#that being his final straw would kill me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

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just like heaven

in which flirty!reader finally confesses her feelings to a pining spencer reid after a night out. she's slightly buzzed. it's complicated.

fluff (some angst) warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader drinks alcohol, dirty jokes, so much flirting and banter, some arguing kinda, but spencer is such a gentleman, everyone gets flustered at least once, they really wanna kiss, happy ending a/n: gif :D I hope u like this! not bandages reader but like same vibes. like an AU for my AU

“Emily!”

You drawl the ee sound long, the same way you reach across the table and wiggle your fingers at her half-empty glass. Thin dark brows dart up beneath that glossy sweep of reddish-black hair.

“Oh, wow. That’s unsettling. What?”

It’s been at least an hour since you had a drink of your own, but enough alcohol is still flowing through your veins so as to render her offensive comment inoffensive. You love Emily. You love the Tequila Sunrise sweating onto the sticky table in front of her which she’s not going to finish.

“I think she wants your drink,” JJ assists, cheek balanced tipsily on a propped up fist.

“Uh…”

Emily’s doe-sweet eyes flash uncertainly behind you.

“I’m basically sober,” you insist, laying your head on your outstretched arm and letting your hair cascade as you bat your lashes, offering her your sweetest smile. “Please, Em?”

It does not go according to plan. She scoffs.

“Are you flirting with me right now?”

“... Would that work?”

“Oh my god, just… cool it with the fuck-me eyes,” she laughs. “You can have the drink.”

You sit up, turning just barely over your shoulder to address Spencer.

“See? Emily buys me drinks. Basically.”

She slides the drink toward you, with a subtle roll of her eyes that you choose to interpret as affectionate under the dim canned lighting. As you sit back, content and free drink in hand, her eyes slide to Reid in the seat next to you, brows arching.

“Are you sure you can handle her all on your own?”

“Handle me?” You frown deeply as Emily gathers her purse and slides out of the booth, followed shortly thereafter by JJ. “I don’t need handling.”

“Then why do you have a handler?” JJ teases.

You slump against the worn vinyl, stirring what is mostly orange juice.

“He most definitely is not my handler. He’s my science project.”

“I got it,” Spencer assures your friends, with his trademark flattened smile. You can’t help but watch him with a grin of your own, flipping the straw in the drink and nibbling on the end until it’s stained sparkly pink. Goodbyes are issued, and soon it’s just the two of you. Perhaps it’s a tipsy delusion, but you think he seems to relax slightly when you’re alone. His eyes are easy on you. “You know, you’re not actually decreasing the amount of germ transmission by using the other end of the straw.”

“Mm… pretty sure alcohol kills germs, Doctor.”

At that, you giggle.

Doctor.

Soon you’re covering your face and having a full-fledged laugh attack.

“What?” Spencer asks. From between your fingers you can see that he’s smiling guardedly, brows furrowed in a way that reminds you he’s often worried about being the butt of a joke and not knowing it. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you assure him quickly, gathering yourself. “I just… can’t believe you’re a doctor.”

“Why not? What’s so unbelievable about that?”

“You’re so young.”

And handsome.

“I’m not that young. I’m older than you,” he defends. Only by a handful of years, but you know he’s defensive about his age after a lifetime of being told he looks young for—well, everything.

“You’re… 32?”

That’s not right—you know as soon as you say it.

“Thirty three.” He very politely captures a hand—your hand—that had at some point ended up a little too close to his eye. You’re not sure what you planned to do once it got there—you don’t recall moving it at all.

“Sorry.” You take your hand back, choosing to instead fiddle with a button on his coat ponderously. “33 is a good age.”

“Yeah?” Spencer laughs, angling his head as if to regard you from a new angle. It warms you all over. Burns in some places, like a shot of liquor down your throat. Makes you just as dizzy, too. “You have a lot of experience being thirty three?”

“No, I just…” your cheeks heat and you wrestle with a timid smile, averting your gaze and dropping your hand for fear his grin this close up might actually kill you. “I like 33 year old you.”

“So… you didn’t like me when I was thirty two?”

“Stop,” you beg, a self-effacing laugh into the cup of your palm. “I can’t banter. I’m not at peak performance.”

The truth of it hits you, and you sigh, folding your arms on the table and resting your cloudy head. Only then, from this new perspective, do you allow yourself to fully admire Spencer Reid. He is smiling at you, and your heart does skip a beat like you’ve got some school girl crush. These days he wears his hair falling over his face, messy on purpose, and always smells so nice. You wonder when he started caring about that stuff. You want to see what products are in his shower, and learn why he chose that cologne, or how he decides to pair his socks. He probably has some sort of algorithm.

“Spencer,” you begin, the serious quality of your voice diminished by the smush of your cheek against your arm. Still, he tries to respect your tone, zipping the smile and answering with a playfully twitching brow.

“Hm?”

You want to push the hair out of his face. Why is he looking down at you like that? Like he likes you?

“You’re a very good handler.”

His eyes narrow as he considers this, but the glimmer in them could still spark a forest fire. You’re probably grinning like an idiot.

“Oh, I couldn’t handle you. You know this.”

You hum thoughtfully.

“I bet you could. Wanna try?”

Spencer shakes his head, huffing a laugh through his nose. To his credit, your bold-face innuendos don’t always send him into a tailspin these days.

Just sometimes.

“You need a ride home, don’t you?”

You sit back up, stretching your arms out.

“You don’t have to. I could get a cab.”

“I know,” he assures you, still a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. Why. Is. He. Looking. At. You. Like. That?

“Will you let me drive?”

“I would. But, you know, my affairs aren’t in order.”

You roll your eyes as he gets out of the booth and offers you a hand.

“I’m not that drunk.”

Spencer just wiggles his fingers.

“If you can recite the alphabet in reverse you can drive my car.”

You roll your eyes again. Obviously he’s fucking with you, because 1. He’d never let you drive even the slightest bit inebriated, and 2. He knows you can’t say your ABC’s backward when you’re dead sober.

The truth is you’re more buzzed than anything. You could get up and walk fine without any assistance, but he’s offering you his hand, so you take it. After you’re standing, you wonder how many excuses could you possibly dream up to get it back in yours. Should you pretend to fall?

No. Not quite worth your self respect.

“You know…” you muse, reveling in the brief brush of him against your back as he holds open the door for you, “it’s a good thing you didn’t become, like… a medical doctor.”

Now walking side by side on the street, he glances over at you, a poorly veiled smile on his perfect face. Like a trap door brushed over with a few leaves. He wants you to see it.

“Why’s that?”

A breeze ruffles your hair. The brisk cold and the walk seem to be making things crisper already. You shrug, bunching your sleeves in your hands against the increasingly frigid night. The skirt and tights you’d chosen were perfect for a stuffy dive bar. Not so much for an early DC spring.

“Nobody wants a hot doctor.”

He looks down at the sidewalk, hands pocketed, but the curve of his lips doesn’t lessen.

“Hm. You’re drunker than I thought.”

“What? No! I’m—barely!” Again he laughs at you, and again you flush, looking down and counting the cracks in the pavement as you journey slowly under the bath of yellow street lights. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you called me hot.” He sounds almost delighted as he grins sheepishly around the final word.

You snort. You’ve said worse things, more graphic things within the past few hours alone—but you suppose they’ve all been more like dirty jokes than compliments.

“Yeah. You think you aren’t?”

Sandy locks fall side to side as he carefully measures a response. His cologne is warm—sort of smoky. It’s very nice. He doesn’t seem like he’d wear cologne. Have you already thought about his cologne tonight? Once was probably enough.

“I just think sober you wouldn’t have said that.”

“But don’t you prefer it when I’m aggressively flirting with you? I mean, I know I do it sober too, but it's not as good, right?”

A silent stretch begins and shortly ends, and you don’t mind it. Right now, everything is a winding path through the woods. You’re willing to follow any fork off the trail if it means spending more time with him.

“I guess I wasn’t aware that was what you were doing.”

“Oh, bullshit,” you laugh, and it echoes through the canyon of a nearby alley, “I’m not subtle, Reid.”

“I don’t know! You—for all I know that’s just how you are! I mean, what did Emily call them earlier, your—your fuck-me eyes?”

Like he does when he’s flustered, he gets shrill and stuttery. It’s nice to be reminded that he’s still a complete dork on the inside—and the outside, too, as pink stains his cheeks like watercolor. You smirk at him in your periphery, watching him against the darkened city backdrop.

“You noticed those, huh?”

“No,” he denies forcefully, but his brow is pinched like he doesn’t quite believe himself, “I mean, yes, I notice when you look at other people like that, but that’s not what I would call them—I wouldn’t call them anything, I’d just call them your eyes, you know? Not that you always look like you’re soliciting… the implication isn’t there, it’s just—I notice when you flirt with other people! With Emily, and Derek, like, not even half an hour ago. You’re lucky Hotch wasn’t there. You’d probably have given him a heart attack.”

“I’m more concerned with yours, to be honest.”

“My heart is fine,” he laughs. “Worry about my dignity.”

“Hm. I was going for both. Guess I’d better try harder.”

You don’t notice you’ve come to a stop until you’re face to face in front of his vintage Volvo. Spencer is standing closer than usual, hands perpetually stuck in that nice wool coat. He’s all windswept and pretty, smiling crookedly and eyes sparkly with humor. A strand of hair sticks to your lip gloss, and you brush it away, tucking it behind your ear and squinting up at him against the chilly breeze. The flush is either from the nip in the air or your brazen flirting.

“Or, you could go easy on me. I’m frail. Like a… sickly Victorian child.”

Again his brow knits and he smiles like he knows what he’s said is ridiculous. But his tone is gentler now. Softer. Invites you to fall in deeper and see what you might find.

“And ruin all my fun? Toughen up, Reid.”

For a long moment, you don’t get a response—only his eyes, soft and thoughtful on you, before you’re distracted by the sweet bow of his lips. If he notices you’re staring, it doesn’t seem to bother him.

But something evidently does, as when he next speaks, it’s troubled. Curiosity straining against a rope that says maybe it’s better if I don’t ask.

“Do… do you actually flirt with me? When you’re sober, I mean.”

He expects to be ridiculed. In his most vulnerable moments, he’s still bracing for rejection—turning his cheek slightly so he’s ready for the stinging blow. It opens a fissure in your chest. You frown, and speak gently.

“Yeah, Spence. More than anyone else. You really don’t notice?”

Sometimes his face is so expressive, in the pull of his brow and tightening of his eyes and the way he wets his lips. But he probably doesn’t know that. And he can’t seem to meet your eyes, instead choosing to study the leather of your heeled boots. Sounds of late-night traffic, of tires on wet asphalt buffer the pauses between sentences.

“I notice… when you talk to Derek and Emily and JJ and Penelope the exact same way you talk to me. I didn’t think…”

Another gap in conversation, filled with the chatter of some group pouring out of a bar somewhere. You realize he’ll need some gentle prompting to bridge it.

“You didn’t think what?”

When his eyes flash back up to meet yours, you have a feeling like he’s shutting the pipes off.

“It’s—uh—” he clears his throat— “it’s not important, we can—we’ll talk about it a different time. We should—”

“Wait.”

He’d been turning away but snaps right back to look at you as if on command, wearing a brand new face that tells you he’d like to wipe the past minute or so completely away.

“Yeah?”

“Spencer. I wanna know what you were going to say.”

“I told you. It’s nothing.”

“You didn’t tell me. You mumbled evasively and walked away. We were in the middle of something and I want to know what you were going to say. Please?”

“Well, you’re drunk,” he finally sighs, and it’s a bit sharp. Stinging.

“I am not drunk,” you defend, and it feels true, with a bitter cold lashing at your cheek and blood heightened from the walk. “You know I’m not too drunk to have a coherent conversation. Why are you being weird?”

“Because I asked you to drop it! We can’t have this conversation right now, all right? I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Your stomach flips, and your breath comes a little heavier. Spencer is clearly frustrated with you. Maybe being on the wrong end of this mild vexation, and so suddenly, should make you feel guilty, or some kind of bad—but all you feel is a sort of buzz in the tips of your fingers and the thrum of your heart, something deeper than excitement pooling in your veins at having inspired this sort of passion. It means he feels something. Something for you.

“I’m sorry,” he tries halfheartedly, unable or more likely unwilling to stay angry at you for very long, “you didn’t—”

“What conversation?”

It’s jarring how quickly this has spun on its head. The very air you’re breathing seems to have changed. The metropolitan soundscape is a rife undercurrent of tension and louder from all the words unsaid.

Finally he swallows.

“There’s no conversation. I’m—it was a poor choice of wording. I just meant we should get you home.”

Before he can make it to the driver’s side door, you’re calling out.

“You think I don’t like you. And I just flirt with you ‘cause I flirt with everyone.”

Spencer stops, and turns to face you once more, sighing and head dropped to one side like you’re doing something incredibly inconsiderate. He’s never looked at you like that before, but you don’t let it shake you.

“That’s what this is about, right?”

He says your name, but you don’t let him get further than that.

“No, I think there is a conversation here, and saying I’m not sober enough to have it isn’t fair and you should have said something before and I think you should just say it now.”

You’re pushing his buttons with a heavy hand, though your own voice shakes. He’s feeling it too—you’ve never been so short with each other. His voice is raised.

“What am I supposed to say?”

It boils over.

“That you like me!”

It rings.

Then it’s silent.

His face is mostly blank. A little sorrowful around his eyes.

It’s cold, jumping into the deep end like this.

“We can’t talk about this right now,” he finally says, glancing to the side as if to suggest a situation the size of the whole city.

“Spencer, I—”

“It’s impossible to have a meaningful discussion until your judgement isn’t impaired, otherwise it’s—”

“I am telling you that I flirt with you because I really like you.”

“I—”

It appears you’ve truly thrown him for a loop. For a moment his jaw works at nothing, a soliloquy of words go unspoken, and then he’s stuttering and fumbling for the right thing to say, looking everywhere but at you.

“I can’t—that’s—regardless of whether or not it’s even true—”

“It is true.”

“Could you—stop?” He pleads. “You can’t tell me that. I mean, the power imbalance when you’ve been drinking and I haven’t—it’s—I mean, it's coercive. Because I brought it up, I asked an inappropriate question—or at least started to ask it, and you—not that it was your fault, I’m the responsible party in this instance, but if tomorrow you realize you never wanted to tell me—so I have to take that with a grain of salt. I’m just—I have to pretend I didn’t hear that, alright? And you can’t say it again.”

He’s ridiculous. You shift your weight onto one foot casually.

“That’s not very nice. I just confessed to having a huge crush on you and you’re gonna leave me hanging?”

There is an undeniable sort of pleasure in the bright of his eyes, and you phrased it that way on purpose, just to see him preen and glow—also to see if you could make him trip all over himself some more. Right now, despite the liminal space your relationship may or may not be occupying, you’re teasing him like you always do. Like he’s a friend, because he is. Before anything else.

He tries to glower, barely.

“Were you listening to me at all?”

“It was hard with all the stammering. I thought you might pass out.”

“I might,” he grumbles, and the admission pleases you greatly. Your lips tug as you admire him for a moment—watch his defenses go down and his features ease into something more inviting.

God, maybe you really had been too hard on him. Maybe he really didn’t expect that you would like him back.

You’re struck with the need to reassure.

A dampened clack emits from your shoe where the heel hits the ground as you step down off the curb.

“You know… I do like you. A lot. I mean it. And I’m glad I told you, because... you like me too, right?”

He raises his brows, like don’t do anything stupid, as you approach unhurriedly. It’s good to see that you haven’t broken his spirit completely.

Less than a foot away, you stop. Close enough to be in his space. Too far for him to have the grounds to step back.

His eyes are careful on you, analytical as always, constantly predicting an infinite number of outcomes to any given scenario. That’s how he keeps his footing in the world. But he’s never very good at predicting you. And it helps that his razor sharp intellect is dulled, some, with affection. Attraction.

It shows in his eyes. He’ll let you push boundaries he knows he shouldn’t. More so if you keep speaking to him this softly. Almost whispering.

“Tell me you like me, Spencer.”

Because he hasn’t yet. All the heavy lifting has been done for him, and that just won’t do.

First, he opens his mouth, and you watch the internal debate, a million things he could say, spinning round in his eyes like pinwheels. Rules, and buts, and caveats.

In the end, he just clears his throat. Speaks in the same secretive tone. Low enough to be intimate.

“I like you.”

Such a simple thing has never made you feel so airy before in your life. You steal another glance at his lips.

“So it’s really not that complicated. We could probably just kiss.”

He tinges pink.

“We definitely can’t.”

“You also said we couldn’t talk about it, and yet…”

“Talking is different. As far as I’m concerned, nothing you say to me tonight is binding. Whatever just transpired happened completely off the record. We can… talk about it tomorrow, but right now, you and I are friends.”

You shrug.

“Friends can kiss.”

“No, they can’t,” he says definitively, though not without a healthy dose of sardonic self-awareness and a dark smile. His hand finds your waist, and it’s glancing, if anything a light push, but you’re delighted nonetheless. Almost as pleased as if he really had kissed you. “It’s cold. I’m ready to leave.”

You’ve pushed him enough for one night. And it is cold. So you shuffle around the car with quick steps to the passenger side door, hooking your fingers under the biting metal handle and waiting for him to unlock the vehicle.

You’re shivering as your thighs press against leather upholstery, only the thinnest layer of synthetic material protecting your legs. Spencer is already starting the car, but the engine is too cold to bother turning the heat on yet.

