#so you just know she would go 👀 about all these curses

[handfulofmuses]

What if in the ghost au Smithy was thrown into the flow of failed phantoms because they tried to rebel against the chairman and the ghost council because no way would they have gone along with spreading misery

And since Smithy was the ringleader and the adult in this case they tried to make an example of him and Claire and Slinger go along with it but like - they bend the rules, loopholes and all that. They do their job and haunt but they only haunt villains

[joelsgoldrush]

“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind. 

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later. 

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words. 

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?” 

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out. 

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

 Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture. 

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them. 

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable. 

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position. 

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes. 

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know. 

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell.  It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more.  He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration. 

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[hon3y-y]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ roommate!sukuna just can’t get enough of you…

sukuna finds his perverted roommate getting fucked and can’t look away

cw: voyeurism, pervy reader & sukuna, (ft satoru), masturbation (m&f), light overstimulation(m), Non curse AU

pt 2: here<3 pt 3: here<3 pt 4: here<3

masterlist

enjoy<3

roommate! Sukuna knows you touch yourself when he has girls over, so he makes sure to make it extra loud, having the girls basically sobbing on his cock. Meanwhile, you pathetically listen through the walls separating your rooms, hand lowered into your panties, trying to stay quiet.

You listen to the whiny mess he turns all of his hookups into, hearing the clapping of skin on skin and babbling that the girl spews, clearly drunk on pleasure. roommate! Sukuna goes for so long, and you listen to every second like a pervert. You hear every word he spits and imagine it’s you who he’s calling ‘good girl’ or ‘pretty whore’, cumming as many times around your wet fingers as you can.

Of course, roommate! Sukuna didn’t always know about his little perverted roommate. That was, until you came home one night, absolutely plastered, stumbling onto nearly every surface from barely being able to hold yourself up. As Ryo tried to help you across the apartment, you confessed your dirty secret, staring up at him with tears about how ashamed you felt, begging him for forgiveness.

Meanwhile, he was throbbing in his pants at the thought of his cute roomie desperately trying to get off because she was just too scared to ask him to fuck her stupid. he could imagine it, the way you would hopelessly hump your fingers, knowing it’ll never feel like him. the image made his ego swell. All he did was pat your head and tuck you in, and the next morning, acted as if nothing happened. not that you even realized, the end of the night still blacked out from your memory.

You decide that enough is enough, feeling ashamed by how your lack of sexual activities is being forced on your unsuspecting (👀) roommate. That’s what got you into this position:  meeting some random guy in the club and bringing him home, hoping that maybe by getting a good fuck, you’ll stop your perversion.

You and your date's moves are frantic, practically ripping off each other's clothes and desperately grinding on each other for some sort of friction. You end up in your room, articles of clothing scattered across the apartment that you didn’t care about, too busy with your head buried into the pillow as your date, whose name you learned is Satoru, licked your pussy like a lollipop, moaning like it was the sweetest candy he’s ever tasted. 

Roommate! Sukuna had been sleeping when he woke up to a thud on the wall connecting your rooms. It was a light thud, usually something he’d ignore and go back to sleep, but then it was a constant creak, followed by the sounds of your whimpers. At first, he thought you were up by yourself, trying to get off while he was sleeping, until the deep voice of a man groaned, “Fuck—take it, baby—such a good fuckin’ girl" 

Ryo nearly jumped out of bed. In the year you two have been roommates, you never invited anyone over; it was only him who would have random hookups. This was new. and as much as it was pissing him off, the bulge in his pants made the situation a little more complicated. That’s how he found himself outside your room, peering into the cracked door to watch you take another man’s dick.

You looked like you were in ecstasy—the way your hands gripped the sheets and your toes curled, the pitched whines of “yes, don’t stop—please satoru~” His hand automatically moved to palm his cock, watching as this man, Satoru, forced you deeper into the sheets, pounding into your pussy. Besides the noises that escaped your mouth, he could hear the squelch every time he plunged into your sopping cunt, making Ryo’s mouth water at how wet you must be. It almost made him angry. That was his neglected pussy, and here this guy was enjoying it. 

Still, he couldn’t deny how hot you looked. Sukuna’s body was on fire, and he moved to stroke his aching cock while picturing it as him. It was him plugging up that sweet pussy and making you cream around his cock, fucking you until you were a mess of tears and cum, leaving you shaking and unable to walk. His knees became weaker, gripping onto the walls to stroke his cock faster, and he ran his fingers over his sensitive tip, making his jaw drop.

roommate! Sukuna came all over his fingers, having to rush his hand to his mouth to stop the groan he desperately wanted to let out. His body racked and shuttered with pleasure, painting himself in his own cum. He couldn’t stop, though; Satoru had flipped you over, and now he could see the look on your face.

You looked so fucked out, panting and spreading your legs because you needed to be fucked so bad. The slight scrunch in your brow made him feral, working past the overstimulation and using his own release as lube to keep going. it was messy and completely unlike himself, but the sight of you cumming was addicting.

roommate! Sukuna, who is left quietly panting outside your door, still messy from his own cum, and still desperately horny.

roommate! Sukuna, who is officially waving the white flag in this stupid game he’s had going on, you’re his, and no one-night stand is taking that away.

a/n: hiiii<3 i’ve been super busy bc this semester KICKED MY ASS but it’s ending 🙏 so i might write more, we’ll see😵‍💫 also, i have seen requests and will hopefully upload some soon? no promises though but i’ll try! :)))

[hitomisuzuya]

Step brother Scaramouche with a step sister reader who's just so innocent. He swore he hates her because of how dumb she is!

So why does he find himself jacking off to the thought of her???

She's annoying, a pest, a thorn to his side. That's what he tried to tell himself what she is to him- but why was he so annoyed whenever her boy best friend touches her? (Not even touching her in an intimate way!!)

But he just can't deny the need to be inside her whenever she wore revealing clothing! He usually stops himself, but this time, he snaps. Why would she wear a sleeveless crop top, miniskirt, and thigh highs when she's at home? She's clearly begging to be fucked by him..!! Does she always dress like this around men? Has she been taken by someone else before??

His questions were answered when he fucks her and finds out this is her first time.

Bondage, overstimulation, and sex with clothes on?👀

Take care, Suzu!!<3

stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable, please. scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. bondage. overstimulation. sex with clothes on. creampie. degradation.

you take care of yourself as well❤️ i may have gotten a little carried away with this😅

the second scaramouche saw a peek of a garter belt around your thigh, revealed by the slight bouncing of the pleats on your short skirt when you walked by him, he had make a break for a room.

biting his lips to muffle his curses and moans, he fisted his cock to the thought of fucking his delicate stepsister in only those thigh highs and garter belt. god, you are so fucking annoying. he couldn't stand that you were breathing the same air as him. following him around like a puppy..no a pest, smelling so fucking good in outfits that practically made him drool all over himself. made his cock pulse and ache.

and yet, he couldn't get you and all your cute, kind hearted naivety out of his head.

just jacking off to porn didn't do it for him anymore. because he only imagined fucking you in those positions. just the other day, he'd been one millimeter from losing his shit when his best friend accidentally brushed up against you in passing the other day.

it wasn't sexual, but would you have known it wasn't? did you even know what you did to him? you certainly didn't know he regularly jacked himself off thinking about you, cumming so hard in his hand that it left him panting after.

no sooner had he cleaned his hand off and put his dick back in his jeans, a soft knock sounded on his bedroom door. a shy knock that he could never mistake. "scara? are you okay?" god your voice sounds so innocent and cute. he bet you would make the cutest sounding moans while fucked his cock inside of you.

"what?" he snapped, annoyed. he knew if he opened that door, he would see you in that revealing outfit. his cock was already hardening just thinking about it.

"you left the kitchen in such a hurry. you aren't sick, are you?" he could see your shadow under the crack of his bedroom door. you were undoubtedly playing with your lower lip in that annoying way all shyly as you waited for his answer. he wanted so badly to nibble on that lower lip of yours, pining you underneath him while he devoured your mouth with his tongue.

sighing, scaramouche opened his bedroom door. you probably wouldn't go away until you saw that he wasn't sick. just lovesick. he grit his teeth to keep his eyes from wandering to curving dip in your hips. a curving dip that screamed breedable hips.

"i am glad you aren--" you began, looking relieved. a tch cut you off.

grabbing your wrist, scaramouche tugged you into his room and firmly shut the door. "look at you. believe me, it's cute how pester me for my attention. but do you know what you do to me? especially wearing this?" he couldn't stop his eyes now. a man could only take so much.

"w-what?" here comes that innocent naivety that made his cock absolutely ache. a blush dusted your cheeks. your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up into his glaring eyes. how could you possibly tell your stepbrother you are in love with him?

you weren't supposed to have feelings for your stepbrother.

"my god, are you dumb? do you know how close i came to bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you earlier?" he is almost shaking he could barely hold himself back. his hands were already reaching out to finally grasp you as you started to answer him.

"i really want your attention," you said shyly, the blush darkening slightly on your cheeks. it was almost embarrassing how wet being asked if you were dumb made you. something so insulting shouldn't sound so good coming from his mouth.

"you fucking got it," he hissed. you have had his attention as well as his cock's attention from day one. his lips roughly crashed against yours. scaramouche has always been an emotionally impulsive person. he was amazed he'd held himself back as long as he did.

pushing his tongue into your mouth, he ran his fingers through your silky, utterly pullable hair as he guided you towards his bed. your mouth alone tasted sweeter than he imagined.

you wrapped your arms around him, moaning softly into his mouth. it such a shiver through him how easily you let him wrestle your tongue into submission. wanting to test how rough he could be with you, he tugged on your hair a little.

a visible shiver went through you, his mouth swallowing a louder moan. an electric jolt went right to your clit as you wrapped your arms around him. you pressed your body up against his, relaxing into his rough demeanor.

you were serving yourself up to him on a silver platter.

he pushed you onto your back on his bed, wasting no time in crawling on top you. his lips never left yours, the way you melted in his grasp is intoxicating to him. you felt your body practically purr as he rested his weight on top of you.

panting, scaramouche pulled away. "do me a favor, doll, and put your arms above your head," he purred the command, his cock straining harder in his jeans watching you do exactly as he asked.

sitting up, he unbuckled his belt and wrapped it around your wrists, buckling the belt securely to his headboard. there was no going back now, and he would damned if he was going to stop.

not especially when your wrists that you oh so willingly offered to him looked so delicate bound together by his belt.

"scara, i don't know what to do. my body has been aching so much lately. all i can think about is you," you said meekly, your eyes filled with such desperation as unfamiliar lust coursed strongly through you. lust you only felt when you looked at him.

grasping your chin, scaramouche pressed another harsh kiss on your lips. "you just fucking relax and let me take care of you. i'll make that ache go away," he finally heard the words he'd been dying to hear from your pretty mouth.

he hastily pulled your crop top down off your breasts, feasting his eyes on the fact that your perfect breasts weren't confined to a bra today. a shaky moans tore from your throat as his tip of his tongue flicked and swirled around nipple, hardening it on his tongue.

you moved arched your chest up slightly into his mouth, making him grasp your other breast greedily. his fingers pinching and stroking your nipples made your clit throb more, your hips jerking up to grind against the tent in his jeans.

growling against your breast, he hastily reached down to unbutton his jeans and finally free his straining cock. his hand left your breast to bunch your skirt up over your hips. he laughed shakily watching you raise your hips up to make it easier for him.

"slut, you have thought about this too, haven't you?" his cock pulsed seeing your shy little nod as he moved your panties aside. the fabric peeled from your pussy, juices pooling messy between your folds.

he is going to enjoy finally devouring you.

he parted your folds with his fingers, smirking in dark satisfaction as your juices soaked onto them. he wagged his index finger around and around your clit, basking in the way you rubbed your clit against it, desperately seeking more friction.

the more your clit throbbed, the more you started to squirm. scaramouche was getting off watching you squirm, grinding your pussy on his fingers. he was making you squirm in the way you made him internally squirm while he held himself from fucking you.

pleasure tingled through your whole body, your eyes growing hazy as your walls started to clench around nothing. he was right about you having the cutest sounding moans. moans he wanted to turn into screams of pleasure while he made you cum on his cock.

you let out a whine of protest as he took his fingers off your clit to lick them. "sc-scara," you whimpered desperately. your body was twitching, overloaded with stimulation. it only made him more needier.

grasping his cock, he hastily pushed it past your entrance. "so fucking tight," he groaned, slowly stretching you apart before he bottomed out. he felt your body tense with momentary pain. he delivered a soothing pinch on your nipple to stimulate you into relaxing before he started thrusting. "i guessed you were a virgin."

you couldn't answer him. at least not with coherent words. pleasure was quickly overwhelming the brief pain. moans you didn't think you capable of making tore loud from your throat, jolts of pleasure nearly shattering you as his cock kissed with repeated accuracy into your sweet spot.

"you are all mine now," scaramouche moaned, gritting his teeth as his cock throbbed harder between your walls. "only i can fuck my cock inside of you, do you understand, slut?" he shuddered in pleasure as your walls squeezed tighter on his cock. "i want to hear you say you understand."

your wrists strained in his belt as you writhed underneath him. his domineering command sent your orgasm to coil tighter in your core. "yes, yes! it's only you i want! i only want your cock inside of me!" you cried out.

your words sent thick ribbons of cum inside of you. your toes curled in bliss, having him cum inside of you was more intimate than you possibly imagined. if your wrists hadn't been bound above your head, you would've clung to him, shaking as your orgasm washed over you.

satisfied, scaramouche pulled out once he thoroughly fucked his cum up inside of you. "if the mom's leave again for the night, you are coming to my room and you aren't leaving until the morning."

[buckymorelikefuckme]

what a wicked thing to do

vampire wanda maximoff x fem reader

words: 4.2k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** lesbian vampires yes GAWD, fantasy au, inaccurate historical au, smut, fingering, implied soulmates (?? kinda i guess), biting 👀, mention of blood, does this count as hurt/comfort? we shall see!! and uhhh it's kinda spooky ooky vibes but it's not really dark? i think. pls let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: listen..... i've already got spooky season in the brain and i really wanted to reshare this fic. i've edited it a little but i've also left the link to where i orphaned it on ao3 in the title if you prefer reading there~ any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged pls and thank ♡ xoxo

wanda maximoff masterlist || main masterlist

It’s that time of year in between autumn and winter where it’s only getting colder and colder, no reprieve even during the sun’s highest point of the day. Part of you worries it’s a mistake to wander through the woods like this, especially so close to sunset.

But then you remember the briefest moment when you saw her, when your eyes met hers; it happened so quickly, but also felt as if time stopped. Something flashed in her gaze before she looked away and disappeared in the busy crowds of the village.

That moment, as brief as it was, leads you here. You hug your arms tighter to your torso, cursing the bitter wind whipping around you. Your dress had been a bright idea when you’d first thought of it. Now, you’re wondering why you thought such a plunging neckline would be smart, considering the seasonable chill in the air.

Although, you think with a flutter in your stomach, that’s not exactly true. You know exactly why you chose this dress.

There’s hardly any light left in the sky by now. You’re kicking yourself for getting lost in the woods, wondering if anyone would notice, or care, whether or not you return to the village. You have no family, no money, nothing tying you to anyone or anything. You work odd jobs to be able to make ends meet. The people knew of you, but you are sure they hardly concerned themselves with your well-being.

But then, when your gaze had met her own, you’d felt seen for the first time in ages. It was like she could see everything inside your mind, every ounce of longing and every bit of loneliness, even in the split second she held your stare. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since then. Nearly two weeks have passed, and you’d finally decided to find out if the stories that follow her hold any truth. They are quite colorful, full of fantasy and myth, surely decorated to sound more elaborate as the years go on. Fantasy and myth, perhaps, but one particular piece of information continues to remain the same.

She hasn’t seemed to age in the fifteen years she’s spent living near your village. Not one line or wrinkle to be seen on her pale skin. Not one gray hair on her head. Some of the elders even swear they'd seen her when they were children.

Her home is a mystery, one that stays that way out of fear. There is something about her eyes, some say, something off, not quite right. Because of this, no one has felt compelled enough to try finding her home.

At least, not until you.

You’re beginning to think you are truly lost, feeling hopeless, when you finally spot something in the distance. But just as relief washes through you, the rain starts. Each drop feels like sharp, stabbing pieces of ice landing on your exposed flesh, soaking into the thin fabric of your dress. It takes mere minutes for you to become drenched. Your dress is now clinging to your body uncomfortably, the cold even more biting than it already had been.

It comes into view, what you’d spotted several meters back, easier to make out. A looming castle breaks through the trees, windows lit with candles.

Your arms and feet are going numb, but you push through, stumbling your way to a cobblestone path that leads to tall, wooden doors. With a trembling hand, you raise the door knocker and bang it against the door as loud as you can manage, praying whoever is inside will hear.

Your wait is short lived, thankfully. The door creaks open loudly to reveal the very woman you’d been searching for. If she’s shocked to see you, she hides it well. She looks as regal as ever. A black dress hugs her lithe body, her hair perfectly brushed and styled. This close to her, you can see what the people mean. She looks ageless.

“E-excuse me, madam,” you begin, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. “I-I’m terribly lost and I d-don’t think I can find my w-way back to the village.”

The woman lets her eyes roam your shivering frame, lingering on your glistening chest for a second, then meets your pleading gaze.

“Of course. Please, do come in. I’m sure you’re cold.”

