands slid to her waist, her thin body pressed close onto yours. You were both breathing heavily, chests pressed against each other as you practically swallowed the other in heavy kisses. This was becoming too much for her, Nina’s whines growing louder as you peeked your eyes open, seeing her brows knitted roughly. You slid your hand against her cheek, pushing her back as you both caught your breath, lips swollen and cheeks red. “Uh-” You panted, quickly becoming aware of the position the two of you were in and growing anxious. Nina only smiled, scanning your face as she caught her breath, wiping her lips off her sweet lipgloss. “I think… I think I need one more example.” She giggled, eyes heavy as she leaned back in slowly. You nodded, unsure of what you were even thinking as you slipped your hand into the back of her hair, fisting it softly. Nina smiled back into the kiss, her lips dancing with yours comfortably. You were just helping her learn. So of course you needed to show her every possible scenario that Jeff was going to throw her way.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you gripped your hands under the thighs, flipping the two of you over and pressing her back into the bed. Nina giggled, her arms gripping your shoulders tight as you pressed against her lips hard, roughly tugging her bottom lip with your teeth. “Jeff’s… probably- ah, probably going to be rough. So you gotta… gotta be ready.” You panted against her lips, placing your arms on either side of her head as you nestled between her legs. She nodded, moving away from your lips to press her swollen lips against the corner of your mouth, pecking slowly down to your neck. You gasped, her sweet chaste kisses sending goosebumps against your skin. “Ah- Nina-”

“It’s okay,” She purred, placing her wet kiss under your chin. “I’m just trying to, ah, see what I should try on Jeff.” You couldn’t protest any logical answer as she slid her hands under your shirt, her cold fingers scratching gently and making you groan. “Yeah… yeah that makes sense…” You whined, Nina’s hands pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side. She pushed your shoulders back, rolling you over so she was straddling your lap again, your back pressed against her bed. “Like, I wonder…” Nina’s face was red as she slid down, her lips pressing sweetly against your chest and down in between your tits. “Would Jeff like this?” You glanced down nervously as she palmed your bra, kneading your tits in her delicate hands. Your face exploded with heat, a small gasp falling from your lips as she pushed your bra up off your tits, letting the mounds fall exposed. You glanced at her nervously, unsure if you should draw a line. This wasn’t a learning experience anymore, this was a horny virgin finally getting to release herself. And who were you, as her best friend, to deny her that feeling?

You let yourself relax, reaching behind your back to unclip your bra and sliding it off your chest, Nina’s eager eyes watching closely. “I don’t know. Maybe try and see if he would…” You purred, Nina leaning down quickly to grip your tit, licking your nipple and sighing at the feeling of the nub on her tongue. “I think Jeff would be sensitive… I would like that…” She cooed, rolling your perky nipples between her cool fingers and purring as you squirmed. She watched you closely, her hips slowly beginning to grind down against your crotch as she took your right tit in her mouth, sucking lazily. You tangled your fingers in her smooth hair, tugging lightly as she sucked and nibbled on your already sensitive flesh. She groaned, brows furrowing as she fought to stay sucking on your tit like a kitten. It was overwhelming, your skin hot and flushed as you squirmed under her. 

When she finally popped off for air, you took your chance and pushed her up, smashing your lips back against her as you tugged on her hoodie, tugging the purple fabric over her head and smiling when she whined. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, her bare skin and small tits exposed against her pale skin. You leaned forward, her hands pushing on your shoulders as you kissed her chest, pushing her back onto the sheets. Her dark room made her flushed skin look so pretty and supple under your kisses, her skin coming to life with goosebumps as you kissed down further. That stupid miniskirt was riding up, basically covering nothing as you tugged it down her thighs, tossing it to the floor as you spread her knees, her small whines making you blush. The purple and pink panties she wore matched nicely with her thigh-highs, her pale thighs shaking slightly as you smiled at her already evident arousal. “I think,” You cooed, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs, your dark panties contrasting nicely with hers. “Jeff would enjoy eating you out… Getting you ready before he fucked you…” You grinned, running your thumb along the wet spot on her panties and making her whine behind her hands. She nodded slowly though, letting your hands press her knees apart as you tugged her panties down, careful to keep her thigh-highs rolled up. Your heart was thumping as you nestled between her thighs, Nina’s already dripping cunt pink and cute, just like her. Your own arousal was pounding between your legs, but as a good friend, you had to put her first.

Rubbing your fingers against her clit, you leaned in, teasing her entrance with your tongue. She was already a squirming mess, back arching and knees clasping together as you licked against her folds, tasting her sweet arousal. You rubbed her clit slowly as you dipped your tongue past her entrance, chasing that addicting taste of her. Nina moaned out, her hands tangling in your hair and tugging as you curled against her walls. Her arousal gushed against your tongue, your own pants mixing with her moans as you ate her out eagerly. You couldn’t think straight, Nina’s breathy pleas to go faster making your head spin. It wasn’t long before you were gripping her thighs, nails digging into her pale skin as you tongue-fucked Nina quickly. You moved quickly between flicking your tongue against her sweet clit and dipping past her tight folds back into her warm walls. Her taste was heavenly, your eyes squeezed shut as you begged your tongue to press further, doing anything to hear her sweet moans ring in your head. 

Her hips were bucking, your tongue curling sharply against her tight walls until you felt her cry out, warm arousal rushing against your tongue. You chased her orgasm, lapping up every sweet flavor that danced on your tongue until she was gripping her thighs tightly around your head. You refused to let up, even when her walls clamped so tight you had to move to her clit, you still licked long stripes, relishing in the way her hips bucked against the sensitivity. “[Y/N]! God- please-” She begged, pulling against your hair desperately. But only when you felt like you had tasted every inch of her did you let up, panting heavily as she whined. You slid up her body, wrapping your arm around her waist as you pressed your lips against hers, shoving your tongue into her warm mouth and begging her to taste how sweet she was. “Taste… so good, Nina…” You whined, grinding your clothed cunt down against hers. 

