#such as not ruining their career that is just

[siri-ike]

Stepping out of the plane was a breath of fresh air. Literally, Gothams air was discusting. His stay there hadn't exactly been the relaxing getaway it was meant to, but he was still refreshed by it.

The ride home was unusually peaceful, too. His parents just talked to each other the whole time. Kind of odd that they barely said a word to him after almost 3 months apart. But that just gave him more time to text Steph and Tim in one chat and Sam and Tucker in another. He must have looked too happy or something because right when they got home, his parents felt the need to ruin everything.

"A private school!?"

"It's a high-end academy. They have a very low exeptance rate."

"What, so, 3 months without me wasn't enough? You have to immediately send me away again!?"

"Sweetheart, this is a wonderful opportunity.  It could set you up for careers in almost anything."

"DO YOU JUST NOT LIKE HAVING ME AROUND? Is that it?!" Danny had to storm upstairs so no one would see the tears welling up in his eyes. Unfortunately, he left his bag downstairs, and there is no way he's going back for it. He'll just explain away the batarang if they snoop.

Danny throws himself dramatically onto his bed. It's a show for no one but himself. Amorpho would be proud.

*knock-knock*

"I DON'T wanna talk!" He yelled, mostly into his pillow.

"Heard the news then." Jazz's voice couldn't have been more welcome.

"They can't even let me be home for a full week before sending me away again." He wasn't crying. You're crying.

"It was Vlads idea."

"So I looked into it. On the surface, Hive looks legit."

"But?"

"Would a normal upstanding school call itself "Hive"? Or be recommended by Vlad? I couldn't find any information about the staff.  Since it was established 3 years ago, no one has graduated. They don't have a website. The only way to get in is through scholarship, and the scholarships are always by a random rich guy or some shady organization. And the students? Identities are kept completely seacret. The only one I was able to find was that Lex Luther supposedly sent his son there, who, by the way, has no prior record of existing." She had deffinetly been waiting to get that out.

Danny sat up in his bed, intrigued. "What about Vlads angle. What's he get out of this?"

"That's what bothers me. Does he just want you out of Amity? Or is it something else? Like some kind of... evil... brainwashing, uh, clone school," that last part got away from her. "What if you show up and it's just more Danny Phantom clones, all ready to learn how to be Danny Phantom?!"

"Jazz, he wasn't even able to make one stable clone." Danny mocked his enemy. "If I go and there are a bunch more of me, then they'd probably be robots or something. Rich people love robots." He 'reassured'.

The two went on, and their theories got wilder and less serious as the hours passed. Until they went to Nasty Burger to meet Sam and Tucker. Danny claimed to want a taste of home, but the others didn't particularly care for a burger so early in the morning. Of course, they had to throw their theories into the ring, haunted boarding school full of Pointdexter knockoffs. Zombies, alternate dimensions, walkers prison brought to the human realm, but soon they got lost in other topics.

Hours turned to days, and before they knew, it was time to say goodbye again.

Getting to the school was a blur. He literally could not remember how he got there, no matter how much he tried. It was a big purple building in the shape of an H. Anything that purple has to be evil. And what's the deal with putting it in the middle of the water? Trying to keep him in or something?

It was even worse inside. The walls, floors, ceilings, everything was yellow broken up into hexagons with thin black lines. Well, they're wrong if they think he'll be distracted by the beauty of nature's most perfect shape... anything this yellow has to be evil.

In the entrance hall stood a polite looking boy, maybe 17 or 18 years old. He wore a suit, no, not just a suit. Tails. The only time Danny had even seen a jacket like that was in cartoons.

"Good morning. Are you Danny?" Oh no, he was here for him.

"Good morning," Danny avoided eye contact. "Yes, I'm Danny."

"Great!" He's so cheerful. "I'm Blacksun, but you can call me Ethan."

"Ok, Ethan. Why are you dressed for the opera?" Danny snided.

Ethan looks down at his clothes. "It is a tailcoat. Appropriate for the most formal events. Such as important celebrations, and what's a greater celebration than starting a new semester of the finest educational institution?" He recited proudly. "Come now. The training hall awaits. This is your chance to show the panel your talents. We can drop off your luggage with Horace. He'll take it to your room. Is that what you wear in battle, or do you need to change?"

Oh-oh. Was he supposed to be prepared for something. Battle?! "I need to change." He panicked, rushing into the room Ethan pointed towards with nothing but the one duffel that he and his friends packed last minute like a bunch of morons.

He dumped the contents onto a large table in the middle of the locker room.

Cutesy of Jazz: two sets of extra clothes, a hazmat suit (each wrapped up for efficient use of storage), some fentonworks shower gels and cleaning chemicals, and a printed out article on how to make friends.

Tucker: a laptop (clearly assembled himself), somehow warm beef jerkey and ducktape.

From Sam: so many seed packets, a compact watering can, and a switchblade.

That's OK. He can work with this.

Danny walked out into a large, wide open room. Looking up, he could see a crowd of people watching him. Suffering spooks. That's what he is right now. Best case scenario, he gets expelled. Worst case, he gets exposed. And there's not exactly a lot of middle ground.

There was an announcer. A male voice saying something over the speakers. It was probably important. As soon as it stopped, the obvious trap door that Danny had been staring at opened up. Through it rose a robot on a platform, roughly twice Danny's height.

It swung at him, and Danny immediately hit the floor running as fast as he could. The good news is it was slower than him. He discreetly reached into his shoulder and retreated some seed packets. Opening them up and letting them fall on the ground wherever he stands. The audience laughs. By the time he's spilled his 5th packet, Danny has covered the distance back to the door where he entered. Now, all he has to do is somehow get to the other side of a giant hostile robot trying to kill him.

5. Danny stares it down. He had built precious seconds worth of distance. He got to a running position. 4. He grabbed Fenton weed killer out of his thigh. 3. He ran towards the bot. 2,1. The robot throws a punch, but Danny dodges, and it hists the ground instead. He climbs up its arm, onto its back, and jumps down. All in one fell swoop. He runs again, this time spraying the seed pods with the concoction. The smell is so nauseating that he has to cover his mouth and nose. The robot is able to run past the first patch before they sprout into their monstrous ghost forms, but the second slowes it down. Then, the third manages to break off an arm. It gets stuck in the fourth.

He had made it well past the fifth patch and would have kept running, were it not for the sound of cheering.

Maybe Danny Fenton can be a baddie, too.

guess which show I binged while sick…(can’t fucking watch anything without thinking up a dp au for it)

danny phantom teen titans crossover au idea

 Vlad tricks the Fentons into sending danny to Hive Academy (so he can learn to be his evil apprentice/son or some shit). maybe by saying that its a super prestigious school that anyone would kill to attend, or like, its a school that specializes in helping troubled youth and setting them up on the path to successes (yeah successful super villains), or some other vapid nonsense.  either way Jack and Maddie fall for it and decide to send Danny there.

Danny probably doesn’t know exactly what Hive Academy(H.A.) is about, but he knows enough to understand that he doesn’t want anything to do with the place. maybe cause Vlad said something to him, or he overheard Vlad talking to someone about him attending. but he doesn’t get a choose about going, cause Jack and Maddie think it’ll fix danny’s school problem.(it won’t, its just replacing 1 set of problems for another)

from there, there would be a lot of danny+sam+tucker freaking out about danny not being there to protect the town from ghosts(maybe Jazz and Valerie too) And them trying everything they can think of to get danny out of it. nothing works but they still try.

after that Im not really sure about the specific stuff. Danny would probably do really well at H.A. cause the whole point of the place is to teach super powered kids how to use those powers (even if the reason completely clashes with danny’s morals) And then maybe Danny meets another kid there that doesn’t want to be a villain so the 2 of them team up to… idk,  rat the school out to the heroes and shit happens from there.

[starmocha]

I have no friends that play lads and after the trailer with Caleb my mind is in ruins and all i can think is arranged marriage between Colonel Caleb and his general's daughter. Ughh the tension and the dramaaaaa.

Thats it, thats all i had to say, thank you for coming to my ted talk (i really needed to yap about that to someone) 😂😂😂😂😂

🥹 Anon~ come back. Let's chat some more. I'll entertain all of your Caleb brainrots 🫶 You should also know that I saw this message this afternoon while I was out shopping.......the high-pitched gasp I had let out in public, because why is this right up my alley 😭😭😭 Ok I originally thought out like the whole situation in bullet points, but writing this one scene gotten out of control, because why did I get so into it, so I guess...consider this a snippet of sorts (it's kind of messy, but I was rushing)? 🫣 (or should I polish this up and repost it as an actual fic? I'm really digging this premise, if I'm honest 🤔)

You didn't have a say.