“Th-thank you,” you reply earnestly.

She steps aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by.

“Think nothing of it,” she assures you. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, at least until the storm passes.”

As the door closes behind her, you take in as much of the space as possible. With it being nighttime, the candles can only do so much. For a castle, it is rather large, but it’s not quite as foreboding as you would have imagined. Though, you surmise, you hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

“Would you like something dry to change into?”

You whirl around, almost tripping over your feet as her voice registers, so close to your ear.

She smiles, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Swallowing roughly, you nod, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“Very good. You should go sit by the fire to warm up while I get everything sorted.”

She points toward a room where you can see flickering light dancing off the walls. You nod again, letting your tired feet follow the promise of warmth. The closer you get to the large fireplace, the harder you shiver, goosebumps rising along your skin. You stand as close as you deem safe, hands held out to thaw them. For the second time, she sneaks up behind you.

“This is all I could manage to find.”

You gasp as you turn to face her. She’s still smiling as she holds up the proffered item of dry clothing.

“You frightened me,” you state dumbly, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I did not mean to,” she replies.

“It’s okay.” You glance at the clothes in her hand, a frown forming on your face. “A… dressing gown?”

She makes a sympathetic face. “It was all I could find,” she repeats.

Her eyes dip down to your chest again. They flash, just like in the village, but you’re sure it could have just been the fire reflecting in them. You look down to see what she’s staring at and heat rushes up your neck. Your nipples are clearly outlined against the wet fabric of your dress.

“Oh,” you murmur as you lift your arms to cover yourself.

She clears her throat delicately. “Take this. You’ll get sick if you keep your wet clothes on.” She pointedly holds the dressing gown out to you again until you gingerly take it. “I’ll go get the kettle started while you change.”

“Thank you,” you return quietly.

When you’re sure she’s gone, you undress as quickly as you can, more shivers wracking your frame as you stand naked in her drawing room for a few seconds before pulling on the silk dressing gown, tying it securely around your waist.

While you wait you decide to get a better look of the room. A few paintings hang on the dark walls, but mostly they’re covered with floor to ceiling shelves and stuffed to the brim with books. You take notice of a few spots where the dust hasn’t seemed to settle in front of them, figuring those must be her favorites. A plush chaise sits in the center of the room with two chairs on either side, atop an ornate rug that rests on most of the floor. There are a couple small tables between the chaise and chairs with candelabras on them, and a wide, lower table in front of them. You spot a desk by the only window in the room.

There’s nothing particularly personal about the space. It almost feels as if she’s newly moved in. But you know that can’t be true, especially since so many people in the village have seen her visit town for years now.

A piece of parchment on the desk catches your eye. You debate over whether or not you should let your curiosity get the better of you, your feet slowly carrying you over to where the paper lay. There’s writing on the top piece, and you get as far as the addressed “Brother,” but then hear her round the corner and quickly back away.

“I wasn’t sure if you took cream and sugar, so I brought them just in case,” she tells you, setting a silver tray on the low-lying table that held the teapot and teacups.

You walk over as she pours the tea into both cups. You pick one up and carefully drop two lumps of sugar into yours, stirring it with your teaspoon until you’re satisfied it’s melted. A careful sip as you sit down and you hum happily.

“Better?” she asks, smiling and taking a sip of her own tea, sitting beside you.

It occurs to you suddenly that you hadn’t asked for introductions. You scold yourself internally, knowing you had better etiquette than that.

“I must apologize, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced myself,” you say, then offer your name. “And what is yours, madam?”

“You may call me Wanda,” she replies.

“Well, I owe you a great deal for helping me, Wanda. I cannot thank you enough.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Please, there is no need. I’m glad I was here and that you aren’t in danger of freezing to death.”

“As am I,” you respond, laughing lightly.

Silence settles between you. Your mind whirls with hundreds of questions, but you don’t know where to begin. Your plan to find her only consisted of just that— finding her. Now that you’re here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Or say, for that matter.

You can feel her eyes observing you like a caress. You struggle not to squirm or shiver, though you are no longer cold. No, there is no chill clinging to your bones anymore. Her stare alone provides enough heat. You chance a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, but she catches it. She purses her lips to keep from smiling in amusement.

“So,” you blurt, cheeks pinking, “have you lived here long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as soon as the words leave your mouth. Stupid, stupid girl.

Thankfully, Wanda laughs.

“Quite,” she says teasingly, like she’s letting you in on a joke.

You nod. “I see. Is it a family home?”

She tilts her head consideringly. “Of a sort.”

What is that supposed to mean? Miraculously, you don’t ask that question aloud.

“Do you… Do you live alone?”

You’re not sure why you ask. Perhaps it’s that you haven’t heard any other movement throughout the castle that indicated a waiting staff of some sort. Afterall, she was the one to fetch the tea.

“I do,” she says.

You don’t want to examine it too closely, but you’re positive you note a hint of longing in her tone.

“S’a lot of space for one person,” you muse in acknowledgment.

She nods. “Indeed. However, I’m sure I’ll find the right companion soon.”

You take another sip of your tea to avoid replying, but are not able to avoid meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes is something you’ve never seen directed at you. You’re hesitant to think it could be want, open desire. Not from a woman like her.

—

Wanda still cannot believe that you’d shown up at her door.

She’s spent months watching you from a distance, never allowing herself to be seen by you—not until she felt it was time. From the very first moment she caught sight of you, she knew. You are hers. Her mouth watered when the wind brought your scent to her. There was not a doubt in her mind about whether she would have you; she simply would.

She had waited, ever so patiently, watching you as you roamed the streets of the village. You didn’t seem to have very many acquaintances, if any at all, and you were always alone. Wanda quickly figured out that you were without a family as well.

Selfishly, she’d been happy about these facts.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to meet your gaze. It was quick, but she knew her eyes flashed, knew that she piqued your curiosity. It would only be a matter of time.

After nearly two weeks had gone by, however, she had started to think it hadn’t worked. She’d planned on returning to town to purposefully cross your path again, but as luck would have it, you came to her. As soon as she heard the knock on her door, she smiled.

Now, as she sits next to you on the chaise, your skin glowing in the firelight, she finds it harder to maintain her control. This close, your scent is even more intoxicating. Wanda can tell that you’re curious about her. The questions you want to ask are swirling behind your eyes. And now that you’re here, she decides she’ll answer whatever you ask, give you anything you want.

You’ve gone quiet, though, so she does some prodding of her own.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” Dressed like that, blessedly, goes unsaid.

You shyly glance down at your lap. “I, uh, I like to take walks,” you mutter into your teacup as you go to take another sip.

Wanda hums. A plausible excuse, indeed. You carefully lean forward to set your cup and saucer on the table and when you sit back you move your hair over to one shoulder. Wanda’s eyes zero in on the pulsepoint of your neck. If she focuses hard enough, she can see your heartbeat throbbing beneath your skin. It makes her teeth itch, makes her control waver even more.

When she drags her gaze away from your neck, she finds you already observing her. Her desire is clearly reflected in your eyes and the feeling is heady.

—

“Are you warm now?” she wonders.

“Yes,” you whisper, your breathing picking up, making your breasts heave alluringly.

You’d go as far as saying you are overheating. The dressing gown, where you’d been unsure and embarrassed of being nude underneath it before, is now a blessing. Your body feels alight with an unseen, growing fire. Shifting on the chaise, you don’t notice the sleeve slip down your shoulder, only registering the air skimming across your collarbones. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel something cold on your bare arm.

Peering down reveals it to be Wanda’s hand carefully sliding the sleeve back up into place. Your brows pull together in a frown.

“Your hand…” you mumble, trailing off.

She lets it linger on your shoulder for a moment, then slowly traces down your arm, her thumb grazing the side of your breast. Your nipples tighten, thighs clenching together as you watch her fingers stop at your wrist. Though her touch is cold, it feels like a relief against the searing heat of your flesh. You peek at her through your lashes and find her expression to be one of complete hunger.

Feeling emboldened, you hold her stare as you shift to pull the sleeve down again.

Her lips lift on one side, her teeth glinting dangerously. “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” she asks.

You blink, faux innocence shifting behind your eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Wanda takes a deep, steadying breath, though it only helps in inhaling your scent more. She says your name. “Why do you think you are here?” The question catches you off guard. Wanda shifts even closer to you, watching your throat bob as you swallow. “We both know it isn’t because you accidentally got lost in the woods. You were out there with a purpose. What was it?”

You lick your lips, noticing her gaze immediately drop to them. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure.

She leans in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You do,” she whispers, without doubt. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilting back without you being aware of it, exposing your neck. You feel her presence mere centimeters away from you, her breath puffing out along the column of your throat.

“I… I felt drawn here. It feels like I was meant to be here,” you say, quiet, almost hoping she doesn’t hear you.

It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. It’s one thing to have that thought sit in the back of your mind where you could pretend it didn’t exist, but to admit it aloud is entirely different.

“With me?”

You shiver at her words, her lips having softly dragged across your skin. Helplessly, you nod.

“Are you afraid?”

That makes you frown, but you adamantly reply, “No.”

“Open your eyes,” she pleads.

You follow her instruction, wary, but gasp at what you see. Sharp fangs peek out from Wanda’s lips, her eyes so pale they’re almost white now. Though your heart continues to race, it’s not out of fear. It should scare you, it should send you running, but you find your hand slowly rising to carefully trace a finger down one of her fangs, amazed that she even lets you.

“You’re…” You start, meeting her patient gaze once more. “Beautiful,” you finish in a whisper, because she is. You go to reach for her face to stroke her cheek, but she lurches backward. In a blink, Wanda’s on the other side of the chaise. Disbelief paints her features.

“You think I’m… beautiful?”

“Of course,” you state plainly, brows furrowing. Wanda continues staring at you in wonder. “You said I was here for a reason.” Ironically, she’s now wary of you as you shuffle closer to her. “I know what that reason is now.”

“Which is?” she asks apprehensively.

“You,” you murmur, cupping her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

Wanda looks as if she’s scared to accept this, to hope for it to be real. You steal away those worries by leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. She inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut, her cold hands gripping your wrist almost painfully. You give her a moment, kissing her forehead as she gathers her emotions, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice cracks softly, but her grip on your wrist loosens as you move it. You lift her chin so she’s looking at you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She stares at your lips for a few seconds, and then, as your words sink in, they seem to send her into action. She surges forward and captures your lips, more sure, more eager than before. You respond in kind, pulling her as close as possible, sighing into her mouth.

You quickly find yourself on your back on the chaise, Wanda above you, bodies slotting perfectly into each other like lost puzzle pieces. You feel her hand slide down from where it was in your hair to graze along your sternum. Then her hand cups your breast, thumb swiping across your nipple, and you gasp. It’s the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and Wanda takes it.

Her tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at her like she’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let her settle between your thighs, to arch into her touch and slide your tongue in her mouth, delicately tracing over her fangs. Wanda shudders, grunting inelegantly before wrenching herself away, panting heavily into the space between you. You blindly chase after her, opening your eyes in confusion.

Wanda’s gaze is intent on your neck, full of desire. The weight of the moment hits you, then. What exactly it would mean if you give in to her. So, with full faith in your decision, you tilt your head ever so slightly and she goes perfectly still.

“Go ahead,” you encourage.

She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

You huff. “I do. I want you to do this.” You know she won’t look at you just yet, so you lace both your and her fingers together and squeeze hers as you continue. “I need you to do this.”

“If I do,” she starts, swallowing thickly, “I won’t be able to stop. You’ll end up like me.”

You duck your head to catch her stare. “And what’s wrong with that?”

She closes her eyes and falls silent for a moment. The weight of your words fall over the two of you like a winter blanket.

“I’ve waited so long,” she confesses, voice quiet, shaking and timid.

“For me?” you ask. She nods. “I’ve been looking for something, or someone, to make me feel whole all my life.” You use your free hand to stroke her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she leans into you. “I’ve waited for you, too.”

When she finally looks at you, you know there’s no going back for either of you.

“It’s going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary.”

She smiles then, slow and teasing. “I can ease the pain, you know.”

Her free hand tugs lightly on the ties holding your dressing gown closed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. You bite your lip and nod, shivering in anticipation. She undoes the careful bow you’d tied, easing it open and exposing your body to her hungry gaze.

If you felt heated before, you’re an inferno now. Her hands reverently map out every curve of your body. She leans down and plants a kiss above your belly button. It makes your stomach clench in want, but you make yourself lie there and take whatever she plans on giving you. Her kisses lead up your torso, until she’s eye level with your breasts, and before you can comprehend her movement, she’s taking one of your nipples into her mouth.

“God,” you whimper, head thrown back as you push your chest into her face.

“No,” Wanda giggles, “just me.”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a gasping moan when she pinches your other nipple between cold fingers. Your thighs attempt to close around her, yet it’s futile. Her free hand begins its descent down to the warm heat between your legs. Your hips buck into her touch, crying out when her fingers make contact with your clit.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make this feel good, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You nod quickly, your mouth going dry. When a single finger enters you, you forget how to breathe for a second, but then she’s sliding it out and back in, setting a steady rhythm, and you’re back to panting and whining. Only a few minutes later, though, you’re wriggling around, begging for more. She adds another finger and picks up the pace.

“Oh,” you gasp, your legs falling open wider.

Wanda buries her face in your neck, inhaling loudly, groaning. She licks across the skin there, nipping at you.

“Wanda,” you whimper.

“I know, my love,” she rasps. “You’re so close.”

Your hands have drifted above you, clutching at the pillows on the chaise, your hips moving in tandem with her fingers. Her thumb meets your clit, adding to the building warmth in your belly. It swells and swells, until finally, it has nowhere else to go and explodes within you.

You feel her teeth sink into your neck at the very same moment, and you can only yell brokenly into the air. Pain and pleasure war inside you, both white hot and searing, marrying themselves into a delicious and lethal combination. You can feel blood trickle down your throat, the same way you can still feel her fingers thrusting into you. It seems to never end and you grow limp beneath her, unable to handle the sensations flowing through you.

She finally slows, removing her teeth and licking over the wound. As her fingers slide free, she brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead with her clean hand.

“Sleep now,” she instructs, kissing you softly.

You can’t even attempt to argue, your body listening to her and promptly sending you into a deep slumber.

—

When you wake, before you even open your eyes, you’re aware of a few things.

To start, you’re no longer on the chaise. You’re on a luxurious bed, which is presumably Wanda’s. Your hearing is significantly better, as is your sense of smell. There’s a low thrum of energy coursing through your veins, like you’re on edge but don’t know why. But the more important thing you’re aware of is the feeling of eyes on you.

“I know you’re awake now.”

You crack open one eye and see Wanda smirking at you from the other end of the bed. You smile and sigh happily.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

You carefully sit up and stretch. You notice her ogling your still naked body and give her a smirk of your own. Shifting onto your knees, you crawl over the bed until you reach her and straddle her lap.

“Hungry,” you answer before grasping her face in your hands and attaching your mouth to hers.

With a force she hadn’t used before, she tosses you backward and is on top of you in a flash, a devilish smile on her tragically beautiful face.

“Good.”

[inuyashaluver]

if you do start doing player x r x player you could do one with leah and alessia 👀

slice of life - alessia russo, leah williamson

alessia russo x leah williamson x reader

description: in which you and your two girlfriends enjoy life together

warnings: i am not shipping these girls together THIS IS FICTION, LOVES, polyamory, i dont really think there's many warnings?

a/n: another fic for my lovelies and its a THROUPLE?! this was actually so fun to write but it’s SOOO RANDOMMMM, i hope you guys enjoy this because i know its not everyone's cup of tea! enjoy, enjoy, enjoy, and thank you so much for the request!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone were to tell you in the past that you would be dating two of your teammates, who also happen to be your best friends, you would laugh in their face. 

you didn’t think it would be possible, basically growing up with the two girls and then suddenly finding yourself in a relationship with both of them. 

it was exciting and just worked, it was a mutual understanding between the three of you. there was just something so simple about being with each other, in the beginning it was confusing but it slowly grew to be more comfortable. 

you all played together in the lionesses, as well as arsenal, so the progression of the relationship came naturally.

you originally were dating leah, when you were 23 and her 25. and as the two of you grew closer, so did another certain blonde unexpectedly. 

you and leah weren’t really sure how it happened, but alessia added herself into the equation, and now the three of you have been together for essentially 3 years and you all couldn’t be happier. 

you had your own lives, the relationship not a secret rather private, and that’s how you all liked it. 

—

“baby, i cant find my boots anywhere!” alessia whines from the living room, you could hear the pout laced in her words, alessia was always one to misplace something and come crying to you for help.

“clumsy lessi” leah chuckles from the ensuite bathroom, watching you trudge out the bedroom to help your girlfriend. 

“lessi baby” you laugh, watching her throw the living room apart for her shoes. “yeah?” her head pops up from behind the couch, you’re unable to stop yourself from smiling at her slightly dishevelled appearance, to which she amusingly rolled her eyes. 

“babe, they’re right there” you snicker, pointing to the two neon yellow cleats by the door. her head snaps in the direction of your finger, immediately groaning once she saw her boots in the place she swore she double checked. her head falls back as she lays flat on the floor, you laugh brightly at the curses falling from alessia’s lips. 

“what’s all the giggles in here for then?” leah’s voice fills the space of your giggles, the older girl coming behind you with her arms wrapped around your middle. your head swivels slightly to face your other girlfriend, the blonde quickly closing the gap and placing a kiss on your lips. 