Nina sucked on your tongue, swirling hers into your mouth and swapping spit. You were both groaning, hands rubbing against each other’s bodies until your cunt desperately begged against your panties. You raised up, Nina whining as you let off her mouth but smiling when she saw you sliding your panties off your thighs and onto the floor. “I think…” She panted, tugging you closer to her. “That Jeff would want, uh, a blowjob, right? I think it’s time he got a little rough…” She smiled nervously, tugging you to straddle her face. You smiled eagerly, nodding your approval as you positioned your knees on either side of her head, spreading your throbbing cunt with your fingers and watching as Nina blushed wildly. She was quick to wrap her arms around your thighs and pull you down, shoving her warm tongue against your cunt. You groaned, her tongue sliding against your clit and flicking gently. She tried desperately to mimic your actions, sliding her tongue against your folds before pressing into your entrance, moaning at your taste. Sighing, you sat down further, letting Nina’s tongue lap at your sensitive walls until you were grinding down lowly, hands resting against your thighs to keep yourself steady. Nina was kneading your ass, her nails scratching against your skin as she delved deeper, curling her tongue the best she could. It was heaven, your clit throbbing hard as she moaned against you. 

As much as you would have liked to let her eat you out some more, you needed to feel her, bad. All sense of what Jeff would’ve wanted to be damned, you needed to feel her yourself. Pulling off of her tongue, she whined, chasing your thighs before you laid back against the bed, gripping her arms to straddle your waist. “Need you, Nina… I mean, Jeff- Ah, whatever. I need to feel you.” You groaned, Nina’s heavy eyes watching you carefully as you spread your legs, pushing her hips back until your folds slid against each other. When your clits bumped, Nina moaned, her hands reaching down to grip your tits, rolling the mounds in her hands. You gripped her hips tightly, tugging her hips to rub her sensitive cunt against yours. “Fu- Fuck me… [Y/N], please…” She ground her hips down, riding your cunt easily. You leaned your head back, watching through hooded eyes as Nina pulsed her hips, your clits rubbing against each other roughly until you were both squirming. 

If you had a cock, you’d pound the poor girl, leaving her breathless. But as she stuttered her hips against your soaked cunt, you couldn’t help but push your legs apart further, pressing your hips up against hers. You tugged her hips up off of you, nails gripping her pale skin until you pushed them back down quickly, repeating until you were bounding her hips against yours. Your clits slammed together quickly, both of you crying out at the sensitive impact. You felt her arousal dripping from her cunt, her soaked folds pressing against yours. “Gonna fuck your cute little cunt with mine- Gonna, ah, make you cum way harder than Jeff’s dumb cock could.” You gritted out, every time you pulled her hips down you quickly ground up against her clit, making her cry out. Nina’s fingers fiddled with your nipples, her jaw hanging open as sweet moans spilt from her lips. “Oh, yes- fuck! Make me cum!” She whined, clit bouncing on yours roughly. She was panting hard, her small tits bouncing cutely as she rode your cunt, chasing her orgasm. “Yeah? Go on, Nina. Come on me, let me feel it. Let Jeff know how good it feels.” You coaxed her, teeth gritted as you held her hips down, sensitive nubs rubbing roughly against one another. 

Nina’s eyes rolled hard, her back arching sharply until she was crying out. You felt her warm arousal spill down onto your cunt, her loud moans and whines enough to push you over yourself. Stuttering your hips against hers, you held her tight, arousal crashing into you roughly. You both whined loudly, your grip guiding her hips to slowly grind down against your clit, chasing your orgasm. 

When Nina finally collapsed on top of you, you both breathed heavily, chests heaving as sweat dripped down your cheeks. Nina’s face was flushed and hot, her heavy eyes laying next to yours as you stared at her, admiring her fucked-out expression. You wrapped your arms around her waist, sliding her off of you and to your side, hugging her tightly against your waist. Finally catching your breath, you pressed small kisses against her cheeks, her skin hot under your lips. She smiled softly, heavy eyes evident of her tiredness. You brushed her bangs from her face, tucking her messy hair behind her ear as she snuggled in close to your side, breathing deeply. 

“Get some sleep.” You whispered, pulling the messy sheets over the two of you as your sweaty bodies pressed close. You rubbed her back, sighing as you watched her bright eyes close. Maybe Nina was a hopeless romantic. But as her friend, her best friend, you were always willing to put her first. No matter what. 

-

Nina wouldn’t realize that you had slipped out of bed hours later, her soft snores making you smile as you redressed yourself. She also wouldn’t realize until she woke that Jeff was screaming in agony a couple of yards from the mansion, arguing with you to let him go. 

But when he returned to the mansion with a couple of broken fingers and a black eye, she wouldn’t have to guess who did it.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[aereasrage]

The Favorite.

summary: Alicent has always loved her youngest daughter most. Too much, perhaps. — This is intended to focus on the relationship between Alicent and daughter!reader but will eventually dive into some Jace x reader (maybe some Baela x reader too idk yet) and platonic!yan green family in the following parts.

cw: codependent mother-daughter relationship, mentions of childbirth, pregnancy, alicent is on some weird shit about her favorite child, platonic!yan!alicent

notes: reader is said to resemble alicent, as in her hair and eye color.

word count: 2.7k

When Queen Alicent ended her labors, exhausted, delirious and filled with an anticipatory dread she’d come to know was unavoidable; she heard the maester say, “a healthy princess, my queen.” She had grimaced then as the child’s cries filled the air but the babe was pushed into her limp arms which almost refused her. There, laid upon her breast, was her daughter…with features so like hers. It felt unreal, she had been prepared to bear another princeling with a smattering of fuzzy silver hair to form his crown. To remind her of whom their sire was. But as you laid against her, cooing irritably at the noise in the room and squinting at her with those eyes she knew so well, she fell in love. Weakly, in her milk of the poppy haze, she thought on the moments of her pregnancy where she’d felt so uncomfortable, so ready for the babe to leave and return her body to her. It could be said that in that moment it was the rush of hormones and the dregs of milk of the poppy still ravaging her system but suddenly, regretted those feelings sorely. No, she should have cherished the time when you were safely tucked away for herself. When you were more hers than you’d ever be again.