“I think it’s colder in here than outside. Look at my hand.” You hold it up for him, and it is discolored, waxy, as he mindlessly takes it between his own much warmer ones. “I thought alcohol was supposed to keep you warm. Didn’t that chef on the Titanic survive hours in the ocean because he was hammered?”

“That’s a myth. Not the chef—he did survive, but it was a complete anomaly. Alcohol causes vasodilation in the dermis layer of the skin, so you feel warmer, but it draws blood flow away from your internal organs and significantly raises your likelihood of developing hypothermia.”

Does he notice how he’s holding your hand? Carefully pressing his thumbs to the center of your palm and pushing up through your love and life lines, cupping the fingers, before sandwiching them between his own and generating friction the way a child furiously rolls a play-doh worm?

“I guess I’m really not that drunk, then.”

He’s not expecting it, and maybe he doesn’t know what to make of your exceptionally gentle tone at first. It was a mistake, you think, as he relinquishes his hold on your hand, and you curl it to retain the memory of his warmth. But then he tucks hair behind your ear, like he’s done once or twice before, and smiles in a way you don’t quite understand.

“I know.”

You won’t push him. You won’t ask for anything else, and you won’t demand an explanation. Spencer is special. It can all wait, because you have something good with him already. Something important. Something like holding hands.

It comes as a surprise when he leans across the console, and you lean in a trance to meet him, and another surprise when he gently redirects, pressing his lips to your cheek, close enough to match the corners of your mouths and nothing more.

You’d let him do it a hundred times over, but he draws back after a fraction of a lingering second, and finds your hand to stroke the back of it, forgotten in your lap.

“You said no kissing,” you murmur, as if in a dream. If you had the wherewithal to be embarrassed maybe you wouldn’t be ogling so much.

“Compromise.”

If anything, you should be the cheek-kisser. But there will be time to feel slighted about that later. Time to amend. For now, you look ahead robotically.

“Is there a rule against friendly hand-holding?”

“Probably,” he says.

But he lets you hold his hand in your lap the whole drive to your apartment, anyway.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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inupibaldspot · 1 year ago

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Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

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dexteri0us · 2 months ago

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i know i haven't been perfect, but give it some time; 'cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, injuries (burns and cuts), louis greene, and you know... dexter's dark passenger

summary: requested: "dexter being super protective of you and when he finds out someone hurt you he immediately starts hunting him to kill him"

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: spoiler alert? it made me sad that dexter didn't get to kill louis, so here we go.

Louis is taking me to the hospital. Don’t freak out. Lab mishap.

You pressed send and the text appeared in a blue bubble, under it, there was a Delivered sign that quickly turned into Read.

Which hospital?

Jackson Memorial.

I’m on my way.

You didn’t really like it when people fussed over you. It felt unnecessary and only brought you discomfort most of the time. But this time, you couldn’t deny the relief knowing Dexter would meet you at the hospital.

“Who are you texting?” Came the voice from the driver’s seat.

You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “My boyfriend.”

“Dexter?” Louis asked with a feigned curiosity.

You couldn’t stand him anymore; he was such a fake asshole it was physically hurting you. And today was honestly the last straw.

You’d spent the better part of your morning setting up your experiment, testing your final samples. The data was supposed to solidify your findings and allow you to finish your thesis.

Everything was in place, your samples loaded into the centrifuge as you triple-checked everything. Everything. The protocol, the settings on the centrifuge, spinning the rotor with your hand, ensuring that it was balanced and the lid was closed tight.

Louis had been hovering all the fucking time. You had tried to ignore him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. The lab at your school was a shared space.

“You really think you’re going to finish today?” He’d mocked you. But that didn’t throw you off. You knew you were, because you were prepared.

But then you stepped away from the centrifuge for just five seconds to retrieve your laptop. When you returned, you put the laptop next to the machine and pressed the start button on the centrifuge, causing it to whir to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster. Then suddenly, a sharp, metallic clunk echoed in the room, followed by a horrific screech. The centrifuge rattled violently and the lid flew open. Glass shards and liquid shot out like shrapnel and you barely had time to shield your face with your arm.

The pain was instant. A jagged piece of glass sliced across your forearm, and a burning sensation spread where the liquid splashed onto your skin.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. “Are you okay?”

You just clutched your arm, blood seeping between your fingers. The burn on your forearm throbbed, angry red splotches already forming. Your vision suddenly became blurred with tears of pain and frustration combined, but you held them back. You were not going to cry in school.

The commotion drew others into the lab, including your supervisor. And of course, Louis was quick to throw you under the bus. And, okay, you weren't wearing your lab coat, but nobody really was if they did something as simple as loading samples into a centrifuge.

Your supervisor sent you to the nurse, telling Louis to escort you in case you got dizzy. The nurse bandaged your arm and sent you to a hospital for further treatment. Louis chimed in, playing the part of a kind and worried colleague, and driving you there himself.

“Yes; Dexter. He’s on his way, so you can just drop me off and head back to the lab.”

“Nonsense. I can't have anything else happen to you.”

Bullshit. He wouldn’t even blink if the shards had hit your carotid artery and you bled out right there. Who knows, maybe that had been his plan all along. Louis had it out for you and Dexter, his petty vendetta against you couldn't be more transparent.

“Louis, please.” You closed your eyes in exasperation, your eyes still burning from the tears that tried to push their way through. “I know that you messed with the centrifuge. I don’t have proof, so don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. But at least have the decency to stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

You saw his jaw flex and his knuckles get white from how he clutched the steering wheel, but he didn’t say anything. Frankly, you were getting uncomfortable being alone with Louis in the car, but luckily, the hospital came into view.

You tried to convince Louis to go, but he wouldn’t budge. He knew you hated his presence, and he reveled in the feeling that he was making you uncomfortable. You also had a hunch he waited for Dexter so he could provoke him too. He was like a lurking predator, leaning against the far wall, as the nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, adjusting the bandage on your arm. The burn cream was cool against your skin, but the sting of the injury sent vibrations through your whole arm.

The door opened, and your muscles finally relaxed. Dexter stepped in, his focused gaze sweeping the room. His eyes landed on you first, taking in the bandage on your arm and the nurse’s careful work. Then, his gaze flicked towards Louis.

Louis straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Dexter, hey! Don’t worry, YN’s alright. I made sure she got here safe.”

Dexter ignored him. If he hadn’t, he might have done something… nobody here needed to see. There was going to be time for that to do it right. Instead, he made his way straight to you.

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile.

His hand reached out to cup your head, his thumb brushing your temple and over the edge of your eyebrow in a soothing manner as his other hand hovered over your injured arm, as if to make sure it was still attached. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders and chest stiff as if he was holding his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Getting burned by an oven hurts more.” You tried to lighten the mood, but humor wasn't exactly his way of coping.

“What’s he still doing here?”

“I think he wants to steal you away from me.”

“YN…”

“I don’t know, Dex. He’s a fucking vulture, you know that. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

You weren't even joking anymore; it wouldn’t surprise you if Louis had done this to get Dexter’s attention. Or get back at you for having Dexter’s attention. Louis had probably been obsessed with him long before you started coming to the Miami Metro’s forensics lab to work on your thesis. Louis, as a graduate and now a lab tech at your university as well as a senior intern at Miami Metro, was supposed to be your guide, to help you acclimate.

You had known Louis from school, and ever since he’d started working at Miami Metro, his ego had been bursting through the roof, so you hadn’t been so psyched when you’d found out you’d have to share a working space, but hey, what could you do. At least, he was genuinely eager to assist, proudly showcasing his knowledge of the lab’s high-tech equipment and Miami Metro’s most famous cases. But his favorite thing to do was name-dropping Dexter. Louis had never said it in those words, but Dexter was like a god to him.

“He’s a genius. Everyone here knows it. Stick with me, and you might even learn enough to impress him.”

You’d fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m here to work on my thesis, Louis. Not to waste my time.”

Louis had always been too loud, too close and most importantly, too self-important for your liking, and you’d thought back then already, that his admiration for Dexter bordered with obsession.

And when you finally met the famous Dexter Morgan, you were surprised how underwhelming it was. You actually expected another loud and arrogant scientist, but he was the exact opposite.

One morning, while you were struggling with the calibration of a piece of equipment, a calm and monotone voice spoke behind you.

“You’re off by a millimeter.”

You jumped out of your skin, closing your eyes to regain composure before turning around and finding Dexter with his hands in his pockets, just standing there. You hadn’t met, but you knew what he looked like.

“Fuck, thanks. Were you trying to give me a heart attack to keep me from using it? Jesus Christ.” You were still shaking off the jumpscare you just received.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good. Dexter, right? The guy who specializes in puddles.”

“Blood spatter analyst,” he corrected with a nod, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the lack of reaction to your joke. You introduced yourself and shook his hand, before he left without another word.

To him, you were just another in a parade of visiting academics, someone he’d forget as soon as your project ended.

Well, apparently, you liked to talk, making it hard for him to ignore you. It's not like you were targeting him specifically, you were just a naturally friendly person.

Vince's attention wasn't exactly hard to earn, especially if you were a woman, but Dexter noticed how you laughed even with Angel. Not that Angel was a touch-me-not, but it was still surprising to see you navigate the station with such ease, like a newcomer staking a claim in unfamiliar territory. You didn't force yourself into conversations; you didn't even have to. You had your own gravity around you, and people were magnetized to it.

“If you need something, Louis is your liaison.” He tried to brush you off one time, gesturing vaguely towards the open lab door.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, undeterred. “But Louis is busy explaining to someone how he’s basically the second coming of Einstein, so I figured I’d ask the real expert.”

But you didn’t wait for him to respond, taking the hint and leaving him alone. For now anyway. It made the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitch, but he caught himself and got back to his work. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that it would be suspicious if he was the only one ignoring you.

Over the next few weeks, you made a habit of dropping by his desk. At first, he found your presence… perplexing. You asked too many questions – some of them genuinely insightful, others just… so absurd. You often hovered just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be intrusive. And your sense of humor seemed to exist solely to see how far you could push him before he reacted. And to create a bond with his sister.

You and Deb shared that bark, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The sarcasm often rang through the breakroom, and while he wasn’t one to eavesdrop, one time he heard a mention of his name.

“Does your brother ever smile?” you asked Deb, leaning against the counter.

“Well, you know, occasionally.”

“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Winning the lottery? Accidentally putting sugar in his coffee instead of salt?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why would I put salt in my coffee? But unlike him, Deb laughed.

“More like when someone's bleeding out somewhere. You don’t even wanna see that, it’s creepy as hell.”

“He’s fascinating actually,” you said when you stopped laughing, taking another sip of your coffee.

Fascinating. Most people called him odd, socially awkward, or at best, smart. His victims called him sick or a freak. But fascinating was new. And unsettling. He didn’t particularly like being noticed, but he found himself not minding your attention. Dexter realized that when he came in on Louis scolding you for talking him.

“He’s not your friend or your assistant, okay?” Louis snapped at you, his voice rising in frustration. “I am. So, stop bothering him and do some actual work.”

Before you could respond, Dexter stepped in, his voice firm. “Woah, Louis. Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

“I’m just saying, she’s supposed to focus on her thesis—”

“And she is. I also don’t mind helping her.” He turned to you then. “At least, when she ends up working here, she’ll already know the ropes.”

Dexter wasn’t serious, he didn’t even know if you ever wanted to work in forensics. But to Louis, the words felt like a slap. For months, he’d bent over backward to gain Dexter’s respect, but he’d never earned more than a dismissive glance. And you just waltzed in, cracked a couple of jokes, and suddenly, you were like Dexter's personal pet.

It was clear he didn’t like how Dexter responded to you. You noticed how his behavior changed, becoming petty even at your university lab. It was like he was waiting for you to make a mistake while his jokes grew meaner, more passive-aggressive

However, Louis was still essentially a random guy. He wasn't your superior, so you didn’t let him scare you off. If he wanted to report you to your school, you had Vince's backing, and now Dexter's too, you hoped. You believed you hadn't done anything wrong, you still got your work done, so there was no reason to feel guilty.

That meant that you never limited yout contact with Dexter, who also grew more responsive over the time. You figured out that most of his laughter stemmed in ridicule, with his brows furrowed and looking at you like you were an alien which made a smile grow on your face, so you decided to lean into it. Did it make you look dumb? Yes. Did it make Dexter laugh? Yes in capital letters.

Deb was the one who finally pointed out what you had been trying to make painfully obvious for weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Dexter,” she said incredulously, smiling at him as if asking are you serious? “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

He looked up from the folder, his expression blank. “What are you talking about?”

“YN. The girl from the lab. She’s been flirting with you nonstop, and you’ve been staring at her like she’s a new blood sample. Do you even know how to human?”

His whole face scrunched up, going over your past interactions in his head. “She hasn’t been flirting. She’s just… talkative.”

Deb rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something. “Oh my God. You’re hopeless. She’s into you, Dex. And honestly? I think she’s kind of awesome. She’s smart, funny, and she’s got this great thing where she acts like an airhead just to see your face do that confused frown thing. It’s hilarious.”

Dexter’s frown deepened. “She does that on purpose?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Seriously, ask her out before she gets bored and moves on to someone who actually knows how to crack a smile.”

Weeks passed, and to Deb’s disdain, Dexter completely ignored her amazing advice. But she wasn’t one to sit idly by and she had had enough.

One afternoon, as you were bent over a microscope in the lab, Deb stormed in with an unyielding grip on Dexter’s arm.

“Hey, YN!” she said, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

“Uh… hey, Deb. What’s going on?”

She didn’t waste any time, her hold on Dexter's arm tightening as she shoved him into the room.

“Dexter has something he wants to ask you,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Dexter an expectant look.

Fiddling with the pen in your hand, your eyes darted warily to Dexter, not really sure what was going on. And from the looks of it, Dexter didn’t know either. He looked genuinely confused, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Uh…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Deb groaned. “He wants to take you out. On a date. There. It’s done. The cat’s out of the bag.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A warmth surged through you, a small flicker of happiness bubbling up, but then you saw the horrified look on Dexter’s face, and it fizzled just as quickly. You turned back to Deb.

“Wow, Debra. I didn’t know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.”

“I don’t. But someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“And the first step is holding someone hostage?”

“Hosta– are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to her brother, jabbing a finger into his ribs, making him flinch. “Dexter, tell her!”

But before he could say a word, you got up from your chair and headed for the door.

“I appreciate the effort, Deb, but can we discuss this later? I need to bring these to Louis before he has a meltdown.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Deb said as she watched you leave.

“I’d rather not,” you quipped with a smirk, closing the door behind you.

But maybe Deb had a point.

Maybe he should ask you out.

It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and perhaps it was time to change that. Saying no to you outright might be suspicious, and blending in was a cornerstone of his life. Besides, you weren’t so bad. Being around you wasn’t unpleasant. It made sense.

That's actually what he said when he finally asked you out: it makes sense. No fumbling over words or overly rehearsed lines. And you actually liked his reasoning. It was honest in its own way and you appreciated the lack of pretense.

That was one thing you’d learned about Dexter during your time at Miami Metro: he liked a logical approach, unlike most people who responded to emotion, whose actions were driven by feelings. He felt things, sure, just not in the same way, and he rarely expressed them outwardly.

It wasn’t like you were absolutely positive that it could turn into something meaningful or that a relationship with Dexter would last, but his way of interacting with the world was so unconventional that you simply felt drawn to it.

Dexter never really offered grand romantic gestures or gush over your presence in his life. But he noticed things you liked and made small accommodations for them. He listened with the intent to understand. And while he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotion, you saw the quiet ways he cared.

You’d once mentioned in passing how receiving gifts made you uncomfortable, the pressure to perform gratitude leaving you uneasy. So when you joked that a specific brand of coffee was your lifeblood, he didn’t hand it to you wrapped in a bow. Instead, the next week, it simply appeared in the breakroom.

He wasn’t selfish about it, like most people were when they insisted on seeing your reaction. No, he just wanted to make you happy. And with that, he scored a double.

However, ever since you started going on dates, for the lack of a better word, because neither of you ever labeled it that way, he started second-guessing himself. He became more careful, often overthinking and calculating his answers. You suspected that Deb might have been partly to blame. She was too blunt sometimes, too quick to get into his head. But you made sure to let him know that he was more likely to scare you off by saying nothing rather than saying the wrong thing.

“You’re more confident about that than I am.”

You'd told him that he was the living embodiment of having a wall up. And not any wall. It was as if someone else had built it for him, and he was struggling to climb over it.

“You’re not even bad at climbing. You’re just trying to figure out where to put your hands.”

It was a strange way for your to put it, but you managed to create a whole think tank in his head which often left him with a dull ache between his eyes. He found himself admiring your honesty, the way you refused to put on a mask just to please the people around you or conform to societal expectations.

It’s not like you outright spilled your deepest, darkest secrets, but you gave him glimpses. You hinted at your own traumas that had shaped you, so matter-of-fact and so human.

It stirred something within him. For days, he debated whether to share his own scars, until he finally did, one night during a quiet walk along the beach. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest when he told you about his mother, the blood, the screams everything. Well, almost everything. He expected recoil, but it never came. You didn’t judge, it didn’t scare you away; you just looked at him with the same attentiveness, maybe a joke on your tongue about how that explained his line of work, because that's how you coped. And somehow, knowing he knew that made it easier for him to breathe.

And that night was also the night he kissed you for the first time. He didn’t plan for it. He just simply looked at you and the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a different kind of urge. One he didn’t have to fight or wait to satisfy it. He let himself feel.

Later that evening, you also invited him to spend the night at your place.

He’d be lying if he said that he regretted a single second spent with you. Yeah, you never seemed to stop talking, never seemed to stop moving.

“It’s like you’re daring your neurons to keep up,” he’d said to you one day.