“lessi’s funny” you mumble against leah’s lips, making her chuckle against yours. 

and of course, alessia’s whines pick up again at feeling slightly left out. leah chuckles when she spots alessia scrambling to stand up, she lets go of you for a moment, spinning you gently into the arms of an awaiting alessia. 

alessia without a second thought cradles your cheek, kissing you sweetly. “i get no fun around here, always sharing” leah mocks watching you too, making alessia outstretch her hand to leah, pulling her into an impromptu group hug. 

you were sandwiched in the middle of the two, the girls now sharing a kiss above you before both of them attack your cheeks with kisses, all three of you giggling cheekily. 

“alessia lost her boots and they’re right over there” you chuckle, leaning back into leah when alessia moves past the both of you to get changed, always finding herself running a little late. 

leah laughs with you as you explained the situation, alessia’s groans only making the moment funnier. “don’t be mean to her, she’ll sulk all day” leah whispers in your ear.

you turn to her with a mock look of offence, “she will not” you whisper loudly back, leah mocks your voice with a smile, running away from you as you chased her back into the bedroom. 

—

“(y/n) was so mean to me today, you know? i asked her for help in a life or death situation and she just laughed at me” alessia explained to a laughing vic and kyra, making you stop rolling out your quads in the gym with leah, “i told you” leah says under her breath but you heard it. 

“russo! it was not life or death, it was just your boots!” you exclaim, making alessia snap her head toward you, “who do you think you’re talking to? who is russo?” she scoffs, clutching her heart at hearing her last name fall from your mouth instead of your usual pet names. 

“i’m talking to you” you grumble, feeling leah place her hand on your bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze. “baby, that hurt!” alessia chuckles, playfully winking at your unamused expression. 

you turn to look at leah, looking at her for back up. 

“lovey, she’s mucking around, go kiss and make up” leah pleads with a smirk, clearly teasing you. you give her a slightly shocked expression, the older girl usually backing you up in situations like this. 

“lee-” you pout, leah places a quick kiss on your lips, squeezing your cheeks together to form a pout. “no, darling, go make up with less, i’m not dealing with the bickering all the way home” she says firmly, always the most level headed in your relationship. 

she gives you a hand up before giving you an encouraging squeeze to your hips, pushing you over to alessia sitting on a bench. you huff but sit on the blonde’s lap, her hand immediately placed on your thigh as you sat down. 

“hello, gorgeous” alessia swoons, kissing your cheek affectionately despite your blank stare. “say i wasn’t mean to you” you say simply as alessia tries to kiss your lips before you dodge it. 

“baby, i was joking” alessia smirks, bumping her nose on your cheek. “alessia” you whine, the blonde giggling as she placed more apologetic kisses to your cheek, making a little giggle escape your lips occasionally. 

“you weren’t being mean, baby, i’m sorry,” alessia says earnestly, making you smile down at her cheekily before giving her that kiss she wanted, later talking with her and the other girls back and forth before you made your way back to leah. the younger blonde giving your behind a playful slap. 

“thin ice!” you remind her, walking into leah’s outstretched arms. “good girl” leah croons, giving you a tight squeeze and sending alessia a wink. 

—

“what if she forgot something?” you say to leah anxiously, the blonde watching you pace in front of her with an amused smile on her face. 

“two weeks ago, you were fighting about boots” leah chuckles, you send her a glare and she stops, “she didn’t forget anything, love, you packed her bag” leah reminds you, 

“i know, but i’m worried about her” you say anxiously, thinking about your girlfriend who was currently travelling to australia for a friendly match against the A-league all stars team. both you and leah weren’t selected in the team this time. 

“my girl,” leah coos, “alessia will be okay, baby, i know you miss her” you pout and flop on the couch,  “you’ve got me though, sunshine” leah teases, smoothing the furrow between your eyebrows with the pad of her thumb.

“i know, lee, i love you” you send her a small smile "i love you more", you couldn’t help but miss alessia, the three of you were so used to each other’s company now. when one was away from the trio, it made the other’s a little sad, even if they didn't want to admit it.

leah could tell alessia’s absence was hitting a little harder than normal, she missed the other blonde too but didn’t want to dampen the mood. leah knew, the only thing that you were thinking about was that message from alessia that she had arrived at the hotel.

“how about we watch an episode of our show? i promise i won’t tell less” leah attempts, clearly working by the ways your eyes lit up at her words.

leah immediately grabbed snacks and made the couch more comfortable, cuddling up next to you and pressing play on the tv.

you kept anxiously checking the time, waiting for alessia’s message that she had landed safely. cuddling with leah on the couch, the two of you chatted. 

you felt bad about your mind being preoccupied about your girlfriend when your other one was basically melted on top of you but you knew leah understood your worries about the youngest out of the three.

it was until leah’s phone began to vibrate that you both sat up, seeing the name ‘lessi bear’ on leah’s home screen with a silly photo of the two of you under it.

leah chuckled at the sound of your gasp, shaking her head amusingly before passing you her phone, you answered immediately. "pause the tv" you hiss before pressing the green button.

“8 seconds, williamson, that’s appalling” alessia grumbled, hating when leah was slow with answering the phone, “oh, you're not williamson, hello, baby girl!” alessia says brightly, you smile back at her through the facetime call, ignoring the scoff that came from leah’s mouth.

“i can’t believe you called leah first and not me!” you tease, watching alessia laugh brightly, dressed in one of your hoodies, her hair lightly framing her face with the hood on top of her head. she looked so comfy and cozy, you were really missing her at this point.

“leah told me to call her first” alessia clarifies, smiling at you with pink cheeks, “traitor” leah mumbles, “what was that?” you smile at leah, clearly smitten at hearing the voice of alessia.

“nothing, darling” she smiles, kissing your temple affectionately before reaching out to hold the phone for the both of you to be in the frame.

“how was your flight?” you ask her, weirdly shy for some reason, something alessia caught onto quickly, she chuckles, rustling in the bed slightly adjusting herself to be more comfortable.

“it was good, love, except i dropped my phone during the beginning of it” leah laughs at alessia through the phone, you couldn't help but chuckle as well before your other girlfriend began whining about how you both didn’t love her.

after a room tour and chatter between the three of you, you couldn't help but grow a little drowsy, the time difference proving to be a little difficult for you.

“as soon as she hears your voice, she’s out” leah grins at a dozing you on her chest, alessia chuckles affectionately, “i miss you both” she breathes out, taking a few screenshots of the cute scene playing out in front of her.

“she's been worried about you, less, she keeps thinking you forgot something” leah says quietly, her hand rubbing up and down your back in an attempt to keep you asleep.

“don't tell her, i forgot my phone charger” alessia says sheepishly, leah bites back a laugh, body shaking a little but some miracle keeping you asleep. "the one thing she told you to pack yourself" leah teases, alessia rolling her eyes "shut up, babe"

“i knew it” she whispers, chatting back and forth with alessia, making sure to go captain mode and tell her some tactics. 

“say goodnight to her for me?” alessia pleads, leah nods instantly, kissing the crown of your head before whispering “lessi says goodnight, bubba”.

they exchange a loving goodbye and a kiss to the camera before getting some sleep. you and leah waking up extra early to watch the match.

—

leah sits at the kitchen island of your shared apartment absolutely glued to her computer, the older girl insisting she must be the one to book all your flights for the off-season, not wanting anything to go wrong at all.

alessia was on the way home from her australia trip, having already landed and getting a lift with steph, her house close to yours. you were currently making some dinner, alessia’s favourite that she had been begging you to make for her when she came back home.

leah was extremely focused on her task at hand, offering you simple, ‘mhm’, ‘yeah’ and ‘okay, baby’ when she could. 

you were bored waiting for alessia, only needing to do the finishing touches when the blonde walked through the front door. you wanted to cure your boredom with your other girlfriend but she simply was preoccupied and you couldn’t have that.

“i'm thinking of going to get a new outfit tomorrow” you attempt, “that’s nice” leah offers mutely, barely giving you anything. you frown at the lack of response from the england captain.

“i can’t wait to see alessia” you smile, “mhm, me too” she mumbles, you scoff at her response, you know she’s doing something important but you were just so bored, and alessia was due to come home at any minute. the rapid typing of leah’s keyboard was beginning to get on your nerves.

“you know, alessia is definately my favourite player” you say proudly, hearing the complete silence now filling the room. leah looks up at you with an icy glare, suddenly all her attention devoted to you.

“do you want to say that again?” leah grits out before being interrupted by alessia trudging through the door.

“lessi!” you say happily, rushing over to alessia and pulling her into a tight hug, alessia drops her bag to catch you just in time, chuckling affectionately as you clung onto her. “aw, my love” alessia grins as you peck her cheeks repeatedly.

she places you down with your arms interlocked, “don't look so happy to see me, lee baby” alessia laughs, both of you now looking at a frowning leah, her arms crossed firmly over her chest as she watched you two in your loved up bubble.

“what’s her problem?” alessia whispers to you, you just shake your head and smile up at her brightly, “doesn't matter” you assure, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

“i’ve got a bone to pick with you, russo!” leah complains.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily tooney

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alessia: my favourite girls in the world!

view all comments

yourname: one more than the other, though, right?

↳ alessia: cheeky baby

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you’re not denying anything?

↳ yourname: oooooo you’re in troubleeeeee

↳ alessia: sigh

↳ leahwilliamsonn: both of you are in time out.

[thewidowsledger]

The Call

Chapter 2: 10 Things I Hate About You | 3.9k

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You were supposed to take her out—the infamous Black Widow—Natasha Romanoff. The S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping an eye on her for a while now and for some reason, another high-ranking agent as you was sent to get the mission done. But then, he made a different call leading the mission to be here in front of you, soon to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Tags | Pairings: Ex-Russian Agent Natasha Romanoff x Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, bad writing, slow burn, angst, cheating👀 cursing, mean r

Author's Note: Madisynn with two n's, one y but it's not where you think it is💅 I might not be able to update for a week or 2, I have a big recitation and debate coming up and I really need to study because I don't want to be an air bender. I'll still stop by and check in, xo.

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

Three months had passed since Natasha Romanoff joined SHIELD, and everything was running smoothly. You had managed to maintain a professional distance, only interacting with her when necessary for work or missions.

Under your guidance, the tasks and missions had been executed without any significant issues. The agents under your wing were performing well, and the overall atmosphere in the unit was productive and efficient...but the unspeakable tension never left when the redhead is around.

“We should invite Y/N for lunch.” Yelena murmured to herself as she walked with Natasha with their packed lunch in the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound.

Much to her surprise, Natasha overheard what she just said and immediately responded. “No, we can't do that.”

Yelena's mind instantly seized on the opportunity. A sly grin formed on her face as she retorted, “You know what? You should invite her for lunch.”

She looked around, before whisper-shouting to Yelena, “Are you nuts?!”

“Come on, Nat. We talked about this, that we’re gonna invite her for lunch sometime.” Yelena said, her tone light and playful, “It's just lunch. What's the worst that could happen?”

“She'll probably glare at me the entire time and refuse to eat!” Natasha freaked out. Yelena had always told the redhead that they should invite you for lunch some time and she never expected that, that some time is right now.

“She hates me, Yelena. And everybody knows that.” Natasha continued, now muttering under her breath. “So no, sorry if I won't ask her to have lunch with us but If you wanna go and have lunch with her Yelena, that's fine with m—”

“You two gonna have lunch?”

Yelena and Natasha froze in surprise as they suddenly became aware of your presence.

The two agents looked back at where you came from and Yelena excitedly waved at you, her childish demeanor on full display—as always. She turned to Natasha, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“Actually,” Yelena added, “Natasha here wanted to invite you to lunch,” coughing playfuly as she pat her partner's shoulder.

Your head tilted slightly to the side, “Oh really, Agent Romanoff?”

Natasha, her heart racing, had no choice but managed to stutter out a soft “Yes,” even though a while ago she was so against having to invite you for lunch.

“I might have to pass.”

Of course you will, she had already expected that response. She had expected your rejection. How could you say yes when you cannot even be in the same room with her around? Natasha thought—though you actually never let her out your office.

But deep down, she had harbored a small hope that you would somehow say…yes.

“Oh, that's fine with us.” Yelena said trying to break the tension that has been slowly and painfully building up, she gave Natasha a discreet nudge, signaling her to respond.

“Yeah, yeah all good,” Natasha eyed you with a faint smile, for the first time you were able to take a good look at her eyes. It was her first time too, actually. Finally having the courage to look at you straight in the eye as if she really wanted you to notice the trace of disappointment in them.

Trying to shake off the thoughts creeping in your head. You blinked as you turned to focus on Yelena, “Lena, can you go to my office after? Just about the team-building coming up.”

“Oh yeah sure,” the agent replied cheekily.

“I’ll see you, then. You two, enjoy your lunch.”

“Yeah...you too,” this time, it's Natasha who replied, looking down onto the lunch she had meticulously prepared for two.

⧗

“She hates me, Yelena. And everybody knows that.”

You did send her to a more difficult mission compared to any other agents under your wing. Yes, and you’re just being reasonable you thought, plus, you know those missions are just nothing to her. Do you make her come early to the office just to see her struggle with the tasks you give her in the past 2 months? Yes. And you’ll continue to do it? Of course you will.

Do you hate her?

No.

But you did hate it when one of your agents called her a ‘killer’ during one of your meetings. You immediately used your power of being the daughter of the director to have the agent transferred from a different unit, if only you could have him terminated out of S.H.I.E.L.D. but you refrained from taking such actions, you still have remorse and you still see the value that agent held in the agency.

Oh, you certainly also hated it when Madisynn told you that Natasha will go out to have lunch with other agents in different unit because they invited her. So you immediately asked Madisynn to call her before she could even step out of the building. She came in your office chasing her breath because she had to ran from all the way up to your office, you assigned her an enormous pile of paperwork, effectively preventing her from accepting any social engagements or from seeing some agents…or anyone she's supposed to be seeing and to ensure that she remained in your office with you for the entire day.

Did you hate it when you noticed an agent getting too comfortable with her during break time, leaning in close, even touching her biceps? Oh, you were mad. So you reprimanded Natasha even though she had no idea what she did wrong. The next day, when the same agent attempted to engage her in conversation and asked her for late-night drink, you were smugly satisfied to see Natasha politely decline the invitation without a second thought. Seeing the agent make a pouty face and even attempted to cling to Natasha again only for her to swiftly sidestep the touch. Though some part of you wished to see Natasha to completely ignore the agent but you knew Natasha is... too soft? To do that?

So...you're jealous of her?

No. But you don't like it when people get too close to her.

Well, do you hate her then?

No. But you hate it when she's too nice to the other agents, she was an assassin for fuck's sake—the Black Widow. She was supposed to be harsh, cold and intimidating. But all you see is a gentle woman radiating with warmth and kindness, effortlessly extending small gestures of courtesy. You hate it during meetings, when she habitually holds the door open for others, and you also hate it when she takes it upon herself to carry the heaviest boxes of files. You hate it when she asks her colleagues if they had lunch already, and oh god, you also hated how her lunch smells good all the time.

You hated how she was still able to do all these after you gave her excessive amounts of paperwork, almost putting her on a desk job. Despite the mountain of tasks you had thrown her way, you hated how she still managed to smile at you, taking everything you give her, accepting your toughness towards her. You hated these simple things she does.

This is not the reputation of an assassin—of the Black Widow. It feels like you just wasted everything you've done in this mission, her being your mission. This is not the one you’ve seen on the files you had, the ones you studied almost half of your life and you hated it, you hated how wrong those papers are.

How wrong you are.

“So what about the team-building?” Yelena asked, as she walked to your office not caring even a single knock

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, the blonde’s unexpected arrival catching you off guard. Your tried removing the things you have been questioning and answering at the same time in your mind.

Yelena chuckled as she observed your shocked reaction. “Y/N, relax,” she said between giggles.

You tried to regain your composure after getting startled by the agent's sudden entrance. “You finished your lunch that quick?” You coughed, pretending to look for some files down your desk cabinet.

You didn't miss how the agent chuckled and winked as she sat down in the chair opposite your desk. “You know how I eat, boss,” she remarked, “So, about the team-building event…”

You informed her about the upcoming team-building event, it is an annual gathering organized for the entire agency of S.H.I.E.L.D. and it will be coming a little early this year. An opportunity for various units to come together to have fun and at the same time bond with others.

“So is she going to be there again?”

The question made you stop from pretending that you were doing something, you were in a very awkward position right now, having to seat from your chair and crouching down to the lower cabinet on your desk. You slowly look up not at her but at your computer screen pretending once again, “Who?”

“You know damn well who I'm talking about.” she scoffed, the agent leaned forward to you snatching a paper and a pen from your desk.

“Yelena, it's been 2 years…” you sighed and chuckled, pretending to scroll on your computer when you were just drawing circles on the wallpaper. It was a picture of you, your mother and Fury in a car.

“You know how I hate that we get to have this team-building thing because that means I’m going to see that bitch.” She scribbled on the paper like a kid and flashed it in front of you where “Beware: Earthquake incoming,” is written on it.

You couldn't help but smile and shake your head at her dramatic flair but your insides are getting tense once again at the topic.

“Here, someone wants to give this to you.” She handed you a paper bag.

“Who?” You suspiciously inquired as you accepted the bag.

“If I tell you, you’re not gonna eat it.”