She held onto that for years. The ache of separateness she’d never felt for any one of her children before. The love for her other children had always come so late in comparison. With you, it was so easy.

Until it wasn’t so. You hadn’t yet flowered but you’d grown so fast. The ache intensified, the stirring need to have you back where you belonged, closer to her heart — very nearly killed her every time she saw you. Even so, she would still rather be with you than your siblings. She couldn’t be with you as much as she had when you were but a babe and she could take you anywhere in her arms without scrutiny. She was preoccupied with the needs and antics of your elder siblings who always seemed to be in need of something they could not or otherwise would not give themselves. It was exhausting. The ache was a reprieve in itself from the monumental exhaustion of dealing with your, though beloved to be sure, very high maintenance siblings. It was pleasant. Everything about being a mother was as tender as a wound, it could never be wholly pleasant. But there was something so addictive in it when it was you. She never felt so close to the Mother as when she held you.

In your chambers just after you’ve bathed and dressed in your nightgown, she arrived at the side of your bed to kiss your forehead gently, a gesture reserved for you. “Tell me what you’ve learned from your Septa today,” she softly instructed, stroking your hair. It has gotten so long, so soft and so lovely to twirl about her fingers. It’s a habit she developed. “Did you practice your letters?”

You nodded, looking up at her. “Yes, she says I’ve gotten much better.”

“Good job,” she praised, a soft smile on her lips. “Perhaps I don't have to read to you nearly as much now.” A lie. She'd read to you until the end of the world, even if you no longer needed her to, so long as she can be near you. Her eyes slipped shut momentarily, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as her hands continued to stroke your hair in a lulling rhythm.

You pouted slightly, in a way she might've reprimanded you for, had you been your elder sister. "But I like you reading to me."

You feel her arms wrap around you, folding you into her embrace, unable to resist. “Would you like me to read now?” she murmurs, kissing the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed, still slightly dampened hair.

"Yes, please." So pleasing and charming you were when you said it. Oh, she could hardly get your siblings to simply mutter the words meaninglessly!

"Very well," she said softly, but the warmth in her voice made it more than a simple 'yes', her other children would never know she could offer anything but a resigned, "here" that came with an exasperated sigh. She settled in next to you.

"What shall it be tonight?" She asked, her thumb stroking your cheek, her voice holding a level of patience that could only come from the love she has for you. "The Seven Pointed Star?" You hummed your assent.

She opened the tome, her eyes scanning the words for a moment before she begins.

"The Seven Who Are One…" Your mother's voice sung out in a soft lilt, the words soft, the pace measured and gentle. As she speaks you feel yourself relaxing, and falling deeper into her embrace. You could lose yourself with her. Your eyes closed as she read on. Her words fell into a rhythm and her voice carries a soothing tune. You feel drawn inward. The world is just you and your mother.

Alas, she’d had to leave you after you fell asleep, to check on her other, more tumultuous children. It was a mournful fact that because you were her youngest and regardless of being her most beloved, she was still forced to give less of her time to you. But she returned before you woke and when you opened your eyes, your mother was there sitting beside you in your bed. “Good morning, sweetling.” she said, and she snuggled you in her arms, just holding you. She gazed at you, studying your face. “You slept for a while, it is already late morning, I wasn’t sure if you would wake.”

“Good morning.” You rubbed at your tired eyes. “I slept deeply, I suppose…” you muttered.

Alicent knew this. Of course she did, she was watching you for a while. “You've always slept heavily. Even as a babe, you would fall sound asleep with just a bit of rocking.” A small smile curled at her lips, her voice soft and motherly. “I used to worry that you’d never awaken, when you were a babe. I could never tell the difference between your sleeping and your death.”

That earned her a small, dreamy smile from your lips. “You were fussing over me even then?”

Her ensuing laughter was rich, and her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, my sweetling, of course I was.” Her tone grew more serious then, and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I worried for you every single day.”

“You worry now.”

“I know. And I know you think me foolish, but I do.” Her voice held the weight of her heart, the weight of years of anxiety. She strokes your hair, her hands gentle as they run through your locks. “I know you're nearly a woman grown, but I cannot help it. You are my daughter, my youngest. My little one.”

“I would not wish to leave your side,” you tried to assure her.

She sighed. “I would be wroth to see you ever leave my side. I cannot stomach it.” She kisses the top of your head. “I don’t know how I will do it if you are wed outside of our house. I feel my heart break just thinking of it.”

“Mine as well.” It was true, you truly could not imagine being away from your mother’s side. You did not particularly desire either of your silly elder brothers but the idea of marrying them held a certain comfort as it meant you’d get to stay with your mother. You were certain to die if you had to leave her behind.

“They tell me not to dote upon you, and to prepare you for life. But I can only see you as my child. I suppose I will forever.” She looked at you with a somewhat haunted expression, and her hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I enjoy you doting on me. Your company is a comfort.”

"I am glad," she smiled, her fingers threading through your hair. "When I'm not around, I worry that the world will be harsh to you, that it will swallow you whole and break you. I did not have…my mother with me when I left my home for good. But you have me. You are mine, and I wish to keep you safe."

She bit her lip before continuing. “I would have kept you in my womb until we turned to dust, would that I could. I know it is foolish but I miss it terribly. There we had nothing to fear. I protected you from the outside. You lived in a realm of safety, of comfort. No one could ever touch you there. No one could ever hurt you."

The concept intrigued you. The life you led, of scrutiny and pending obligation, could leave you feeling so exposed, a wound open to the air. “The world is much too loud now that I’m in it. I do miss being so close to you.” You obviously couldn't remember, not like she did, but you could imagine. You could imagine yourself curled into her, held by her, never needing anything but that...and the thought was an enticing one.