“Well, I need to keep my synaptic connections in shape, right?”

But still, you made the chaos seem… manageable. You were a walking paradox, bringing a strange sense of order to his life, a balance. He started to think that this was his final and definitive chance at happiness. And he wasn’t going to screw it up. Nobody was going to take you away from him. Nobody, and it was in his control.

Before you could discuss it further, the nurse came back with a new bandage.

“Your boyfriend, I presume?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing between the two of you. But Dexter barely looked at her, his focus was entirely on you.

“Was it him?” He tilted his head toward Louis, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but you saw the nurse make her way to you to apply the bandage.

“Not here,” you murmured, darting a glance toward Louis, who was still lingering near the door.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension, spoke up. “She’s going to be fine. The burn isn’t deep, and the cuts didn’t hit anything major. Could’ve been worse. You might’ve earned yourself a Nobel Prize for dedication to science, though.”

She smiled, and you saw Dexter’s lips twitch into a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile.

“What chemicals?” he asked.

“Phenol and chloroform mix,” you replied, and the nurse followed up.

“Not ideal for skin, but we got to it quickly. Keep the bandage clean and dry, and she’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks,” Dexter said shortly. Then, turning back to you, he added, “I’ll be right back.”

“Dex…” you began, knowing very well where his mind had taken him. And honestly, a part of you didn’t even want to stop him, because you wanted Louis to leave you alone.

“I said I'll be right back,” he repeated, his voice stern.

Dexter straightened to his full height and walked toward Louis, a predator closing in on its prey.

“So? How is she?” Louis asked as soon as Dexter approached him.

“How do you think, Louis? I suggest you stop fucking around or I’ll make your life really difficult.”

“What?” Louis laughed with faux confusion. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve done enough. You can leave now. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, anything at all, you’ll wish it was you sitting on that hospital bed. Do you understand?”

“Geez, Dexter, are you –”

Dexter took a step closer without raising suspicion from other people.

“I’m serious, Louis. Do you understand?”

Louis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Louis turned on his heel, but before making his exit, he turned to Dexter one more time. “Well… Catch you at work.”

Dexter ground his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress his need to protect you from Louis right then and there. He’d started seeing crimson the moment you texted him about Louis taking you to the hospital. Now, it was spilling everywhere, the red taking over his body, causing it to shake and ring in his ears. He wanted to fucking kill him. Louis had been trying to provoke him for quite some time, but he just crossed a line. Nobody will ever hurt you without consequences.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice brought him back to the present, your hand lightly brushing over his back as you tried to comfort him, ground him.

“No. I think I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “Okay, drama queen,” you said, and hooked your arm around his, making your way out of the hospital.

Dexter hadn’t said a word during the drive, not a single one.

He’d even turned on his marching music, which he rarely did when you were with him. That was a signal in itself. He was thinking. Hard.

Once you reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the counter with an unusual force, and without a word, he headed straight for the first aid kit.

“Dex, I just got it bandaged. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to see for myself.”

You weren’t entirely sure if this had something to do with the whole I don’t trust nurses thing or just general paranoia, but you decided not to argue.

“I know this isn’t your fault, but you should’ve worn your coat,” he said, his voice almost shaking as he held back from lashing out.

“I know.”

Dexter gestured for you to sit on the couch, taking a seat himself on the low table in front of you. He gently reached for your hand and began unwrapping the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

You described the incident in detail, including your suspicions that Louis might have been involved. Dexter gave you that Kubrick stare as his jaw tightened at the mention of Louis’ name.

When he uncovered the burn ringed by shallow cuts, he muttered a quiet Jesus.

“Once it starts blistering, you can’t scratch it, okay? It could get infected.”

“Yes, doctor,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s what the nurse said.”

It made his head twitch as he gave you a look. But he didn’t comment, instead gently placing your hand in his lap as he prepared a fresh bandage.

“Do you have any other samples left?” he asked, and it warmed your heart knowing that he cared about your lab work, too.

“Yeah, I should have some stored at the station,” you said. “Unless Louis decided to get rid of them too.”

“I’ll head back and check on them for you.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I need to get back to the lab, it’s not like I’m incapable of running the experiment again.”

That was a hard no. He didn't even have to think about it.

He didn’t like the idea of you being back at the lab, not when Louis was going to be there. But he also knew he couldn’t keep you away from the lab for long, so he needed to do this fast. He convinced you to stay at his place until the next day, at least. After all, you did feel tired from the burning pain and the pills that started to kick in. As Dexter stood to leave, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before kissing you on the lips, anchoring himself to you before heading back to work. And to take care of Louis once and for all.

It was easy. Louis was obsessed with serial killers, but he still lacked the skillset Dexter’s usual victims challenged him with. Now, he was going to give him the full-time experience.

He broke into his apartment and waited until Louis got home. A sharp prick to the neck and strapping him to a chair. Not his usual routine, but this wasn’t really to satisfy his urges. This was to protect you.

Once he was all tied up, Dexter broke a capsule of smelling salt under his nose and Louis' eyes shot open. Dexter wasn’t going to waste much time here, but he brought something to make it more enjoyable for himself.

“Wakey-wakey,” Dexter’s voice broke through the fog of Louis’s confusion.

He blinked, before he started thrashing against the rope. “What the hell?!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. “What is this?!”

Dexter stepped closer to him, a faint curl of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a bunch of vials filled with liquid.

“Do you know what chemical burn feels like, Louis?”

“What?” he asked, confused at first, but then it dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t do anything! I was just looking out for her. A-Accidents happen! Labs are dangerous places if you’re not careful, you know that!” Louis rambled, making Dexter watch him with an amused smile.

“Accidents don’t usually involve sabotage,” Dexter said evenly.

“Sabotage? Jesus, Dexter, you're blowing this way out of proportion. You're doing all this for some chick? Does her pussy feel that good?"

Dexter lurched forward, his fist connecting with Louis's face before he could react, the chair creaking against the floor as it moved with Dexter's strength. He leaned down to Louis’ eye-level, pointing a finger at his face. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody face scrunching in fear.

“Don't push it, Louis,” he said through his teeth. Dexter was quick to recover, his calm mask slipping back into place. “Let's talk about the fact that accidents always seem to happen when you’re around.”

Louis coughed, spitting blood onto the plastic-covered floor.

“You’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.”

Dexter’s lips twitched. He rose to his full height and backed away just to put down one of the vials and take a piece of cloth instead. He poured the chemical on it as he talked.

“It’s called pattern recognition,” he said, coming around the chair to stand behind Louis. “You should be familiar with that by now.” And with that, he stuffed the wet rug into his mouth. Louis twitched and thrashed, but Dexter was stronger. He made sure the cloth didn’t fall out, that Louis got the exact taste of what you’d gone through.

“How is it, Louis? You have my full attention now! The only time I’m willing to listen to your bullshit!”

He tortured him some more, before pulling the cloth out. As soon as Louis’ mouth was free, he started coughing. Then, Dexter poured some of the prepared solution on his glove.

“Did I get the concentration right, or was it too strong?” Dexter asked, rubbing his covered fingers together, the rubber shining under the kitchen light. Louis’ breathing quickened.

“Please. I won’t go near her again. I swear!” Louis cried out.

Dexter leaned in close again, his face inches from Louis’.

“You’re right. You won’t.”

And without further explanation, he pressed the gloved hand against Louis’ arm, holding it there long enough for the sting to start. Before Louis’ scream got too loud, Dexter stuffed his mouth with the rug again as he writhed in pain, the burning sensation spreading.

“That’s just a fraction of what she felt. And you’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, I would pour it right into your fucking eyes, your mouth, I would cut your skin open and fill it up before stitching it back together.” Dexter put his still wet hand on a different part of Louis’ arm, watching him squirm. “I would make you fucking drown in it.”

Dexter stepped back, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, some tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. Dexter closed his eyes, bathing in that satisfactory feeling as he breathed in, the smell of chemicals and sweat and fear tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the counter where his knives were splayed out, taking the sharpest one and making his way behind Louis again.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

And with that, he sliced his neck, blood spilling onto the plastic underneath the chair.

When he came home that night, he found you still on his couch. Safe and sound. Your bandaged arm rested on the book you were reading, and when you looked at him, you greeted him with that casual smile of yours.

It was so genuine, so automatic. Like it had been waiting just for him. He couldn’t let himself be the reason you’d ever lose it, couldn’t let his or anyone else's world dim yours.

Without saying a word, he approached you, pinched your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to kiss that smile, because he knew it would only make you grin wider, and that’s what he wanted. He was making a silent promise, to you and to himself, to keep it safe, because seeing you light up like that, illuminating his dark world was everything he needed. And he wanted it to last.

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zorosangell · 2 months ago

Note

zoro and his girl who are always bickering and fighting and breaking up and getting back together again. atp, the other straw hats are used to it now. I can also imagine zoro NEVER apologizes and his idea of getting back together with his girl again is just acting like buisness as usual (just going back to her and sitting with her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, kissin her cheek, acting like nothing ever happened, etc) and usually, she’s receptive to it. Because even though she’s as stubborn as zoro (maybe even more), she hates arguing (and loves him too much).

but imagine during one of their arguments, Nami drags her out to go shopping at a island they stopped by, and she sees all these happy couples holding hands and being affectionate and just being sweet and soft with each other. she realizes…zoro is never sweet and soft with her. and he NEVER says I’m sorry (I imagine maybe she sees an arguing couple in the market, but the guy comes with flowers and an apology and it makes her wonder). She makes up her mind, she won’t take him back until he says those words, no matter what. I know this isn’t so descriptive, but I’d love to see you take on this! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。 pit

synopsis: time and time again zoro has forgotten about your outings, leaving you dressed up and alone on several occasions. but after nami witnesses it in person, she finally puts her foot down... and you finally confront your swordsman.

cw: angst, very little comfort, happy-ish ending (left up for interpretation), zoro's kind of an asshole, nami's a girl's girl, reader is better than me.

a/n: listen to promise by laufey or casual by chappell roan if you want the full experience. i've never written a trifling zoro before this was crazy

"Why don't you stop wasting my time and give me a real discount?" Nami asked, firmly slamming her fist on the counter.

"Please don't be angry! I'm doing my best!" the cashier apologized, "But, c'mon, I can't take fifty percent off no matter how much you buy. They're marked down enough already!"

The man looked to be on the brink of tears, and you couldn't help but snicker.

"Nami, leave the poor man alone..." you smiled, feeling a little bad for him, "He's just doing his job. And besides, it's not like you can't afford it."

"Nope," she denied, popping the p as she grabbed another humongous pile of clothes. "It's the principle of the matter, (y/n). If I have the option to pay for something half-off, why would I pay full price?"

"They're not half-off!"

"Besides..." her gaze drifted to your outfit, a small pout settling on her lips as she looked you up and down with saddened eyes. "I can see that you are clearly trying to out-glam me, so I gotta glam back!"

She turned to the cashier, placing down the new pile.

"You drive a hard bargain. I'll buy these, too. But I want ninety percent off."

The man nearly fainted and you laughed, surprised by Nami's playful rivalry.

"Nami, you've owned more clothes than I've ever worn. I think it's safe to say that between the two of us, you're the one that's out-glamming me," you assured, resting your cheek in your palm as you leaned on the counter.

"But look at you!" she playfully whined. "Your outfit is killer! And your hair is on point, too!"

Though, just as quick as she examined your outfit, she realized that it was really good.

Too good to be shopping in.

"Wait, (y/n), were you supposed to be going somewhere? Why are y—"

The moment your face fell, the glimmer in your eyes dimming at the memory, reality finally donned on the navigator, hitting her like a sea train at top speed.

He did it again.

Anger rushed through the woman's veins like wildfire, her face not even attempting to conceal her fury as it twisted into an expression of absolute rage.

You knew it all too well.

"Nami, ple—" "I'll KILL HIM!"

The clothes on the counter were suddenly a thing of the past as the red-haired woman drew her Clima-Takt and stormed toward the exit of the boutique, the dangerous aura she was emanating sending a shiver down even your spine.

Like magnets, everything began to click for the woman.

The beautiful outfit.

The done-up hair.

The glum look on your face.

'That bastard stood her up again!'

That's why you had been wandering around town aimlessly.

You were waiting for him.

This scenario had become commonplace over the past several months you and the green-haired swordsman had been dating, much to Nami's severe indignation.

It was always the same.

You and Zoro would plan a date.

Zoro would get caught up training, or get caught up drinking, or just plain, old fucking forget.

You would end up alone, having gone through all the trouble and embarrassment.

She would have to console you, and you would have to keep her from bashing his head in.

Then you'd have to face the jerk the next day, who, instead of apologizing, simply acted like nothing ever happened.

As if the entire ship see how utterly crushed you were.

And then the whole cycle would repeat the following week.

Nami was sick of it.

'This shit ends today.'

"Nami, please! It's not worth it!" you ran out the store and after her, grabbing onto her arm. "It's not gonna change anything!"

"The hell it isn't!" she barked, brows cinched tightly together. "(y/n), I won't stand for this anymore! This is what?! The twentieth time?!"

"Twenty-third... but I'm not counting..." you corrected, meekly.

"(Y/N)!"

"I know! I know!" you sighed, plopping yourself down on the curb, defeated. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"There's nothing wrong with you! There's something wrong with him not realizing just how much of a fucking catch you are!" she groaned, exasperatedly, as she threw her hands in the air. "Twenty-three times, that bastard... I oughta chip his swords twenty-three times."

"I guess... I just don't get why..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap with glassy eyes. "Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?"

Nami turned to you, heart aching at your saddened form.

"Don't think that for another second!" she denied, quickly moving to take a seat next to you, pulling you into a small side hug. "You've done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Zoro's just being a real jackass."

"But there has to be some reason," you attempted to rationalize, tone rising. "Does he not care? Am I just that insignificant that he can't even waste an hour or two to spend time with me? His girlfriend?"

"That's what I've been saying!" Nami agreed, loudly, calling the attention of some passersby. "(y/n), you've given him chance after chance after chance, and he still hasn't cleaned up his act."

She gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, flashing you a sincere smile.

"I'm not saying you have to break up with him, unless that's what you want to do, but I'm saying that you really need to realize just how amazing you are, and hold him accountable for his actions."

Shooting up from her seat, she stood before you, pointing a manicured finger at your chest.

"You're the prize, girl! You're strong, smart, kind, compassionate, and drop-dead gorgeous! What guy wouldn't want that!" she turned to a few of the men passing by, a smile on her face. "Right?"

"YES!" they cheered, eagerly.

Your face burned with embarrassment.

"Nami!"

"You get my point!" she laughed, resting her hand on her hip. "You deserve someone who will treat you like the princess you are. Whether that's Zoro or not is up to you, but know that his track record begs to differ..."

Taking a moment, you let her words sink in, your confidence rising slowly but surely.

Maybe you were that great...

Maybe you did deserve more...

Maybe it was time to start anew...

"Y'know what... you're right! It's time for a change!" you smiled, slowly standing up from the curb. "No more tears!"

"Nope!" Nami cheered, proudly.

"No more excuses!"

"None of 'em!"

"No more pretending!"

"Not around here!"

"From now on, I'm gonna start living life for me! And if that means going out clubbing tonight and getting drunk to forget my problems, then so be it!"

"Y'know what, I'll take it! Let's go!" Nami squealed, the two of you quickly charging back into the boutique.

You couldn't fight off your smile, your shoulders feeling like an insurmountable weight had been lifted off them.

For the first time in a while, things didn't seem so bleak.

"Ooo, I think I saw the perfect revenge dress for you, (y/n)! It's gorgeous!"

Walking out of the girls' quarters, you felt like a million bucks—and were probably wearing it too with the amount of money you and Nami spent in town.

But price be damned, the result was phenomenal.

The provocative dress.

The decadent perfume.

The glittering jewelry.

The leg-extending heels.

You were absolutely breath-taking.

Not to say that you weren't before, but just significantly more so.

The dress itself was just the right amount of short, and helped carve out your curves deliciously.

Your hair was done courtesy of the ship's archaeologist, its style elegant yet loose to fit the club scene you were going to.

And your skin was practically glowing thanks to the oils Nami had picked up in the market.

So, it was safe to say you were at least a quadruple threat.

Looking down at yourself, you smiled, feeling like the prettiest woman in the world.

No longer concerned with the feelings of others, or the wrong-doings of yourself, you felt freer than you'd ever had.

And you had Nami to thank for it all.

'For finally knocking some sense into me...'

Sensing someone's presence, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, only to see your swordsman standing right before you.

His eyes dragged over your body, almost analytically, a grin rising to his lips.

It seemed he finished his training early...

"Where are you goin' all dressed up?" he smirked, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "You look good... an' smell good, too."

Quickly, you pushed yourself out of his grasp, your legs pressing forward to stride across the balcony, leaving the him to stand there, surprised.

You had never pushed him away before, much less ignored him.

'What the hell?'

"What's the matter with you?" Zoro's voice lowered an octave, brows furrowed in confusion as he followed after you.

You didn't answer, keeping your gaze trained ahead as you pressed on, heading toward the stairs that led off the Sunny.

"(y/n)," he tried again, voice slightly firmer, as he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "(y/n), what the hell's your problem? Where are you going?"

Harshly, you flung his hand off, brows slowly beginning to crease at his audacity.

He was acting like nothing happened.

Again.

He knew exactly why you were fucking upset, but was making the choice to completely ignore it in favor of acting stupid and playing in your face.

Your jaw set tight, all your thoughts grinding to a screeching halt.

For the first time ever, anger and resentment began to claw at your chest, your hand itching to rise up and slap him right across the cheek.