“Of course not, what if it has poison?” You carefully examine the bag and you are welcomed by the familiar scent of peanut butter and strawberries.

“You know what? Stop being mean and eat. You’re so skinny.”

“Hey, I'm still your senior, you might wanna watch that mouth,��� you retorted, trying to maintain a sense of authority around the blonde and kinda... threatening her.

But Yelena ignored your words and continued to tease you, asking, “What do we do during an earthquake, Y/N?” With a coy smile, she sing-songed, “Duck, cover, and hold.” She winked at you before disappearing behind the doors of your office.

You sighed as soon as she was gone, you were blankly staring at the wrapped sandwiches and a strawberry yogurt inside the paperbag. You have no energy to eat not because you know who gave this food but about the topic that the blonde had brought up, it hit you hard enough to made you lose your appetite.

“I'll be okay,” you squeeze your eye shut and breathe clutching the paperbag on your lap.

⧗

“So we're really supposed to wear this?” Natasha questioned, referring to the pink shirt that was assigned as the color for your unit's team uniform for the team-building.

The agent, Madisynn, nodded in sassily, stating, “Uh huh, last year our color was orange. We looked like prisoners.”

Natasha let out a soft chuckle at the agent's witty remark. She surveyed the hall, taking in the various colors worn by other agents, unconsciously searching for the familiar shade of pink associated with her color hoping to see Yelena but she didn't see any sign of her but instead Natasha saw an agent wearing a blue coded shirt walking-running towards her direction.

He gave Natasha a forced smile but turned serious to the agent beside her, “Madi, duck, cover and hold.” The agent in a blue shirt whisper-shouted to her.

“Oh my goodness gracious I completely forgot about her.” She hastily collected her belongings, shoving her tumbler inside her tote bag.

“Hey, where are you going?” Natasha, noticing her teammate's distress, quickly questioned as if she's scared to be left alone she then also gathered her things. The agent in a blue shirt was already gone.

Before Madisynn had a chance to stand up, a figure blocked her path, “Hey Mad, where's Y/N?”

Madisynn's voice trembled as she replied, “H-hey Daisy.” She kept her head down, “I-uhh I don't know…” She held her bag tightly like a nervous teenage girl being confronted by a bully. Natasha, who was sitting beside Madisynn, rose to her feet, leveling Daisy.

Daisy shifted her gaze to Natasha, looking her up and down before finally speaking. “You must be…” she began, a sly smile on her face, “the infamous Black Widow, I’m Agent Johnson.” She extended a hand towards Natasha.

Natasha, unflinching, just stared back at her. Madisynn who is starting to feel the tension growing between the two, quickly grabbed Natasha's wrist, “Sorry Daize, we're gonna go now.” She apologetically replied leaving the agent who was looking for you behind.

“Who's that?” Natasha asked Madisynn as she was practically getting dragged by her.

“You heard her, she's Daisy. Agent Daisy Johnson…Quake.” Madisynn frustratingly scrambled.

“Why is she looking for Y/N?”

Madisynn was still panicking but she managed to inhale to focus herself, this will be a long history, “Hngkay, I don't think I am allowed to say this, but…” She paused, loosening her grip on Natasha's hand. Madisynn pushed Natasha towards the wall, enough to keep them hidden from the agents inside the hall. She breathe in and out, her hands and new made nails flexing in front of the redhead, “That's the boss's ex.”

Natasha repeated, sounding surprised, “Ex?”

Madisynn looked around before confirming, “Uh huh, ex. Ex-fiance, actually.”

“Please don't tell anyone I told you. Just pretend you don't know anything about it, hngkay?” She looked Natasha dead in the eyes, silently pleading—no by the looks of her she was kind of threatening her. Though keeping this secret doesn't really make sense since everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. knew the scandal that had happened between you and Daisy, except Natasha of course.

“Yes, I promise.” Natasha nodded slowly, she was still trying to grasp the information. It was a shocking one, almost too much for her, you were once engaged?

You were capable of loving?

Madisynn continued, “It happened two years ago, Daisy cheated on Y/N and Director Fury transferred her to Coulson’s division because of what she did. That's why we don't see Daisy much around here anymore.”

“So?” Natasha furrowing her brows, “What does she want with Y/N now?”

“Since her transfer, the only times she gets to see Y/N are during the team-building. Even outside or like public Daisy cannot seem to find Y/N, and of course boss wouldn't let her or the director,” Madisynn explained, “It’s very obvious you know? She kinda wants to hnggg…”

“Win her back?” Natasha continued for her.

“Ex-ectly.”

Madisynn received a series of heads up from several agents around them.

“Hey Mad, Coulson's team is already here. Did you see?”

“Where's Y/N, Madisynn?”

“Earthquake’s here.”

“Duck, cover and hold y’all.”

Madisynn just gave them a smile and thumbs up never failing to showcase her nails, still grateful for the heads up and concern for her boss. She looked at Natasha with a sigh, “We need to find boss or at least Yelena.”

“Say no more ‘cause I’m here to save the day.”

As if on cue, Yelena appeared in view, her arms spread wide. Upon seeing her, the two agents could no longer hold back their laughter, taking in the sight of Yelena's oversized pink shirt.

She looked at her shirt, “C’mon, boss got a big size so she asked me to switch up.”

“Hngkay, tuck that in.” Madisynn pointed to Yelena, the blonde was flinched on how long Madisynn's nails are. She came closer to Yelena, and Yelena raised her hands side by side for her to tuck in her shirt in.

“Where is she?” Natasha then asked—trying to sound casual.

Yelena gave her a teasing look over Madisynn's shoulder who's fixing her big girl pink shirt. “In her office, don't worry, we all know that the earthquake’s here.” She winked.

“And how are we supposed to deal with that?” Madisynn asked.

“As usual. Duck, cover, and hold.” Yelena tugged her side bag, “Nat, you already know about the earthquake?”

Madisynn chimed in, confessing, “Hngkay, I told her,” she looked over Natasha, “'Cuz she the only agent who doesn't know about it.” She replied sassily.

Yelena just simply shrugged her shoulders. “Let's go get boss.”

⧗

You had been in a relationship with Daisy Johnson for three years. And you can remember it clear as the day when you opened the door to your apartment and was greeted by a sea of scattered roses, and there was Daisy on one knee, popping the question. You didn't even let her finish the question as you raced to her, repeating the word “yes” over and over again.

You’ve worked together for 5 years and you have always made a firm rule for yourself: never date a coworker and co-agent. You believed in keeping your professional and personal life separate, not mixing work with pleasure. But Daisy, ever insistent and persuasive, somehow wormed her way into your life, slowly melting your resolution. She even had your father, the usually reserved and cautious director, his approval.

The engagement continued for two more years, until you found her cheating on you. You found it in a very stupid way, really, she left her phone unattended during your movie nights. She's your fiance now and there is nothing wrong with checking your fiance’s phone, right? But you just happened to glance at the screen, no plans on checking it and then there you noticed a notification pop up. To your horror, it was a lewd photo of another girl. Your heart thudded in your chest as you instinctively scrolled back to the previous conversations, your hands trembling as it dawned to you, she was cheating on you. Thanks to you being a techy agent, you had access to information that most people didn't. With a few clicks, you discovered that Daisy's affair had been going on for a staggering seven months, right under your nose with someone whose name is Lincoln Campbell.

That night, you remember dialing your father's number with trembling hands. Your voice also trembled as you asked him to come and pick you up from Daisy's apartment. The silence on the other end told you he could sense something was wrong. As you stood outside the building, the cool night air did little to soothe the storm inside you.

You didn't tell him what happened yet, you don't even know how to. You don't know if it's the ego taking control but you don't want to be wrong, not in this—not with love.

Your whole life you don't want to be wrong, you hate being in a wrong stand, wrong point, being wrong in any ways. And now you hated how wrong you are thinking that this woman is going to be the person you're going to be with for the rest of your life. How wrong you are with the person you thought you're being right with, with the person you felt is the right one for you—for your soul and your heart.

But you were wrong the moment she wronged you.

As you headed towards your father's car, Daisy rushed to you and started pleading with you to stay. She followed you, banging on the car window and crying loudly in desperation. Your father, watching the situation getting out of hand, got out of the car to pacify Daisy. You watched through the car window, your heart heavy with turmoil as Daisy sobbed and pleaded, her pleas fading into the night as your father finally got her to let go.

“What happened?” Fury asks you as he drives the car, you were silently sobbing at the passenger seat and it's hurting him to see you like that. He looked at you scanning any bruises or physical marks, it made his stomach churn that the first thing he first thought was the idea of Daisy laying her hands on you.

“Talk to me, baby. Did she hurt you?”

“Only my heart,” you finally looked at him, your brows pinched together holding back your tears, “She cheated on me, papa.”

Daisy's disappearance from your work life was as sudden as the betrayal. No more flowers graced your desk and her presence was conspicuously absent from the office but you didn't bother to know. You live up on pretending that you didn't know that every agent in your division knows about what happened between the two of you. Your father transferred her to a different division, ensuring that you wouldn't have to cross paths with her ever again.

Not until this moment.

“Y/N?”

Daisy appeared at your office clutching a bouquet of flowers in her trembling hands. The sight of her caught you off guard, bringing back memories of happier times. Image of her in one knee, ring in her hand and the other picture was her reaction when you looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, holding her phone.

You studied her face for a moment—you don't know what to do—you were okay now—at least that's what you told yourself. You’ve finally moved on from her but the pain she caused? It's still somewhere deep in your heart and will only be felt by you if it was triggered and you don't want that to happen again.

As you stood fixing your pink shirt, Daisy attempted to start a conversation to call your attention.

“C-can I talk to you for a moment?” she stuttered. You turned to look at her as you tied your hair up, you tried to maintain it casual. “Sure, what is it?”

Daisy fidgeted nervously, clutching the bouquet in her hands, “I just wanted to apologize...for everything ‘cuz I never had a chance to do it. I gave you the space you need but I never got to see you again…”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, you're proud of how well you're handling this, but you cannot handle how the smell of the flowers making you sick to the stomach, “Daisy, it's all over now. Even before you apologize, I’m all over it. Your apology won't change what happened but it's okay, I am okay now and I hope you are too.”

She didn't expect this kind of reaction from you, she wanted you to be mad, angry, throw everything you see at your desk at her. Unveil the anger—the pain she had caused you after what she did.

Only if she knew what it took you to be this calm and forgiving.

“I miss us.” She bluntly admitted, “I miss you, Y/N. It was a stupid mista—”

You shook your head resolutely, maintaining your stance stopping her mid sentence as if you already know what’s going to come out of her mouth and you don't want to hear it.

“It wouldn't last for 7 months if it was a mistake, Daize,” you gave her a faint smile as you let the nickname fall off your lips. “Our ship has sailed. We can't go back.”

There is an unexpected knock on the door and it is an interruption you kind of needed right now. You glanced towards the door immediately calling out whoever it is, you're desperate for a save right now, “Come in.”

You actually expected that it was Yelena behind those doors but you were as stunned when Natasha entered the room, her eyes met Daisy who was glaring straight at her. Despite her cool exterior, there was a subtle tightening in her jaw as she registered the situation. Yelena made her come for you but what the blonde didn't know that the earthquake was in your office.

“The event’s about to start.”

Daisy bristled at Natasha's interruption, clearly annoyed by her presence. And she snapped, “We're still talking, can't you see that?”

“Daisy, I think it's over. You can leave now.”

Daisy looked like she wanted to argue further, but your resolute tone made it clear that the discussion was at an end. You don't want it to elevate to something else.

“Please, leave.” You added gently but firmly.

Daisy's eyes searched your face but she accepted the finality of your words. She placed the bouquet of flowers on your desk, her eyes lingering on them for a moment before looking up at you again. You just gave her a faint smile but to her, it's a hope.

As Daisy turned to leave, her gaze hardened as she shot a reproachful glare at Natasha. She had only seen Natasha two times but she couldn't help but feel threatened whenever the redhead’s around.

As soon as Daisy’s out of your office, you released a heavy breath as if you were holding them back the whole time that your you're with her.

“You can leave now too,” you told the redhead dismissively.

You were still composing yourself, breathing in and out when you noticed her stepping forward.

“Are y-you oka—”

“What?!” you snapped not letting her finish, you didn't even realize that she tried to show her concern by asking if you were okay. “I don't need your fucking pity, Agent Romanoff, so out,” you huffed, putting an emphasis on her formal title to show that there's a line between your work life and private life. You do know every crumbs of her but you don't want her to know a detail of you or your past.

But in a second as if the wind blew in a different direction, you suddenly mentally cursed yourself as Natasha immediately nodded and retreated from your office. You hated how you reacted towards her, she saved you and you’ll just push her away? You asked your cheating ex-fiance nicely to leave your office, but Natasha who saved you from her received a snappy attitude from you?

Your heart raced in your chest, you felt a mix of confusing emotions swirling within you and you want to throw it up. You couldn't understand why you were so worried about hurting Natasha when you had always thought you won't go easy on her and wanted to be tougher with her—you want to break her. But now, you are facing a barrage of emotions that is going against your plan.

You were so calm as you and your ex-fiance who cheated on you talked for the first time again but right now you're all pent up with the frustrations, but not about her but your confusing feelings...for her? No, definitely not her but maybe to that one person who saved you minutes ago from your ex-fiance.

You then grabbed the bouquet and hurled it away, screaming, “Fuck!”

The Call: Masterlist

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Hello there sagau brain rot like in many sagau versions reader/creator are often to soft to kind to my taste and then Idea comes to my head what if creator reader shows his cruler uncaring side to the pepole he truly hates or thinks deserve thier wrath like I can image that in place of raiden shogun the creator kills Singniora after begin defeated by traveler, azar the grand sage after whole begin in that day loop, and scaramouche when he had audacity to think that by begin inside giant mech he is now a God becose even if the creator is the kindest begin in tevyat.....his wrath has no bounds

@zardas75 welcome back to my very dead mailbox LOL—Let me see what I can come up with with your brainrot.

I don't fully get the Raiden Shogun vs Signora part, so I'm going to (unfortunately) not include that in this post.

The Creator Being Moody Fr (Jkjk—Unless? 👀)

(Disclaimer: Might Be OOC & Spoilers to the Genshin Impact Archon Quest Lore!)

Boy oh boy...where to begin...

To put it simply: It's Azar's Fault. Blame and point your fingers to the rusty old man, bois, we ain't forgiving him any time soon. It all started with him.

The moment you saw him in the Archon Quest, you knew, without even needing the slightest hint of evidence, that you did not like him and he was sus.

And when things escalated throughout the Archon Quest, you swore so loudly it shook the entire nation of Sumeru, if not all of Teyvat.

Here were Some of the Sumeru People's Reactions:

Cyno

He finished his confrontation with Azar and was waiting outside when you swore like your life depended on it. During his entire time being under your presence, Cyno was aware of how much you hated the guy—every moment you had gotten, you were seething and spouting insults from your mouth about Azar.

Even the General Mahamatra was stunned and shocked to the very core. He didn't you could and would do this.

And when you made it clear that your tantrum was yet to end, Cyno just braced himself for the fate of Sumeru to be in your hands.

"At least Azar is truly facing the wrathful judgement of the gods..." he mutters to himself, trying to convince himself of the situation at hand.

(Meanwhile You in the background: "YOU MF HOW DARE YOU. HOW DARE YOUUUU I WILL F—KING KILL YOU IF YOU CONTINUE THIS YOU SON OF A B—")

Scaramouche & Nahida

(Decided to add them both here since It's the False God Fight. This is kinda for the sake of convenience—)

Nahida never knew such intense emotion could ever erupt from Their High, Almighty Grace, and here you are, cursing and insulting Scaramouche. It wasn't as bad as Azar's, since you weren't throwing in any "I will have your head by morning" or anything similar threats, but it was still pretty intense.

Scaramouche, on the other hand, has heard you yelling at the old man Azar, and he already been yelled at for—quote on quote—"killing Teppei" (REST IN PEACE, TEPPEI 😭), so he knows what your wrath was like.

He did not like it then, and he still doesn't like it now. That much was a solid fact. Nevertheless, he has an image to uphold, especially in front of that Buer.

"Their Almighty Grace is really mad..." Nahida thought as they were confronting Scaramouche. (Cue you in the background still insulting Azar) "And it seems they won't be forgiving Azar anytime soon..."

"So, Their Grace still hasn't let go of their grudge against me..." Scaramouche mutters to himself once he was out of the view of Their Almighty Grace in his mecha. "Tch. Whatever...I'll make them see my true potential one I've squashed these insects."

Dehya

She knew you were explosive. She's seen it happen by the way you were cheering to beat Rahman's ass and "save the kid's grandpa!"

She knew you were pretty emotional on behalf of them. She's pretty happy and honored about that—that means Teyvat meant a lot to you.

What she was not expecting was to hear you curse and scream at Azar at the top of your lungs, as if that was the only enjoyment you were able to indulge yourself in.

You sounded murderous, and yet here you were, just yelling. Dehya would've shrugged it off, since she understood getting things out of your system was good, but she was not expecting the world to shake with your voice.

She looks over at Rahman. "You think Their Grace is handling this well?" "Probably not...Hard to say, Dehya." "Well, we'll just have to wait it out, then. They'll get it out of their system...eventually..."

Dehya was not expecting to wait until after beating the False God for it to be truly over. Gosh, that was scary...

Tighnari

He sensed that you didn't like Azar the moment you saw him, and frankly, he's pretty glad you don't trust him too. What he wasn't expecting was your explosive personality.