You didn't agree to this marriage. The General—your father, you remind yourself, often feeling emotionally estranged from the man who has never once raised you, viewing you as secondary to his military career—has arranged for you to wed his colonel.

Colonel Caleb. He is young, ambitious, and with a bright future ahead of him. He will rise through the ranks quickly, many believe. No one is surprised that the young man is betrothed to the general's daughter. It seems only right that such an esteemed union should happen, bringing two honorable families together.

You didn't have a say.

The General—your father, you correct yourself again, your nerves getting the best of you—is walking you down the aisle, his arm looped around yours—tightly. The organ is playing the Wedding March. Why does it sound like a dirge?

All eyes are on you, the blushing bride in her beautiful pristine white, lacy long-sleeved demure wedding gown. You didn’t choose this. You didn’t want to wear this dress. You didn’t want to wear this style. This isn’t you.

You didn't have a say.

The guests are all part of the military. You don't know these people. They're the General's—Father's—acquaintances. His peers, his colleagues. Subordinates and superiors. They are all acquaintances of his. Who are these strangers?

"Don't mess this up," he whispers under his breath as you approach your waiting groom, dressed in his most formal uniform for this nuptial. This is his only fatherly advice as he gives his one daughter's hand away—to a man she doesn't even know.

You don't have a say.

The ceremony proceeds without a hitch. You didn't look at your groom, or rather, you barely registered the man in front of you. You had moved through the motion, did everything you were supposed to, just like in the pre-rehersal ceremony, but you weren't there. It was like your mind had slipped away, and your body was just moving along on autopilot.

"You may kiss the bride," the priest declares.

Your mind returns, and you still when he kisses you. There is cheering and applause. You aren't happy. Is he happy?

You close your eyes, just letting this happen. It will be over soon. Just let it happen.

You don't have a say.

His arm loops through yours, leading you back down the aisle. There is more cheering and applause, and as you leave the church, the sun shines brightly on your marriage, and flower petals are tossed in the air, raining down over you and your groom.

There is so much joy and congratulations. Why then does it feel like the end of the world?

You don't respond, your face unwittingly tucking away into his arm as he leads you away for the wedding reception.

You don't even remember the reception. Did it even happen? Did you eat? Danced? Were there speeches or well-wishes? What did the wedding cake taste like?

You don't remember.

It was mid-afternoon when you had left the church, but now suddenly nightfall came without warning. How did that happen?

You exit a car, your hand in his.

This is a hotel. Right. A hotel.

It's your wedding night. A marriage is consummated on the wedding night. That is how it typically goes.

You have to consummate your marriage. You have to...sleep with your newly-wedded husband. Your husband. Caleb.

You didn't want to consummate this marriage. You didn't even want to get married. But you couldn't say no. You couldn't say no to any of this, and now, you know you also couldn't say no to him.

You don't have a say.

His hand is so much bigger than yours, you notice, as he holds yours, silently guiding you to your honeymoon suite.

Every step, every action, brings you closer to that moment. You barely register anything, not even hearing the beep when Caleb swipes the key card on the digital lock of the suite.

You're led into an extravagant suite. There is a vase of red roses and champagne chilling in an ice bucket, all courtesy of the hotel.

Still, you don't feel like you are in the moment, being completely lost in your head. You have to sleep with him. You didn’t want to marry him. You don't want to be married. You don't want to sleep with him. You don't want him.

You don't have a say.

He pours you a glass of champagne. You drink it, hoping it will calm your nerves. It doesn't. You feel like you are slipping, thoughts running haywire.

"You look very beautiful," he says, his hand brushing away the loose strands of hair that framed your face. His hand cups your face, his lips on yours before you even realize what is happening.

He sets the glasses to the side, taking you to bed. You sit on the edge next to him, his lips on yours again. You're not responding. He stills, but just for a moment. Did he notice? He continues, his lips along your neck, his hand reaching behind you for the zipper of your wedding dress.

You feel a chill.

He undresses you, lays you on the bed, completely exposed to him. You're not registering anything, breathing shuddering as he looms over you, slowly undressing himself now.

This is happening. You can't say no. Just go with it. It will all be over soon. Just do your duties. Just drift away, and it will all end soon.

He leans down and kisses you again, and you don't respond. His hands explores you, and you close your eyes, trying to think of anything but this moment. You don't even realize that you are tensing until he stops.

"You're...crying?"

You gasp, eyes opening in shock when he brushes your tears away. He looks hurt. Why?

He kisses your forehead. "We don't have to do this," he reassures you.

You don't understand. This is expected. You can't say no. You couldn't say no to any of this. You can't say no to him either.

"We...don't?" You find your voice, as small and scared as it was.

There is so much sadness in his eyes. Why?

He smiles. There is no joy. He smiles and shakes his head.

"But...I...have...to....we have to..."

He is confused. "Says who?"

Is he really expecting an actual response? You feel lost and confused.

"Every...everyone," you answer him.

He huffs and shakes his head again. "We don't have to," he says again. "I won't force myself on you if you're uncomfortable."

"But...we are married—"

"We are married," he says firmly, "You are my wife, and I am your husband. What happens—or doesn't happen—behind closed doors is our business. Not anyone else's."

But people will talk. Time will pass, and people will start wondering why you aren't pregnant yet. That is how it goes, right? First comes marriage and then comes the baby carriage, or however the fuck it's supposed to go. You have to go through with this, the whole nine yards, or people will talk.

The military is full of secrets, but rumors will still snake their way throughout until it reaches your father. If he knows, he will blame you for embarrassing him in front of his colleagues. For being a worthless daughter who couldn't do this one thing right.

You have no say in this. You can rebel all you want, but he will always make you cower in the end and bend to his will, just like how this marriage has happened.

"We have to," you tell Caleb, surprising him, "I'm...I'm okay with this."

You gasp when he pulls you up and into his arms, your face pressed to his chest. His hand is big, you think again, feeling it stroking the back of your head, but you also realize it is so gentle. He is so much bigger than you, can easily overpower and overwhelm you, but he doesn't.

He is so, so gentle with you. Why?

You don't even realize you had started crying, your body trembling against his, until he asks, "Are you scared of me?"

And you pause, breathing still shaky.

He continues to rub the back of your head. He sighs suddenly, and he whispers into your hair, "You don't have to be scared of me. I won't hurt you. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to."

"It’s...not you," you say eventually, still unsure if you were being completely truthful with him. "It’s..."

You falter, unsure of where your fears truly lie. Him? The Gener—Father? Or...everything?

He shushes you again. "Don't worry about anyone else. Just trust me."

You look up hesitantly, your tears blurring your vision. He brushes away those tears.

You're looking at him. Truly looking at him for the first time.

His eyes are violet, you realize suddenly. They are so pretty.

"I'll protect you," he promises, "I'll keep you safe, so please....please don't be scared of me."

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

It's odd that Dream commented "Tommy essentially belittles what I do, saying that what he does with his podcast and book are somehow more valuable or important than the videos that I make"

Because:

1.) The context was not there. The quote was about Dream/Those like him creating a hostile space. What Tommy said was

"You called me a promoter of all my other projects [because it's my job]. "I actually give a shit- I put effort into [the podcast, book, and stand-up comedy]. I've ditched the internet for a year [to focus on comedy] because of people like you who have ruined this space."

Yet dream portrayed it like Tommy was saying Dream's content didn't have value, thus placing the latter in a victim position.

2.) During this clip, Dream shows this. A screenshot of a bunch of his videos from 2 years ago.

The reason why? It looks bad to show his current content since he has absolutely not been uploading (and also not performing as well lately). Showing a few things:

a.) Dream is criticizing promotion despite not even uploading often

b.) Tommy has been actively working on things that require much more coordination and skill sets than Minecraft videos

c.) Tommy has been actively working on things that NEED promotion. Who is gonna trust a random website that says there's a tommyinnit tour? Or a book written by him?? Promotion is inherently good for social media careers

d.) Dream promotes his merch midway through the video. Like what. Pick a lane.

And finally, maybe obviously,

3.) Dream is truly attempting to rotate this around. He just likes spending time with his friends :((( he's a coder so he likes to code :((((

Yeah no, this isn't about your content in general. Otherwise Tommy would be going onto every youtuber's page and giving the same treatment. This is regarding a slow-burn over several years and a final explosion over recent passive aggressive treatment

I'm sure that somewhere, a definition of manipulation and logical fallacies has Dream's picture there

[amourquinn]

NO MORE HIDING ; quinn hughes ( short fic )

pairing : quinn x fem!reader wc. 1k

genre : fluff friends to lovers no warnings

summary : in the warmth of a late winter night in vancouver, your friendship with quinn teeters on the edge of a change

vancouver was unusually warm for late winter. the city was bustling with the energy of the holidays, twinkling lights reflecting off the gentle ripples of false creek. you stood outside rogers arena, waiting for your best friend, quinn, who had just wrapped up practice.

you had been friends with quinn since his days at the university of michigan, where you’d both studied. while quinn’s life had taken him to the nhl, yours had remained grounded in academia, finishing your graduate degree in vancouver. you’d always supported his career, proud of every achievement, but somewhere along the way, your feelings had grown complicated.

the sound of the arena doors opening jolted you from your thoughts. quinn appeared, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, wearing that familiar, shy smile that always made your heart skip a beat. his dark hair was slightly damp from the post-practice shower, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold.