“I miss it more,” Alicent whispers. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know it is foolish of me, but when I see a woman with a child in her belly, I cannot help but be reminded of you, I cannot help but envy her.” Her voice was sullen, her gazed fixed on you. “I miss those kicks against my womb, and I miss the way you would curl into yourself. I wish I could bring us back.” Revising history is something the queen has gotten quite good at doing, she cannot recall— or at least won’t admit to, those same feelings of helplessness, lethargy and slight dissociation that had returned with each pregnancy. All of it has been replaced, memories tinged in the feeling of yearning she carries now.

“It would be just us two,” you whispered, your chest tightening slightly with an unfortunate longing to return to her.

"Forever. That would have been a very good life, my sweetling. A peaceful one." A tear trickled down her cheek, this time, though, she did not even try to wipe it away. You reached out to wipe her tear away, delicately with your thumb and the gesture was so soft, she thinks. Softer than any touch she had ever felt. It overwhelmed her to the point of trembling.

“Thank you.” Her voice was slightly raspy. You are truly beautiful to her in the candlelight, and even though you are a girl almost grown, she still sees you as the babe you were when you were first pushed into her arms, so many nights ago. “You have a very soft touch."

“Of course, I learned from you,” you said easily and Alicent had to look closely at your expression to be certain you aren’t just being jovial at her expense. But she was relieved and vaguely ashamed to find that you are entirely sincere without a hint of irony in all of your being.

She was speechless for a moment. Alicent was no longer gentle, she didn’t think she had that in her anymore. Her whole being felt sharp, ready to bleed. Even with her own children, she was seldom the mother she’d have imagined herself to be before she was married, especially with Aegon who she so struggled to even want to be gentle with. She’d forgotten that all the gentleness she possessed was not lost but had simply been redirected into you. It shamed her, it relieved her.

She decided that it was true, even if later she’d be deep her self loathing and rebuke the notion. For now, your softness was owed to the kind of mother she’d been to you. “That is true.” She laughed softly, feeling the high of your praise overwhelm her wariness. Her hands returned to playing in your hair, wafting the scent of soap and the warm musk of your skin toward her. Oh, that scent…When she come to visit your chambers just after you left them, she’d smell your pillows, your sheets, unable to help herself. It always unlocked some beastly sort of satisfaction inside her. She had even saved a little gown of yours from when you were a babe, unwilling to part with the scent of your skin. Back then, she’d attributed it to you being so young, to the bodily mysteries of a mother still fresh from labor but it had lingered. “You have such a sweet smell, my girl. I have always loved your scent.”

“I know. My handmaid told me you used to smell me a lot when I was a babe.”

So her strangeness had not gone unnoticed. “That I did. The smell of your sweet skin…” You could tell she got lost in a memory for a bit, and her face grew nostalgic. “I loved your scent so much. There was nothing like it.”

“Every day, I would smell your skin. I would kiss your cheeks and your little fingers…” Her words trailed off as she smiled, remembering. “You still have the same scent now. I would know it anywhere.”

“You were enamored with me,” you said, grinning as you stretched out in bed like a lazy cat.

She laughed softly. “I really was. You were a beautiful babe, so perfect and delicate in my eyes. I never wanted to let you out of my sight.” She remembered her father admonishing her for refusing to leave you with the maids, her near in tears trying to make him understand that this was different and him simply not willing to understand how the love of a fourth child, a girl, could have driven his daughter so utterly mad.

“I know. Grandsire says you took me everywhere with you.”

“That I did,” she confirmed, sighing softly. “I did not want anyone else to hold you.”

“Why not?” You had yet to truly address the severity of your mother’s preoccupation with you. To you, it was only love. You could not understand its implications or its logic.

“Because I did not trust anyone else with you.” She whispered. “I could not bear the thought of even leaving you with a maid, not for long anyway. You are my child, and I did not want anyone but me to care for you or see to your needs.”

“Oh, but it must have been such work!”

“All children are work, a lot of it,” she insisted. “But you were— you are a good kind of work. You gave me something to focus on besides all my other obligations. You were my little princess, always with me, and always wanting my attention. It was tiring, but I would not have had it any other way.” You made her feel the kind of love her first chance at motherhood should have brought her. You made her feel like a mother in the way the gods intended.

“That is very sweet.” It was more than sweet. It warmed your heart to hear from your mother that the work she has put into raising you, into keeping you — she saw it all as worth the trouble.

“It’s the truth. I have never loved anything more than you.”

“I’m glad for it. Glad to be deserving of it.”

Oh, your sweet little heart! Her hand cupped your face, and her fingers stroked your soft, delicate cheek, her eyes meeting yours. “You are far greater than deserving. You were perfect when you arrived, and you only became more beautiful as you grew older.”

You looked down, slightly bashful. “You’re beautiful too, mother.”

Your words bring on the fiercest of longing. Tears of joy and perhaps bitterness trickled from her eyes. "You are the sweetest daughter a mother could ask for. I love you so very much."

She is near breaking into a fit of sobs, breathing deeply to calm herself, blinking away her tears before she speaks again. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, and have those days again. The days where we could be wrapped up in each other, and the world was just us two."

And as your eyes light at the words, she cannot resist anymore. She brings you into her arms, your head resting against her breasts and her leaning down to kiss your head, breathing in your smell yet again. In a few years at latest, she’d wed you to one of your brothers and keep you safe within her watch. Then everything would be alright, you’d be safe only when there was promise you could stay with her forever.

“No matter,” she murmured against your hair, trying to soothe herself back into dignity. “Mother will protect you even now.”

[sturniqlo]

Try Again- C.S

summary: Chris goes to Y/n's apartment without her knowledge to try and win her back

cw: angst, cursing, slight fluff

masterlist | read part 1 here

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

It's been six months since Y/n broke up with Chris. She's hung out with both Matt and Nick here and there and it always seems like nothing has changed. A lot has happened over the past six months. She stayed with her best friend for the first month while she tried to recover from everything, and find the perfect apartment for herself.

At the end of the first month, she signed the lease.

Her new apartment is perfect. It has open living room with easy access to the kitchen. She loved that her apartment had many windows letting the natural sunlight come in. Her bedroom was something she loved. Back at the triplets house, she couldn't decorate her bedroom the way she wanted to. Considering the fact she had to take in Chris' interests into consideration.