For all the stories about the Almighty Creator's kind and gentle nature, you were ANYTHING but. And you were proving it HARD.

Tighnari thought he heard it all when he got struck by lightning. Boy, was he wrong, because you just one-upped his expectations with the amount of cussing, cursing, threats, and insults you were hurtling in one go, streaming out of your mouth like you were running a marathon with your words.

So here he was, waiting in some form of dread in Pardis Dhyai, waiting if you were going to strike down the Akademiya with your godly might.

"I hope they don't accidentally blow up all of Sumeru..." he mutters to himself as he prays to all the archons that the nation wouldn't be turned into water or something.

Alhaitham

He should have taken account of your behaviour to the plan. You did play a crucial part. That was the sole mistake he overlooked.

Then again...it didn't seem like you were doing anything other than yelling at Azar...So perhaps the plan wouldn't change all that much.

He should keep in mind of how reactive you are, though. You...remind of his roommate sometimes...

"Hm. It seems Their Grace has yet to let Azar go of their scandal." He says it so calmly as he waits in Aaru Village. Candace stands a few feet away, looking unsure of what was going on—and probably praying that Their Almighty Grace won't strike down Sumeru in their anger against the rogue Grand Sage.

And let's not talk about the Traveler or Paimon. Those two are both used to it and still terrified. But they're okay with you dw 👍

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: IM COMING BACK WOOO! I'm so excited! There's been quite a few more requests than I usually got back in the past, so I'm a little stoked. They'll be out real soon, but I hope you enjoy this one! Hopefully I'll have time to do them all! :D

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[the-pixelated-pirate]

General relationship hcs for Goro Majima and/or Guzma ?? :) could be either one or both in seperate posts, I don't mind ^^

(Also, maybe a mix of sfw & nsfw ? If possible <3)

Decided to choose Guzma for this post, be on the look out for Majima's post on my acct! (Posting at the same time)

Romantic Guzma HCs ♡

NOTES/WARNINGS: NSFW under the cut, gender neutral reader w AFAB anatomy,

REQUEST STATUS: Open!

REQUESTS LEFT: 2!

• Despite his tough guy attitude, Guzma is secretly a big ole softie. He doesn't like anyone except you seeing that side of him. He's a sucker for bear hugs, and suffocation in his chest + broken ribs can be a possibility w him

• Secret romantic at heart, but his sense of romanticism is a little different from the norm

•

• Loooves back massages. He may complain if you ask for one, but he'll do it for you ofc. Everytime you touch his back it sounds like bang-snaps

• Post game(s) he takes up gardening, Plumeria said it would help with his anger issues. She was kind of right? The flowers bring bug types to his house so he isn't complaining

• Speaking of, while Whimpod/Golisopod is his buddy, he's got a soft spot for Grubin and Cutiefly. His first experience with Snom was almost biblical

• Suffers from insomnia, lots of late nights, lots of warm milk. He'd really appreciate it if you decided to stay up with him, even if he acts otherwise <3 he wants you to get your full 8 hours

• Very rarely talks about his feelings, but when he does it's a sure fire sign that he trusts you completely. He works better as a shoulder to lean on, tbh. He isn't good with his words, but he's a good ear to vent to. He'll suggest if you wanna go out and throw rocks at old buildings or something

• Prefers sweet malasadas

• Totaaalll family man. The grunts and Plumeria are all like family to him, and he does his best to take care of them (plus you). He loves kids, always has candy in his pockets, and really just acts like the fun uncle. If a child asks he WILL throw hands with them. Wether or not he'll take it easy on them is another question

NSFW

• Speaking of kids 👀👀

• Yes he'll definitely prefer to have a few. Or if you're unable to have kids or just plain don't want them, he understands. He plain just enjoys the motions of it.

• High-key a switch, and loves to bottom. But he's sooo fucking bratty, and the biggest pillow prince

• Praise, giving or receiving. He laps that stuff up, and when he's spitting praises there's a lot of cursing thrown in there.

• He can top too... he can be a mix of a mean dom or a soft one, depends on his mood.

• He loves soft sex, though. Getting to curl up around you, hold you close, whispering about how hot you are.... ♡

• Very vocal, on top or bottom. Like I mentioned, very bratty when he's got his legs in the air, but when it's you his plowing into, he's swearing like a sailor, buttering you up talking about how much he just loooves you

• Craazy head game, loves giving.

• Pain play is a toss up, he isn't too hardcore, but he'll slap you or throw you around. Like I'll give it to my man he is a little kinky but he prefers to keep the pain out of it, for the most part.

• Lovess being on the receiving end of aftercare, not the best at giving it. He'd prefer for you to just snuggle up into his arm so you can both fall asleep. Sex really helps him conk out so he enjoys finishing every night with a little woo-hoo >:3

• Fuck it. I'm throwing away my morals. He's packing. I know it. Big dick energy. You see him slouching? You know why

[obxologies]

a request if u want tooo🥺 i really like dark rafe cameron i need one where he broke up with her because he is scared to love but she walks on weird dudes trying to as*ault her and he just goes crazy because he realises he really love her

𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯

warnings: soft dark!rafe cameron, attempted sexual assault (not by rafe), physical violence, (soft?) angst, a little manipulation

requested?: yes

author's note: i actually had an idea similar to this so i added in a little of my own details, i hope you still like it. if you guys want more dark!character fics, i won't stop you from requesting 👀. dividers made by @cafekitsune

Tanneyhill was overcrowded with teenagers as music blared from every speaker in the house. The back doors were wide open as people went in and out.

Sarah and y/n held hands as they pushed their way to the backyard. Sarah led them to a small area where the could talk alone.

"So, see anyone you like?" Sarah asked y/n as they observed the people around them. "I saw your man from World History inside. What about him?"

"Eh," y/n shrugged uninterested in the boy. "He's cute, but he's unimaginable stupid."

"Okay." Sarah laughed at her. "Well, we need to find you someone. We didn't throw this for not to get laid." She smirked a little making y/n roll her eyes.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. They both turned to see Rafe with Topper and Kelce. y/n rolled her eyes and turned back around while Sarah groaned.

"Why are you here, Rafe?" Sarah asked. "I thought you three were having a sleepover." Rafe rolled his eyes.

"We came back here instead." Rafe shrugged. "Didn't know we'd be crashing a party." He said staring at y/n's back.

"So leave then." Sarah gave him a fake smile and turned back around.

"I think we'll stay actually." Rafe said slowly walking away with Topper and Kelce.

"God, he's annoying." Sarah huffed. "Sorry, he was supposed to be gone until tomorrow." She gave her a 'sorry' smile.

"Don't worry about it." y/n shook her head. "Just help me get to him." She nodded towards a boy who sat by the fire pit with a friend of theirs.

Rafe leaned against the wall as he watched y/n and the boy she had just met talk on the couch. She was practically sitting on his lap as she threw back her drink. She had clearly had one too many while trying to loosen herself up. Rafe's blood started to boil as the boy's hand moved to her thigh and slowly up.

"Can you not stare at them like a creeper?" Sarah snapped at Rafe. He peeled his eyes away from the scene in front of him. "You broke up with her, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Rafe stated through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you stalking her?" Sarah shrugged crossing her arms.

"I'm making sure she's okay." Rafe said. "Do you even know who that guy is?"

"Our friend knows him." Sarah told him. "His name is Cooper."

"Yeah, I know." Rafe huffed. "He's Logan Foreman's younger brother."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Sarah furrowed her brows.

"He's an asshole who treats girls like shit." Rafe told her.

"Oh, and you've never mistreated a girl?" Sarah tilted her head at him. "Can you just admit you're jealous and leave them be?" Sarah laughed. "It's pathetic, Rafe."

"Where did they go?" Rafe stood up straight from putting all his weight against the wall.

"Jesus, Rafe! You're like a guard dog." Sarah scoffed before walking away.

Rafe ignored her comment looking around the house for y/n. He whipped his head around and caught a glimpse of y/n drunkenly stumbling down a hallway while Cooper had his hand wrapped around her wrist; dragging her to a guest bedroom. Rafe immediately started pushing people to get to the stairs.

"Rafe! Stop!" Sarah shouted. "You're so controlling!" She hurried after him, wishing everyone would move out of the way.

Rafe cursed under his breath at the, what felt like, unnecessary amount of stairs. For he once he didn't appreciate having such a big house. He pushed open every door most of them, fortunately, being empty. The only door locked was the last one at the end of the hallway. He started banging his fist on the door.

"Someone's in here!" He heard Cooper shouted from inside only adding fuel to the fire.

Rafe stepped back before throwing his body into the door. He huffed and reeled his leg back, kicking the wooden door open. He stomped inside the room seeing Cooper on top of y/n who was confused, attempting to push him off of her.

"Mother Fucker." Rafe spat charging towards Cooper. He grabbed the back of his shirt getting him off of her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rafe grabbed him roughly making him face him. "You think I was gonna let you get away with that?"

"She's not your girl anymore, Cameron." Cooper chuckled, but was cut off my Rafe swinging at him. His fist connecting directly to his jaw.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you." Rafe kicked his legs out from underneath him before getting on top of him and beginning to pummel his fist into his face. Cooper's blood poured out of his nose and mouth onto Rafe's fist and the floor.

"Oh my god," Sarah exclaimed seeing Rafe. Topper and Kelce ran into the room going to pull Rafe off of Cooper. "y/n!" She ran to the bed sitting next to her.

"Sarah.." y/n grabbed her hand. Her brain still fuzzy from the liquor, but being more alert now.

"It's me." Sarah nodded. "I'm so sorry. It's gonna be okay." She let y/n lean into her. She wrapped her arms around her tight. Tears welled in her eyes feeling slightly responsible for the situation. "I'm sorry."

y/n only scooted as close to Sarah as she could. The feeling of her arms around her and her hand stroking her head making her feel safe again.

"Rafe! Man, stop!" Topper and Kelce shouted using all their strength to pull Rafe off the boy before he killed him.

Cooper coughed, blooding splashing onto the floor.

The room fell almost completely silent. The only noises being heard was the boys heavy breathing, Cooper's whining, and Sarah's sniffling.

"Get everyone out." Rafe instructed Topper and Kelce. They looked at Sarah who nodded before they walked out the room. "Make sure she's okay." Rafe looked at Sarah. His stare was hard, telling Sarah he was blaming her.

"I will." Sarah nodded.

Rafe grabbed Cooper and pulled him up. The boy groaned and struggled against his grip, but Rafe was still able to drag the boy away.

"I'm so sorry, y/n." Sarah leaned her forehead against hers.

"It's not your fault." y/n whispered. "Just keeping holding me, please."

y/n laid in Sarah's bed in a pair of comfy clothes she had left before. She stared at the tv not really paying attention to the show as Sarah was in her bathroom showering.

The bedroom door opened making y/n sit up. She relaxed a little upon seeing Rafe. He quietly closed the door as walked over the side of the bed.

"Hi?" y/n said softly. She moved letting her feet hang off the side.

"Are you okay?" Rafe asked sitting beside her.

"Yeah." She nodded looking at him shyly. "Thank you."

"I would never let anyone hurt you." Rafe said. "Together or not. I won't let anyone touch you."

y/n gave him a small smile before looking down at her feet.

"I wanna get back together, baby." Rafe said. He got down on his knees in front of her so her thighs were on either side of him.

"Rafe..." y/n sighed. "You're just saying that because you're worried. You don't love me." She shook her head.

"I love you more than anything else in the world, baby." Rafe grabbed her face in his hands. "I thought letting you go would protect you, but I now know the only way you'll be safest is with me."

"What?" y/n scrunched her brows.

"You can't do things like this anymore. You have to stay with me. You saw what happened tonight when I let you go on your own. What if I wasn't here?" Rafe explained. "You have to stay with me, okay?"

"Okay." y/n nodded slowly.

Rafe smiled getting up off his knees. He leaned down kissing her forehead. "Stay with Sarah tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Hi! I wanted to say I love the way you write everybody from Smosh. I think you capture their essence perfectly in the dialogues. I especially loved the Ian and Spencer fics :)

Also, I know requests are closed at the moment, and I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, but I wanted to share my idea. If you ever get the inspiration to write it (and the time, of course) it would be so cool. If not, no worries ^^

I would love a Spencer x reader fic where he gets jealous/overprotective. Maybe you're at a club and some drunk guy flirts with you, or you're at the beach in a swimsuit, or you're doing a collab with somebody etc. Whatever setting inspires you most. Maybe it gets a bit angsty too 👀

Thank you for the amazing fics! Have a great day, and I hope your pillow is always cold on both sides :))

Fight Club || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you’re at a club with spencer and you get hit on by a drunk man, you are annoyed that spencer feels like he has to protect you. but then, when things go too far, you get to see just how much spencer cares for you

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cursing, gross man harasses you

a/n: first of all, i can’t get over this picture send help. second, thank you sm love — characterization is really important to me and i’m so glad i’m doing an ok job!! i hope you enjoy this, protective spencer makes me weak 😩 also fem!reader bc it made sense

(and my pillow has been extra cool lately, i think you work magic 🤭)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Ah, this reminds me of my clubbing days,” Amanda sighed, taking in the crowded scene around you. “We had some times back then.”

     “What are you talking about, we went to a club together last weekend,” Shayne reminded her.

     “Oh yeah,” she said. “I’m going to go get a drink. See you couples later.”

     She left and then it was just you, Spencer, Shayne, and Courtney standing together by the entrance. 

     “Hey!” Courtney announced, looking at Shayne and listening to the song that was blasting at full volume. “This is our jam!”

     Shayne smiled at his wife. “We can’t ignore that.”

     Courtney grabbed their husband’s hand, pulling him into the center of the crowd to dance. You grinned at how in love they were.

     You turned to Spencer. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

     He grabbed your hands, kissing you on the cheek. “Looks like it.”

     You were here at this club with some of the Smosh cast, a few of you having decided to have some fun after a long week of filming. 

     You enjoyed their company, but you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t glad to be alone with Spencer.

     You two had recently started dating, and you couldn’t be more happy together. And you couldn’t be more happy that Spencer was here. Neither one of you were exactly club people and, well, at least you had each other in this chaos.

     “How did we get dragged into this again?” Spencer asked you and you giggled.

     “Let’s just try to have fun,” you said.

     “Alright, but I’m getting us some drinks or something,” Spencer told you. “You think they have any Kickstart here?”

     He walked over towards the other end of the place, and you lost him in the crowd. You rested your elbow on the bar in front of you, waiting for Spencer to return.

     You let your eyes scan the club, finding Courtney and Shayne in the crowd. You saw Amanda a ways off, chatting up some other woman, arms gesturing wildly. 

     “So, do you come here often?” 

      You looked around you. The man who had spoke leaned across the bar, waiting for your answer. 

     “No,” you said. “Never been.”

     “Well, let me know if you want any drink recommendations,” he told you. “I know this place like the back of my hand.”

     “Oh, um, thanks,” you said, wondering exactly what that meant. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

     He took a sip of the drink he held, eyes never leaving your face. 

     “You got a boyfriend?” He asked.

     “Actually I—”

     “‘Cause you’re awfully pretty to be here all alone,” the man interrupted. 

     “Good thing she’s not then,” you heard Spencer’s voice from behind you. 

     He came up next to you, staring down the man at the bar.

     “And who might you be?” He sized up Spencer.

     “I happen to be (Y/n)’s boyfriend,” he put his arm around your shoulders. “She’s mine. And you are?” 

     “Yeah okay,” The man scoffed, standing up completely and setting his glass down. He ignored Spencer, looking at you. “Later (Y/n).”

     He left, but not before turning around to look at you one last time as he walked away. 

     “Yeah you better run,” Spencer said, even though the man wouldn’t be able to hear him.

     “What a jerk,” Spencer turned to you. “They did not, in fact, have any kickstart, by the way, so we’re going to have to get through this sober.”

     “Okay what was that?” You put your hands on your hips.

     “What was what?” Spencer searched your face.

     “I could’ve handled that guy myself, you know,” you said. “And for all you know, he was just being nice.”

     “(Y/n), did you see the way he was looking at you? That wasn’t nice, that’s the way some snakes look at gerbils and stuff before they eat them.”

     You raised an eyebrow at him. 

     “I don’t know, Amanda had me watch some documentary,” he waved the topic away. “But seriously, that wasn’t just friendly.”

      You knew he was right. You’d encountered enough men like him to know. Still, you wanted Spencer to know you could handle yourself. That you didn’t need him scaring men away for you.

     “Sure you’re not just jealous?” you joked, rolling your eyes at him.

     “Oh, one hundred percent,” Spencer said, surprising you. “Look at you. There’s probably loads of guys here who would give their right arm to take you home tonight.”

      A muscle ticked in his jaw and you saw his fingers form a fist by his side. “But I also know that there’s some people here who are real creeps, and that guy’s one of them.”

     “And you don’t think I can deal with them?” You asked, honestly.

     He shrugged, a stark contrast to the wild look that was still in his eyes. “Doesn’t matter, cause I want to…deal with them.”

      “Whatever, I’m going to see if I can catch up with Amanda,” you said, turning around before Spencer could catch up with you. 

      You didn’t look back, making your way through the crowds of people and towards the back of the club.

     You knew you were being stupid and stubborn, but you didn’t want Spencer to think he had to fight your battles for you.

     You weren’t really paying attention to where you where going as you scanned the crowd for one of your friends. 