“hey,” he said, his voice soft. “sorry i kept you waiting.”

“no worries,” you replied. “ready to grab some food?”

“definitely. i’m starving.”

the two of you headed toward a cozy diner you often frequented together. quinn’s popularity in vancouver sometimes made it hard to go out without being recognized, but this spot was your little secret—quiet, low-key, and unbothered by fans or reporters.

as you settled into the booth, quinn glanced at you, his blue eyes studying your face. “you okay? you’ve been kind of quiet lately.”

you hesitated, not sure how to respond. the truth was, you’d been struggling with your growing feelings for him. spending time with quinn was both a blessing and a curse—his kindness, humor, and quiet intensity drew you in, but you didn’t want to risk ruining the friendship you cherished so much.

“i’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “just busy with school stuff.”

quinn didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further. instead, he launched into a story about practice, his face lighting up as he described a prank one of the guys had pulled on elias. you laughed, grateful for the distraction, but you couldn’t stop your gaze from lingering on him a little too long.

after dinner, the two of you decided to walk along the seawall. the city sparkled around you, the air crisp and filled with the faint scent of pine trees from a nearby holiday market. quinn walked close beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

“i’m glad you’re here,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

you looked up at him, surprised. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the water. “you’ve always been there for me, no matter what. even when i screw up or get in my own head, you’re just… there. i don’t think i say it enough, but it means a lot.”

your heart ached at his words, and you struggled to find the right response. “you don’t have to thank me for that. that’s what friends are for.”

quinn stopped walking, turning to face you. his expression was serious now, his brows furrowed in thought.

“i know we’re friends,” he said slowly, “but sometimes… i think about us being more than that.”

your breath caught in your throat. “quinn—”

he held up a hand, cutting you off gently. “just let me say this, okay? i’ve been trying to figure it out for a while now, and i can’t keep pretending it’s nothing. i think i might be in love with you.”

the words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your mind racing.

“i—” you started, but your voice faltered.

quinn’s face fell, and he quickly shook his head. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to put you on the spot. forget i said anything.” he turned away, clearly embarrassed, but you reached out, grabbing his arm to stop him.

“quinn, wait,” you said, your voice firm now.

he looked back at you, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“i’m not good at this,” you admitted, your words tumbling out in a rush. “i’ve been trying to bury how i feel because i didn’t want to mess up what we have. but hearing you say that… i think i’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

a slow smile spread across quinn’s face, and the tension between you seemed to dissolve. “you really mean that?”

you nodded, feeling the weight of your confession lift off your shoulders. “yeah, i do.”

quinn stepped closer, his hand brushing yours hesitantly before he intertwined your fingers. “so… what do we do now?”

you smiled, your heart racing as you looked up at him. “i guess we figure it out together.”

for a moment, quinn just stared at you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. then, without hesitation, he cupped your face gently, his palms warm against your cheeks.

“can i kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

you nodded, your breath hitching. “please.”

his lips met yours in a kiss that was somehow both tentative and certain, a blend of nervousness and years of unspoken emotion. the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing under the glow of the holiday lights.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a quiet laugh escaping him. “i can’t believe that just happened.”

“me neither,” you whispered, smiling despite the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

quinn pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “i promise i’m going to do this right,” he murmured. “no rushing, no pressure. just us.”

you buried your face in his chest, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. for the first time in months, the knot of anxiety in your chest eased. you didn’t know what the future held, but as quinn held you in the glow of the city lights, you knew one thing for sure: whatever came next, you’d face it together.

and as his hand found yours again, lacing your fingers together like they’d always belonged that way, you couldn’t help but think that maybe this was the beginning of something beautiful.

© amourquinn

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce answered his phone without checking the caller ID.

Bruce: What is it, Nightwing?

Dick: I… You’re not going to ask who this is?

Bruce (dryly): I made distinct ringtones for all of you.

Dick (curious): What’s mine?

Bruce (serious): Nickelback’s "Photograph."

Dick: Why would you make it that? I hate that band!

Bruce (raising an eyebrow): You have such odd… awful takes about music.

Dick (playfully): Says the man who unironically likes The Room.

Bruce (defensive but amused): When you treat it like a comedy, it's really funny! Why did you call?

Dick: Where are you? Your assistant said you were at therapy, but none of us believed that.

Bruce (firmly): I’m actually in therapy.

Dick (skeptical): Is that code for something?

Bruce (deadpan): No. Harley—yes, Harley Quinn—is giving me free therapy services, and I’ve been meeting with her for three weeks now.

In the background, Harley lounged casually in an armchair with an iPad, wearing clear sunglasses that made her look more professional, though her red pantsuit contradicted that effort.

Harley (leaning forward, smirking): Oh, you’re definitely paying me for these sessions at the end of the month. You’re not Roy; you have multiple sessions energy!

Bruce (exhaling sharply): We will discuss that after I end the call. Nightwing, is there anything else you need, or can I hang up?

Dick (suspicious): Have you been hit with Joker toxin, hypnotized, or exposed to Ivy’s pollen?

Bruce (sighing): No, no, and no. She’s good at her job; she just managed to fall for an insane clown and ruin her career… We’ve all made mistakes like that.

Harley nodded enthusiastically, clicking her pen repeatedly, her attention caught.

Bruce (a hint of affection in his tone): That’s not an insult to Damian. I love him; he’s my son and the only good thing I got out of that relationship. But Talia is… well, she’s nuts.

Dick (shaking his head, amused): Right… this is so surreal, but at least you have a therapist. Um, okay, I’ll tell the others you’re actually in therapy.

Bruce (curious): Are they with you?

Dick: No.

Bruce (relieved): Good. Don’t tell them who the therapist is.

Dick: Right, because you’d be incredibly embarrassed to be working with someone who was our former enemy and is technically still insane.

Bruce (with a hint of resignation): You’re on speaker.

Dick: Yeah, and?

Harley (grinning): Honestly, he’s handling this way better than I thought he would.

[kawoala]

﹒◜、 𝒰𝒩𝑅𝐸𝒜𝒟 𝐸𝑀𝒜𝐼𝐿𝒮 semi eita ; graduation

word count: 673 content warning: third person pov, overthinking, pre-graduation, established relationship; reader + semi, ushijima & tendou appearance, fear of the future.

There’s a weight pressing down on her stomach. One might think it’s because of the feeling of impending doom she has as her mind drifts to university for the umpteenth time today. One could also speculate— or, rather, observe— that it is caused by Semi’s head resting on the plush skin of her torso, eyes closed, basking in the sunlight. Her breathing is labored, but she refrains from saying anything, too afraid to ruin the moment that could be gone in mere seconds.

Semi is humming some song she’s never heard of, the melody floating away with the wind as it blows against their faces. Her eyes, too, fall shut now, relaxing against the soft grass beneath her.

Beside the pair, Tendou is talking Ushijima’s ear off, ranting on about how hard his Biology class is and how bad he wants to drop it. She can’t help but laugh softly at the way he words things— Tendou has always been the funniest friend. She’s going to miss him when they all graduate.

Graduation. Her mind, once again, falls back to the topic. An unintentional sigh slips out of her mouth and she cracks her eyes open, letting her head loll to the side to look at Semi and her friends. They all have smiles on their faces. It’s a beautiful sight— one she’s probably not going to see after graduation. Her gaze drifts to Semi and she smiles sadly. 

She once made him promise that they wouldn’t break up just for university, but now that it’s getting closer to that date, she can’t help but think about their careers. He wants to be a musician, and she thinks that he’s fully capable of doing so, but there’s an everlasting thought festering in the back of her mind— what if she’s holding him back? What if, because of her, he doesn’t reach his full potential?

Semi shifts on her stomach, turning his head to look at her, and her mind goes blank. He opens his eyes, taking a few seconds to blink away the darkness that he was just in, then smiles at her. “Hey,” he whispers, voice a little raspy and heart meltingly soft, and she giggles a little bit at him. He furrows his brows playfully. “What?”

She brings a hand to his head, raking her fingers through the soft silver locks and exhales dreamily. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

“You’re a cornball,” he laughs out, pushing himself up on his elbows. She gets a sense of relief once the weight is gone and briefly wonders if that’s an analogy for something. “We should probably get back to class before the principal comes looking for us again.”