Over this period of time, she missed Chris although she tried to deny her thoughts, she couldn't. When she was unpacking her car (she had left mostly everything in there until she found an apartment) she had found that a hoodie of Chris' she might've accidentally grabbed.

The moment she saw her now apartment she knew it was the one. The bathroom was absolutely beautiful which she found weird. When Matt and Nick came over to her apartment for the first time, they were shocked. The apartment was so her. They both helped her settle some things in. They went shopping for home appliances like decor, pots and pans, furniture, anything you could think of, they were there.

Chris knew that his brothers were hanging out with his ex girlfriend. He felt jealous, angry, upset. For the first few months he rarely spoke to his brothers. They tried to make an effort to hang out with him as much as possible, but he rarely let it happen. When they filmed their videos he would lock his feelings away and be as normal as possible.

The public still hadn't known that they were broken up, considering the fact that they never really posted about their relationship to avoid any hate or unnecessary rumors to spread around. They still followed each other, so the fans didn't think anything was wrong.

Y/n still continued to post on her socials, while Chris would post once every few weeks. He made an effort to get his license when he visited back home. He bought a car and tried to flip his life back the right way. He tried to talk to his brothers more. He tried to post more. He tried to contact Y/n but failed to do so because he always deleted his written out message, always closed out the phone app that was opened to her contact. Always backed out from asking Matt her new address.

Chris knew she had gotten a new apartment from her apartment tour video on youtube. He always caught himself up on anything she did. There was many speculations when that video came out but she quickly shut down the rumors by saying she just wanted her own place to continue to grow as her own person.

However, it wasn't until one day that Chris grew the courage to ask Matt the one question he always wanted to. "Hey, Matt?" He says, opening the fridge to get a pepsi. "Yea?" Matt says from washing his hands in the kitchen sink. "Can you give me Y/n's address, please." He says shyly. "And why exactly would I do that?" He says, drying his hands on his pants.

"I want to see her, and explain myself. I think I'm ready." Chris says, tapping his fingers against the table. A nervous habit he has. "What makes you think she's ready? Do you think she even wants to talk to you?" Matt knows Y/n has been wanting to reach out to Chris. He just wants to see that Chris is willing to do it himself.

A couple of weeks ago when Y/n mentioned to Matt that she was willing to talk to Chris, she gave him permission to give Chris her address if he ever asked. Also wanting to see if he would make the effort to. "I would hope she wants to. It's been quite some time. Has she.. told you something?"

"She's told me something, yes." Matt nods. Chris' heart flutters, knowing that she's probably ready to see him again, and possibly give him another chance. If she didn't want to give him another chance he would be bummed out but he'd understand.

"Is she ready?" Matt nods his to Chris' question. Matt grabs Chris' phone off the counter and unlocks it with his own face and inputs Y/n's address into the maps app. "Here, go talk to her." He hands the phone back to Chris. "Thanks. I'll be back." He snatches the keys from the table and runs to the garage. Chris looks down at his phone and realizes it's only a 10 minute drive.

Ten minutes. She's been ten minutes away from him this whole time.

Pulling up to her apartment complex. His hands start to sweat. He texts Matt and asks which buzzer is hers and which apartment floor and number is hers. He replies fairly quickly. Back at home, Matt runs to Nick's room. "It's time." He says out of breath. "He went?" Nick asks as he stops blowing his nose. "Yes." Nick had cancelled his plans with Y/n because he woke up with a cold. "Let's only hope."

The boys had hated seeing how their brother had been lately and how their friend had lost some of herself.

Chris presses her buzzer and it takes about two minutes for her to buzz open the door. Going to her floor and her door he takes a minute to himself before he knocks. "Hey, Nick. I thought you-" Her words were cut off once she saw who it really was. "Chris? What are you doing here?" She's taken aback. "I- I want to talk." He stumbles over his words. "If that's okay with you? I can leave if you want me to." He rambles.

"No, we can talk. Come in." She opens the door fully and he takes in her appearance as he walk in. She's wearing one of his favorite outfits she always wore when they went out just the two of them. "I like it. Your apartment, it's very you." He breaks the awkward silence. "Thanks, do you want anything to drink?"

"Do you have pepsi?" He asks, although he had one just before coming here. "I think so." Y/n turns on her heels and walks towards her fridge. She can't help but try to suppress her smile by biting down on her bottom lip. A habit of hers. She rummages through the fridge and finds her second to last pepsi. Over the years, she also grew an addiction to pepsi thanks to Chris.

"Here you go." She closes the fridge to turn to him when she finds him admiring the view from the high rise. "Oh, thanks." He turns back. "So," "So," They both say at the same time. "How have you been?" Chris asks as he opens the can. "I've been good, yeah. I just arrived from visiting my dad back home in Chicago."

Before starting high school, she was born and raised in the city of Chicago. But, when she bagan middle school her parents weren't the same anymore. So, when their divorce was finalized her mom packed herself, Y/n and her two little siblings and moved to Massachusetts. And that's where she met the triplets on her first day of Freshman year.

When Y/n turned eighteen, she traveled many time to Chicago to visit her dad for up to a month. Her siblings were a bit jealous so they begged their mom if they were able to tag along with Y/n. "Really? How was that?" Chris asks. "It was fun, I brought Maise and Freddy along. They were here two weeks before our trip and stayed here after we came back. They left a couple of hours ago." She hops on the counter spot next to Chris while he stays standing.

"How have you been?" She asks, playing with her fingers in her lap. "I've been good, too. I got my license when I went back home, finally. Bought a car, and that's pretty much it." Y/n gasps. "Really? That's cool. You're finally able to drive yourself around without the guys tagging along." Chris nods. "It's so much better, should've gotten it sooner." They both laugh. He eventually hops on the counter next to her. With her permission.

There's a beat of silence, their thighs are touching. Y/n bites the bullet and leans her head against his shoulder. Something she almost always did. Chris automatically melts into her touch and leans his head against hers. They stay like that for a while. Their hands eventually end up in one another's hold.