     “Hello again.”

     You looked up to find yourself face to face with the guy from before. 

     “Hey,” you said, smiling quickly before trying to walk past him. He stepped closer to you, stumbling forward.

     “Not so fast, pretty girl,” he slurred. “You haven’t let me buy you a drink yet.”

     “That’s ok,” you told him, taking another step forward that he blocked. “I should really head back to my friends.”

     “That pathetic excuse for a boyfriend?” He leaned even closer and you noticed the smell of alcohol on his breath. “Forget him. Let me show you a good time.”

     “I’m really not interested,” you tried again, trying not to panic as he cornered you. 

     “‘Course you are,” he said. “Let me take you back to my place and we can—”

     “For the last time,” you started, your voice raising. You were done being nice to him. “I said I’m—”

     He grabbed your wrist then and you cried out, struggling against his grip.

     You were aware of the fact that he could easily overpower you and that no one around you was paying attention as they danced to the music. 

    “Hey man, you wanna get your fucking hands off my girlfriend?” a voice said calmly.

     The man let go of you suddenly and you turned around for the second time that night to find Spencer. You didn’t know how he got there, but in that moment you were just eternally grateful that he was there 

     “Get lost, bastard,” the man said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

     “Actually I think it very much does concern me,” he said, stepping between you and the man, grabbing your hand subtly as he did so, your fingertips touching his. “And I also think it’s time for you to go.”

     “Your girlfriend wants me,” the man said. “Go ahead and ask her.”

     He started to reach towards you over Spencer’s shoulder but Spencer backed up, pushing you with him, tightening his grip on you. 

     “You so much as lay a finger on her again and I’ll throw hands,” he said, his voice like ice.

     You had never seen him like this before. He was usually pretty calm, even tempered, good humored—you hadn’t seen him so much as hurt a fly. 

     But now he looked like he would actually beat this man up if it came down to it.

     The drunk man seemed to realize this too, and didn’t want to cause a scene, because he shook his head, relaxing his posture. 

     “This isn’t worth it,” he mumbled, looking over Spencer’s shoulder at you. “You’re a bitch anyways!”

     He turned around and walked away. You let out a breath, your shoulders falling from their rigid pose.

     “Thank god, I almost thought I was going to have to fight that man,” Spencer breathed out. “I love you, but he was pushing 6’5”.” 

     You laughed breathlessly as Spencer turned around to you, pulling you into his arms. 

     “Are you ok?” He asked, pulling back to get a good look at you. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

     “I’m fine, Spence,” you said. “Thanks to you. How did you even know where we were?”

     Spencer rubbed the back of his neck with one of his hands. “I might’ve followed you.”

     “Well, I’m really glad you did,” you told him. “You were right.”

     “Really? I thought you’d be pissed.”

     You weren’t. You realized you didn’t care so much any more about making a show of taking care of yourself. Spencer had kind of saved your ass. If it wasn’t for him, who knows what would have happened. You shuddered thinking about it.  Besides, you were partners—and that meant being there for one another. You didn’t have to do everything on your own.

And seeing Spencer tonight, being so protective of you, made you realize how much he cared for you. It was sweet knowing that he would defend you and stand up for you. 

     “I don’t know,” you said, your tone light. “I kind of liked seeing this side of you.”

     Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Well then, we might have to come to clubs more often.”

     “I vote no on that one,” you said.

    “I couldn’t agree more. Now c’mon,” he flicked his head towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

     You nodded. “What about the others?” 

     “I’ll text them and tell them we got a cab.”

     You walked in silence for a moment, the noise of the club filling your ears.

     “I can’t believe you almost fought a man,” you teased.

     “Hey, it was about to be Fight Club in there,” he cracked his knuckles. “I don’t think you know what that movie’s about,” you laughed, grabbing his hand.

“Seriously though, you don’t think I could have taken him?” Spencer asked, amusement in his eyes.

     “If he was a character in a video game? Absolutely.”

     “Ouch,” Spencer clutched his chest. “Still have to work on my public perception.”

     You giggled as Spencer opened the door for you and you felt the cool, night air on your cheeks.

     “But, I don’t know, you did look pretty determined. I would have bet money that you would have at least knocked a few teeth out.”

      “I would’ve liked to. He was looking at you like…like…”

     “…like he wanted to make me his?” You finished. 

     “Exactly” Spencer ran a hand through his hair, before kissing you gently. 

     “And only I get to look at you like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you guys enjoyed!! ahh this is the last of the fics i had to catch up on!! i feel so accomplished lol time for my sleep schedule to go back to normal. see y’all again when my requests are open. 💋🎀

[kindestofkings]

what came first, the chicken or the dickhead [2/3]

[smau]

f1driver!reader x lando norris (eventually, friends to lovers ofc)]

authors note: THANK YOU SOOO much for the love on part one guys I'm so overwhelemed 🥺 hope you guys enjoy this next part <33

yourusername 

Liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername I'm sorry, the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now

Why? Oh, 'cause she's about kick off her first season with ferrari xx

view all 580 comments 

landonorris shes in her reputation era 💅

yourusername i've trained you so well

ynfan1 I'm so excited to see you in that red car ❤️🔥

Racerbia I can't believe my bestie is a FERRARI DRIVER

yourusername I know can you believe it!! best of luck with your season this year <33

charles_leclerc I did not know you joining the team would result in me learning so many taylor swift lyrics

landonorris just you wait until she starts sending you fan theories.. yourusername charlie you'd get an A in taylor swift theory and lyric knowledge, dont fight it !! f1fan she calls him charlie they have to be dating!

ynfan1 charles_leclerc what's your favourite Tswift album?

charles_leclerc I think its Red charles_leclerc (TAYLOR'S VERSION THO) yourusername phew that was a close one

​​taylorswift never seen a getaway car driver look so good, knock em dead 🖤

yourusername omgomgomgomgomgomg mother, I mean miss Swift its an honour landonorris oh thats why shes inconsolably crying alex_albon is that what that scream was? ynfan2 shes been broken

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourusername and others 

scuderiaferrari red era vibes with our dynamic duo locking it down here in bahrain! our two drivers are ready for sunday 👊

view all 290 comments

ynfan1 the power of yourusername, converting the whole ferrari team into being swifties 😂

yourusername you know it! I'm a swiftie first, a media nightmare second and THEN a f1 driver

f1fan enough with the pop culture comparisons. what matters is the race, not taylor swift. Let the performance do the talking

ynfan2 how sad is your little life??

yourusername 

 liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername P3 babyyy, while your out here running your mouth still I'm busy getting on to that podium. Bahrin you were beautiful, thank you to the team and to charles for all the support this weekend, and just in general ❤️

congrats maxverstappen1 on opening the season with such a surprising (not) win! was a fun fight 😂

view all 290 comments

maxverstappen1 think you going to be a reoccurring problem now!

yourusername it me hi! im the problem its me xx (liked by taylorswift and others)

ynfan1 I never expected the f1/taylor swift cross over but i love this

f1fan making the tifosi so proud  👊❤️

maxfewtrell fantastic drive, so proud!!!

yourusername maxi my boy <3

charles_leclerc posted to their story!

-@carlossainz55 would never have done this to me 😞

f1wagsupdates

liked by yncharlesshipper and others

f1wagsupdates in the week coming to the monaco grand prix, it appears the two ferrari drivers are spending time together with leclerc's family! seems like a bit more than just teammate bonding 👀

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yncharlesshipper wow the family, must be serious

ynlando4ever please please please be besties

ynfan1 its getting hard to be delulu about this 😀

yourusername posted a photo to their story!

Mwahahahah mama leclerc the women than you are

replies

charles_leclerc when did this exchange happen 😂 arthur_leclerc 😂 😂 😂 😂 landonorris troy bolten and justin beiber call they want hair tips x

yourusername

 liked by susie_wolff and others 

yourusername MONACOOOO its race day and you best believe I'm bringing my A game in defensive racing. il predestinato will break his monaco curse if its the last thing I do 😤

charles_leclerc starting p1 go slay this thing bestie!!

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charles_leclerc the best 👊

scuderiaferrari teamwork makes the dream work 🔥

f1fan gasly could NEVER with the teamwork

ynfan1 ouch that bestie has gotta hurt 😬

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername and others

charles_leclerc best. day. ever.

winning in red and winning at home has always been the dream, thank you thank you everyone for the support in getting here! special thanks to yourusername for the incredibly defense and helping reach my dream 🫶

this one's for you, monaco!

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scuderiaferrari we always knew you could do it 👊🔥

yourusername CHARLIEEE always knew you could do it !

carlossainz55 amazing felicidades

charles_leclerc thank you thank you

maxverstappen1 hate to lose but congrats mate!

pierregasly living out your destiny 💪 that was all you charles!

ynfan1 pierre try not to make a petty comment challenge: FAILED (liked by yourusername)

f1fan monaco belongs to you, il predestinato!!!

yourusername posted a photo to their story!

they both prefer each other over me guys help 😭😭

replies

landonorris my best girl 🥰 -> me?? so kind! landonorris 😑😑

I just tagged a few peps that I thought were waiting out for part 2! let me know if you're not comfortable being tagged :))

taglist: @kissesandmartinis @kissesandmartinis @vellicora @reidside @leclercin16

2/3 , part three is coming later tonight its gonna be fluffy i promise 💓

[mourningsbane]

Hi hello, just find out your blog IM SO NOT WELL ABOUT IT'S IT'S SOOOOO GOOD. Love the artstyle, love the story, love how ghoulish it is!

That being said, little theory time.

Oh Honeyspirng, Love, I might not know what killed you, but it seems like you are so so deep under the soil. You are the dirty little secret, a curse, a literal skeleton in the non-existent closet. You and your missing kittens, taken away from you (by the order of your love [the deputy, Frail was the name?] who hoped they were alive), so you rot somewhere beneath the dirt. You are alone, with no warmth to call your own. They buried you with no proper care, tossed aside, without zero concern of you. So StarClan won't claim you, they cannot. So you linger a constant reminder of the terrible negligence the clan put you though, don't you.

From Pretty words to simple words, I just found this blog and i am pretty darn sure that Honeyspirng can't know peace and hunts the clan cuz they fuged the burial. No respect to the dead as in desecration of the dead in hope to safe kittens who would never be born but also no proper grave to call thier own made them this way. Perhaps they were stuffed into a burrow? That would explain the first bit with "can't breath". StarClan nor DarkForest can claim them, so she lingers. Looking for her kits and hoping for connection they loved so so much in life.

And why would they do that? Well my only bet is on a little bit of prevention, Honeyspirng was sick so a quick burial would be safer - the sickness would not spread, and a little bit of superstition - Honeyspirng's kits weren't looking like regular kittens so the clan might have took it as a bad omen, and not burring them properly would be an act to try and shield the clan of any negative consecration the kits and Honey could bring after death, which frankly resulted in them being hunted. Which could be considered a great mistake, error in judgement that lead them here👀

-🐰

Oooh! I love reading theories like this! It makes me happy to know that people find my little story interesting enough to theorize, and I love seeing people's different ideas! I especially love your word choice!

That being said, you're certainly on the right track. A LOT of things were fudged regarding Honeyspring's everything, and it's certainly going to come back to bite.

In life, Honeyspring was responsible for expanding the burrows, and when she passed, the clan buried her in a burrow she was working on before she became so gravely ill; it was supposed to be a nursery. The kits did not come out of Honeyspring's womb dead, but they didn't (couldn't) live long. When her kits passed shortly after, they were taken by Tanglefern to be buried separately.

If it helps, ALL of the main cats (Tanglefern, Flaildrizzle, Rootstar, Bearface, even Sweetkit) have a fatal flaw. Tanglefern's is cowardice, he'd never admit to his mistake.

[cozage]

Hi it's me again 👀 I absolutely love your writing of my request last time ❤❤❤❤❤ I'd like to send another request to you !!! You can continue writing my last request with other OP characters that you like or you can take this angst request: OP characters react to being forgotten (permanently or not) by their s/o after a brutal battle with the enemies?

A/N: You have once again cursed my ability to sleep. Oh, the ANGST!!! I LIVEEEEEE for it. I only did three characters,but I will DEFINITELY do this again with other characters, so if there was someone in particular you want to see, let me know friend (or anyone else!) :) 

Characters: GN! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Law

Cw: angst, blood, fighting, memory loss

Total word count: 2.5k

Forgotten

Zoro

You grip your weapon as he approaches, cautious of the stranger approaching you. You’re in a vulnerable position, sitting back against the rocks you just crashed into, and your ears are ringing.

“You okay?” he calls out, looking at you in a concerned manner. You pull your weapon out and take as much of a defensive stance as you can. 

“Stay back!” You scream at him. He looks strong, but with some luck you’ll be able to overpower him. 

Zoro pauses for a moment, full of confusion at your sudden hostility. At first he thinks you see something he’s missing, and he scans the vicinity for any kind of trap. He draws his weapon as he approaches you, and you stand to your feet to try and get a better attack point. 

“Hey, what are you-Sit down woman!” The moss-haired man screams at you, voice full of irritation.

You stand, leaning against the rocks for support. “What? So it’s easier for you to kill me? Like hell!”

“Why the hell would I kill you?!? Sit DOWN!” He’s closed the distance between you two, and you stab at him. You almost catch him off guard, but he dodges and easily disarms you. “Would you cut it out?! I know you don’t like help, but you need it right now!”

“Get off of me, you brute!” You’re kicking and punching him, but he just throws you over his shoulder and starts carrying you away, ignoring your punches, desperate to find Chopper. 

--

Chopper delivers the news. Memory loss. It’s not complete, you remember the Strawhats, the Sunny, a few crew members. But you’ve forgotten Zoro. Not just the two of you being together, but you’ve forgotten him completely. 

Zoro handles suffering silently. He locks himself in the crows nest, training all day. If he had been stronger, faster, this wouldn’t have happened. He blames himself a lot.

He tells everyone not to mention your all's history to you. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he doesn’t expect you to feel that way about him again. He knew it was a miracle for you to fall in love with him once, he knows he won’t be so lucky a second time. 

It's painful for him to even look at you. Everyone has explained to you that he’s a member of the Sunny, so you trust him now. But everytime he sees you, all he can see is the hatred in your eyes on that day in the battlefield. Even when he gets past that, your eyes look at him with no emotion, vacant where they used to be full of love. 

You thought he hated you based on his behavior. When you asked Nami about it, she finally caved and told you about your past with Zoro. Everyone hates to see the two of you so distant, and Nami knows he won’t ever make the first move. 

You take him up some tangerine water one day while he's working out. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

His mouth drops open when he sees your delivery, and he runs to you and grabs you without thinking. “You remember?”

You don’t, and your face tells him. He lets go of you immediately, and his cheeks turn pink. He mutters an apology, turning away from you quickly. 

“I’ll remember one day,” you tell him quietly as you exit. “Or we’ll just have to make new memories.”

Luffy

The rescue mission to retrieve you had been a little too easy. Everyone was skeptical, but Luffy was over the moon with joy. The universe just wanted the two of you together. That's why you were here now, back with your family. You were unconscious, but Chopper reported that you should wake up soon.

Nami, Ussop, and Franky had wanted to strap you down as you woke up, just to make sure everyone remained safe, but Luffy refused. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was Monkey D. Luffy’s stupid grin. Your arm pulled back and sprang forward to punch him, but steel swords blocked your path before you could connect with the pirate’s face. 

Luffy pushed Zoro out of the way, not realizing what you had attempted to do. “Hey, Zoro! Don’t hurt her!” You took the opportunity to swing again, this time making contact with the captain’s face. 

Ussop and Franky were on you in an instant, vines and cords wrapping around your body to restrain you. “You scum pirate!” You shrieked, eyes wide with rage. “Let me go!”

Chopper sedated you, and ran tests to see what was happening. You were perfectly healthy, besides obvious memory loss/alteration. The crew was happy you were physically okay, at least.

Luffy sat by your side while you slept, combing your hair with his fingers. He whispered all the adventures you went on, hoping they would jog your memory unconsciously. But when you woke up, you tried to attack him again, and this time the crew had to put restraints on you to keep you tied to the bed. Luffy just stood back in horror, watching everyone else take action. He was frozen in disbelief, and he wanted to desperately wake up from this nightmare scenario. 

You had to be heavily sedated for several days before you finally stayed calm enough for a conversation. You would talk to anyone but Luffy, who stood in the corner of the room, just staring at the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to leave, but it hurt his heart so much to stay. It was one of the longest times the crew went without seeing him smile. 

The Strawhat crew deduced that the Marines had used some kind of devil fruit power to alter your memory. It seemed love was replaced with hate; the more you loved a person, the more you hated them now. All of your adventures were replaced with Marine ideology. You didn’t want to believe them, but there was a small portion of your mind that could see they were telling the truth. 

--

Luffy is a man of action, and he immediately wants to solve this problem. He’s already trying to get Nami to reroute to the Navy headquarters, ready to smash any person who gets in the way. 

The crew talks some sense into him, at least a little bit. They don’t know who did this to you or where that person is now. Time for smashing can come later, but they need information before they go on a blind rampage and someone else ends up getting hurt. 

After everyone leaves the room, he’s the only one that remains in the room. His face is darkened, full of pain. 

“You really don’t remember us?” He refuses to look at you while he asks the question. His hands are balled into fists, and his body is rigid and tight. “You don’t remember me?”