Enough was enough.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," you spat, voice dripping with venom as you went back to walking. "I don't wanna see you right now."

"See me?" his brows furrowed as his finger pointed toward his chest, now even more confused. "The hell did I do?!"

Or maybe he was just fucking stupid...

Either way, you finally cracked.

"IT'S WHAT YOU DON'T DO, ZORO!" you roared, whipping back around to face him, the man flinching at your volume. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, IT'S ALWAYS BEEN WHAT YOU DON'T DO!"

The leak in the dam of your heart had finally turned into a full-on flood, and you were now outpouring months upon months upon months of pent up anger.

"You stand me up! You forget our dates! You make it abundantly clear that you would much rather spend the day nursing a sake bottle than with me!" you scoffed, throwing an exasperated hand in the air. "Do you even remember what we were supposed to do today?!"

The swordsman paused a moment, scouring his brain for recollection of the event.

"Hey, Zo'," you piped up from your spot in the corner, shutting the book Robin had loaned you. "I'm gettin' kinda hungry. You wanna grab lunch?"

He nodded, grinding out another squat as he lowered his knees to a ninety-degree angle, somehow perfectly controlling the two ton weight on his back.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," he grunted, holding the position. "I'll catch up. Gonna finish up this set."

"'Kay," you nodded, flashing him an eager smile. "I'll meet you at that sushi place we saw in town."

Zoro's eye shot wide, a sudden sense of dread sinking in his stomach as he finally remembered.

"Oh, shit..."

"Yeah... Oh, shit," you scoffed, turning to head off the ship. "I'm done with this..."

"Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute," he grabbed your arm once again, pulling you back. "(y/n), it was an accident... I didn't mean it."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?! You never fucking apologize!" you yelled, jerking sharply away from his grasp. "At least that way it could seem like you're at least trying to pretend you care about me!"

"Of course, I care about you, (y/n)!"

"YOU CERTAINLY DON'T ACT LIKE IT!" your voice cracked.

He halted, expression falling and chest tugging with pain as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

You were hurting... bad.

And it was all his fault.

All of the times he left you hanging, all of the times he screwed up.

They were all coming back to haunt him, each one doubling the weight of the sinking pit in his stomach.

How could he have not seen?

You had been so patient with him—never raising your voice, never holding a grudge—and he supposed his mind had unconsciously took that as the green-light to proceed.

Granted, he never forgot anything or stood you up out of malice or actual lack of care.

It just... slipped his mind.

Though, in that, he could see where his thinking was flawed, and where you could find a problem.

"Am I... just that forgettable to you?" you asked, voice suddenly small.

Zoro snapped himself out of his thoughts, eye wide at your tone.

It sounded so distant.

"Of course, not, (y/n)," he quickly denied, lurching forward to hold you out of instinct. "I—"

But you stepped back, avoiding his grasp as your arms raised to hug yourself, hoping to keep everything together.

"Every time I look at you, I feel more alone," you continued, letting out a few sniffles. "I'm always, always reaching out to you, always down for whatever you want to do. But you just... never reach back... and you don't even bother to apologize..."

Glancing out at the sunset, you fought off the wobble of your lip, hugging yourself even tighter.

"Zoro... I can't be with someone that doesn't care about me..."

That's when everything suddenly came to a screeching halt.

Zoro felt like the words cut right through his chest, tearing through his heart and opening it up like force hell-bent on making him see.

He'd rarely felt this feeling, but he knew what it was instantly.

Fear.

"(y/n), don't do this," he started, panic slowly spiking in his veins. "I'm sorry for being such an idiot... but we can work this out. This doesn't have to be... it doesn't have to end like this..."

"But it does," you countered, quickly. "It isn't like this is your first time doing this, Zoro... or your third... or your tenth... or even your twentieth."

You scoffed, half-laughing at the situation.

"If I hadn't said anything, you probably would've made it to thirty."

Zoro's chest stung at the comment, the man almost letting out a wince.

It was harsh... but not without truth.

"I'm freeing myself of all of this, Zoro. I deserve better," you stated, firmly, slowly regaining your confidence as you turned away, heading for the stairs. "This conversation is over. And thanks to you, I'm late."

The swordsman looked just about ready to shit his pants, the finality of your words scaring him more than any enemy.

You were his girl.

His best friend.

His ray of sunshine.

Seeing you so upset, so jaded, because of his actions?

He felt like shit.

And, in that moment, he honestly wanted nothing more than to hold you.

To shower you with a thousand apologies.

To make it up to you in any and every way he could possible conceive.

But you were slipping through his fingers like smoke, blowing father and farther away.

"(y/n)... please..." he tried one final time, voice softer than you'd ever heard it before as he carefully grabbed your wrist.

And you nearly broke, the sound of his voice pulling a sharp string on your heart, nearly making you take everything back.

But Nami's words from earlier replayed in your mind, and you fought the feeling, pulling your arm away.

You had to stay strong, for both your sakes.

"We're done, Zoro," you finished, finally descending down the steps. "I'm moving on."

The swordsman watched as you disappeared in front of him, now suddenly feeling as if you were worlds away.

He'd finally done it.

He'd pushed you over the edge.

And rather than feeling angry or upset, or even sorry for himself, he felt empty.

Truly and utterly empty.

The rest of the crew watched from cracked doors and open windows as the man stood there, staring at the place you had once stood like he was in a trance.

Nobody wanted things to turn out this way.

It was clear as day that the both of you loved each other a great deal... but Zoro needed this.

He needed the wake up call.

And now that he was presented with all the necessary truth, he could finally work toward remedying the situation; and, by the will of the Gods, making up his dizzying amount of transgressions against you.

It would be hard work, and for the first time in his life, he would have to be completely vulnerable.

But the crew believed in him.

And the crew believed in you, too.

The both of you would come back from this stronger than ever.

And Zoro would come back to the crow's nest with a calendar hanging front and center on the door.

Courtesy of the ship's navigator.

#zorosangell #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #op

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alisonwritesimagines · 5 months ago

Text

If Bruce and Batmom Divorced ~Bruce Wayne Imagine~

Summary: The final straw was Bruce officially cheating on you.

Author’s Note: I saw a TikTok about a comic of Catwoman having Bruce’s daughter and I thought of the angst between Batmom and Bruce.

This is not canon to the Batmom Universe

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, angst, cheating

Do not repost this anywhere!

You were a smart person after living with Bruce Wayne who is also Batman. You learned his tricks and gadgets while being his wife. So when you left without word the day after finding out Selina was pregnant with Bruce’s child, everyone grew into a panic.

“It’s like she just disappeared,” Tim said in disbelief.

“Now I know how she felt when I left the mansion,” Dick says.

“Where could she have gone?” Jason asked.

“Alfred, are you sure she didn’t say anything to you before she left?” Cassandra asked him with a sad and desperate look.

“If you think, she would disappear without telling me, you’re wrong. I do know where she is however, she asked me not to say anything. She only gave it to me for emergencies.”

“Then tell us, Alfred! We won’t tell Bruce,” Stephanie begged.

“I’m afraid I cannot do such thing. Not until she calls me and tells me that she is ready.”

Selina had showed up to your doorstep one afternoon and told you the news of her being pregnant with Bruce's child. You spend the first hour in shock before gathering your stuff that you had packed and left without saying goodbye.

It broke everyone when you left. Even Bruce.

Bruce would rather kill Joker and all the villains if it meant keeping you with him. He would murder every single person with bad in them if it meant he could have you with him. But what he did that finally broke you would never change your mind.

Then came the day when you finally showed up. But with a surprise.

"Mom?" Dick asked in shock.

"Hi honey," you smiled softly. Dick engulfed you into a quick hug before looking at you.

"Are you okay? How are you?" Dick asked.

"I'm okay. I'm doing well," you tell him. "Is Bruce home?"

"Yeah. He's home."

"I need to talk to him," you tell him.

"Yeah. Okay."

You followed Dick inside the manor and found Bruce sitting at the dining room table with Alfred and Damien.

"Ummi!" Damien said the moment he saw you.

He rushed over and hugged you tightly before realizing your condition.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay sweetie."

"It's good to see you Ms. Y/n," Alfred said, giving you a hug as well.

"I need to talk to Bruce really quickly. Alone," you tell everyone.

Everyone rushed out of the room so you two could be alone.

"Y/n-"

"I don't want to hear you talk Bruce. I am here to have you sign these," you say as you took out the divorce papers from your purse; "And I am here to let the kids know that I am okay."

"Y/n, can we talk about this? Is the baby mine?" Bruce asked referring to your pregnant bump.

"It's yours. But I don't need you for them. I am going to raise this child alone and we do not need you. You are having a child with Selina so if you want to be a father, go be that child's father because you have no right to be in my life anymore," you tell him.

"I put up with so much with you. And I am done. I am exhausted and being away from you for the past four months made me feel so free and relaxed. I have a good home now and it's in a good city and good neighborhood. I just want you to sign these papers, and let me go."

"I don't want to let you go. I don't want to lose you," Bruce said, looking up at you with tears in his eyes.

"Bruce. You lost me when you went to Selina after you told me you wouldn't go back to her," you tell him, tearing up as well.

"At least let me give you alimony so you don't have to work anymore. If I am going to lose you, at least let me do something good for you one last time," Bruce begged.

"Fine. But I don't want contact with you. I'll talk to the kids gladly and they are more than welcome to visit me or live with me but I am done with you Bruce. Until our child asks about you and wants to see you, then I will tell them about you and that they can visit you with the other kids as supervision. But for now, I don't want anything to do with you," you tell him.

"Y/n-"

"You can mail the paperwork to my lawyer," you tell Bruce before walking out. You found Damien and Dick standing by the door after you opened it. You gave them a hug and a kiss on the cheek before walking out. You looked over at Alfred and gave him a small nod.

Alfred walked over to the two boys and handed Dick a piece of paper.

"If you kids want to visit her," Alfred tells them before walking off.

Damien rushed out after you. He wrapped his arms around you, stopping your tracks.

“Don’t leave me Ummi. Please.”

“I’m sorry Damien. Alfred gave my address to you kids so if you want to visit me, you can. But I need to go right now,” you tell your son. Damien nodded before letting you go. You kissed his head once more before getting into your car and driving off.

----

Bruce never interacted with you again after that day. He knew where you lived due to following the kids over to visit you. But he never went down to talk to you. He knew that you were stubborn and that you were holding your ground on not wanting to see him again. He just wished that he could take everything back to have you back in his arms.

The years went on and the kids began to grow up and move out of the house. That was until he got a knock on the door one day.

A girl who looked too much like you stood in front of him as she stared up at him. She couldn’t be older than ten.

"Are you Bruce Wayne?" She asked him.

"Yes I am."

"Hi! I'm Ella. I'm your daughter," she introduced.

"Ella," Bruce sighed in awe. He kneeled down to her height so he can look at her better. "Where's your mother?"

"She doesn't know I'm here. Which reminds me. I need to call her to tell her that I'm okay and that I'm sorry for running away to find you," Ella tells him.

"She will definitely have a heart attack. Come on," Bruce said, holding her hand.

He watched as Ella talked on the phone with you before she looked up at him.

"Mama wants to talk to you," she said, handing the phone over to him.

"Hi, Y/n."

"Is she okay? Is my baby okay?" You asked.

"She's okay. I got her."

"I don't know how on Earth she managed to get to you! I know I said I never wanted to see you again but please bring her back home. We can talk about her seeing you every weekend or something," you tell Bruce.

"Of course."

"I know you know where I live. Just come over with her please. Now," you say.

"I will."

Bruce took Ella back home where you waited for them.

"You young lady are grounded!" You sternly tell your daughter.

"But mom-"

"No buts. Go to your room!" You ordered her. Ella hugged her father before running to her room.

"Y/n-"

"Thank you for bringing her home safely. I can drop her off every weekend if you're not busy for her to see you," you tell Bruce.

"If you think that's best for her."

"She’s been asking to meet you,” you tell him. Bruce stayed silent for a moment.

“How are you?”

“Fine. How are you and Selina? Have you two been raising your child together nicely?” You asked him.

“We aren’t together. She put the child up for adoption,” Bruce explains.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And I’m sorry for everything. Are you happy?” Bruce asked you.

“I’ve been better.”

“You know, I never stopped thinking about you.”

You stared at him for a moment.

“I’ll drop her off next weekend after she’s grounded. You can have her for the weekend as well as Father’s Day. I’ll have my lawyer draft up a new custody agreement,” you tell Bruce.

“You could always come with her,” Bruce said.

“No. Like I said years ago Bruce. I’m done with you. I can forgive you. But you also proved to me that you will never love me as much as I loved you,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry Y/n. For everything,” Bruce said before walking out of your home.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman x reader #batman imagine #dc #dc imagine #batmom imagine #batmom au #batmom #alisonwritesimagines

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luvyeni · 5 months ago

Text

⠀ ( drabble ) such a bitch ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 김선우 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ sunoo getting tired of your attitude ヾ

nerd!sunoo・ meangirl!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ rough sex , degradation, unprotected sex‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. popular mean girl and is partnered with sunoo. realizes sun is hot af and tries to make a move on him thinking he's sub/innocent. plot twist: He's not and he ended up being the dom when they slept together.

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it , mean dom noo is my favorite 😋

he tried barging with the other students; pleading to do their homework for them, hell he even offered money to anyone— anyone who would take you as their partner, but as he walked up to your huge house , ringing the doorbell , he wondered what he did in his past life to deserve this.

“she's upstairs.” your maid said; sunoo nodded. “careful , she's in a bit of of mood.” when are you ever not in a mood? he made his way up to your room, your door was open. “don't just stand there and look stupid , come in.” he came in , holding his bag. “sit.”

you pointed to your bed; he sat down. “you're late.” he lowered his head. “i-im sorry i got caught up.” you scoffed. “i didn't ask , let's just get this over with so you can leave.” he wanted nothing more than to leave. “o-okay.”

you sat back watching him do the work , picking at your fingernails , texting the idiot you called you once called your boyfriend. “fucking dumbass!” sunoo jumped , hearing you toss your phone across the room , that motivated him to go faster with the project.

you watched him work , taking in his features, he wasn't bad to look at. “you a virgin?” you spoke up. “h-huh?” he stuttered at the sudden inappropriate question; you smirked , dry laughing. “of course you are , who'd fuck you?” he gulped , still trying to focus on the work. “you're not that bad if you look past the shabby close and the glasses.” you said running your fingers through his hair. “st-stop please.”

“why? don't tell me this turning you on little mouse?” your red paint bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you tease him. “please don't call me that,” he said. “i guess it is.” you smirked , running your manicure nails down the back of his neck , you saw him shift. “i'll fuck you.” you said so directly. “i-im okay.” he said , slowly losing his composure. “why not , it's not like anyone else is willing to fuck you.”

his finally straw is when you reached for his pants button. “i said stop.” he grabbed your hand. “let my hand go.” you gritted through your teeth , “i swear i will kill you loser.” throwing his stuff to the floor , pushing you on the bed, grabbing your hand pinning them above your head. “why are you such a bitch?”

he was straddling your waist , pinning your legs down. “i didn't want to be here in the first place , just wanted to get this stupid project done and get out of this house but i can't because you're too busy being a slut to pay attention.” he spat at you. “fuck you.” you hissed. “yeah i bet you do.”

you had to admit the way he was talking to you turned you on , the wetness in between your legs becoming unbearable. “you want me to fuck you?” he said. “i'll fuck you , and then afterwards you sit the fuck down and help me finish this project so i can leave.” he grabbed your cheeks. “understand.”

you nodded , and he got off of you , taking his pants down , pulling your shorts down. “spread your legs.” slotting himself in between your legs , dragging his cock along your folds. “so wet.” you were surprised at how big he was , he was full of surprises. “so desperate, it's embarrassing.” he pushed himself inside. “fuck!”

he wasn't gentle either; in fact his pace was rather brutal , holding your neck as he plunged into you. “fuck!” he hissed. “for a whore , you're pretty right.” you whined. “n-not a whore.” hia grip on your neck tightening. “yeah?” he said. “then why are you begging for my dick while you're in a suppos relationship? only a whore would do that.” he pounded into you. “such a bitch to everyone.” he cursed , slapping your already abused cunt.

pulling out of you , flipping you on your stomach , lifting your lower half up into a arch , before pushing back into you , slapping your ass. “fuck! gonna cum.” you screamed , he kept pounding into you. “i shouldn't even let you cum.” you cried out. “no please , please.” you begged. “shut the fuck up.” he slapped your ass again. “i'll let you cum , but you better hurry -fuck- because im about to cum all over your back , after i cum i don't care if you don't.”

you felt the knot in your stomach snapping legs shaking as you came , yelling his name as he continued to fuck you. “fuck im cumming.” he pulled out of you, stroking his cock until he came on your ass. “sh-shit.” your body worn out on the bed as he got dressed. “look at you fucked out.” he scoffed.

“clearly we aren't gonna get anything done , we'll continue tomorrow , and this time you come to my house and without the attitude.”