Chris is the first to break the silence. "M' sorry." Y/n can't help but tear up. "No, I'm sorry. If I hadn't broken up with you we wouldn't have been in this situation." Chris furrows his eyebrows and lifts his head off of her head and she lifts her head off of his shoulder. He stares at her teary eyes as he begins to speak. "You had no other choice, baby. I was fucking- gosh, I was horrible the last weeks of our relationship."

Chris hops off the counter and stands between her legs, bringing both of her hands up to his chest. "Chris," She begins. "No, listen to me, please." He cuts her off. "I messed up. I know I did." His voice begins to quiver and he begins to tear up, making more tears spill out of her eyes. "I was horrible at communicating how I was feeling. How everything I was going through put too much on my plate."

"And you know I didn't mean any I said to you that day, right? I didn't mean a single word. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. You didn't waste none of my time. None of it." He wipes the tears that are falling from her eyes to her cheeks while he is in the same situation. "I also hope you know I didn't mean anything I said to you too." She says and he nods.

"Y/n, baby, I would do anything that will give me the privilege to be able to call you mine again. Anything." He takes her hands back in his hold. "Really?" She says. "Yes, baby." Chris smiles and kisses her hands. "Do you promise to always tell me how you're feeling?" He nods. "Yes, all the time."

"Can I be your boyfriend again?" He says shyly. "Please." She nods. He wastes no time in smashing his lips against hers. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips. "I never stopped loving you."

A couple of hours have passed by, the sun set many hours ago and it was now nearing two in the morning. Chris was staying the night. As the movie played in front of them. Both Chris and Y/n get a message. Y/n picks her phone off of the coffee table and so does Chris.

It's from Nick, which he wrote in the group chat all four of you have together.

nick

it's 2 am chris isn't home yet i'm guessing everything went well?

matt

can someone respond so i can sleep soundly pls?

chris

if you're asking if we're back together, yes we are

nick

thank fuck

matt

goodnight everyone💤

y/n

haha i'll see you guys tomorrow!!

nick

bring me more tissue

"I'm guessing they were waiting for this?" Chris asks. "Guess so." Y/n turns her phone off and hugs Chris as if he'll disappear. "I love you." He says, kissing her head. "I love you." She replies.

[keepingitformyself]

and my waves meet your shore

A/N: this one has been in the drafts for two years.... synopsis: natasha seems to have found silence in all the noise.

MASTERLIST

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: angst, fluff.

warnings: sad natasha :(

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha romanoff has lived a very lonely ife.

however, as sad as it may seem natasha never once payed any heed to it. relationships and rapport had rarely been acknowledged by her superiors during her time in the red room. but if it ever was it was only to display the inconvenience it would bring to her life.

so as a stead natasha had only ever put her mind to the things she was instructed to, unfortunately companionship had never been in that spectrum for her.

her lack of agency had always made that easier for her. she was always taught to deflect at any first sign of fragility and she never needed anyone else because— well she was simply better off on her own.

still, thoughts of having any sense of togetherness or intimacy would sometimes cross her mind, but as soon as they came she was always quick to brush them off.

it took her some time to discard the habit of having that mentality.

natasha’s upbringing was one made up of unspeakable catastrophe, things one simply could not ever bear to speak about. she had taken too many falls, and she had shed too much blood and tears for a life she never intended.

but when she did manage to set herself free, plagued with nothing but the haunts of the past she left behind, with the very small amount of hope she had left in humanity, she rose slowly from the depths of a narrative she’d never spare a glance back at again.

and she had clint barton to thank for that. he would never understand the amount of gratitude she had towards the archer. he had given her a sense of family, a sense of home. he let her in and introduced her to his own life outside of what it meant to be on the light side of the fight.

he was her first shot at a real human relationship. her shot at a second chance.

it had flicked a switch inside of her whenever she saw clint hug his kids and kiss their cheeks. natasha had only ever known cruelty, she had never seen something so benevolent before.

she liked it whenever she got to see that side of him, the side that wasn’t so stoic and on high alert all the time, the side that wasn’t agent barton.

it changed her perspective when it came to the world. she had only ever seen the ugly in people. her experience with some of the most horrendous things had allowed for her to see the humanity in others.

but unfortunately, never in herself.

even after switching her allegiance to the avengers she still couldn’t bear the thought of the person she used to be, the one that was the exact opposite of who she is now.

she devoted herself to the fight and had made her own separate code to live by. it became a need for her to do only the great or good, so much so that she was willing to put her own life on the line if it ever came to it. her entire life became one of redemption.

natasha romanoff had lived a tragic life. no one would ever understand her and her troubled past, and no one had ever made the time to try.

that is until she met you.

she had met you in a weird time in her life. taking down what was left of shield also meant exposing who she was before her years as an agent at shield.

many people were out of a job after that. some moved on, others promoted into whatever secret agency would come next. you however, had been offered a spot next to the world’s mightiest heroes.

she was wary of you, of course. she had the right to be. it wasn’t everyday someone would show up out of the blue and offer her a piece of themselves.

you were like that a lot. natasha quickly learned you had no problem in sharing parts about you to make others feel better. sure, you weren’t someone who carried a large amount of baggage like the rest of them, but that felt refreshing to most of the team.

natasha never got to pick her battles before, until now. she’d always deny saying that she hated the fight more than she showed.

the truth is, natasha wasn’t ready for a fight much like this one, but nonetheless, it was still one she wouldn’t surrender to.

—

natasha has nightmares. bad ones too.

it’s the same thing every time they happen. she wakes up in the night and paces her room, it feels like a fire inside. the smoke that isn’t there manages to make her feel like it consumes her into its flames.

she feels helpless in its flames, she convinced herself that the lifetimes worth of nightmares is what she deserves. she cries and hopes that it ends soon, all she can do is hold her own until it passes.

suddenly, you barge in. you find natasha on the floor, looking frail and disrupted. you don’t waste a moment in rushing towards her.

you don’t even think about how you’ve never been in such close proximity to her. then you hug her. you tell her that she’s okay, that it’s okay.

she never pushes you off and it surprises you, natasha quickly figures that she likes to be held and you feel warm against her, so she lets you.

you kiss her dampened forehead and keep coaxing her, telling her anything and everything that you think might help her. you never push her into opening up, you understand the intimacy of it, natasha is thankful for that.

when you feel her breath steady and her cries have grown quieter you walk her back to her bed. you both look at each other for a moment and she breathes out before saying.