She hums, nodding. She looks over at Tendou and Ushijima and snickers at the scene. Tendou, now perched on his knees, explaining a story and talking with his hands way too much, and Ushijima, listening intently. “I still can’t believe Ushiwaka skipped class with us.”

Semi snickers, too, and shakes his head. “He had to ask Mr. G first. And, of course, Mr. G let him.” He turns to her, an unimpressed look on his face. “Ushiwaka is, like, his favorite student.”

The other two now take notice of their staring and realize that it’s time to go back to class. The four of them stand up at the same time, wiping the grass from their clothes and trying to look presentable. 

As they make their way back to the classroom, Semi jogs up to her and interlaces his fingers with hers, bending down to place a quick peck on her forehead. “You ready to graduate? Two more days.”

“Yeah,” she answers, hesitant and quiet. She looks down to the ground, watches her strides trying to keep up with Semi’s. Her brows furrow. Is she going crazy? Is everything supposed to mean something else these days? She sighs, quick and almost inaudible. “Are you ready, Semi?”

He thinks for a moment, but ultimately nods, flashing his signature million dollar smile. “I think I am.”

taglist; @aozui , @cherrysurf , @massacremars , @ellsarchive , @sahrii

@sharkissm , @kameyyy , @kissunday , @tiramizuloz , @nectardaddy

@ursafehaven , @vivian-555 , @autlantic

[widowromanova]

Sniper (part 2) - Natasha x Female Reader

warnings: mentions of violence, SMUT!!!

word count: 4891

a/n: here's the asked for part 2 (with (part of) their backstory) ;)

You shouldn’t have hesitated, you couldn’t afford to hesitate. God! How could you be so reckless! You had spent so long training just to avoid this. And yet, when you saw her tonight, the same fire in her eyes that once drew you in, every carefully constructed wall you’d built came crashing down.

It had been years since the two of you were more than just co-workers. Back then, it hadn’t just been reckless - it had been dangerous and intoxicating. Natasha had drawn you into her orbit effortlessly, she had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room, the only one who mattered, even when you both knew that wasn’t true.

The secrecy wasn’t just about breaking SHIELD’s rules; it was about protection. You had both made enemies, people who wouldn’t hesitate to use your connection against you. Hiding it wasn’t just to keep your careers intact - it was to keep each other safe. But the risk had only made it more intense.

It all started at that party, "God, what a cliché," you thought. SHIELD’s annual gala was never your scene, but Fury had insisted on your attendance, throwing out some half-hearted excuse about team morale. You had arrived late, your shirt buttoned-up wrong, trying to disappear into the background.

And then you saw her.

Natasha was standing at the edge of the room, her back to the wall, a glass of champagne in hand, her body dripping in a silk black dress. She looked untouchable, like she always did. But her eyes - those sharp, calculating eyes - were scanning the crowd with purpose. She wasn’t there for the small talk or the niceties. She never was. And yet, when her gaze found yours, something shifted. For a moment, the room and its noise blurred, the crowd nothing more than a collection of moving shadows. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, and you knew she’d seen right through your plan to fade into obscurity.

She approached you first. Of course she did. Natasha never waited for anyone to come to her.

“You look miserable,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Let me guess, Fury dragged you here too?”

You’d laughed, caught off guard by the lightness of her tone. “Something like that. And you? I thought you thrived in situations like this.”

Her smile widened, but there was a glint of something deeper in her eyes. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy them.”

“Yeah, not exactly my idea of a good time,” you admitted, looking around the room.

She tilted her head, studying you with that sharp, assessing gaze. Her eyes flicked downward, and a small smirk tugged at her lips.

"Not your idea of a good time," she said, her tone laced with amusement. "Or maybe you’re just bad at dressing for it."

You frowned, confused, until she reached forward and tugged lightly at the collar of your shirt. It wasn’t until she stepped closer, the faint scent of her perfume brushing past you, that you realized what she was doing.

“Your buttons,” she murmured, her voice low, almost playful. Her fingers worked deftly, undoing the mismatched ones near your collar. “You can’t walk around looking like this- it’ll ruin the reputation Fury worked so hard to build for you.”

She delivered the last part with a dripping sarcasm that made you huff a quiet laugh despite yourself. “Oh, is that what Fury’s worried about?” you shot back, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smirk.

Her lips curved into a knowing grin as she finished fixing your shirt. “Absolutely. You’re the poster child for professionalism,” she said, her tone still laced with mockery.

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling warmth creep up the back of your neck. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or the proximity of her hands, brushing just lightly enough against your chest to make you uncomfortably aware of how close she was.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, her tone casual, but when she looked up, there was that spark in her eyes again, the one that made it hard to breathe. “There. Perfect.”

She patted your chest lightly, the gesture half-teasing, half-sincere, before stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Much better. Now you look like someone worth talking to.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t realize I was under inspection.”

“Always,” she quipped, looking you up and down in a satisfactory manner before grabbing her glass of champagne again. “You should know that by now.”

And just like that, she had you. In the span of a minute, Natasha Romanoff had taken a mundane moment and turned it into something you couldn’t stop thinking about. Looking back, you wondered if that had been her plan all along.

She tilted her head, studying you for a moment that felt longer than it should have. Then, with a mischievous spark, she handed you a drink. “Come on. Let’s make it more interesting.”

That was how it began - not with a grand declaration or a dramatic moment, but with Natasha pulling you out of the gala and onto the rooftop, away from the crowd. The conversation had been easy, surprisingly so. You had laughed, teased, talked about things you probably shouldn’t have, and for the first time, you saw Natasha not as the infamous Black Widow but as someone real.

The rooftop was quiet, the distant hum of the city below filling the silence. You leaned against the ledge, while Natasha stood a few feet away, her posture relaxed but somehow still charged with an energy that made her impossible to ignore.

For a while, neither of you said anything. It wasn’t the uncomfortable silence of strangers or colleagues forced into proximity, but something more natural. You could hear the faint clink of her glass as she swirled the last of her champagne, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“You know,” she finally said, her voice softer now, almost thoughtful, “this is the first time I’ve been able to breathe all night.”

You turned your head to look at her, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of her face. “Yeah? Doesn’t seem like anything gets to you.”

She smirked at that, a small, almost wistful expression. “Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”

Something about the way she said it made your chest tighten. There was a vulnerability in her voice, and you wondered how many people ever got to hear it.

She set her empty glass down on the ledge, turning to face you fully. Her green eyes held yours, unguarded in a way that felt disarming.

“Why do you do that?” she asked suddenly, her tone shifting.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not interesting,” she said, taking a step closer. “Like you’re just… background noise in a room full of people.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but she was already moving, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness. Her hand brushed your arm, light and tentative at first, then bolder as her fingers trailed down to your wrist.

“You’re not,” she murmured, her voice low and steady.

You should’ve stepped back, put some distance between you. Instead, you found yourself rooted to the spot, caught in her pull. Natasha’s free hand reached up, her fingers brushing the side of your face, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

For a moment, everything else faded - the gala, the rules, the risks. All that mattered was the way she was looking at you.

“Tell me to stop,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

Your heart pounded, each beat louder than the last as her words echoed in your mind. You should’ve said something - anything - but the way her eyes searched yours stole the breath from your lungs.

Natasha tilted her head, closing the gap the rest of the way, her lips brushing yours with a softness that sent a shiver through you. The kiss wasn’t rushed or demanding, but deliberate, as if she was waiting for you to pull away, to stop her. When you didn’t, her hand slid from your wrist up to your neck, her touch both steady and grounding.

Your hands found her waist, hesitating for a moment before you pulled her closer, the tension melting away. And now, all of a sudden, the cool night air seemed warmer.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, her breath mingled with yours in the space between. She didn’t speak right away, her eyes flickering over your face as if she was committing every detail to memory.

“This changes things,” she said softly, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, “it does.”

From then on, you met in secret. The first time you met was two days after the gala, when you received a message from an anonymous number with a single address and the words “8 PM.” You debated whether or not to go, well aware that anything involving Natasha would likely lead to trouble. But something about the thrill of her pulled you in.

At 8 o’clock, you arrived at the address, a small, unassuming apartment building on the outskirts of the city. You climbed the stairs and knocked on the door, pulse racing with anticipation and uncertainty. The door opened revealing Natasha, dressed casually in a black tank top and jeans, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. At the sight of you, a slow smile curled at the corners of her lips.

"You didn't give me much choice," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way your heart rate spiked at the sound of her voice.

She smiled softly, stepping aside to let you in. The apartment was cozy, dimly lit, and almost surprisingly normal-looking.

"Drink?" she asked, gesturing toward a bottle of scotch sitting on the kitchen counter. You nodded, accepting the glass she handed you. The silence between you was heavy. You watched her as she took a sip of her drink, studying you for a moment before finally speaking.