©LUVYENI

#enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #sunoo fanfic #kim sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #sunoo smut #sunoo scenarios #kim sunoo hard hours #kim sunoo x reader #sunoo hard thoughts #sunoo hard hours

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punkfistfights · 7 months ago

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screams screams screams MEDIA ILLITERACY WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME

if i see ONE MORE PERSON call eurylochus a hypocrite for being mad at odysseus for sacrificing those men to scylla, imma lose it!!

eurylochus DIDNT KNOW opening the bag would lead them to a murderous poseidon - and poseidon that was only so murderous because ODYSSEUS was a hubristic idiot who doxxed himself. do y’all think if eurylochus hadn’t opened the bag, poseidon just would never have attacked them???

and as for abandoning the men to circe, eurylochus had no idea that it would be possible to convince her to turn the men back - for all he knew, this was just going to lead his and odysseus’s deaths.

eurylochus is not the central character so we don’t get to see his thoughts but subtextually it’s pretty clear that he is also going through a character arc: while odysseus is learning to be ruthless, eurylochus is learning to never just give up, to trust that odysseus is going to get them all home.

eurylochus is angry with odysseus because odysseus purposefully sacrificed those men. odysseus did not warn them, did not try to come up with a way to defeat scylla, he just let six of their men be gruesomely killed.

and, finally, (and i personally thought this was clear) eurylochus killed the cow because he was STARVING and CLEARLY SUICIDAL. “how much longer must i suffer now? how much longer must i push through doubt? how much longer must i go about my life like this, when people die like this?” this is CLEARLY eurylochus at his last straw, he can’t take it anymore. he knows they’ll die and he (and seemingly the rest of the crew, minus odysseus) has accepted this.

it’s not until odysseus tries to make a plan to save them that he’s shocked out of his suicidal mindset and begins to regret the choice he and the crew made.

#tee talks #epic the musical #epic the thunder saga #eurylochus #meta

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grimdarling69 · 4 months ago

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Another de aged Ellie and Dan or otherwise known as Crack

P1 P2 P3

Damian is now regretting every decision that led to where he was at this point in his half-life.

He felt so if he had been battered by a storm all night long and he was pretty sure he was having fever dreams because fucking Lex Luthor is currently dabbing at his head with a damp towel.

Come on, Damian. You're better than this. Get up and fight him. Father would be disappointed if I failed to stop whatever luthor was scheming because of a common cold. He could already see his father's face, his disappointment shrouded in the shadows created by the looming stalactites in the cave. He'd take away Robin, he lose Richard's first gift to him. He couldn't let his baba down.

He tried to shed the blankets but his body failed him and he had to resist a coughing fit. He shivered cold and clammy. His body felt heavy and his clothes were sticking to him uncomfortablely. His hair was a mess and clouded his vision.

"Rest now, ghostling. Your very sick. I need to get you into some new clothes and quickly." he murmured quietly, leaning forward and plying his bangs from his face. For a second he thought he was going to kiss his head and he started struggling again.

"Don't-" He attempted but his voice broke off into a coughing fit. He struggled to catch his breath.

"Shh.. shhh...drink." he gently lifted a glass of water with a childishly pinky bendy straw to his lips. His gentle voice and calm actions remindimg him of his baba and he stupidly started to drink it before he remembered where he was and resisted again.

Luthor didn't seem surprised but didn't attempt to speak to him again and gently pushed him back down onto the bed. His eyes were heavy and he had to repeatedly jerk his head to stay awake.

Ancients, what was wrong with him he was a trained assassin. Not to mention Robin he could survive days without even a second of sleep.

Luthor pushed the door open again and carried soft looking sleepwear in his hands. When did he leave? The sleepwear had little stars and moons and suns periodically spread about. He couldn't help but admire them.

"Please don't fight me, Dani- Damian. You have to get out of those drenched clothes. If you sleep in them, you'll just get sicker. Come on, you love the stars." He tried in vain to fight him off, but eventually Luthor was cringing at him, scratches all over his arms and face, holding the wet clothes in one hand.

"Try to get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning." He turned the lights off and closed the door.

He waited a second to make sure he was actually gone. Once he was sure, he tried to wrangle him self off the bed but kept having to blink and rub his eyes. He had finally succeeded in getting out from under the blanket before he couldn't stay awake any longer and passed out from exhaustion.

---------

Vlad because he was Vlad Masters sometimes known as Vlad Plasmius or ugh the Wisconsin Ghost not Lex Luthor he had spent far to long redeeming himself and becoming a productive member of society to be reincarnated into a cruel ceo who cares only about his image and money and destroys the earth to make it. Creating pollution, ruining lives for no reason, abusing his powers, and trying to kill his archnemesis. Okay, maybe he was being a bit hypocritical, but he was redeemed already, and now he had to start all over!

Every villian worth their salt knows that archenemesiss are for life and he was a redeemed one for goodness sake. He may of fought his godson a lot in his early days but he had been alone for so long. He was a ghost they bonded by fighting! He also apologized for not realized that he didn't know ghost culture yet. He assumed he'd gotten a mentor ghost somewhere like he had the dairy king to teach him and once he realized he made him take lessons with that yeti docter of his.

He was the only one of his kind for decades and it certainly didn't help when his best friends abandoned him after killing him. Jasmine loved to physcoanalyze him she often tried to talk to him about his abandonment issues caused by his parents' deaths worsened by his older sister walking out on him and his future almost destroyed because of Jack Fenton and a fucking soda. That his obsession with Madelyn was caused by the fact he was desperate for family and latched onto the first thing that could give him one.

He didn't approve of cursing, he had kids-god-children that didn't need to hear it but he supposed he could excuse it just this once. Or twice.

When his godson had crashed into his island he felt the presence of his other kids but it was diluted almost. He hoped that whenever Damian woke up he could give him some context.

That was another thing. Somehow, his incredibly gifted and smart godson had apparently but reincarnated as Brucie Wayne's son. He could hardly believe it, but it was also worrying he had found some heavy scaring on him. Everywhere he was covered in scars, some had to be a decade old, at least. Whoever hurt his son was going to pay.

"Mr Luthor, sir?" His assistant knocked on his door.

Ugh, Luthor wasn't terrible he had to admit it had a nice ring to it was just-Lex?... disgusting.

"Come in."

"The um...children's cold medicine is here." She spoke unsure, but handed the specially ordered medicine over. It was brought over by a very good drone from the nearest industrialized island, perks of being a billionaire. He had even more money than in his previous life.

"Aw thank you, Susan." She blinked at him while he took the package she'd been with him since before Konner and so it was understandable she wasn't used to him just now caring to remember her name. Konner... he'll have to contact him to set up a meeting between his new son and his brother soon.

"Will you alert the chefs to cook a simple breakfast for us. No onions and no meat. He'll need to eat with this one. Have it brought to his room." He barely remembered that his godson won't be eating meat anymore after he remembered from one chance meeting at a gala but he had always hated onions and he was quite familiar with his rants about the texture of onions by now.

"Yes, sir. Right away" She quickly exited his office. He still wasn't used to humans being on his island, he typically only had animal ghosts with him or his kids if they weren't busy it was quite strange but he was trying to turn down his Vladness.

He stopped to grab a water bottle and started to head to Damian's room. He knocked on the door and waited. Dead silence met him, the white walls of the hallway was only makeing it worse. He forced himself to not think of the past, his whimpers while he had to stitch him together again for if he made to much sound they would hear him , while slowing opening the door.

He was thankfully asleep, and his fever seemed like it was going down. He packed up the damp towel and started to dab his forehead again. His eyes started to stir.

"Vlad?" His now much younger godson questioned looking even younger he seemed small for his age but he was like that in his past life too.

"I'm here." The sigh of relief spoke for itself. Damian stole the hand not currently in use, a familiar reminder that was common practice for them. His eyes closed again. He took the quiet moment to lament on each of his kids.

Jasmine, the oldest, once told him he was her rich and eccentric uncle. She never needed him in the ways her siblings did. She only lived with him on college breaks anyway. She never needed him to pay for her college, she had no shortage of scholarships. While he loved her, they were still distant. And then she was gone.

Dan, he had adopted him in his originak timeline after...an incident. Dan was always difficult in ways his siblings weren't. Dan was most similar to him, he was half of him afterall, and this often caused many different fights between them. Dan being full ghost often lived with Clockwork anyway. He'd always love him but things were always going to be messy between them.

Ellie, his blood daughter and Daniel's clone. The only one that outright considered him her father but she was very independent and he typically only saw her on weekends too busy traveling the world to have a movie night with her dear old dad. He loved her, but they fought alot she always wanted more independence and he just wanted to see his daughter.

Daniel or Damian now had always seemed to need him the most. Sticking around Amity Park even after the GIWs attack. Always asking questions about being a ghost or being an adult really. And even before that he could often find him somewhere in his house after his patrols around Amity he asked him a few times why he came around even before he had redeemed himself and could only ever get " because it's quiet but now you're here so I have to go. See ya fruitloop" and when Damian came to live with him his friends were usually there and sometimes he felt it was more a teenagers clubhouse than a mayoral manor. But he was really the only constant in his life. And in the beginning he was too injured to be alone, floating at the edge of fading away forever, so they were constantly together and they grew closer and as much as Vlad always saw him as a son he doubts Damian sees him as a father. Jack was his father and Madelyn was his mother. He knows that he still sees them as his parents even after everything he was willing to forgive them. He would never admitt it but sometimes he's glad they never came back as ghosts.

And konner...He wasn't really sure about him. He was his son, his clone he created with Superman. While he of course still had Luthors memories, and luthor seemed to love him but he often pushed him aside. He was second to his goal of killing Superman. He would have to work really hard to repair their relationship but first he needed to get to the Infinate Realms.

Soft knocking broke him out of his thoughts. " Come in."

"Sir. Your food has been prepared." Susan pushed in a large cart with 3 tiers. While this life seemed to be all about the pinnacle of opulence, his first was spent majority in bachelorhood, enough said about that.

She parked the cart close to the bed but not enough to be a hindrance. Damians eyes fluttered at the light but stayed still.

Susan looked at Damian in barely hidden concern and he could tell that Susan Darnaby, mother of three boys ranging from the ages of 24 to 15 had strong maternal instincts. Her oldest apparently worked at the Daily Planet and was apparently the main breadwinner of the family after his dad passed away a few years ago from cancer leaving the family in serious medical debt. He might have reread everybody's file and maybe everything he could find on them. The last thing he needed was one of his employees calling cps on him for stealing a child.

"He has already benefited from his rest last night, this medicine will have him in tip-top shape in no time. There's no need to worry." He attempted to reassurance her.

"Of course sir." For some reason she didn't look very reassured and with once last glance at their hands, left quietly.

"Whuz her." Damian mumbled from where his head was stuffed slightly beneath the pillow to block the light from getting in. He snickered and fixed the pillow. Damian pouted.

"My assistant, Susan. You know she has a son around your age." Damian looked positively scandalized.

"Vlad! I am not dating anyone that is affiliated with you!" He sat up and wacked him with the pillow.

"Oof. Ow." The pillow didn't really hit imhim hard it was worryingly gentle, something Damian would never hold back on he once challenged him to a pillow fight but stuffed his with rocks and we both ended up give each other stitches using the bathroom tiles to ice their bruises.

"You know i never said anything about dating, my boy. Now let's see what was prepared." Damians breakfast consisted of small cake like pancakes shaped like stars with bananas and blueberries arranged like a small constellation. While his was some larger normally shaped pancakes with sliced strawberries and bananas arranged around the outer rim. The other two tiers consisted of several scone and jams and of course clotted cream after on the second day Ellie went on a loud rant right outside the kitchen on how offended she was to not be served clotted cream. The last tier consisted of several small deserts and muffins. He even spotted Damian's favorite muffin, blueberry cheesecake. Or well in his previous life at least, he placed it on his plate anyway, couldn't hurt to try.

"I'm not really hungry." Damian waved him off.

"You have to eat to take this medicine and I know you haven't eaten since you flew in last night, or even longer. Most of this stuff we can cover up and leave out, so you can eat it later if you want." Damian hated when he used logic in his previous life but from what he can remember about his few meetings in this life he liked logic and academics and was quite ahead according to Brucie.

Damian begrudgingly ate the muffin, some fruits and a messily cream and raspberry jamed scone. He only had a bite off the corner star of the pancake before deciding he wasn't a fan of the recipe. Vlad ate both of his pancakes, most of the fruits on his plate, a chocolate muffin, and a cream and apple jam scone. Unfortunately the peace couldn't last because as soon as he deemed Damian had ate enough and gave him the medicine he decided now would be the time to talk.

" I think I'm pregnant." Damian stated calmly staring into his tea cup.

Vlad dropped his own cup and watched the beautiful fine china shatter.

"Your...What?" He spluttered.

"Technically incubation. Dan and Ellies bodies completely destabilized and I merged with their cores to save them. It's something Frostbite briefly taught me." He continued.

Thank god.

"Why didn't you just start with that like a normal person. Are you okay? Is anything hurting not feeling alright?" He could hear himself growing more frantic.

"I'm fine Vlad. There not parasites. Well ellie isn't atleast. We'll have to check with Frostbite for everything else, so we'll need to stsrt the portal as soon as possible"

"You'll need to take the medicine for at least a week before I let you start working around such heavy machinery, but i suppose you can do some calculations up here."

"What! I have to get to Frostbite. How do we know we're doing the right thing? What if...I...do something to hurt them." His voice grew quiet and he closed his eyes both arms came to reach across his stomach and his legs slightly raised and he started to hunch over himself.

"Oh, Damian. I've read about incubation before. Ghosts only allow them selves to merge in such a way with people they must truly trust. If they merged with you, nothing will go wrong. Nothing you can do will hurt them." He moved as he was speaking, sitting down on the bed now. Damian and him had reached the same height in his last life but now his new body was much larger, in both height and muscle, than Damians short height and lean muscle. Made even smaller by him shifting into a ball.

"I don't know. I still had so much to learn and what if we can't open the portal again?" He leaned into him his shoulder more level with his head.

"Have you no trust in your old man? I opened the portal on my own last time with only minor Fenton thievery, thank you. Besides,The only setback I've faced here are the corrupted ectoplasm pools." Damian snickered at him, so he knew his joke wasn't for naught. Until he went rigid suddenly.

"Wait what corrupted pools?"

"The green ectoplasm on this island has pooled together somehow and corrupted itself by laying dormant for sometime. Instrsd of the typical cool and chilling effects the green usually has it seems to be almost acid like. Bubbling and burning things, but I've constructed a purifier that seems to be working well enough." He explained quite confused by Damians sudden change in attitude.

"Why didn't I see i before? Ancients this is worse than i thought..." He stood up suddenly, beginning to pace and run his hands through his hair.

"Slow down. What's going on?" He questioned aiming for placading him, Damian needed rest and minimal stress while sick AND incubating two cores.

"The Lazurus Pits! Their corrupted ectoplasm! Grandfather harnassed them to bring the dead back and get pseudo immortality." He stopped dead at the last word but his back was to Vlad. He's never heard of Lazarus pits before...his grandfather? Thomas Wayne was immortality? But he's dead!

"Thomas Wayne is...immortal?" He questioned as such.

"What? What made you come to that insane conclusion?" He turned to face him, he looked concerned like Vlad was the crazy one muttering.

" Your grandfather?" He looked like a fish, blinking and moving his mouth like he wasn't sur what to say.

"That's actualy not even the craziest thing ive heard actually. No, Ra's al Ghul, the Demon Head is my maternal Grandfather, my mother is Talia al Ghul." What the fuck.

" Brucie Wayne slept with the demons daughter?" Damian couldn't hold back his laughter anymore and burst into laughter turning into a coughing fit, that shook his ribs, and he leant over like he wa going to fall. Vlad quickly moved to support him.

"I'm fine, fruitloop. I just need some water." Vlad steered him to lay back down on the bed. "Stop it fruitloop, your not even my..." he didn't need mind reading powers to know what he was going to say.

" I know." He still tucked him into bed. Moving to turn out the star nightlight out.

"Batman is my father. Batman is Bruce Wayne" I think I'm going to faint.

"The other..." "my siblings." "Of course, no matter what universe we're in you have a crazy family." " You can't talk you made a clone with your archenemy in both lives AND added your own DNA both times."

"It was an accident the first time!" He spluttered.

"Not the second time!" Damian returned.

"I think you need a nap, young man." He sassed.

"Vlad! I am not a baby!" He ignored that remark.

"I'll have Susan wake you up at lunchtime and we'll go to the lab. Is that acceptable for you?"

"Tch." Damian turned around and closed his eyes. He finally succeeded in turning off the lights.

"Sleep well, son." Closing the door softly.

Whatever was a half-ghost to do?

‐--------

Clark Kent was an avid hater of the waiting game. Although he was no stranger to it. It had been now a week since Damian disappeared. Tim had called his sons and broke the news. They had quicky wrapoed everything up and flew back. Jon had yelled at him for hours about having to hear about Damians disappearance from Tim. He just didn't know how to break the news to him. He knew Jon felt betrayed by him especially because they were finally stsrted healing their relationship after everything. Even worse because Jon had finally confided in him how he felt about Damian and now he didn't even tell him when he was kidnapped.

From what he's heard from Bruce, Jon can't hear his heartbeat, but knowing Lex he's most likely kept behind lead so not a totall loss of hope it just means they need detectives not supers.

So he was back at work after parting with Lois he had headed to the break room to get more coffee when he heard it.

"So what Lex has a few sick kids and you think child trafficking? We can't lose another income, mom. Ignore it. Please." He heard his coworker, one he often listened listened in to as his mother coincidentally worked at Lexcorp.

He focused his hearing onto the mother's voice on the other side of the phonecal.

" You don't get it. I can't just ignore it. He experimented on those kids then put them to bed like it was just another day. And then suddenly the kids are gone and the next day another kid is here? It's not right! Something is going on. Wveryday he wakes him up and they est breakfast then they go down to his private lab and dont come out till lunch sometimes until dinner. Last night they didn't come out till midnight and he carried the kid to his own bedroom. There's something going on and I've seen to many rich men take advantage of young children. I can't ignore this again."