“thank you.” her voice comes out in a rasp.

you only nod, a small smile on your face. you make your way to leave until you feel her hand graze your own. you meet her eyes again with a furrow in your brows.

the look she gives you tells you that she doesn’t want this to be brought up again and that she trusts that it will remain between you both. your hand touches her own,

“you can trust me.” is all you say before leaving back towards where you came from.

when natasha wakes up that morning she finds that she hates her reflection in the mirror. she notices pieces of her old self when staring into her eyes.

she clenches the counter under her hands and squeezes her eyes until she musters up enough courage to walk out of her bedroom door.

when she makes her way into the busy kitchen she’s greeted instantly by everyone. she smiles and greets back, acting as if nothing had happened the night prior. that is until she feels a warm cup being pushed into her hands.

“morning, i made your coffee. i’ll serve you a plate in just a moment.” you greet the redhead with a smile. she raises her eyebrows in surprise and takes the coffee in her hands.

she sits besides clint and hums in contentment once she figures out that you made her cup just the way she liked it. black and one sugar.

you make breakfast easy for her to feel comfortable in. you act as if nothing had happened and continue to pass around jokes with the boys. natasha even passes you the ketchup bottle with a small smile when you ask for it. your mind cheers at the small progress you think you’ve made.

now, natasha knows that she can somewhat trust you and in the enlightenment of that she starts to loosen herself when it comes to you.

since then you’ve seen more of natasha around the building and you notice how she’s open to your company even more.

you now find the redhead sitting next to you during meals if she finds a space empty and she acknowledges you with a smile if you see her passing in hallways throughout the day.

one particular moment that really catches you by surprise is when you finally let yourself make the time to sharpen your knife collection. you hadn’t had the chance to since work piled up and it wasn’t until today that you were now allowed a free day.

and when you make it to your armory you find that all your blades and knives had been sharpened and cleaned. a note left by the redhead in your locker.

‘i know you haven’t had the time. -N’ you’re left shocked but don’t even question how she knew this despite never mentioning it to her.

two weeks later, she walks up to you in the middle of your workout. she taps your shoulder and you remove your earbud to turn towards her.

“hi!” you say too enthusiasticly, surprised she had walked up to you to start a conversation.

you’ve learned by now to never push for her attention, you let her come to you when she wants to. everything had to happen at her own pace if you want to be her friend.

she invites you for movies in her room later that night. a shy smile invades her face as she releases the sentence, you could tell she seemed a bit nervous at the idea of being in a room alone with you.

you agree as cooly as you can, careful to not overexcite your response in case she suddenly sees it as weird.

later that night you find yourself in bed with natasha, she shares her bag of skittles with you whilst she chooses a movie. you smile when you notice the stash of snacks she had hidden, a variety of skittles and reece’s. you make a mental note to gift her some more of her favorite snacks.

she makes you watch her favorite bond films, you never point it out but you know for most of the movies she had watched you instead.

the gears turn in natasha’s head. she watches you laugh and sees the fascination swirl in your eyes as you become invested in the action sequences.

she searches and searches for any sign of bad intention in you. part of her has not fully comprehended how someone like you had wanted to be involved with someone like her. she knows how patient you’ve been…but why?

she absolutely cannot help it that she feels this way, not when it’s been programmed into her to never be this vulnerable.

but every bone within her knows you’re anything but ill-intended. her mind just simply can’t wrap around the idea that someone seems to want to stay.

once the movie had finished you stayed back for a while to talk. you had no problem in taking charge of most of the conversation, you knew natasha was still adjusting to you.

she asks you questions, you answer.

you tell her about your family. you grew up in brooklyn, a cute brownstone in the park slope neighborhood. you had two older siblings, each four years older. a brother, a stockbroker and your sister who was an interior designer.

you notice the small quirk in natasha’s face when you mention your siblings, you decide not to question it.

until two weeks later. you’re in her room again and she brings it up during a harry potter marathon.

“i have a sister.” is all she has to say before you pause the movie.

“pardon?” you look at her, but she’s still staring at the screen.

“i have a sister, or had, i don’t really know where she is now.”

you tread carefully with your next question.

“do you think about her a lot?” the question finally makes her look at you.

“all the time.” she whispers.

you think of how devastating it may be for her to know someone out there was once a part of her.

“thank you for telling me.”

—————

after a solo mission to johannesburg you come back in very bad shape. you’d barely made it out by the time an airlift came to retrieve you.

and once you’re lifted into the jet by a combat med you don’t notice the worried redhead that’s in the jet waiting for you as well.

she grabs your face in her two hands, worried expression on her face.

you’re breathing heavy, and you’re clutching your stomach with the same arm that’s throbbing.

all you can really do is give her a bloodied smile.

you take a sharp breath in, “hey…” then your eyelids go heavy and you don’t really remember much of anything after that.

by the time you’ve landed it’s all a mess. everyone hears about your state, and the whole team is there to meet you at the landing dock when you’re being carried in a stretcher into the compound.

natasha only talks to three people until you wake up. steve to report everything to, and bruce and doctor cho for any inquiry on your state of health.

despite everyone’s efforts to convince natasha you’re fine, she’s stays put and keeps her eye on you through surgery. clint tries to get her to eat but his attempts fail, only met with complete silence. and wanda tries to tell her to at least freshen up for you, but she’s met with silence yet again.

it’s all honestly a bit off putting how eerily quiet she got. the team decides then, that when it comes to you it’s best to just let her be.

but she’s there again when you wake up in the med bay. she instantly hears your shift in breathing and wakes up only seconds after you do.