"I wasn't sure if you'd show up," she admitted, setting her glass down on the countertop and leaning on her arm against it. You shrugged, "Curiosity got the best of me, I suppose."

She raised an eyebrow, her smile growing into an almost predatory smirk. "Curiosity, huh?" You didn't respond, choosing instead to take a long drink. The scotch burned your throat, but you drank until you felt the heat in your cheeks cool.

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes roaming over you in that assessing way she had. She took a step closer, her proximity making it harder to think. "You're tense," she observed, her voice low and smooth. "Relax. I don't bite," she ran a hand up and down your arm. You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken. "I'd bet money you do," you quipped back.

Her smile widened. "Maybe I do," she murmured. "But not tonight." She held your gaze, her expression unreadable. For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. Then, she lifted her hand to your face, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of your jaw.

"You're making this difficult," she murmured, her touch leaving a trail of heat. "I didn't expect you to be so..."

"So what?"

She paused, her eyes searching yours. “So… different,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit it. “I’ve been trying to keep things simple, but you…”

Her words trailed off as her hand rested against your chest, her thumb brushing the fabric of your shirt. The faintest smile tugged at her lips, “You make it quite hard.”

The space between you seemed to shrink. You wanted to ask her what she meant, to press her for clarity, but you already knew the answer. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. "Simple isn't really your style, is it?" you managed to say, your voice betraying the emotions churning inside.

Her wry smile deepened, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes as her fingers lingered at your jaw, her thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Simple is boring,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You tried to reply, to find some clever retort that would keep you grounded. All you could focus on was the way she looked at you, like she was daring you to close the last sliver of space between you.

“Natasha…” you started, but her name came out more like a sigh than a warning.

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. “What?” she asked, her tone teasing but soft. “I thought you liked complicated.” Before you could answer, her hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

And then, without hesitation, she kissed you.

It wasn’t tentative or unsure; it was deliberate, purposeful, like she wasn’t going to give you a chance to second-guess her. Again, her lips were warm, soft, but there was an urgency beneath it.

You responded instinctively, your hands finding her waist as you pulled her against you, deepening the kiss.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and she let out a soft, almost amused breath. “See?” she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of triumph. “Complicated isn’t so bad.”

Her hand was still on the back of your neck, her fingers tracing idle patterns that sent shivers down your spine. "No," you breathed, your voice a low rumble against her skin, "it's not." You reached for her, pulling her head to the side to kiss her neck. She let out a soft, almost surprised gasp as your lips found her skin. Her fingers tightened in your hair, her body instinctively arching into you. You traced a line of kisses down her throat, tasting the salt and sweetness of her skin. Each press of your lips seemed to ignite a fire in her, a barely restrained need that mirrored your own. Her hand roamed down your back, nails scraping light and dangerous, sending another shiver through you. "You're not playing fair," she murmured in your ear, her voice ragged and breathless.

You smirked against her skin, pulling her closer, your hands sliding under the hem of her shirt. "Who said I was playing fair?" You pushed her backwards until she was against the wall, pinning her there with the weight of your body. Her eyes darkened, a mixture of desire and challenge in them. You reached up, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. She let out a small gasp, her lips parting in surprise, her chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. She could have easily freed herself, but instead, she leaned into you, her body pressed flush against yours.

You tightened your grip on her wrists, holding her captive as you dispersed kiss after kiss, tracing the veins on her neck. She arched into you, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear, a low whisper of “What do you think you're doing?” You didn't respond. Your lips found her jaw, trailing a path of fire down her neck. Her body responded to your touch, her breaths uneven, her skin flushed. A quiet moan escaped her as you kissed along her collarbone, and you felt the tension in her shoulders start to loosen. But before you could go further, Natasha’s hand found its way to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled your head back sharply, bringing your eyes to meet hers.

“I didn’t say you could keep going,” she said, her voice breathless, a playful edge beneath the words.

You could see the challenge in her eyes, the same one that had always drawn you in - fearless, confident.

“Maybe I don’t need permission,” you murmured, your lips curling into a teasing smile.

She raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in the air between you, before her fingers slid from your hair, holding your face in her hands. “I like it when you’re bold,” she said softly, her voice now a mix of approval. Her thumb brushed over your lower lip, a gesture so intimate it made your heart skip a beat. “But," she continued, her voice a low, gravelly murmur, "don't get ahead of yourself."

"And why not?" you challenged.

Natasha smirked, the challenge clear in her eyes. "Because I said so," she replied firmly, her fingers tightening around your jaw.

She took a step forward, closing the small distance between you. Her body was now pressed against yours, her gaze intense and unwavering. "And if there's one thing you should know about me," she continued, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "I always get what I want."

In one swift motion, she turned, slamming you against the wall, her body pinning you there as her mouth found yours. The kiss was fiery, possessive, her tongue demanding entry as her hands gripped at your shirt, pulling you closer. Her leg pressed between yours, her knee rubbing slightly against the growing wet spot there. You could feel her smirk against your lips, her teeth nipping at your tongue. Her hands were under your shirt now, nails scraping down your stomach.

She pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her thumb traced over your lips, swollen and tender from her, her touch feather-light yet utterly possessive.

"Still think you're in charge here?" she murmured, her voice a low husk. Her grip on your hips tightened, her knee pressing into you further, eliciting a low moan from you. She looked you up and down, "You're wearing too much."

Without waiting for a response, she started tugging at your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one swift move. Her gaze raked over your exposed skin, a look of hunger in her eyes. You watched her, goose bumps pebbling across your skin. She took her own shirt off now, her skin gleaming under the light, a canvas of muscle and scars, a stark contrast to the delicate curve of her hip. She moved closer, pressing herself against you, her bare skin against yours. Her hands roamed over your body, mapping every contour, every muscle. She traced a line down your chest, nails scratching lightly against your skin. Her mouth found your neck, her lips grazing over the sensitive flesh there, her breath hot and heavy against your skin. You began to fiddle with the clasp of her bra, desperately trying to undress her.

She pulled away slightly, her hands catching yours, pinning them against the wall above your head. Her expression was stern, almost predatory, a silent command to stay still. "Patience," she murmured, her breath tickling your ear. She let go of your hands to reach behind her back, unclasping the garment herself. You watched as she seductively took it off to drop it at your feet then pulled the waistband of her underwear down as well, dropping them beside her bra. Her hands skimmed over your hips, her thumbs hooking into the waistband. She looked up at you, a silent question in her eyes, seeking permission. You could only nod, words failing you. Your brain was a hazy mess of need and the sharp awareness of every inch of your body where she touched you.

You felt the material slither down your legs, heard the whisper of it falling to the floor. You were exposed now, vulnerable in a way you hadn't been before. But there was no shame in your nudity under Natasha's gaze, only a growing sense of belonging. She harshly grabbed you by the face again, your lips clashing as she haphazardly walked you over to the sofa where she pushed you to sit down.

You landed on the couch with a thud, your breath leaving you in a rush. Before you could even catch your bearings, Natasha was on you, straddling your lap, her body pressed flush against yours. Her mouth found yours again, her kiss rough and demanding. Her weight was pinning you to the cushions, the feeling of her skin against yours sending sparks through you. Your hands found their way to her hips, gripping tightly.

You moved your leg to position itself between hers, watching her as she tensed slightly at the movement, a small gasp escaping her lips. She broke the kiss to bury her face in the crook of your neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. You could feel her shiver, her body involuntarily rocking against your leg.

"Eager," she murmured against your neck, her voice a ragged whisper, "aren't you?" Her tongue traced a path down your throat, pleasure searing through you. She ground against your thigh, seeking friction, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Your hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements despite the loss of control. She whined in your ear, as you managed to gasp out a few words, your voice thick with desire. "I thought you were the one in charge," you panted, your fingers running up her sides to caress the soft skin of her back.

She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes dark with desire. "And I am," she replied, her words punctuated by a roll of her hips against your thigh. "But," she continued, her voice dropping as she let out another moan, "I like it when you get... unruly."

Your hands roamed over her body in response, one staying on her hip while the other moved higher, tracing the curve of her breast. She arched into your touch, a soft moan escaping her. The sight was almost too much to bear, the way she responded to you like a drug. She leaned in closer, her mouth finding yours again, her tongue insistent, demanding entry. She moved against you, each roll of her hips against your leg driving you both closer to the edge. You were lost in her.

Your fingers slowly moved down her stomach, stopping just above her pelvis. Her breath hitched at the feel of your fingers so close to where she wanted them most. Her hips instinctively thrust towards your hand, a silent plea for more. A low moan escaped her throat, her eyes dark and burning into yours. "Stop... teasing," she gasped, the words barely more than a ragged whisper.