Oh god, what if Bruce was wrong about Lex somehow figuring out his identity. What if he noticed him at a gala and took a liking to him. As a reporter he done countless stories on people in high positions who took advantage of their positions of authority to hurt kids. Lex had never seemed that way to him but how well did he really know him anyway? He had some kind of breakdown that changed him anyway. He needed to talk to someone who was familiar with people like this.

He has to call Jason.

A/n I took this chapter to hash out my thoughts on a redeemed father vlad and kis kids. Danny is obviously his favorite, but he does love all of his kids they just don't feel the need to stick around Amity Park like I think Danny would. Danny is also his character foil, and I wanted to tie in both parallels into both him and bruce with vlad. So that is not Canon vlads backstory but something i thought about with the fact he is desperate or obsessed with the idea of a family. Also, if you see any inconsisties between Damian and vlads' povs and the "attack," their might be a reason hint hint. I also wanted to say that vlad and lex are both quite similar in concept but vlad in my au decided to become better for his kids and to choose them first not like lex who loves kon in his own way but is still second to his own mission. vlad very much is more vlad than he is lex mostly because he sees himself in lex if he didn't choose his kids over villainy. While Damian and danny are now more of a mix between each other. I like to think that the danny that saw a random girl who just said she was his cousin and just rolled with it would just roll with the flow if he was reincarnated. I also wanted to bring up the fact that vlad and Damian will pick up the pace and be a lot more worried as you'll see next part and right now the bats are in a disarray trying to find him. Also the supers I only had Jon age up 2 years older than Damian cause he will be a bigger part of the story and I needed him older hint hint he has his mother's purple eyes in this story.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #bruce wayne #damian al ghul #damian wayne #danny phantom #dick grayson #dcxdp #jason todd #lex luthor #vlad plasmius #vlad as lex au #danny as damian au #de aged ellie #deaged dan #de aged dani #supersons #superman #clark kent

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a-lurking-fae · 2 months ago

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Thinking about the reader being Focalors/Furina's grandchild. What if they adopted a child, and let's say that the kid could have been transported between worlds, they end up in Gotham, taken in by Martha and Thomas Wayne.

Now, after a couple of years, readers mom ends up with Bruce. He takes in Dick, then Jason, after your mom gets pregnant, and during childbirth, she dies. Instead of Bruce neglecting the reader because "They were the reason why my love is dead." type of neglect (っ- ‸ - ""), which is always pretty stupid if you ask me,

He can't look at the reader because you look like a mix of both the two women he has truly loved in his life. His mother, the one who sang him bedtime songs, the one who brought him to his love, your mother. The one who accepted him for his faults, the one who was there during rough times, the one who gave him the greatest gift of all time— you.

But instead of treasuring the precious diamond he was given, Bruce ends up throwing you away. A shame, really, after all, how can he look at you without being reminded of them? How can he look into your eyes, which took the shape of his mother, and held those (e/c) eyes that used to look at him with so much love?

Dick would also have a hard time acknowledging you. After all, you were sort of the reason why his mother had died (reader's mom), but you were her child too. You can't experience what he and Jason got from her, bedtime stories and all.

But at the same time, he can't help but look a little closer, enamoured by the same eyes that saw him, acknowledged him, loved him. He really doesn't know what to do, so he avoids you when he has the chance.

Now, Jason— he's a good child before he died. He's definitely your best friend before he died. How can he not love you? The child of his parents, how could he possibly turn away from you? So imagine his surprise and disappointment when both Bruce and Dick actively ignore you.

Oh, he is angry. How dare they! He argues with them during meal times, but they shut him down! Let's time skip a few years now, Jason is dead, then he turns up alive, apparently?

You try to approach him, hoping he was still that big brother you once knew, even though he looks a bit scary and big right now! He avoids you like the plague, you don't recognise your big brother anymore...

When Tim was taken in by Bruce, you hoped that you'd form a bond with your new brother, and he's very smart too! You hope he can help you with homework, but he says that you're not really worth his time. That stung a bit!

Then Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie are in the picture. You still had a bit of hope that you'd bond with your sisters! They might be different from your brothers! Ah— it's the same thing over again.

Finally, Damian, he's your younger brother. Clinging on to your last hope, you approach him, hoping— but to no one's surprise, he rejects you. He hates you so much. He hates that you were so weak, how, although he is strong, forced to cater to his mother and grandfather's wishes, robbed of the childhood he dreamed of, you ended up with a peaceful childhood, the one thing he always wanted. (He didn't know you were robbed, too.)

It's honestly your last straw, so after packing your bags, you head to your mother's home— Fontaine, and it's a hell lot more nicer than Gotham. The fresh breeze of the sea, cute adorable sea creatures, and a whole lot more things you could explore!

Your grandfather, Neuvillette, adored you, both of your grandmothers who loved you so much, the friends you made in Fontaine, even adventures you went off to. It's no surprise that you didn't want to go back. Yeah, Alfred would miss you a lot— but you're sure he'd be happy to know that you're in a better place, safe from the crime-filled-gotham!

Now, enjoy the last days in Teyvat because they want you back. How could they not? Bruce and Dick never hated you— no. They'd kill themselves before that. It's just that it hurt too much to see you! But, they've realised their mistakes now, they'll make it up to you, don't worry! Bruce will throw you lavish parties anytime you want! He has deep pockets, after all, and that old room of yours? Your new room will be next to him, to make sure you're safe.

Dick will be there for you. Even though he wasn't there before, he'll be next to you every step of the way this time and make no mistakes. He won't let you out of his sight, not anymore. You can count on the best big brother in Gotham to make sure you'll be safe. With a little help from Tim, who'll place trackers on you when you get home. It's for safety precautions, you'll understand.

Jason blew when he realised you've been missing for weeks— and none of them have noticed! He was the best big brother to you, right? Won't you come back home to him? He knows you, and both of you could bond by the things you guys used to love, right? You probably still like the colour (f/c) you don't anymore. He'll cook your favourite food with you, and all you have to do right now is to come back home.

Casandra, although a perceptive person, she never realised the small figure that trailed behind her grew up, not to be seen in weeks. She knew something was missing. The small figure that she'd see in the kitchen during ungodly hours, who'd leave her little notes of praise time-to-time, was not there anymore.

Every time Barbara and Tim had migraines, you'd be there, handing a tray with two cups and medication. They wondered where those always came from, and then it suddenly stopped. To think it was their sweet baby sibling all along! Those little hints that you were there weren't really noticed, but they appreciated you and the small actions you did for them. They want to repay the favour, don't you wanna play games with Tim? Or get ice cream with big sis Babs?

Damian will demand attention from you. How dare you give your love to those good for nothing children of lower breeding, he's your blood brother! Sure, he said he hates you— but he really didn't mean it! He didn't know you were robbed of the same childhood as him. And without his older sibling, how can you expect a complete family? You don't have to worry about being weak. He'll protect you. He's strong enough for both of you.

Neuvillette is having trouble closing the multiple portals they tried to create. With the help of the Justice league, of course. Don't worry they'll get you back sooner or later.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ

This was already posted!<33

#batfam #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere tim drake #yandere dick grayson #yandere stephanie brown #yandere cassandra cain #yandere barbara gordon #yandere damian wayne #batfam x you #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x neglected reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #neuvillette #focalors #furina #𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘 ๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒𝕬 𝕱𝖆𝖊'𝖘 𝖂𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ

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silvergyus · 6 months ago

Note

best man and maid of honour being absolutely enemies and hating the living shit out of each other

hate sex at the bachelor/bachelorette parties?

"i hate you" - c.bg

pairing: best man!beomgyu x maid of honor!reader

summary: your best friend is marrying the love of her life, but you can't stand her groom's best man, choi beomgyu. his arrival at her bachelorette party sends you into a rage, one that turns into something more heated than just an argument

warnings: hate sex, semi-public sex (bathroom at a club), dubcon (reader and bg are both somewhat intoxicated), pussy job, unprotected sex, pull out method, spanking, mention of hickeys, hair pulling (bg receiving), use of "baby/ princess/ pretty slut" for reader, insults as foreplay?

word count: 2,800+

part one of wedding season

“How original.” Despite being impossibly close already, he pressed closer to you, more in your space. You felt the heat grow between your legs and swore it was the tequila. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel then?”

“I hate you,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you humping my leg?”

I need to know where you’re having Soobin’s bachelor party

Your text sat unread alongside several other versions of the same message. God, he was driving you crazy.

It’s true that maybe you were taking your duties as maid of honor a little more seriously than you really needed to. You’d heard the wedding planner mutter that it was almost as if you were the bridezilla. But is it really your fault if the bride was your absolute best friend since childhood and didn’t have a party planning bone in her body? Her big day would be completely perfect in every way, you were going to make damn sure of it- which meant that you couldn’t kill the best man, no matter how much you wanted to.

----

You’d never been a big fan of Beomgyu. He was Soobin’s best friend. You adored Soobin- he made your best friend happy and always was kind and considerate of you when you third wheeled- but you couldn’t understand why someone so kind, so patient as Soobin would be best friends with someone like Beomgyu. They were polar opposites. Soobin was quiet; Beomgyu needed to be the life of the party. It was grating. He was too rowdy, too silly, too committed to the bit.

And right now, he was driving you completely crazy with his lack of responses.

You wanted this bachelorette party to be perfect, straight out of a movie. Dinner, drinks, tiny penis straws- a night to remember. Your best friend and her entire bridal party were going to pregame at your apartment before heading to her favorite club. Everyone would buy her drinks and make her feel like a princess until she got too drunk to walk. You’d even pre-ordered the Uber for the end of the night.

You’d planned out outfits and accessories and a perfect itinerary. This Saturday was going to be perfect. Only one thing could put a wrench in your plans, and he was currently leaving you on delivered.

----

Several days, many texts and a few voicemails later, Beomgyu finally replied.

Same day. Quit worrying. I have everything planned

Where though? You texted back immediately. But to no avail. He didn’t even open your reply.

“That asshole."

----

The bass pumped steadily through the speakers, a thumping you could feel in your chest. The night was going perfectly. Photos were perfectly candid, drinks were flowing steadily, not a hair on your head was out of place. Everyone’s dresses were shiny and slutty and looked damn good. Everything was perfect. Just as you planned. You were practically glowing- or maybe that was just a side effect of the tequila.

You were just about to snap another selfie with the bridal party when you heard a warbled “baby!” from across the bar. Your best friend’s eyes lit up as she turned around to see her fiance rushing towards her. Soobin, larger than life, appeared as a blur, scooping her up in his embrace and plastering drunken kisses across her face.

You froze. Fuck! What is he doing here?

The bride was whisked away by her husband-to-be, leaving you at the bar, mouth hung open in disbelief. Everything was perfect. How could this happen?

The culprit behind your ruined night slid into the seat next to yours. Choi Beomgyu, a nasty smirk on his face, appeared in your sight. Your blood boiled. “How dare you?” you hissed.

His face didn't change as he asked, “how dare I what?”

“How dare you show up here? You knew this was my choice for the bachelorette party.”

“Watch your tone, princess, it was literally not my fault.”

You scoffed, pissed at his tone and the pet name. “How is it not your fault that you’ve brought the guys here to ruin my girls’ night?”

“You know how Soobin gets when he drinks,” Beomgyu reminded you. The part of your brain that wasn’t swimming in tequila recognized that he had a point. You and your best friend had laughed more than once at the sentimental calls she received from a drunken Soobin, in his feelings after a few drinks and missing his girl. The part of your brain that just drank a margarita out of a tiny pink penis straw didn’t care that maybe Beomgyu had a point, that part of your brain was just pissed off.

Your mouth moved faster than the logical part of your brain as you cursed him out. How dare he ruin your night? Why would he do the one thing you asked him not to do? You texted him, so, so, so many times. Though you haven’t drank much, the alcohol mixed easily with the swirling emotions to take your anger from zero to ten quickly, and it wasn’t long before heads began to turn in your direction.

Beomgyu grabbed your wrist to pull you away from the bar, away from the curious eyes. You were reluctantly pulled along towards the shadows near the bathrooms. His grip on your arm only made your anger burn hotter. Who does he think he is?

He pulled you to a stop in the single-stall restroom, his hand finding its way to your waist. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he looked you in the eyes. “You need to calm down.”

"Why the fuck are you here? I told you not to come here. I told you so many times and you fucking showed up anyway!"

He sighed, leaning back as he did. “I told you; Soobin asked and I couldn’t say no.”

The light caught his dark hair at this angle, shining through his bangs and illuminating his features. Was he always this good looking?

Beomgyu noticed your pause. “That’s it then? Got nothing to say now? After that scene out there?”

You felt the anger in your blood pick up again. “Don’t act like I’m the asshole here!” You took a staggering step towards him in the tiny space as you raised your voice. “You could’ve distracted him!”

He took a step back, away from your advancement. He tilted his head, resting it against the dark red wall. Your temper stilled in your chest as your eyes fixated on his Adam's apple, on the sharp angle it possessed, how it jutted out from his pretty throat. What was happening to you? Why were you noticing things about him?

“You keep doing that.” His voice was low when he spoke, its trembling bass sent a shiver down your spine. You swore it was just the alcohol that made you squeeze your thighs together.

“Doing what?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper. You weren’t sure Beomgyu could hear it over the noise of the club, muffled but still noticeable in the small bathroom.

He moved towards you, caging you in, pressing you back against the cool stone of the sink. “Getting distracted.”

Your breath hitched as you took in his features. His brown eyes stared at you with something burning below the surface. His cheeks were flushed red from his own night of drinking. His full lips were parted just so, and were so, so close to yours.

You watched him smirk, laughing at you. The spark of anger flashed in you again. How dare he laugh at you? Put you in this compromising position? Take you away from you girls after ruining your night? “There you go again. Am I that distracting, princess?”

“Shut up.”

“How original.” Despite being impossibly close already, he pressed closer to you, more in your space. You felt the heat grow between your legs and told yourself it was the tequila. “Since it's just the two of us here," he leaned in so his breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. "Why don’t you tell me how you really feel then?”

“I hate you,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you humping my leg?” His voice was deep and mischievous as he asked, dark eyes glinting with a look that made both your anger and the heat between your thighs swell.

You looked down in horror as he lifted the front of your dress to reveal a wet spot on his jeans. “Look baby, all wet just for me.” He was goading you, and fuck, it was working.

“Shut up,” you said again, shoving his shoulders hard so he stepped back. You followed, pushing him against the dark wall once more. Your hands found his collar as you spoke. “You never listen to me! You weren’t supposed to be here! You always make everything about you!” You were pissed, letting the alcohol bring up the feelings you’ve politely squashed down for months. You wanted him to know what you thought of him, needed him to know that you couldn’t stand to be around him. That he was the bane of your existence and this night was the icing on the cake.

But this close you could smell the cologne he dabbed on his throat, a warm, spicy scent that made your head spin a different way than the tequila did. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, tilting his head to look at you and it filled your vision. You suddenly felt very hot and a very strong need to bite it, to mark him up.

“Is that everything? Or is there anything else you want to say?” You met his gaze, dark chocolatey, brown eyes rimmed with pretty lashes. Was Beomgyu hot? How had you never noticed him like this before?

His voice interrupted your thoughts. “Because if it is, I’d like to say that you are the most controlling, tight-wound, micro-managing person I’ve ever met. If it’s not your way, then it’s not right.” He grabbed your hands from his collar as he spoke, holding them tightly as he pushed you backwards until your ass met the cool stone of the sink. “Isn’t that so?”

The action threw you off your guard. He was toying with you in a way you didn’t expect. He was always a tease, but this was much more controlling than you’d ever seen him be. “Answer me.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

“Or what?”

He stared at you, eyes burning into yours as you held your face fierce. You had no idea how to answer but you couldn’t back down. Not now, not to him.

The tension broke by way of Beomgyu claiming your lips with his, a swift kiss that shook you out of your competition. His lips were soft, slightly chapped as he nibbled at yours, tongue darting out to ask for entrance. His tongue was in your mouth, filling your head with notes of beer and whisky, a sharp contrast to the sickly sweet tequila that still coated your tongue. Fuck, he tasted good, deep and smoky, it paired so well with his cologne. Your head spun, fuzzy and light. You needed him, needed him now.

His hand groped your breast over the tight material of your dress, squeezing not for your pleasure but for his. His actions were rough, quickly pulling down the thin fabric to paw at your bra. You broke the kiss to gasp when his fingers pulled roughly at your nipple, but Beomgyu didn’t stop. His hands continued to squeeze and pull however they wanted as his teeth nipped at the column of your throat. It was maddening.

You tugged roughly at his hair, drawing a whine as you pulled him away from your neck. Through the haze in your head you could only remember that you couldn’t have any hickeys at the wedding. “Suck here.” You shoved his head roughly onto your chest, throwing your head back in ecstasy as his hot mouth found your nipple.

It was good, so good. Beomgyu made sweet noises against your skin when you pulled his hair, lightly in comparison to the rough tug that brought him to your chest. His mouth was good, but all the attention to your chest left you feeling needy in your core. You pulled his hair again, forcing his pretty lips away from your aching nipple. “Are you gonna fuck me?”

He rolled his eyes, mouth slick with his saliva. “Always so demanding.” He lifted you onto the ledge of the sink, fingers ghosting up your inner thigh. “Does this pussy need something?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“No,” he said, mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Ask me nicely.”

You scoffed. As if.

But he held your gaze, challenging. You looked down to see the tent in his pants, clearly he wanted this too. But he didn’t budge. “Ask me nicely or I’ll leave you here like this.”

“Fuck you.”