Oh I know you. I despise you. But you can't bring yourself to tell him what you’re thinking. He looks so broken over your reactions to him, and you know in your gut that he’s important to you. “Tell me the stories.”

And he does. He sits by your bedside and he tells you every story he can think of. He starts with the first time you two met, and he talks for hours. You’re not entirely sure you believe all his stories, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would lie for no reason. 

He tells you stories of the Sunny, and the stories of your alls relationship. He talks about the first time he held your hand, when he kissed you, when he realized he loved you. Your cheeks burned whenever those stories came up, refusing to believe you could love a pirate like him. But he talked about it all without shame, he either didn’t notice your embarrassment or didn’t care.

Halfway through his stories, he realized you’re still restrained. He bends over to take them off, continuing his stories as he works. You’re baffled by this decision, especially since he’s in here alone with you, but you hold back your urge to attack him for now.

When he’s done, you rub your wrists and flex them. They’re sore from being strapped down so long. He sees you doing that and takes one of your wrists in his hands to massage it as if it’s second nature. 

You pull away from him, and you can see the hurt in his eyes as he mutters an apology and continues his story of your alls adventures. There’s significantly less pep in his voice after you reject him, but he still keeps the story going.

Dinner is called during his story, so he pauses and he invites you to come with him. His stomach growls as you all walk to dinner, and he realizes this has probably been the longest time he’s gone between meals. He was so caught up in talking to you, he forgot to eat. 

You go with him to dinner, and the strawhats all eye you, but nobody says anything. They talk over plans and ideas on how to get your memory back. You say nothing, you just listen to them try to plan something. 

After dinner he continues telling you their story, finishing at the point where they lost you to the navy. 

He keeps finding things to talk about though, his nervous energy spilling out into the room. He doesn’t want you to kick him out, and he doesn’t want to leave you to another Strawhat to watch over. He knows they’ll restrain you, and that’s the last thing he wants for you to go through.

He finally falls asleep in the chair, his head resting on your bed beside you. You know your orders are to execute the Strawhats, and this is the best moment you’ll ever get to take out the captain. But you can’t bring yourself to harm him, and you know deep down, there’s at least some truth in the stories he told you. 

Law

Law hated these moments. These moments when he was reminded just how fragile a human body was. How fragile you were. 

An explosion had caught you off guard and sent you flying, and you were just outside of his Room perimeter. He had tried to expand it to catch you, but he hadn’t made it in time. And now you were paying for it. He had rushed you back to the ship, and performed a full scan to find a major head injury and internal trauma. The internal trauma was easy enough to fix, but brains were such fickle things. 

He hoped -prayed even- that you would wake up. After three days, he sat by your side, waiting for your eyes to open. He longed for that sweet smile to grace your lips again, to see that look in your eyes that always made his stomach knot into a ball of butterflies. 

On the fourth day, your eyes flicked open, and he rushed over to meet you. He wanted to be the first thing you saw. 

Fear. That's what he saw in your eyes. “Y/N-ya,” he whispered, moving towards you. “You’re safe.”

You scrambled away from him, almost falling off the bed in the process. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“It’s okay.” Law’s voice was steady, but he stopped moving towards you. Amnesia was common amongst patients when they came out of a coma. He had prepared for this possibility, and he knew it was better to stick to the basic facts. “You’re on a ship, you’ve been traveling with us for a while. I’m Trafalgar Law, the ship’s doctor. You had an accident, but you’re safe now.”

“No, no.” You shake your head, confused. “I was just at home, in the North Blue. I don’t know you. I don’t know where I am.”

His heart constricts, and he tries not to let his disappointment and fear show. Over two years of your memory was just…gone? Slight amnesia before an accident was common, but long term like this was not a good sign.

--

First he asks you to recall what you remember. He lets you ask questions, and he fills you in on how you got to join the Heart Pirates. 

You were super opposed to pirates when you first met Law, and that personality has returned. He tries not to be too upset over it, but it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. 

He doesn’t tell you about your relationship, and he forbids his crew to tell you about it as well. He knows how confusing everything is for you right now, and he knows it would be selfish to add a relationship to the mix. 

You request to depart the crew at the next island. You don’t want to be a pirate, and honestly you’re not even sure how you became one in the first place. You can see the pain on his face, and he starts to argue with you, but he stops himself. “Leave if you want to. I’m not going to hold you against your will.” He can’t look you in the eye after that, though.

He still brings you your favorite food, gives you your favorite books to reread while you’re sailing. He doesn’t speak to you much, or even stick around in your space for long, but he brings you something at least once a day. You can't help but note how well the captain knows you. 

You mention this to a few crewmates, and note how nice it must be to have a captain who’s so attentive to everyone’s likes and dislikes. They all exchange glances, trying to weigh if they should say something or not. 

Finally Penguin speaks up. “Well, he’s not quite as attentive to us as he is to you.” You give him a nervous laugh and ask him to explain. Nobody really speaks up, and you get irritated with all the secrecy.

You storm into Law’s office. “Why do you know so much about me?” Your question takes him by surprise, and you can see he's taken aback by your question.

“I’m a good captain,” he finally stutters out. “Bullshit,” you shoot back. But he insists that's all there is to it, and you know the conversation is over. 

You seek out Penguin again, and corner him into telling you what everyone else already knows. You and the captain have a history. And a long, complicated one at that. 

You return to your captain’s office, but stop yourself before you barge in. You stand outside his door for a long time, debating on what to do with this new information from Penguin. 

You’re about to leave when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man that you apparently love. Both of you stare at each other for a few seconds, saying nothing. You realize it’s the first time you’ve looked him in his eyes since that first day you woke up on the ship. His eyes are a soft amber color, and the light dances across them, making his pupils seem alive, flowing with movement. 

Law finally breaks the silence. “Is there something you need?” He hasn’t said your name since that first day, and you miss hearing it for some reason. 

“I’d like to stay, if that’s okay. On the crew, I mean.” You didn’t know those words were going to come out of your mouth, but you’re happy they do. Though he tries to hide it, Law’s eyes light up, and you catch a brief smile on his lips. 

Internally, Law’s heart soars. He spent so many days sick with worry thinking he was going to lose you, but you’re still the same person you were deep down. He’s holding back tears of relief knowing you aren’t going to leave him. “Of course, Y/N-ya. You are always welcome here.”

You don’t know if your memory will ever come back, but you find yourself hoping it does.

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

first off let me tell you....I really like all of you write about the shadowpeach x reader from the start until now and I sudden have a very funny imagine that I want to share with you :)

like the other can't understand reader is she speak her original language when the magic does not translate it right? what about something that have happen that make the reader angry at hell like ( someone ( demon or human ) shaming her or talk shit to the spirit or to the little simian right ? I want the reader sometime be feisty and talk back to them with no holding back or even curse them in reader own language....the other maybe not understand what she saying at first but from time their manage to learning about reader language then is would be so funny when their reaction to this you know ? 👀🤣😙

"What did you just say?" Reader asked slowly turning her head around.

The man in front of her laughed, "I said that you're little monster friend deserve to be put to death." He said pointing his blade at Spirit. Spirit didn’t react besides her eyes narrowing, she wasn’t looking for a fight with this human.

*Thump* *Thump*

Reader knew that her monkeys have not always been the best behaved. However she also knew that they were hers, weather they were arguing with other people or keeping her safe. There was good and bad in everyone and she knew that very, very well. She was not about to let this man just say-

*Thump* *Thump*

Her heart pounded in her chest as she gritted her teeth. Spirit was her friend, Spirit was her new sister, she was not about to let someone talk shit about her!

*Thump* *Thump*

“It’s no wonder those disgusting little rodents follow you two around,” The man gestured towards Peaches and Plums who both hissed at him, their tails wrapped around your neck to keep balanced. Both of them huddled closer to you as if your ears from this man’s words.

“Maybe I should-.”

*Snap*

“Go fuck yourself. You think just because you’re some big man that means everything you say or do is okay. Let me tell you it’s not! We have done nothing but try to pass through town peacefully! The only one causing problems is you!” You shout, everyone around you going completely silent. Eyes wide with shock, even your monkeys went silent.

You wouldn’t stand for this! There was no way you’d stand for this! “Get the hell out of our way,” Your words piercingly calm as you stepped forward so your faces were close.

“No one insults my family, Spirit is my sister, Peaches and Plums are my monkeys. So you can go fuck yourself and get the hell out of my way,” Every word pierced the air causing the man to actually stumble back. For a moment it looked as though he was about to say something back but with one look behind you his eyes widened and he scrambled to get as far away as possible.

As soon as he saw the opportunity, the man bolted. Weather it was from you or not was unknown but you didn't really care.

"Hmph, are you okay my sweets? I hope so. That man was a rude- pardon my language... bitch," you grumbled with annoyance lacing your tone.

The monkeys looked at you with shock. Before glancing at each other.

'We're her monkeys!?' Macaque chirped with a blush.

'She's going to be our mate!' Wukong chirped happily brgore also muttering, 'That was hot.'

Macaque whipped his head to look at his mate with an approving look. He agreed, you did look rather hot when you were mad. Spirit didn't understand anything but let out a chuckle, proud of you for standing up for herself.

Here you go! I'm sorry for the wait, anon. But I hope to answer a few more asks today.

I'm also posting at least one chapter today right around noon. 😁 So be sure to check that out.

[thewidowsledger]

Secrets Behind Our Dreams

Chapter 12: A Room of Your Own | 5.2k

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You are a club dancer; a stripper. Natasha is a respected notorious mob boss. What would happen if your paths happened to cross one night? The only thing you knew about each other was your dreams, and neither of you knew what the other was.

Pairing: Mob Boss Natasha Romanoff x Stripper Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: 18+, bad writing, slow burn, horny thoughts, gun pointing (?), bully Yelena (?), is fluff a warning? If yes, then what the fluff?

Author's Note: Scene reference from the movie Black Widow👀 I had to watch it so I can be able to write the scene. And, and, and the mascot was from my own experience, lol. Not proofread so if you see some stupid mistakes, no you didn't.

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

“Fuck.” You mutter to yourself as soon as you're sure that she's out of the room. It feels like you’ve been holding your breath since you felt Natasha close to you and now you're gasping for air. You immediately slapped your cheek over and over, trying to remove the thoughts out of your mind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is wrong.” You feel your head being light, remembering her words.

“You can take it.”

“Just like that.”

“Good girl.”

You took a pillow and slammed it on your face with both of your hands and screamed at it, it stayed at your face for a couple of seconds before you slowly removed it.

You squeezed your thighs shut to relieve the aching feeling between your legs, “Oh God, forgive me for I have sinned.”

“Y/N?” A call coming out your door freaked you out, you immediately shuffled and got out of your bed, you ran towards the door as you put your clothes over your freshly cleaned up wound.

You peeked revealing Maria outside, “Oh hey.”

“Here's your food, there are actually stocks of food in your room but Natasha told the chef to have some soup made for you.” She said carrying a tray of soup and water. “You okay?” She asked as she saw your blushing form just staring at the tray.

“Oh yeah, shit t-thanks. I mean…” you winced as you opened the door for her to come in and immediately but carefully took the tray from her. You put it on the side of your bed and walked back towards her.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you, “So? How are you?” She asked crossing her arms, offering you a comforting smile

“I…” you shrugged.

"I know things are hard for you...complicated," Maria empathized. "But please don't sleep naked on the tile floor again, Y/N." She chuckled, as did you.

She noticed your nervous fidgeting and slowly began walking towards the door, with you following closely behind, crossing your arms and rubbing your arm.

"She was really worried about you," Maria declared as she looked at you.

You nodded slowly, recognizing the depth of Natasha's concern. Your heart wanted to jump out of its place. But you actually hadn't meant to cause her any worry, and now a plan began to take shape in your mind. You thought about making it up to Natasha for all she had done for you. Just as Maria started to leave your room, you hastily called out to her.

"I uh, Maria," you began, "Is it possible for me to go into the kitchen later? I'd like to do some cooking, or something." You cursed yourself for being so awkward.

“Oh…” she smiled, “Sure, I’ll tell the chef. Finish your food first and you can have the kitchen all by yourself.”

⧗

You quickly finished the remainder of your soup and carried the tray with you as you made your way out of your room.

With the tray in your grasp, you navigated through the halls, making your way towards the kitchen. As you walked, the sound of your footsteps echoed slightly in the deserted corridor, as if the emptiness itself was listening to your every step.

Finally, you arrived at the kitchen that Maria had pointed out to you a day ago. The kitchen was one large expansive room, without any doors or dividers. The space was seamless and open, allowing the air to flow freely between the workstations and appliances.

You cautiously stepped inside, placing the tray in the sink. You took a moment to survey the kitchen, your hands slightly fidgeting from nerves. You had initially planned to bake, but now that you are faced with the vastness of the kitchen, you actually don't know what to do now as you feel a little overwhelmed.

The kitchen was immaculate, the stainless steel counters gleaming under the warm glow of the overhead lights. Rows of pristine cookware, pots, and pans hung from hooks on the backsplash, and the various appliances were meticulously arranged on the counters.

“Wow…I only had a microwave in my apartment.” You muttered to yourself.

You took a moment to examine the cabinets, quietly searching for the ingredients you needed for what you planned to bake. Opening each one, you looked closely, taking mental note of what you had and what you still needed to find. Then, your eyes landed on the pantry, located to the left of the large fridge.

You entered the pantry, which was another expansive room brimming with ingredients.

“Wow…” your jaw literally dropped as you took a good look around the pantry, you couldn't help but marvel at the variety of items before you. It seemed like a mini grocery store!

One by one, you managed to retrieve everything you needed. The ingredients in your arms grew, until eventually you had everything you needed, including flour, sugar, chocolate chips, eggs, and butter. With your arms full, you carefully walked out of the pantry.

You began your cooking project by setting all the ingredients out on a clean countertop. The measuring cups, spoons, bowls, and baking sheets were placed strategically so you could easily access them. As you arranged everything, a small wave of overwhelm washed over you as you looked at the materials before you. You were anxious that you may accidentally damage or ruin them in some way.

You measured each ingredient, the aroma of the dough began to fill the room, blending the scents of sugar and butter. With each cup and teaspoon, you mixed the ingredients in a large bowl, creating a smooth and creamy base.

You had finally completed the cookie dough and were now preparing to bake it. However, in order to do so, you needed to find the parchment paper, which was nowhere to be seen.

“Where did I put it?”

You were frantically searching for it, knowing that you had just placed it in one place together with others. You began to worry that you misplaced it. Suddenly, you heard a voice behind you. “Looking for this?”

Startled, you whipped around to find Yelena, sitting casually on the countertop, holding the parchment paper you had been looking for. Your clumsy hands accidentally knocked over some of the ingredients, causing it to crash to the ground.

You immediately and instinctively crouched down to fix the mess you made, Yelena smirked down at the sight. She toyed with the parchment paper as you cleaned in front of her.

Yelena hummed a nonsensical tune, her feet idly swaying and occasionally coming close to your head, almost purposely. However, you tried not to let it get to you and refrained from showing any reaction. Deep inside, you couldn't help but hope that Natasha would appear, as she usually did when her sister was around, to rescue you from this frustrating situation.

“Yelena.”

Yelena turned, a smirk creeping in her face. She tilted her head, “Hey Riri.”

Maria's expression toward Yelena remained emotionless. She maintained a stoic demeanor, silently observing Yelena's actions and behavior. “You know where to find your sister.”

“I always do.” Yelena chuckled as she leaped off the countertop and nonchalantly let the parchment paper fall to the ground as you focused on cleaning up. Without a pause, she promptly walked out of the kitchen.

When Yelena was finally out of sight Maria immediately inquired if you're okay to which you nodded.

Maria, noticing the lingering tension Yelena left in the air, she turned to you with a sympathetic expression and softly apologized for Yelena's behavior.

"I'm sorry about Yelena," she said gently. "She can be quite...a lot."

Sensing your lack of response, Maria quickly shifted the conversation and her eyes landed at the countertop, seeing the dough you just made ready to be baked.

“You know, that looks really delicious,” she said, her tone shifting to a more casual one.

Her words were meant to ease the tension, hoping to alleviate any discomfort you might still be feeling. Her words, though simple, had a profound effect, causing your cheeks to blush. A small, shy smile graced your lips as you gratefully accepted her compliment.

“Thanks,” you said as you stood with the ingredients on your arms. “I just need to bake them, can I ask for a hand? I don't know how your oven works.”

Upon hearing your request for assistance, a warm smile spread across Maria's face. “Sure, whatever you need.”

⧗

"I know you’re out there.” Yelena, still concealing her presence, speaks out, her voice carrying a hint of challenge as she carefully closes the door behind her and pulled the gun behind her jeans.

Natasha, unfazed, responds calmly, she leaned back to her office chair, "I know you know I’m out here."

Yelena cautiously steps forward, her eyes scanning the room carefully. She picks her way through the room, avoiding any objects that might make noise or hinder her movement.

"So, are we going to talk like grown-ups?" Natasha said after a lack of response from her sister.

“Is that what we are?” Yelena shot back, finally revealing her sister who's sitting in her office chair, gun pointed in her direction.

The room is tense, their eyes locked in a deadly staring contest. Natasha stood from her chair and circled the desk, walking forward, her gun pointed directly at Yelena.

“Put it down before I make you.” Yelena said with a stern voice, she walked backwards when she saw Natasha slowly begin to advance. She kept her gun pointed precisely at her sister.