You smirked at her, watching her domination over you waver, your hand staying exactly where you placed it. Her body was tense against you, a barely contained coil of energy waiting to snap. The look in her eyes was a mix of frustration and desire as she shifted her weight, her knees digging into the couch on either side of you. "I said stop..." she repeated, her voice a low growl. But her body betrayed her words, her hips still moving on their own accord, seeking out your touch. Your fingers trailed lightly over her skin, drawing lazy circles that drove her wild, but never quite giving her what she wanted.

Her eyes darkened, a growl-like sound rumbling in her throat. She grabbed your face firmly, her grip just on the edge of being painful. "You're playing a dangerous game here," she muttered, her body pressed flush against yours. Her fingers tangled in your hair, forcing your head back, leaving your neck exposed to her. Her mouth latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth sinking in just enough to make you gasp. "You're making it difficult to stay in control," she breathed against your skin, her breath hot and ragged.

"Good," you simply say.

Your words make her pause, her mouth still against your neck. You can feel her smirk, a mix of irritation and amusement as she laughs, "You do realise," she purred, her voice low, "that I could have you begging on your knees right now if I wanted?"

"Yeah, but..." your hand moves over her clit to trace circles, "you really don't want me to stop this, do you?" A shudder runs through her body, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening again to lock with yours. Her breath catches, a stifled gasp escaping her. She tries to hold on to her composure. "Not... fair," she manages to say, her voice shakier than before. You smirk, your fingers continuing to move down to enter her, stretching her out perfectly. She lets out a low growl, "God.." Her hips snap against your hand, desperate for more. "Just... like that," she gasps, her body betraying her words. Her hands grip your shoulders, nails digging in, leaving little moon crescents in your skin. It is beyond clear she has lost most of her composure.

Her body tenses again, her thighs trembling slightly around your hand. Her eyes are dark, clouded over with desire, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. "Don't stop," she whispers, the words barely a breath.

"I wasn't planning to," you tease.

"Shut up," she mutters, but there's no real venom in her words, just a hint of desperation that betrays how badly she wants you. Her hands slide down from your shoulders to your biceps, holding onto you like a lifeline. "Who knew," she grunts, her voice catching.

"Knew what?"

"That you could..." her sentence cut off with a moan, "reduce me to this." She manages to gasp out the words between ragged breaths, her body arching into your touch. You can feel how close she is, her body strung tight like a bowstring, ready to snap. "Just... keep going.." she practically pleads.

You keep going, your fingers dancing over exactly the right spot, driving her higher and higher until-

Her head falls back, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she comes undone. Her body shivers against you, her nails digging into your arms. Her limbs tremble, her head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder as she tries to catch her breath. "You..." she breathes.

"I, what?" you retort, a wide grin playing on your face. She lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours, still swimming in a heady mix. "Why is that look so damn attractive on you?" she mutters, still riding her high while her hands still grip your arms tightly.

You laugh, "What am I, Nat?"

"Annoying," she mutters, her eyes narrowing. "Possibly aggravating," she continues, her breathing slowing down slightly. But despite her words, her hands don't let go of you, her body still pressed tightly against yours.

"Now why would you say that?" you question, feigning hurt.

"Oh, let me count," she muses, her voice regaining some of its usual sardonic edge. "Your smugness when you get the upper hand, your infuriatingly attractive smile-", you watch her with admiration, a smile forming on your face, "-the fact that you somehow always manage to push all my buttons. Not to mention, you're doing a damn good job of driving me crazy right now." Her words are an equal measure of wanting to strangle you and wanting to kiss you senseless.

As if to prove her point, she pushes against you further, her body moulding to yours. She leans in, her mouth at your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "You have any idea what you do to me, huh?" she whispers, the words a murmur in your ear. "And right now, I don't know if I want to kill you or kiss you."

You pretend to pay attention, your mouth slowly finding her neck again, your tongue tracing a path over her skin. She lets out a soft sigh, a shudder running through her at your touch. Her fingers rake through your hair, a possessive gesture as she holds you against her. She's trying to regain a semblance of control, to take back the upper hand.

But despite her best efforts, her body betrays her. She arches into you, a moan escaping her as your mouth finds that sensitive spot below her ear, "Fuck you, L/N..."

"I was hoping you would," you quip. The rest of the night became a blur, the walls of your memory stained with the hazy scent of sex that lingered throughout her apartment as you found... comfort... in each other for the next day.

But for all the passion, there had been cracks in the foundation of which neither of you could admit to at the time. Natasha had always been an enigma, parts of her locked away so tightly even you couldn’t reach them. And you - you had started to wonder if loving her was just another risk you hadn't been strong enough to take.

Tonight, you had faltered.

Your grip on the rifle tightened, and you exhaled, watching your breath curl into the night air. Natasha was always in control, and somehow, despite everything, you had let her slip through your fingers again.

The rooftop was quiet now, but your thoughts were anything but. Because she wasn’t just an assignment. She never had been. And the next time you saw her, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to pull the trigger - or if she’d already have you in her sights first.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed, there will be a part 3 (i have more to add to their backstory, i just did not want to put it all in one part ;)) the smut will continue!

[ghouljams]

ghoooul gaz ass eater truther <333

im imagining him with a freaky ass virgin but like total virgin, no boyfriend no kissing nothing (theres only so much action (handholding) you can handle when focusing on ur career yk?) and she has all this confidence but once kyle is set on taking her back to his bed she just clams up, zero explanation until he is like “you don’t have to tell me anything, but i don’t wanna risk our relationship by hurting you in any way” to which she babbles about how she has zero experience with men in real life, she obviously is educated but when gaz gets so handsy with her it’s like her brain function goes out the window. she confides in him that she’ll trust him to do the things he likes first to see if she also likes it, then experiment from there.

i call it ‘slut in theory, not in practice’ i think im just horny for how charming and persuasive gaz is…

Fuck me Rat i love this (also congrats on your major role as 1 million of you in nosferatu)

Because the idea of this cocky, talks a big game, virgin entering Gaz's life... he just knows. He can smell it on you, hear it in the way you talk about sex, he knows you're a virgin. He likes the confidence, but he's waiting for it to break, aching to see you stiffen and try to figure out what to do with your hands, where to move your legs, how to suck on his tongue, you're utterly clueless. Helpless.

You're a whore in theory but not in practice, except all the practice you're making for yourself. All your little sneaky accounts on kink sites and tumblr talking about how bad you need a fat cock to break open your poor little holes. Commenting on reddit videos of girls getting their pretty holes ruined, "I need this," "This would fix me," "when will it be my turn :(" His poor silly thing, poor little doll, caught up in all your little fantasies and with no internet safety. It really took very little effort to track down everything, to save all your begging and pleading, all the cheeky pictures, to his phone. Gaz is more careful than you, encryptions and passwords to get into his evidence of your online spank bank. Just in case you wise up and decide to delete them.

They're rather helpful though when he finally manages to coax you into bed. He'll save the ropes for later, but the anal? Oh he's more than happy to start there. Especially when you don't know any better.

There's no need to get embarrassed when he's eating you out lovey, if his tongue circles your ass he's just being thorough, and if he works a spit slicked finger into the tight hole while he sucks at your clit, well, you don't really know enough to tell him to stop. And you already said you wouldn't in oh so many posts.

No time like the present to start practicing if you want to be a whore, puppet.

[jaimexbrienne-fic-finder]

Do you have any good recs for fics inspired by films?

This is just off the top of my head, if anyone can think of any others please add them!

Right Off the Bat by hillaryschu

to be read in 90s Movie Trailer RomCom Voice

Meet Jaime. He used to be the most infamous player in Major League baseball but a career-ending injury brought him back into the family business. He hates it. What he doesn’t hate is coaching the best Little League team in Kings Landing.

Meet Brienne. After her father’s death, she left behind a successful career in women’s competitive fastpitch to start over. She’s trying to balance life and love in a new city, all while coaching a down-and-out Little League team.

In a world where everyone is looking to connect, Jaime and Brienne discover the best way to meet someone is to never meet at all. What they don’t realize, is that they already have.

This fanfic exchange season, follow along with Brienne and Jaime as they take to one another on Twitter and battle on the ballfield. Then find out what happens when those worlds collide.

(a You’ve Got Mail AU)

Vows by theworldunseen

Jaime Lannister profiles the most interesting and romantic weddings in the country for his super popular blog, The only problem? His own heart has been stomped on, and it might have ruined weddings for him forever. When he finds out about a woman who’s going to be in her twenty-seventh wedding party, he thinks writing about her might be his way back to loving weddings. But Brienne Tarth isn’t anything he ever expected.