He cocked his head. “Is that so?” His movements were quick as he turned you around so you stood, front plastered to the sink ledge. His hands reached beneath your dress to pull down your soaked panties, leaving you exposed, pressed to his back and facing yourself in the mirror. “If you’re not going to ask nicely, then I’m not going to fuck you.” His voice was a low growl in your ear.

A hand held your chest as you felt him unbutton his pants, actions sloppy and uncoordinated with one hand. You bit back a moan as you felt his hot cock press against your ass. He pushed it against your folds, nudging your clit and making you whine.

“Just this until you beg for my cock.” He thrust against you, cock gathering your drooling wetness and gliding, frustratingly smooth against your sensitive core. It wasn’t enough, couldn’t be enough. His cock felt delicious and hot against you, but it didn’t slip inside. You arched back, aching for him to be inside. He chuckled at the motion. “So desperate.” His hand slapped your ass, the sound loud in the tiny room. “C’mon, use your words.”

You shook your head, not wanting to give in, to let him win. He continued to thrust against your pussy, making a mess of the both of you. The tip of his cock snagged against your entrance and you moaned loudly, hanging your head as you gripped the cool stone sink in an attempt to ground yourself.

He laughed at your display, hand finding your chin and forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look at yourself. Such a pretty slut for me,” he groped your chest as he whispered. The dual sensations of his tip brushing against your clit with every thrust and his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples was driving you mad. You needed him, you couldn’t stand it. Paired with the soft pants and almost-hidden moans from Beomgyu behind you, you were stuck maddeningly on the edge.

“C’mon, say it. Ask me. Tell me you need my cock.” He smacked your ass again, pushing you into the sink and breaking your defenses.

“Please! Please Beomgyu, please give me your cock! Need it so bad, fuck, just put it inside.”

His smile was devilish as he kissed your throat. “Now, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

He didn’t let you answer before pushing his cock fully inside you. Slick with your wetness, he went in smoothly, earning a loud moan from you at the sudden fullness. He groaned along with you, eyes crinkling shut as he took in the feeling. “God, this pussy.”

His hips snapped into you messily. Both of you were already so close to your peaks, there was no way that this would last long. His cock hit that spot inside of you perfectly at this angle. It was a sweaty mess of slick and pleasure and you weren’t sure how long you could hold off before crashing.

“Beomgyu,” you panted his name. “I’m close.” His hand reached down, finding your over-sensitive clit and pressing down roughly. “Don’t- don’t cum in me.” You grabbed his hand that gripped the sink. He nodded against your hair, not looking up.

“Cum on my dick baby, cum on my dick and I’ll cum on your ass.” You nodded, anywhere but inside.

He shoved his fingers in your mouth and you sucked, coating them in your spit. They returned to rub quick, hard circles on your clit. Your orgasm struck you like lighting, hot and heavy it poured down on you, splitting your fuzzy head wide open. Your legs shook against Beomgyu and before you were fully through your high he was pulling out to shoot his load across the bare skin of your ass.

The two of you stood there, leaning against the sink for support as you panted, coming down from your highs. Beomgyu’s forehead rested against your back.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before he shuffled away, still close, but not pressed against you. “We should,” you began. He was still beautiful, even after your cloud of rage-induced lust had faded. You cleared your throat. “We should, um, we should probably clean up. Go find everyone.”

His voice was husky when he spoke. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Your gaze lingered on him for a little too long before you replied softly, “yeah, probably.”

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @theresawtf, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow

send a message to be added or removed from my taglist!

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #ari writes #txt: beomgyu #ari's mailbox 📬#˚‧⁺ ♡˖ wedding season fic series

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just-some-random-blogger · 7 months ago

Text

Snow Angel

Aemond's Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader | 800< | cw: fem!reader, twin!reader, targcest, canon divergence, angst, violence, blood, war, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved. aemond and jacaerys' version go hand in hand

You were the blood in his veins. You were the half of him that shined. You were everything good about the him. He despised you for it.

You were the understanding he never got, the confidence he wished he had. You were the inspiration of laughter and the admiration of all. While in the womb, you robbed him of all the characteristics he wished he had, and he never forgave you for doing so.

So, when tensions were high, and the call of war was nigh, he knew it was his moment to prove himself, to everyone, to himself, to the council... to you.

He'd long forgotten when, was it when he saw you laughing with those bastard Strong boys, or was it when he'd been mockingly gifted a pig by his own brother, but he'd convinced himself that he would have to slay dragons in order to have you. It was no longer a metaphor but something that very well happen, something real and life threatening.

He'd held himself into an impossible standard, along the way, unknowingly done the same to you.

While he was so wrapped up in his self-mandated torment, he gazed upon you only with his missing eye, unable to see how much you wished to free him from his internal conflict. Yet every time you reached a hand out to him, he met you with scorn, taking out his anger on you. You felt the only way you could ever get through to him was to make yourself useful.

You did not care for politics. You did not care to make the Iron Throne your seat at the table. You wanted nothing to do with the burden your festered father left. But you did want to avoid war, as you saw how it hurt your sister, your mother, your people. Aemond saw the way you influenced your brother away from war as a sign of weakness, seven hells, as another slight against him. You were choosing to spare the enemy because of his wretched nephew, Jacaerys, who had always held your affections.

And when you walked in on him and Criston during their late night conspiring, you only further stoked his ire.

Dare you come to his quarters in nothing but a nightgown and a robe?

"Princess," Criston stands to attention.

You cross your arms. It makes Aemond clench his jaw.

"I need to speak with my brother in private."

Aemond stares at you. Cristion turns to him, expecting some sort of response. He gets none, and so he decides to simply nod and leave, "of course."

Once he is gone, the prince finally speaks, "have you come to whore yourself out to me?"

You ignore his insult, "I've come to speak to you. This is the only hour you'll speak to me."

"Wrong," he snaps, "even now, I do not wish to. Leave me."

"Aemond," you mutter, "I only wish to help-"

"And who told you I need help from a woman?"

This is your final straw.

His eye widens at the way you fall apart in your hands. You sob, tears spilling into your palms. It had been long since he saw sorrow cloud your face, the last time being when Jacaerys and his family left King's Landing, Jacaerys, who you chose to speak your woes to instead of him.

He stands and cautiously walks towards you.

"I will never be good enough for you, will I?"

His face falls, "what?"

You shake your head and step back, "no matter what I can think of, it will not be worthy of your attention because I thought of it."

He is unable to speak, unable to move as you flee him.

His mind is heavy with your words as he flies on Vhagar the next day. He was told a dragon was spotted pressing close to King's Landing and took it upon himself to patrol the area.

You can imagine his surprise, no, his delight, when he saw the creature, when he recognized the dragon Vermax, saddled by his rider.

He did not hesitate. He commanded Vhagar to scorch him, gritting his teeth when they escaped.

He pursued them, eager to seek rid himself of his sole competitor.

But then a loud screech was heard from behind and Vhagar's tail was knocked, making her flight unsteady.

Two dragons? An organized attack. Fine, Vhagar is large enough to take two dragonlings at once.

Aemond ascends, looking for his opponents from the height. He spots Vermax' green scales from afar. He hears the second dragon before seeing it come closer. He gives the command and Vhagar breathes fire before Aemond even identified who she attacked.

But then that creature makes a sound, and his mouth parts at the familiar screech. You circle around him, screaming something he cannot make out.

You choose the bastard over him?

He turns to Jacaerys. Vhagar flies over to attack.

He doesn't remember what happened after he gave the order. He was so single minded in his fury that the only thing that snapped him out of his trance was the sound of your scream and the sight of your dragon attempting to escape Vhagar's clamped jaw.

It was too late when he made Vhagar let go. You fell from the height and he could only watch. Not even Vermax coming to your aid could save you.

#aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond one eye

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zarla-s · 8 days ago

Note

i need to know more about your feelings of tf2 comic 7 because youre the heavymedic expert

I liked it! Satisfying happy conclusion for (almost) everyone, especially since I was a little worried they were going to kill everyone off, haha. Not a lot of Heavymedic stuff in there but I wasn't expecting much, and really it was about the Administrator and her story, so it makes sense the mercs wouldn't really take top billing for it.

There were a few cute things though! I know "standing next to each other" is like the most graspingest of straws but you know what, it made me smile each time so I don't care.

The big thing of course being Heavy grabbing his boob, which to me reads like him stopping Medic from trying to help the Admin, which I think is sweet in his own way. Medic has his healing instincts!

Medic also puts his hand on his back as they walk away, which I also think is sweet. It looks like he's comforting him.

I really loved the ending sequence where everyone gets together for that dinner party. It's just such a great bookend to how the comics started - initially when their team disbanded, everyone split off and did their own thing. Some of them didn't even keep track of where the others were! A few kept in contact, but mostly all of them just left the others and they didn't seem particularly concerned or interested in each other.

Compare that to them at the end of the comic! Seven years after everything that happened, they're all meeting up together for dinner! Voluntarily! They're introducing their families to each other! They don't have any contracts or jobs forcing them to spend time together. They WANT to have dinner together. SPY TAKES OFF HIS MASK AND IS FINE WITH IT! I just love that so much. They care about and trust each other after everything that's happened, all the years that have gone by. Team as family was CANON AFTER ALL

I think this whole sequence also sheds a nice light on Medic! Medic's been perceived as probably the most uncaring of the group, given that he did sign up with another team for the money and said he wouldn't mind fighting them again (although not too soon after that he ended up saving all their lives against direct orders). A lot of people interpreted that as him not really caring about the others or anything at all, but that's not the case!

Medic kept and raised his baboon baby! He didn't abandon it or use it for parts or anything, he kept and raised it for seven years! Responsibility!

Not only that, Medic hasn't abandoned his friends, signed up with a new team, forgotten them or tossed them aside. He's with them at the dinner! He comes with his baboon baby! He wants to be with them too! He cares about them, genuinely. And of course, the final shot is with him by Heavy's side, both of them just so happy to be there with everyone else.

Love that Medic's smile still looks unhinged too lol. Would I have loved Heavy holding onto Medic's waist? The two of them wearing matching rings? Of course! But them so close to each other and an obvious irrefutable confirmation that Medic loves and cares about his team and wants to be with them is really lovely. Makes me feel fuzzy, haha.

There's speculation too that Medic came with Heavy's family as that person in the back there but who can say for sure. |D

#asks and answers #bunkless-bed #team fortress 2 #heavymedic #pour one out for adminpauling though #truly doomed yuri to the end...#hey wait i just noticed heavy is missing his ammo belt in that one shot

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sanjisleggy · 1 month ago

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beautiful things (roronoa zoro x reader) [pt2/2]

a/n: the way Ace has me gripped by the BALLS is insane i have woken up every day the past two(?) weeks thinking about him send help anyway here’s part 2 of the zoro fic i wrote last week. also if you;re reading this, this is a plea for Ace requests ty

contents: hurt/comfort, fluff!!, making up, zoro tries his best :’)

wc. 2.3k

wanna be on my taglist?

part 1

you know Zoro loves you.

you can tell from the way he’s always watching over you, even when you’ve been avoiding him for most of the past week. he keeps an eye on you during meals when you’re seated far away and not in your usual spot beside him, always ready to pass the salt or the whatever it is you need even before you ask for it.

you can tell he loves you from the way he checks up on you every night when you’re sleeping in Nami and Robin’s room instead of the one you share with him. Zoro never questions why you haven’t been sleeping beside him–he already knows the answer–instead, he takes a quick peek into the room you’re in and leaves once he spots your peacefully sleeping form draped across Nami. some nights, he does it multiple times, as if he’s unable to sleep and checking on you is the only thing he wants to do in his waking hours.

you can tell Zoro loves you from how Robin tells you he’s been asking the other Straw Hats what he should do to make it up to you. while having tea with her in the Sunny’s aquarium on a particularly cold day on the seas, you ask her how he’s been and she says he’s been resting, without needing Chopper to even breathe down his neck.

“he’s been asking everyone what he should do,” she says, taking a sip.

“do what?” you ask, tilting your head.

“he wants to apologise to you but doesn’t know how.” you can’t help but smile at the thought of Zoro overthinking such a simple matter–though, matters of the heart never seem to be simple to a man like him.

“he could just say sorry,” you think aloud with a shrug and Robin laughs lightly.

“i think you’re too special to him for that.”

ii.

it’s been a little over a week since your perilous experience on Thriller Bark and you find yourselves docked at a new island. it’s fairly small compared to the other places you’ve been to but since it’ll take a few days for the log pose to set, everyone splits up to kill time in their own way.

Zoro heads straight to town with Nami accompanying him so he doesn’t get lost (and also because she has berry). holding a small piece of paper in his hands, he frowns down at it, prompting the navigator to ask what’s up.

“‘m just not sure if i can find everything i need here,” the swordsman replies with a deep sigh, missing the way Nami smiles at him. as tempted as she is to make fun of him for being broke and–possibly in the near future–single, she bites her tongue, knowing Zoro’s putting a whole lot of effort into his apology. she’ll be nice to him, for you.

“don’t worry about it so much, what could possibly be so hard to find anyway?”

Sanji felt Zoro’s stare burning into the back of his head for nearly five whole, silent minutes before the shitty swordsman finally decided to speak up.

“hey… i need your help.”

well. that certainly was not what Sanji thought he was gonna say but the chef would be lying if he said he was totally surprised.

almost everyone in the crew heard firsthand what Zoro said to you several days ago. the commotion inside the infirmary had drawn everyone to linger outside nearby in case an intervention was needed and it ended up backfiring in the worst way possible. you’d walked out of the infirmary in tears and cried even harder once you realised all your friends were looking at you after hearing what should have been a private moment.

Sanji nearly offered to kick his ass upon seeing your distraught face but stopped himself when he remembered the sight that greeted him once he’d woken up after encountering Kuma. as much as he wanted to avenge your feelings, he knew Zoro was going through a lot, too.

“the shitty co– i mean, Sanji told me to get ‘em roses because ‘it’s romantic’,” he said with a scoff, as if physically incapable of talking about the blond chef without insulting him. “but i know (Y/N)’s favourite flowers are daffodils. i just don’t know if this island has them or not.”

the next person he approached was Nami, who was much less courteous than her previous counterpart. upon seeing his face, she’d started tearing into him immediately, stopping only when she noticed he was just letting himself take all of it.

“not gonna fight back?” she scoffed, unable to push away the anger she felt on your behalf.

“why would i fight back if you’re right?” he replied, his jaw clenched. “i know i fucked up. that’s why i came here for help.”

“you told me to get her a gift, like a necklace or something,” Zoro continues talking without missing a beat as the two weave through the crowded shopping street. “(Y/N) doesn’t like necklaces, though, they make her neck feel itchy, so i thought i’d get a bracelet instead.” even though he’s finished his sentence, Nami can’t help but notice how he looks like he has more to say.

“you’re broke, aren’t you?”

he nods, looking almost like a child being scolded by his mother.

“fine, i’ll pay for it this time. only because it’s for (Y/N).” Nami keeps it to herself, but she’s impressed he remembers such specific details. if only he could do the same with directions, she sighs.

he never intended to ask Luffy for relationship advice but his captain, with his weirdly high emotional intelligence, sniffed out Zoro’s distress without even realising it. he was one of the few who didn’t catch the argument so he wasn’t really sure why his first mate and chronicler weren’t seen together as much as usual but he knew something was up and wanted to help.

“i think you should buy her meat. lots of it. just all the meat the island has to offer.” Luffy nearly started drooling as he spoke and Zoro wasn’t sure if he even remembered what the conversation was about at that point.

the whole meat thing was useless but the conversation did spark an idea in him.

“there’s this candy that (Y/N) talks about a lot, it’s her favourite,” Zoro says with a smile, unable to help remembering all the times you yapped on and on about how it’s the best thing ever from your childhood and how you hope one day he gets to try it. he’s not a fan of sweets but if you love it, he knows he will, too.

“that’s gonna be the hardest thing to find here, i think,” Nami says exactly what Zoro’s been most concerned about. “but i think if we try hard enough, we can probably find it.” she gives him an encouraging look. “c’mon, i’ll help you look.”

iii.

you only see Zoro again when the sun has set and everyone slowly starts gathering in the dining room for dinner. you’re not sure if they’re just trying to be funny or if they’re actually this bad at subtlety because your beloved crewmates don’t even try to hide how they’re leaving the last available seat next to you. Chopper’s even draped across two chairs for no reason aside from “i just feel like lying down today”. you don’t point it out, though, having reflected on your role in the argument after your conversation with Robin, you no longer feel the need to be petty.

with an awkwardness only two complete strangers could possess, your boyfriend slowly takes a seat right beside you. to Zoro’s surprise, you turn to look at him for a second–so starved for your attention, he nearly feels his heart stop–before asking, “you okay?” your eyes flicker down to the fresh set of bandages wrapped around his upper body.

“yeah, i’m good.” Zoro coughs and looks away, inadvertently making eye-contact with Nami. she frowns at him and mouths "don't be a loser!” turning back to you, he feels his heart drop when he realises you’re talking to Sanji about something else now. not wanting to draw too much attention to himself, the swordsman tugs gently at the hem of your shirt.

almost instantaneously, you look back at him, a hint of a smile on your face. “what’s up?” you ask, reaching your own hand over to rest it over his before rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

swallowing thickly, Zoro murmurs, just loud enough for only you to hear, “can you meet me in our room after dinner? i have something to show you.” his face is burning red and you swear you can feel his calloused hand start to tremble ever so slightly.

the last person he ended up approaching for help was Chopper. it wasn’t planned since he’s just a little reindeer but Zoro thought it wouldn’t hurt asking him for his opinion, especially since redressing his wounds always took a bit of time and the silence sometimes got a little awkward.