“you’re awake.” is the first thing she says.

and you in your disoriented state say,

“good. i’m really loopy still, so i can’t really tell if i’m dreaming or not.”

natasha lets out what sounds like a relieved sigh or a laugh, but it makes you smile, and you both stare at eachother for a few seconds.

you look at her, a grateful smile on your face.

the gears in natasha’s head turn. something about the way she found you almost twenty four hours ago had shifted something in her.

she was with steve when you reported you may need extraction as soon as possible. your breathing was ragged and you let out at strangled whimper before the line cut off.

“i’m going.” was all natasha said before she headed off to pack a bag. she was there before the extraction team fifteen minutes later.

it was hard to think of anything else besides you, on her way to you. and it was hard to think of anything else besides being with you when she finally got to you.

it was something she couldn’t quite place, or maybe she could, maybe she wasn’t ready to face it yet.

you squint your eyes at the redhead next to you, noticing her deep in thought state. you almost think you see a twinge of something else besides relief in her eyes. but before you could question it almost robotically a mask is put back up.

“i’ll go get, cho.” is all she says before she clears her throat and leaves.

after that, you catch natasha around you alot. more than usual.

suddenly every partner mission you’re assigned to, natasha is there with you ready to go.

and you never find out, but she made steve promise to assign you both together. she never really tells him why, even when he asks she’s quite good at deflecting those questions.

and quite honestly, he didn’t have it in himself to question her, knowing she always had everyone’s best interests in mind.

it’s a little past midnight when you find natasha sitting on the compound’s balcony. the distant hum of the city mixes with the soft chirping of crickets, creating a quiet melody that feels oddly serene. she doesn’t startle when you join her, doesn’t even glance up, but you notice the slight tension in her shoulders ease as you settle into the chair beside her.

the silence between you stretches, comfortable yet charged with unspoken words. she’s never been much for small talk—her world operates on subtleties and actions rather than open confessions. you’ve learned to understand her language, the way she communicates through fleeting gestures and careful glances.

“i didn’t expect you to be awake,” she finally says, voice low and steady. her gaze is fixed on the horizon, as if the view holds answers she’s not ready to share.

“couldn’t sleep,” you reply, mirroring her tone. “too quiet.”

she huffs a quiet laugh. “you don’t strike me as someone who likes noise.”

“i don’t. but sometimes, silence is its own kind of noise, don’t you think?”

her eyes flicker toward you, studying your profile like she’s trying to decipher a code. you don’t push; you’ve never needed to. natasha unfolds on her terms, like a flower reluctant to bloom under artificial light.

“i used to hate silence,” she admits after a moment. “it felt… heavy. like it was waiting to crush me.”

you nod, not saying anything but giving her the space to continue.

“then, i realized it wasn’t the silence i hated. it was being alone in it.”

the admission hangs in the air, raw and unguarded in a way natasha rarely allows herself to be. you shift in your seat, careful to keep your movements unassuming.

“you’re not alone anymore,” you say gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

her head tilts, and for a brief moment, you see the war behind her eyes—the battle between wanting to believe you and the deep-seated scars of her past telling her otherwise.

“it doesn’t feel like it when you’re around,” she finally says, her voice soft but carrying the weight of her sincerity.

it’s a small victory, but one that fills your chest with warmth. you glance at her, and this time, she meets your eyes. there’s a vulnerability in her gaze, a quiet plea for something she doesn’t know how to ask for.

“you don’t have to carry it all by yourself,” you say. “not anymore.”

her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, and she looks back out at the skyline.

“i know.”

it’s not an overt declaration or a grand epiphany, but it’s enough. natasha romanoff doesn’t find solace in words. she finds it in actions, in the quiet moments shared with someone who sees her for who she is and stays anyway.

natasha hesitates, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of her chair. she’s rarely still for long—always poised, always prepared to move, to act. but tonight, she’s caught between the present and the thousand questions swirling in her mind.

her voice comes unexpectedly, low and careful. “when you were hurt on that mission…” she pauses, her jaw tightening as she fights the urge to retreat into herself. “…i realized something.”

you turn toward her fully, watching as she wrestles with whatever it is she’s trying to say. her hands rest on her lap now, and her gaze is focused on them as though the answers are carved into her palms.

“nat…” you prompt softly, giving her space to continue.

she exhales, a sound heavy with reluctance and resolve. “i’ve lost people before. more than i can count. and i always told myself it was… just part of the job. you can’t stop to feel when you’re in the middle of everything. you can’t afford to.”

you stay quiet, knowing this isn’t the moment for interruptions.

“but when i saw you…” her voice falters, her fingers curling into fists before relaxing again. “it wasn’t the same. i didn’t—” she stops, looks up at you with a rare vulnerability that makes your chest ache. “i didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t come back.”

the admission is small, almost swallowed by the quiet around you, but it lands with the force of something much larger. you feel the words settle in your chest, warm and grounding.

you lean forward slightly, letting the closeness fill the space between you. “you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for,” you offer, keeping your tone as gentle as you can. “but just so you know… i’m not going anywhere.”

natasha’s lips press into a thin line, her gaze searching yours as though she’s testing the truth of your words. slowly, her hand moves, and she brushes her fingers against yours. it’s tentative, a question wrapped in the smallest of gestures.

you respond by turning your hand over, letting her fingers slip into yours. it’s not much—a barely-there connection—but to natasha, it feels monumental.

“i don’t know what this is,” she admits, her voice trembling just slightly, “or if i even deserve it. but... you make me feel something i didn’t think i could anymore.”

your breath catches at her confession, the subtle weight of it more than you expected but exactly what you’ve been hoping for.

“i think you deserve a lot more than you give yourself credit for,” you reply, your thumb brushing softly over her knuckles. “and whatever this is, i’m okay with figuring it out… with you.”

she doesn’t respond immediately, but the way her grip tightens around your hand is all the answer you need. the silence that follows is comfortable, filled not with the weight of unspoken fears but with the quiet promise of something new.

natasha glances at you once more, her green eyes soft in the moonlight. “thank you,” she murmurs. it’s the second time she’s said it to you, but tonight it carries more meaning, more intention.

for the first time in a long time, natasha feels the silence settle.