Inspired by 27 Dresses

Battle is the Great Redeemer by Lady_in_Red

Jaime Lannister dies in a tunnel under the Red Keep, and wakes up days earlier at Winterfell. And then it happens again. And again. But he's not the first to live the same battle over and over again. Arya Stark, the slayer of the Night King, went through it first in the Battle of Winterfell.

Edge of Tomorrow AU

A Big Cop in a Small Town by SeeThemFlying

When Brienne Tarth, a tough London copper, is forced to move to a sleepy town in Somerset to be their new police sergeant, she is partnered with Jaime Lannister, who is not happy about the whole deal. However, things are not what they seem in Casterly, and Brienne and Jaime end up uncovering a conspiracy bigger than anything they were ever anticipating.

A bit of ridiculous, murderous fun to help us all forget about Series 8!

References to a certain 2007 buddy cop comedy abound.

Hot Fuzz AU

The Ice Cream Anthology by SeeThemFlying

A series of unconnected and semi-connected Jaime/Brienne fics based on various films starring Simon Pegg:

1) "A Big Cop in A Small Town" - Hot Fuzz (2007) - Complete 2) "Woman Up" - Man Up (2015) - Complete 3) "Run, Fat Knight, Run" - Run, Fatboy, Run (2007) - Complete 4) "Lannister and Tarth" - Burke and Hare (2010) - Complete 5) "A Good Knight Sleep" - The Good Night (2007) - Complete 6) "Zombie Horror Hordes" - Shaun of the Dead (2004) - Complete 7) "Many Flavours of Ice Cream" - A Series of One Shots drawn from the ICA universes - WIP

the time of my life by djelibeybi

When Brienne arrives in King's Landing for the first time, she expects two tedious months of uncomfortable gowns, embroidering with the queen, and her father's failed attempts at matchmaking. She does not expect the Kingslayer secretly teaching her to joust, under cover of darkness, so that she can compete as him in the king's nameday tourney. And she definitely does not expect to fall in love with him.

Dirty Dancing AU

With All Your Faults by sea_spirit

In 1943, small-town slugger Brienne Tarth is recruited to play for Tywin Lannister’s newest business venture: the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. There, she meets Jaime, a maimed former Major League pitcher who’s been talked into managing one of his father’s teams. She can't stand her arrogant coach, and he is definitely not interested in his annoyingly principled star player. They don't like each other at all, really...until they do.

Loosely inspired by "A League of Their Own," with slightly less baseball and lots more love story.

[emmg]

Soo this is kind of random, but that post about emmrich’s perfume reminded me that I kind of want to get more into perfumes. This is basically an invitation to talk about perfumes as a hobby, and what kinds you like :D

Oh BABY, don’t do me like that. I legit almost went into chemistry just to chase a career in perfumery, lmfao. That’s how deep this obsession runs. I could yap, yap, and keep yapping about this all day long. Honestly, it’s a miracle I ever shut up about it.

Instead, I’m gonna come up with headcanon fragrances for the rest of the Lighthouse gang 💅

Harding: At first, I was like, “Oh, something botanical, some nice flowers, maybe a vibe that screams spring meadow.” You know, all gentle and fresh. But then I remembered this absolute banger (seriously, it’s SO good.) Harding is basically a walking cinnamon roll, so obviously she’d go for something cozy and sweet. Like, something that smells like home, her ma’s pastries, and those traveling fairs in Ferelden. Soooooo:

Davrin: ‘nuff said

Neve: She’s a busy woman, she doesn’t have time to overthink it, but she’s still a walking statement. So yeah, Molecule 01 it is. It’s unique, it’s effortless, and it’s different on everyone. Some people won’t even pick up on it, but the ones who do? Oh, they’ll know. A little woody, a lot special. No one smells like her, and that’s exactly the point.

Lucanis: Mr. Fancy Assassin Man, Mr. “How much can a banana cost? $10?”, Mr. Generational Wealth himself. The Crows send their goddamn regards and you better believe they smell amazing while doing it.

Taash: Taash is either proudly marinating in their own BO just to ruin someone’s day (definitely Emmrich) or grudgingly leaning into something mossy, woody, or mineral because, surprise, those are the only scents they’ve ever bothered to admit they like. Their mom gave it to them as a gift, and now they sneakily use it when the urge strikes. But not in front of her. Maker forbid she ever gets the satisfaction of being right. Sooooo:

Bellara: Happy, happy, happy! She’s a total designer gal. Niche fragrances? Who needs ’em when you can bathe in Sephora testers until your skin breaks out? She’d go feral in there, spritzing everything in arm’s reach, and probably leave with a fresh allergy. She’s absolutely a Daisy girl: basic, but in an adorable way.

Thank you for encouraging my interests and also for staying for this Ted Talk 😂

[samcrosfaith]

GONE WITH THE SIN / CHAPTER EIGHT

Happy Lowman x fem!oc

authors note; You can find all chapters of this story in my main masterlist pinned post it'll lead you to the right masterlist! I appreciate every like, comment and/or reblog! 🖤🍒

tag list; @ravennaortiz @mamawiggers1980 @tommyflanaganfan-blog @adoreemee @delightfulheroshoeflap @jp1019 @sjester42-blog @mayanqueenxx @aimkatsz

word count; 2577

TARA SQUINTED HER EYES against the sun as she looked over at Randi, silent at first. It was unusual for her best friend and sister-in-law to be so quiet, normally Randi had this bubbly personality, this infectious good mood.

But not today.

"Okay, are you so quiet because of what happened to Happy or because of Julia?" Tara stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stopped Randi as well by gently olding her arm, the coffee to-go in her other hand. "Just talk to me, say anything. But this silence is creepy, really."

Randi remained silent for another moment before finally giving in to Tara's curious gaze, a frustrated sigh falling from her lips. "Both, I guess. Shit, I was really scared, especially because I had no idea what happened. And then..then that bitch storms into the room andᅳ"

Randi shook her head, her lips in a thin line as she looked away, staring at the coffee to-go she was holding. "He said he was single, that there was no other woman. I wouldn't have slept with him otherwise."

Tara almost choked on the sip of coffee she had just taken, staring at Randi with wide eyes. "You slept with him? And you're only telling me this now?!"

"Sorry", the brunette replied with a wry smirk and a shrug. "It just happened somehow. I knew it was going to happen the moment I let him into my apartment though. I have no self-control around that man."

"But what does that mean now? I mean..was it just sex or more?" Tara hooked her arm through Randi's and slowly strolled on, curious to hear more. "I would really be happy for you guys if you could work things out, you were really happy with him."

"Yeah, I was. Until I ruined it." Randi let out a bitter snort, the anger at herself still gnawing at her. "In Seattle, I really thought it could work out again. Shit, I even seriously considered giving up everything to come back after spending the week with him", she admitted before clicking her tongue. "But apparently he already has someone. And lied to me on top of that."

Tara didn't miss the bitterness, the sadness in Randi's words as she stopped in her tracks again. "He didn't lie to you, Randi. Julia is nothing more than a bed warmer for him, a croweater. Happy isn't in a relationship. You know full well that you were the only one he could even imagine this life with."

"But why was she there then?! Did you see how she threw herself at him?" Randi asked through a huff, but she was just hurt. "Do you have any fuckin' idea how much it hurt to see another woman worry about him? That's my job; was my job."

"Julia is always around him and is desperately trying to become more than a croweaterᅳ but she never will." With a small smile, Tara nudged Randi's shoulder. "Happy told me to tell you to come back later. And believe me, Julia was with him less than two minutes. He doesn't want her, he wants you and we all know that."

"You really think so?" Randi usually wasn't an insecure person, but she didn't know what to think or feel at the moment. "I still love him, I realized that last weekᅳ although I never doubted it. Butᅳ"

"But your job is getting in the way", Tara finished the sentence for her friend, her tone full of understanding. "I used to be like you. My career was so important to me that I blocked out everything around me. Don't get me wrong, I love my job; but sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I had never left Charming back then."

"Maybe you'd have five kids with Jax by then", Randi chuckled, her sour mood finally fading a little. "Dancing was all I ever dreamed of until I met Happy. But then I got the letter and..I was afraid that I would regret it one day if I hadn't taken the chance."

"Hey, it's okay that you chose that path", Tara smiled weakly. "And if we're honest, moving to Seattle seems to have shown you what you really want. A life with Happy."

"Yeah, maybe", Randi sighed, turned the next corner and changed the subject after taking another sip of her coffee. "Shit, this really is the best coffee in townᅳ no, the best coffee in the whole freakin' world", Randi gushed.

"Well, I guess you'll only get it daily again if you come back to Charming", Tara said with a wink, which made both women laugh before they spent some more time in the nearby park to catch up on all the things they haven't talked about while Randi was gone.

ᅳ

THERE SHE STOOD, in front of her house. The house she bought with Happy a little over two years ago. Okay, he had paid most of it, after all he had more money after selling his old, smaller house. But Randi had put in every dollar she had saved, even though Happy told her she didn't have to.