“You put yours down.” Natasha replied, keeping her gun trained on Yelena, her footsteps are measured and steady, her gaze still locked on the blonde.

As Yelena takes a step backward, she slightly stumbles. She falters momentarily but quickly regains her footing.

“Watch your step.”

Yelena responded with a smirk.

With each step, the distance closes between them, their body tense and ready for any sudden moves from each other.

In a quick, coordinated movement, both Natasha and Yelena switch their guns with each other, passing them between their hands while still maintaining their defensive stances.

The switch is swift and seamless, a testament to the skill and familiarity the sisters have with each other's movements. Both continue to watch each other intently, weapons now held in the other's hand. The air crackles with tension, neither of them willing to back down.

Natasha, in a split second, reaches out and touches Yelena’s gun and the unexpected touch is enough to send Yelena straight into attack mode. She quickly launches herself at Natasha, slamming her sister towards the wall.

Natasha winces, the impact on her back momentarily catching her off guard. But Natasha was quick to counterattack; she grabbed Yelena’s jacket, and pushed her harshly, she then yanked her towards the cabinets. In a single swift motion, Natasha slams her sister’s back against the table below, pinning her firmly by the jaw.

“Stay down, stay down!”

Despite being in a disadvantaged position, Yelena makes quick work of the situation. With her sharp and agile movements, she sneaks her hand behind her and grabs a stack of thick papers from the table. Before Natasha can react, Yelena brings the papers down hard against her sister's head.

The unexpected blow sends Natasha staggering back, her grip on Yelena momentarily loosening. Yelena uses this to her advantage and quickly stands from being pinned.

Natasha and Yelena continue eyeing each other, both of them are breathing heavily and are refusing to back down. The tension in the room is palpable. After a long moment, Natasha breaks the standoff and walks back to her desk, she winced as she touched her side slightly.

“How's mama?” Natasha asks in a detached tone as if they didn't just almost kill each other seconds ago.

Yelena can't hold back a smile. The mention of their mother seems to bring a bit of tenderness and excitement into Yelena's voice. She straightens her clothes after the fight, pausing to collect her thoughts before she speaks.

“She uhm,” Yelena started fidgeting, “Mama’s fine, she's okay and uhh…she misses you so much, like she always cooks your favorite when she misses you.”

Yelena's excitement was almost palpable as she shared this tidbit of information. On the other hand, Natasha's stoic expression gave away nothing of her emotions. She reached for a beer, uncapping it. The sound of the cap snapping off echoed in as her sister continued to ramble.

“And papa, he’s—”

“I only asked for mama did I?” Her response was crisp and biting, a clear indication that she had no interest in hearing about their father.

Yelena was visibly taken aback by Natasha's abruptness. She watched in silence as her sister finished the beer in one smooth gulp, setting the empty bottle down with a firm tap on the hardwood desk.

She huffed, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the room. Her voice was slightly mocking as she made a comment about Natasha's setup.

"Quite domesticated here," she began, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Got yourself a wife cooking downstairs, huh?"

Natasha's cold gaze flicked up to meet Yelena's, her expression hardening at the mention of you. She interrupted her sister sternly, knowing how this conversation would go.

"Enough."

But Yelena didn't relent, continuing to push her sister's buttons.

"All cutesy," she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bringing poison into this house."

Natasha's patience had reached its limit. Her eyes flashed and her jaw tightened. In a swift, fluid movement, she slammed the jagged pieces of the broken glass onto the table, the sound of it making a loud thud against the hard surface. Her voice was low and sharp as she shouted at her sister.

Yelena didn't expect the sudden move, and she flinched momentarily.

"I said, enough." She emphasized each word, her fingers digging into the desk, the fragments of which were now scattered across the desk and the floor.

“Get out, I have a meeting to go to.”

Yelena let out a huff, her neutral demeanor faltering. She started walking backwards, still facing her sister.

"I don't understand you," she said, shaking her head slightly. "All of this for a woman you just met weeks ago."

She began to make her way out of the room. As she reached the threshold, she turned back to look at her sister, her expression firm. In a quieter voice, she added, "Don't drag yourself into this."

And with that, Natasha was left alone in her office, shattered glasses, scattered papers everywhere. The silence was thick and heavy. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the chaos that surrounded her. She let out a sigh, running her hands through her hair, the stress of the situation starting to manifest physically. As the clock ticked by, counting down the minutes until her meeting, Natasha took a deep breath to steady herself.

⧗

You had just finished plating the cookies, neatly arranging them on a tray. The thought of finding Natasha to give her the baked goods brought a small smile to your face. However, your thoughts were interrupted when you turned and saw Yelena leaning against the counter. Her sudden appearance made you jump slightly, the familiar feeling of uneasiness creeping over you.

Yelena chuckled seeing your reaction. She watched you intently, her expression amused. It was clear she enjoyed startling you and making you feel uncomfortable, as always

“Looking for Natasha?” She asked as if she could read your mind, you nodded not daring to look at her.

“I know where she is,” remembering that her sister just told her that she has some meeting to attend to. A smirk creeped into her face as she thought about you making some surprise visit to that meeting.

“2nd floor, last room at the left hall.”

You smile slightly at her and your eyes flickered as she told you where her sister is, the excitement evident in you.

“Thanks,” you said, slightly stuttering due to your eagerness to leave. “You can have some if you want.”

With the tray of cookies in your hands, you began slowly making your way past Yelena. A wave of disdain flooded over her. She hated how genuine you were, showing kindness even after she had been so tough on you. No matter how hard time she gave you, you still managed to make small genuine acts towards her and she hated it.

She hated you.

Yelena, despite her best efforts to stay aloof, found herself drawn to the freshly baked cookies sitting on the counter. The aroma was irresistible. Her pride told her not to take one, but her stomach says otherwise. In a swift motion, she picked one up and quickly stuffed it into her mouth, the sweet taste only adding to her inner conflict. It was so good that she hated you more.

⧗

As you make your way down the hall towards where Natasha is, your heart thumps in your chest. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach, each step bringing you closer. As you approach the hall, you mentally rehearse what to say.

“This is for you,” you say aloud, testing the words out. Then, you jokingly chide yourself, “What? No greetings? That's so disrespectful of you Y/N.”

“I baked cookies for you,” you tried again with a sigh on how awkward you sound.

Caught up in your internal monologue, you continue to walk and rehearse your lines, blissfully unaware of your surroundings. The door suddenly opens under your touch, and you find yourself standing in the doorway of Natasha's office.

Shit. You stop short, your eyes swept across the room. Not only is Natasha present, but there are also four other men in there, all of whom look like hardened criminals. They were in the middle of a meeting, and your unexpected entrance caught everyone's attention. Silence filled the air as their gaze landed on you, and you felt completely out of place, standing in the doorway with the tray of cookies in your hands.

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room shifted. All the men in the room quickly stood up, their expressions neutral as they drew their weapons and aimed them directly at you as if they were trained to do it. The sound of multiple guns cocking filled your ears, and you instinctively froze, the tray of cookies trembling in your hands and your eyes started to get covered with tears. You thought this is it for you.

Natasha shoots up from her chair. “Fuck,” she muttered enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t you dare fucking shoot her! Out! Now!”

Your shoulders jump at the sharpness of the order, you know she has your protection in mind, though. You're on the verge of crying while apologizing for barging in on the meeting, but the men in attendance also jump to their feet, instantly bowing courteously to Natasha before hastily making their exit giving you a wide berth as they open the other door to her office and file out.

Natasha's eyes were locked onto you, concern etched across her face.

“Fuck…” a cursed escaped her lips. “Baby…” And without realizing it, a term of endearment slipped out this time. Natasha could see the shock on your face and the tremble in your hands holding the tray of cookies. She gently took the tray from you and set it down on the long table in the meeting room.

“Hey,” she called, holding your face.

Your words came out in a shaky breath, your voice quivering slightly. “I'm so sorry Natasha,” you said, the guilt and embarrassment evident. “I didn't mean to…” You tried to hold back the tears, but the sobs began to take over, your body shaking slightly.

You managed to get the words out between the sobs, explaining, “I just wanted to give you these cookies I made for you. And...and your sister...she told me you were here…” Your voice sounded like a small child complaining.

“Eta suka.” (That bitch) she whispered.

“I’m sorry, you weren't supposed to see that.” She said softly, bringing your head on her shoulder. You caught a whiff of her perfume as you nuzzled closer to her neck.

“You baked this for me?” she asked, caught off guard, your shy nod confirmed and a small smile curled on her lips.

“Why don't we get out and enjoy them?” You nodded again, this time with a genuine smile blossoming on your face.

⧗

As you and Natasha walked side by side, she casually looped her arm around your waist, making you feel safe and secure. In her other hand, she held the tray of cookies.

Suddenly, you were startled to see a guard carrying a large gun standing in front of you. Surprised, you looked up at him, but Natasha quickly intervened, asking him to step aside.

She turned to you and explained apologetically, “Sorry, it's security.” You nodded, understanding the need for precautions in her line of work.

“Don't you have an ongoing meeting?”

Natasha simply shrugged and responded nonchalantly, "They can wait."

“I’m really sorry, you should've finished whatever you're discussing if I didn't barge in—”

As you began to apologize once again, Natasha quickly reassured you, cutting off your apology before you could finish. Holding your hand, she gently squeezed it to comfort you.

"Y/N, it's okay." She continued walking with you, leading the way towards the tranquil garden of the manor.

Your eyes widened in awe as you took in the breathtaking view of the lake in front of you. "Wow," you breathed out, captivated by the beauty of your surroundings.

Natasha gestured for you to take a seat beside her in the soft grass. She removed her leather jacket and laid it down on the ground, creating a soft surface for you to sit comfortably.

As she did so, you inadvertently caught a glimpse of her biceps flexing. To your surprise, you could see that her arms were adorned with intricate tattoos, the ink dancing across her skin. But there was also a long, slender scar running through one of the tattoos, partially concealed by the ink.

The sight of it caused your breath to hitch in your throat, your gaze lingering on her skin and her strong arms.

You quickly shifted your gaze, your mind raced as you hoped she hadn't noticed the way your eyes had lingered on her arms.

Looking away, you redirected your attention to the serene lake in front of you, the cool breeze gently ruffling your hair and bringing some relief to your flushed face.

The two of you sat down together, she put the tray of cookies in front of you and you on the other hand was still fascinated at the view of the lake, your mouth slightly opened. Natasha couldn't help but smile at you, she grabbed a cookie from the tray which caught your attention.

“So?” You asked, “How was it?”

“You should try your own cookie.” She said, winking at you and you did, you grabbed one and took a bite.

“It's heavenly,” she commented, you looked at her with your brows furrowed.

“Heavenly?” You laughed, “What are you a poet?” You said between giggles.

For a few moments, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you sat together in the garden. It wasn't an awkward silence per se, but rather a calm and peaceful atmosphere that surrounded you both.

Your eyes wandered idly, scanning the surroundings until they landed on a beautiful rose bush nearby. A sense of wonder filled you as you spotted a single red rose in full bloom. Excited, you pointed at it and exclaimed with a childlike enthusiasm.

"Look, a rose! Like the ones on your shoulder!”

As soon as the words left your lips, you immediately realized your faux pas and hastily apologized.

“I'm sorry,” you said remorsefully. “I think they're cool you know, your tattoos.”

Natasha looked at the roses, not providing an immediate response. Feeling even more embarrassed, you repeated your apology with a pout, feeling awkward.

Natasha chuckled at your adorable reaction and reassured you, “It's fine, Y/N.”

After a moment of silence, you found yourself rambling again. Curiosity tinged your voice as you mused aloud,

“So it's true, mob bosses…gangsters or whatever…they all have tattoos on their upper bodies, huh?”

Natasha hummed, “Yeah, I guess they do,”

A teasing smile tugged at your lips as you jokingly inquired, “You think I'd look good with tattoos too? Look, I have scars now too.” Natasha's eyes met yours, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips in response to your question.

Your heart skipped a beat as her laughter filled the air. The mere sound of her amusement sent a wave of warmth rushing through you, causing a flutter in your chest. It was a small victory, earning her laughter, but one that felt significant nonetheless.

“You silly girl,” she remarked as she took another cookie from the tray.

“It's an initiation rites,” she started, you shifted and sat properly beside her ready to listen to whatever she's going to say.

“I never wanted to have it, my mother told my father that it should stop with him.” She pauses, gathering her thoughts, before continuing, “The curse of our blood.”

That line just made your skin crawl.

“I saw how people looked at my father, all the scars in his body? I don't wanna be seen that way.” Her voice trembles slightly.

“I woke up,” she shifted slightly, “in a chair, I was tied up. I was 15 when I had it, my father slowly scarred my skin while I was begging him to stop. I was shouting for my mom but she never came.” She said it nonchalantly as she recounts the harrowing experience.

Your heart wrenched in your chest as you listened to her.

“From then I had to accept my fate.” A hint of bitterness tugged at the corners of Natasha's lips. “But that didn't mean I had to carry it on with me.”

Her eyes darted to the ground, studying the blades of grass that lay beneath her feet. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before continuing.

“I managed our business for 4 years and left to start my own. I haven't seen my parents since, only Yelena.” She looked at you, placing her hands at her back so she could lean on them and she straightened her legs forward. “What about you?”

“Oh, me?” You asked, pointing at yourself using the cookie.

“Yes, silly.” She giggled at you.

“I don't wanna make it about me though, you’re sharing yours—”

“Please tell me, I wanna know.” She cut you off.

You fell silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts and steeling yourself recalling your past. You swallowed the last piece of cookie in your hand before you spoke.

“Well, let's start with the fact that I never got to see my parents,” you began casually. “My mom died giving birth...to me and my dad left my mom before I was even born. So I grew up with my grandparents, but when they passed away, I had to live by myself.”

As you continued, your hands instinctively sought comfort, and you started to hug your legs tightly.

“My aunt took my grandparents' house and decided to sell it,” you huffed, your voice laced with bitterness. “They gave me my part of it because my mom’s gone and yeah, of course, I get to have her share in that.

“I started working at 17 to pay for my school," you said, recounting your early attempts at earning money. "I did everything, I worked at a laundromat, waitress, hostess, janitress, mascot…”

“Mascot?” Natasha's curiosity piqued, as she immediately asked.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you nodded and explained, “Yeah, there was this pizzeria that was having their opening and for a month I was half human and half pizza.”

“Wow…” Natasha laughed, “That’s funny…I mean no offense and respect to that because that's a difficult job.”

“Yeah, it is ‘coz they stink with all the sweat you know, ugh.” You rolled your eyes and made a gagging noise that earned another laugh from the redhead.

“Do you know how mascots blink?” you asked, your chin lifted in with a grin on your face.

“Ooh interesting, how?”

"When I did it, there's actually this thing in the hands of the mascot that whenever you close the hands," you lifted your left hand and formed a balled fist, demonstrating the mechanism of the mascot, “the mascot also blinks.”

“Ooh, I thought—”

You quickly guessed her thought, laughing slightly, “That it blinks when the person inside blinks?”

“I know it sounds so stupid but yeah.” She admitted with a sheepish grin.

You both couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the idea, to the point that both of you had to lay back down almost dying in laughter.

When the both of you finally calm down, Natasha's question broke the silence, and her curious tone filled the air as she asked, facing you as both of you were laying down, “So you went to college?”

“I did.”

Natasha then continued her line of questioning, “What happened? Did you finish?”

“I did. I was late for 2 years. Decided to have a leap year so I can save money for college. I took theater arts and when I finished I moved to New York with all my savings, hoping to fulfill my dream, you know...every kid's dream, everybody's dream, Broadway. But things didn't go as planned. But…I still had planned my future and I did plan some options. We need some safety net y’know?”

“Planned some options?” Natasha asked, slightly curious at the thought.

“Yeah.” You nodded, you can actually feel the grass and the dirt mixing with your hairstrand.

“And the plan is?”

“My plan is…one, to get a degree, finish college and I already did that. And I have two options if my degree doesn't work out for me.” You paused, your tongue darting out to wet your lips before continuing.

“One, be a stripper or two, be someone's trophy wife. And that's how I landed on Valkyrie's, option one.” You finally turned to look at her but she was already staring at you, your eyes widened and immediately got up trying to cover up the blush creeping in your face.

Natasha slowly sat beside you, your heart skipped a beat. You felt her presence as she reached for your hand, gently pulling you to your feet.

"I gotta show you something."

You grabbed her leather jacket and left the empty tray of cookies. The two of you walked back towards the manor, passing by a couple of armed guards who stood watch.

Natasha led you towards the large hall, her grip on your hand firm and sure. As she opened the double doors, you were immediately struck by the empty room that greeted you.

The space was spacious, with mirrors lining the walls and a solitary pole placed in the center. The polished wooden floor shone under the dim lighting, creating a subtle and intimate atmosphere.

A shy smile played on Natasha's lips as she spoke, looking directly at you. Her voice was soft, almost sheepish as she confessed.

“I still remember that dream of yours being a ballerina. So I had this room made just for you.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “Natasha, this…” Your voice trailed off for a moment as you gathered your thoughts, your emotions overwhelming you.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your voice cracking slightly as tears threatened to spill down your cheeks.

You don't need to be scared now.

No one will stop you.

No one will threaten you to know your place.

Because right now, at this moment, you do know your place.

You stepped forward and leaned towards Natasha, you gently planted a soft kiss on her cheek, your lips lingering for just a fraction of a second.

Secrets Behind Our Dreams: Masterlist