The yellow facade was already peeling a bit, but it still looked just as cozy as it did a year ago. The sun, which hung high in the sky and beat down on Charming, cast an extra warm glow on the property. The lawn was freshly mowed, the small palm bushes on the sides looked well-kept.

Probably, and the Morrow woman was pretty sure of this, it was Gemma's work. Her mother had a very specific love of plants and probably just wanted to make sure that the garden was still well-kept even though it wasn't even her house.

Excitement bubbled up inside her as she headed to the door and turned the key she had kept all year. Taking another deep breath, she entered the house and immediately found herself in the living room, and the memories she had collected here hit her like a truck.

But what she noticed first was the distant scent of Happy, his scent probably clinging to the furniture, spread throughout the house. She closed her eyes for a moment after letting her duffle bag slip from her shoulder, enjoying the quiet moment as she folded her arms across her chest.

She felt at home.

The lump in her throat was hard to swallow as her eyelids fluttered open again, her brown orbs taking everything in. The pictures in the living room, of her and Happy, club parties, of Happy's mom. Nothing had changed. The furniture was the same, even her favorite dark green blanket lay on the couch, neatly folded.

Randi wasn't surprised, she knew that Happy was a neat freak and needed everything clean. She had always been the chaos queenᅳ and still was.

Her path led to the kitchen, the largest room in the house. The previous owner had installed a new kitchen just before he moved out, the white cabinets and stainless steel appliances still shone like they did on the first day they moved in.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but at the same time pain tugged at her heartstrings as she thought about the last conversation here where she had begged Happy to come with her. The look of real pain and anger on his face was burned into her memory and still haunted her today.

Her breath hitched in her lungs before her feet quickly carried her into the next rooms until she finally stood in the bedroom, her heart heavy as she came to a stop in front of their bed. Randi hesitated for a brief second, but she had to do it.

Shaking her combat boots off her feet, Randi fell back onto the bed, some of her brown hair splayed out around her head. She just stared at the ceiling for a while before rolling onto her side and pulling Happy's pillow against her chest, burying her face deep in it.

And when his scent filled her nostrils again, much stronger this time, she just wanted to come back home. Inhaling his scent had such a calming effect on her that she fell asleep within a minute. Sleep that she probably needed more than she had thought.

ᅳ

A LOUD RUMBLE ECHOED through the house, startling Randi awake. Confused, she looked around until she remembered that she must've fallen asleep earlier.

But she was on high alert right away as the noises grew louder. The brunette slid off the bed silently, pulled her duffel bag closer, and rummaged through it for her gun, something she always carried with her. If Happy had taught her one thing, it was to never be unarmed; that had always been the most important thing to him.

With the gun firmly in her hands, Randi slowly stepped into the hallway and let out a loud gasp when Happy came around the corner and ran straight into her, his expression almost amused as she stared at him in shock and immediately put the gun aside.

"Jesus Hap! I almost shot you", she scolded in concern, running her shaky fingers through her hair.

"You kept it", he noted with a rasp, followed by a slight grin. "Atta girl."

"You could've said it was you sooner!" Randi said with a scoff and shoved him in the chest, slapping her palm against her forehead as Happy let out a low growl, his face twisting in pain. "Oh my god, shit, sorry. Sit down!"

"I'm fine", the SAA grunted as Randi gently pushed him towards the couch. He sat down reluctantly, every movement still straining.

"What are you even doing here?" Randi stubbornly asked. When she stood in front of him, right between his legs, she put her hands on her hips, looking like a younger copy of her mother. "I bet the doctors didn't tell you that you were good to go home. Am I right or am I right?"

Of course, the concern for him increased immensely, after all, his injuries weren't exactly harmless.

"You didn't come", he stated simply, his eyes now locked with hers. "So I came. And don't even try to convince me to go back."

"Butᅳ" Randi paused, cursing under her breath as Happy shot her a look that clearly said 'don't even try'. "I was sleeping, otherwise I would've come. I'm sorry, but first I was out with Tara, then I spent some hours with Mom and Dad to catch up, and then I just fell asleep here."

Happy shook his head, his hand reaching for her wrist to pull her onto his lap, no matter how much pain it caused him. "You needed sleep, it's fine. But I need to talk to you and it can't wait."

"I mean, it's kind of sweet that you left the hospital just because you wanted to talk", she admitted, the smallest smile on her lips. Still, she was worried about him, his health. "I assume it's about Julia? Tara already told me she's not your new girlfriend", Randi told him softly as she played with the hem of his white shirt. "But why was she there then, Hap? There has to be more."

"But there isn't. There's nothing between Julia and me, little girl", Happy croaked firmly, his uninjured arm wandering around her waist. "She wants more, but I've told her a thousand times that I'm not looking."

"But you slept with her." Randi caught her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes slowly meeting Happy's. "How many times? How long did that go on?"

"You really wanna do this now?", Happy asked, suddenly looking just as tormented as Randi. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted. "You just took off, and eventually I had to get rid of my frustration. So, a few months. Nothing serious, but sometimes I just needed someone next to me and fuckin' pretend that it was you."

"Okay", Randi breathed, appreciating that he was honest instead of lying to her. Still, it hurt. "Iᅳ shit, I know it's my own fault, but I hate the thought of another woman getting so close to you."

"Hey." Happy grabbed her jaw, pulling her head a little closer. So close that he could rest his forehead against hers. "I'll never want another woman, but I didn't know if you'd come back."

"I don't blame you, Happy, I really don't", she sniffed, her lips brushing his. "I wasn't entirely innocent in Seattle myself. I tried to get you out of my system somehow but it didn't help, you were always there, always in my mind."

"You slept with someone?" Happy's eyes darkened, all his muscles tensing under her delicate touch.

But who was he to get upset now? He had slept with another woman himself, more than once. But the thought of another man having his dirty hands on his womanᅳ he hated it.

Randi nodded almost shyly. "Yeah, with Steven. But it was only once andᅳ"

Happy raised a hand, his eyebrows drawn together, clearly not thrilled. "Steven. Your boss Steven?"

Randi nodded again, followed by a sigh as her gaze was fixed on Happy, whose face she cupped in her hands. "But just as Julia means nothing to you, he means nothing to me."

"Does he know that, too?", Happy asked, letting out a huff. But again, he had no right to be angry.

"Yeah, we both didn't make a big deal out of it", Randi shot back sternly, shifting until she was sitting properly on his lap and could face him. "It was a mistake, a desperate decision to forget you. And it didn't work, nothing worked."

Happy ran a hand over his face and turned his head away, but Randi's grip was stronger, almost possessive. "Please Happy, think about giving us another chance and I swear to God that I won't ruin it again."

"We talked about this, Miranda", Happy shot back, but he couldn't deny that he was slowly softening under her pleading gaze. "A long distance relationship? That's not what I want, and neither do you if you're honest with yourself."

Randi let her hands sink, only to place them on his chest, the next words hard for her. But she knew this was her only shot. "What if I stay?"

Happy's gaze shot back to her immediately as the words were spoken, hanging heavy in the air, his scrutinizing gaze studying her. "Are you serious about this? No games, woman."

"No games, I mean it", she promised sincerely, holding her arms up. "I want this, you. And if that's the only way...then so be it."

As soon as she had finished her sentence, Happy's hands flew to her face, holding it tightly in before he pulled her head further down and let his lips crash against hers, the kiss rough and raw but still full of affection.

She found a brief moment to breathe, already panting as she clutched his shirt. "Happyᅳ"

"Just shut up", Happy croaked back, not giving her a chance to doubt the whole thing.

He just wanted to feel her before they'd have the next serious conversation that could change Randi's mind again. But if the accident had taught him one thing, it was that he didn't want to waste any more time.

He wouldn't let Randi leave again.

[saetoru]

ok i have what is apparently an unpopular opinion but i honestly think a lot of the revenge things ppl do to ppl that cheat on them that i see on tik tok are too far

[tamelee]

Happy 3/7day 🥰~! 'One day we'll look back on all these memories and smile about it'

Process + detail:

[emptyjunior]

Custom Commission piece - Theo and Lapin au where Lapin doesn't get snatched up by the Sugar Plum fairy and keeps being a rogue thief. Commander Theo is on the case of the Missing ring-pops and chocolate coins tho👀

(other random details: red licorice aiguillettes, Easter egg wrapping patterns on Lapin, Theo doing a detect magic/sending spell and sugar plum fairy watching over them👀)

[bloomyblemy]

random though

SQQ (SJ specifically ) is definitely SQH’s type and I find it hilarious how we don’t talk about it enough

[urfavisananimegirl]

walter white from breaking bad

Walter Hartwell White (Breaking Bad) is an Anime Girl!