“hmm…” the doctor hummed thoughtfully as he opened a new pack of bandages. “wouldn’t the best thing be to just do what she wanted you to? i mean, you guys fought because she didn’t want you to train while still injured, right?” Chopper sniffled a little but held it together. it wasn’t a secret that he felt a little responsible for your falling out since he was the one who asked you for help in getting Zoro to rest that fateful day.

“i think i might have an idea.”

“here,” Zoro says as he hands you a neatly folded piece of paper. there’s an obvious lump on your bed under the blanket but you opt to ignore it for now. in the distance, you can hear the clanking of utensils and muffled chatter as your crewmates carry on with dessert without the both of you.

unfolding the paper, the first thing that catches your eye is a large stamp of what looks like a hoof at the very bottom.

this note is to verify that Roronoa Zoro has locked all his training equipment and swords in the crow’s nest and that the sole key is in the possession of Tony Tony Chopper. if in any case Roronoa Zoro tries to exercise before he is cleared to do so by Tony Tony Chopper, the latter reserves the right to throw the key into the ocean. signed, Roronoa Zoro & Tony Tony Chopper

the laugh bursts out of your mouth before you can help yourself and for a full minute that’s all you do as the silliness of it all tickles at your heart. too preoccupied, you fail to notice how Zoro’s eyes soften as he watches you in silence. seeing the familiar smile on your face, after more than a week of being deprived of your voice and warmth, soothes his nerves in a way he should frankly find alarming. no one person should hold this much power over him and yet he wilfully leaves his entire heart in your possession to keep safe or to break.

folding back the extremely precious document in your hands before slipping it into your pocket, you return your attention to the man standing in front of you, his physical size a stark contrast to the shy smile on his flushed face.

“i got you some stuff, too–” before Zoro can turn away to bring out the gifts, you lunge towards him and lock your arms around his neck. he’s quick to return the embrace, instantly nuzzling his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder as he holds you close.

“i’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he mutters into your skin, brushing his lips against your jaw as his warm breath brushes past your ear, “i didn’t mean what i said. i was pissed at myself and took it out on you.” Zoro hears you draw in a shuddering breath and his fingers curl around the fabric of the back of your shirt instinctively. “i’m sorry. you’re never a burden and… i-i want to be the one who protects you for the rest of our lives, so please,” your boyfriend pleads as he presses a kiss to your neck, “keep fussing over me and taking care of me. i’ll listen to everything you say.”

for a while, you remain silent, basking in the warmth of his embrace as you think about what he’d just said. you feel almost breathless from how rapidly your heart pounds in your chest and you briefly wonder if Zoro feels it, too. mistaking your silence for hesitation, the swordsman presses his lips against your neck and jawline a few more times as he runs his hands up and down your back.

“i love you,” Zoro mutters as he shuts his eyes and leans his temple against yours, wondering if this will be the last time he gets to touch you like this. “whatever you choose to do with me, i’ll always love you.”

“i love you, too,” you sniffle, finding yourself suddenly tearing up as you’re caught completely off-guard by his words. “i didn’t know you could be so cheesy,” you add with a soft laugh, only to feel his fingers brush against a particularly ticklish part of your body. you try to wriggle away but even an injured-Zoro is much too strong for you to break free from.

“don’t make fun of me, brat,” your lover replies, his own lips tugging into a smile as he keeps you locked in place and unable to escape from his wandering hands. “this is what i get for pouring my heart out to you, huh?”

“no, you get this,” you giggle before pulling your head away just enough to kiss all over his face. shutting his eyes, Zoro basks in the feeling of your brushing against all parts of his face as his heart nearly bursts from the overwhelming affection; and he can’t help but wonder what he’d done in his life to deserve such a beautiful thing.

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op #op x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #imagine #fanfic #fluff #hurt/comfort

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avifaunaa · 20 days ago

Text

how the world spins without you [ n.r. ] [ p.2 ]

AUTHORS NOTE: the amount of likes i got on chapter one blew my mind. i'm glad you guys enjoy it enough to have liked / reblogged! i'm still considerably new to writing on tumblr so i'm really happy with what i've been getting thus far! i hope you like this second part!

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART THREE

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has mastered the art of falling in love . . . she thinks. Having graduated with a shiny new degree and on your way to work with Tony in his labs, she was closer to you than ever. When an important mission pulls her away it leaves you both realizing how incredibly important it is that you don't skip the little moments you get.

Content Warnings: Mild angst, fluff, overabundance of Natasha being soft, reader referred to with she/her pronouns, smut, top!nat and bottom!reader, fingering [ n and r receiving ], MILD dumbification, MILD dedragation [ r receiving ] strap-on use [ r!receiving ], praise [ r!receiving ], hair-pulling, some finger-sucking

Word Count: ~7.7k

Natasha thinks you like Yelena.

That was her hope, anyway, when she asked her little sister to come finally meet the woman who had caught her eye and managed to peel her open and get even her most buried away memories and desires to be expressed in just a few short months.

It was a few days before you big day as Yelena sat across from Nat, sprawled across an armchair like an unruly child with legs spread open and propped over the legs. She chose where so sit this time despite Nat glancing longingly at her table.

She sat on the couch in front of the fireplace diagonal to her sister's armchair instead. She drank something strawberry-flavored today, a seasonal drink to draw in customers despite the business that the shop never seemed to lose.

She thinks you'd like it -- she hated it.

"So, you drag me here," the braided blonde begins, licking whipped cream off of her cold drink. Then proceeds to stick her finger inside to get more.

"Yelena that's disgusting."

"Who else is drinking this? Huh?" A perfectly arched eyebrow raised at her. "Is there a law against being disgusting? Pah." She popped her fingers in her mouth. "You are rude for interrupting me."

Natasha's eyes float up to the ceiling. Would Melina mind all that much if she killed Yelena?

She believes Alexi would be proud of her.

"As I was saying," the former Widow continued when Natasha did not speak, taking her silence as encouragement, "you drag me here and give me fattening sugary American drinks."

"I figured you'd like it," Natasha said, drink abandoned as she rests her hand on the armchair of the couch. "You eat nothing but Kraft. I try to get you other brands and you threaten to shoot me."

"Because the other brands are cardboard covered in plastic cheese!" Yelena threw her arms up, coffee still in hand, and uncrossed her legs to sit up rightly. "Nat I will never forgive you for trying to trick me into these poor excuses of mac-n-cheese. Truly. I know the difference. I am an assassin."

"Of store bought goods?"

Yelena scowled at her and used her straw to flick whipped cream in Nat's direction. The glob landed sadly on the couch cushion instead of where Yelena likely aimed: her forehead.

"Damn," the younger of the two whispered, stabbing her straw back into place.

"Clean that up," Natasha ordered, gesturing to the napkins left out for patrons on the coffee table.

"Yes mom," Yelena grumbles, but did it anyway and sniffed after a minute of sipping her drink like a scolded toddler. "You were right. This is a very delicious drink."

"How hard was it for you to admit that?"

"Very. But we have gotten off the topic of why you dragged me here and I know it is not just for this as much as I wish it was."

Natasha had to hand it to Yelena for her observance. The two of them were the Red Room's most prized creations of differing generations of Widows but both had been given the same end goal and similar orders at the end of the day.

Her sister was impulsive and quick to jump the gun -- but it normally worked in her favor and could be better in certain situations where Natasha's tendency to react more strategically may be too slow for some situations.

She tapped her index fingers together. "I am seeing someone. Someone who is important to me and I think I could find happiness with her if I continue to undo everything our upbringing has taught us."

Whatever Yelena had been expecting her to announce, it sure as hell wasn't that. The blonde adverted her eyes momentarily either in bafflement or incredulity before masking herself up with a sly smirk.

"Her?" Yelena purred, placing her cup on the side table separating them. "You've really been discovering yourself, haven't you, Sestra?"

"Suka," Natasha shot back, feeling the weight begin to lift off of her chest. She was worried for Yelena's response -- she didn't know if she expected disgust, anger, maybe doubt?

"We are not built for the type of relationships she might seek from you," Yelena finally says, her accent thickening with concern as she struggled not to regress into Russian to speak to Nat. "What have you told her . . . about everything?"

Natasha cupped her own chin with her hand and rested her elbow on the armrest. "Very little, but enough to paint her a picture that tells her it was an evil childhood. I am sure she did some searches on me and read whatever she found and if she did it did not seem to scare her off."

"You could hurt her."

A thorn struck at Natasha's heart. Yelena was truthful in all accounts, and she expected no lies or sugar-coated warnings from her and never would have in the first place. But it still hurt to hear Yelena have expressed what Natasha feared.

"I know," was all she replied, gaze turning to the weak fire in the fireplace.

"Or she could . . . hurt you very badly."

"That's always been a possibility, yes."

Yelena was silent for a moment. The two of them watched the fire as it crackled and attempted to keep itself alive with so little to work on.

"You like her very much," Yelena said -- not asked.

"I do," Natasha admitted and found her throat dry when she swallowed back everything she wanted to say.

Yelena nodded a couple of times, soaking in the words and reading the tone seeped within them. Then, "I will have to kill her very slowly if she makes you cry."

Natasha sniffled, watery eyes turning to her as a laugh broke from her chest.

Natasha watched you walk off the stage and she would not cry. But Gods — the pride she felt as she saw you stride with confidence was absolutely everything and more to her.

Kate had reached out to her and invited her to attend around the same time you had. Natasha had decided to surprise you and made up a quick lie by telling you she would be on a mission.

You were saddened but when she almost broke and ruined her and Kate’s plan, you and promised her that it was okay: everything else after would make up for it.

And now you were crying in her arms as her fingers ran through your silky hair, done beautifully for your day. Your introduction to Yelena was hilarious to her but that was something to look back on later.

Now the four of you sat in Kate’s hotel room. You were curled up tightly against Natasha freshly showered and dressed in one of her hoodies. Yelena and Kate were arguing about what movie to watch and Natasha had to intervene when Yelena pulled out her gun and slammed it on the table in the corner.

“I think I have the final say. We watch Brother Bear,” Yelena said, palm splayed on top of the weapon like it was nothing more than a trading card.

Kate stared at the gun, then at Yelena, then yelled, “Why the fuck are you carrying around a gun like a crazed woman? Like seriously? What the fuck?”

“You’re welcome if someone attacks us and I so happen to have the gun,” the blonde snarked back, nose wrinkling with frustration.

Kate threw her hands in the air then turned to you. “Dude — she just — did you see that?”

You blinked sleepily and were jerked out of Natasha’s warm embrace as the redhead suddenly got up and grabbed Yelena by the scruff. “Ow! Suka! What do you think you are doing?” She yowled as Natasha drags her over to the second bed.

Natasha flings the flailing woman down and crosses her arms. You sit upright and glare at Kate, who went from smirking to abashed at your gaze on her.

“Both of you are being childish,” Natasha said, striding back to the table and snatching the gun. She unloads it and packs the bullets and gun away in her bag. “Yelena that was first year shit you did, pulling your gun out and flashing it.”

Yelena flushed red and crossed her arms, pouting on the bed. “I do not like Finding Nemo. It is sad but not the good kind of sad.”

“Brother Bear is sadder!” Kate exclaims as she walks over and flops face first down next to Yelena.

“But there is vicious bears in it. That makes it fun again. Finding Nemo is just said.”

Natasha retakes her spot next to you, slinging an arm around you and pulling you in tight. “Well tough luck. I think we’re going to go with Spirited Away instead.”

You perked up at the suggestion as Nat worked on logging into the streaming service that offered the movie.

“What is that?” Yelena asked, scooting upward by the pillows and flinging her legs downward so that they landed hard on Kate’s back.

The brunette yelped out, shoving Yelena’s legs and sitting upright with an icy glare.

“Only the best movie ever,” you whispered as you stared up at Natasha covetedly in adoration.

Yelena kept demanding the movie be paused so she could ask questions about it. Anytime Natasha tried to answer, the blonde shushed her and waited for you to explain instead.

You explained patiently for her until the younger Russian was pleased and allowed the movie to continue.

Eventually you all — sans Natasha — fell asleep.

You got breakfast together at one your favorite places in town near campus and by then you and Yelena had developed a closer bond. She asked more about Spirited Away and if it had a sequel.

“I wish,” you groaned, flopping back in the booth dramatically as Kate patted your knee next to you. “The studio that made it though . . . It makes really good movies besides that one. I should show all of them to you.”

“Oh now you’ve done it,” Kate chirped and dug into her breakfast burrito without explaining further.

Yelena waves her off like a gnat. “I’d love to watch these movies with you if it means Kate Bishop will suffer.”

Kate’s head jerked up so quick, indignant and puffy in the chest. “First of all,” she said, echoing you from yesterday as she pointed a tater tot at the offender across from her, “I need you to go jump off a building immediately.”

“Did that. Hated it,” she shot back quickly in a bored tone despite the mischief that gleamed on her features. “What is your second of all.”

“Second of all,” Kate continued, then stopped. She blinked as Yelena’s shit-eating grin grew slowly, “Fuck you.”

Yelena gasped. “Kate Bishop how could you — why —“ she went on acting as if she were taken aback beyond fixing.

You and Natasha found each other’s eyes over your meals and you noticed the look in her eyes mirrored how engorged your heart felt in this moment.

Natasha was true to her word. You got an interview offer from Stark Industries — sent and signed by Tony Stark himself. It was about three weeks after your graduation and move back to New York which was entirely unexpected so soon.

It was early and you had slipped out of the warmth that Natasha exuded like a space heater. Dawn was making an entrance into your bedroom and you turned to look at your sleeping girlfriend through hooded eyes.

She looked so peaceful as she slept — and it was her time sleeping over at that. Her hesitance to do so had led to a necessary conversation as you tried to avoid pushing her too hard.

“I get night terrors sometimes,” she told you as she sat across from you on the bed and you leaned against the wall. “And not just . . . Not ones you see when you look up the signs on the Internet. Mine can be violent.”

You noticed how low her body was haunched as she made her confession to you, hands rubbing against each other and eyes avoiding yours.

“Nat.” Her gaze flicks to you as you push off the wall and get to your knees in front of her. “Do you think you could hurt me? Are they that often?”

She curled a strand of your hair around her finger. She treated you so delicately at times and it pissed you off to no end that there was a reason for it and you couldn’t fix it.

“They’re not often,” she comments while basking in your comfort offered to her. Being with you had made her realize that her touch-aversion was some form of touch-starvation if the person was right. She always seemed to be in contact with you if she could help it.

“Okay,” you finalized, standing up and resting a hand on her cheek. “Then why are you worried? If you have a terror while we’re together — we can make a plan so I can handle it properly. Or we learn as we go.” She then swallowed. “But if you . . . If you’re not comfortable . . .”

“I do,” she promised, leaning into your palm. “I’m just very worried. Hurting you is not something I could ever let myself live with.”

You ran a thumb down her cheekbone. “Then let’s try together. Slowly. Until you feel like that fear is no longer something realistic.”

She stayed over that night and has done so increasingly since. She hadn’t had a mission since before your graduation and she told you to expect her to be pulled at any second.

You took what you could get with Nat — time was precious and she gave you so much of herself.

A chill ran up your spine when the warmth of your bed and Nat’s hold escaped you; you quickly went to your closet to grab your thick and too-large robe and slip it on along with your sandals.

You kissed Natasha’s temple as you grabbed your apartment and mail key and headed out downstairs to where the front desk was already in to retrieve mail forgotten from this week.

You start flipping through it on your way up, pushing the button to your floor and inserting the key to allow it through.

It was mostly junk mail, a couple of offers for interviews at tech companies, and some reminders about returning her dorm keys. You already did.

The elevator dings open for you on your floor and you do not even look up as you continue flipping through. How much mail do you forget to grab?

You listen for the elevator doors to shut behind you and stopped halfway in your tracks when you flipped one of your bills to discover the white envelope with the large STARK INDUSTRIES stamped on the corner and your full fucking name and address on the front.

“Oh my fucking god,” you burst out in a high pitched scream, slamming the stack of unread mail onto the corner of your dining room table where it proceeded to spill onto the hardwood.

Care you did not — your mind was on one thing: showing your girlfriend this piece of news that was going to change your life. You scrambled on sock-clad feet across the hardwood to your bedroom, trying not to knock into corner walls.

Natasha had startled awake at your scream up and hair askew as she pulled out her gun from her pants in the middle of the floor, eyes frenzied and blurred from sleep.

You stopped in your doorway and she stopped too, gun lowered to the floor. You were practically vibrating where you stood, the early dawn sunlight that filtered into your apartment’s windows painting a beautiful portrait Natasha wanted on her walls.

“You scared me,” Natasha breathed as her body relaxed, thumping heart still loud against her chest. She shakily set the gun on the nightstand behind her. “What’s got you screeching like an injured creature, Malyshka?”

You beamed at her with excitement that was damn near contagious, scooting forward on your feet and jerking your arms out quickly with whatever you had in your hands as close to her face as you could get.

The absurdity of the entire show you were putting on in your glee was peaking her curiosity. So Natasha took your wrists in her hands and gently pushing them back about three inches from her face so she could see what it was. “Easy, my love. I need to be able to actually look at it.”

You said nothing back but kept that ear to ear grin and flushed excitement about you which read to your girlfriend that it was very good whatever it was you were bringing to her.

She focused on the envelope in your hands and steadied your grasp to ease the shaking. When her eyes scanned the words across the envelope, a slow grin of her own started creeping up on her face and she lowered your arms.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked you proudly.

You glanced at the letter, then at her, then bit your lip. “I want to, yes. But more than that . . . I really wanna kiss you.”

Natasha smirked. “I should maybe be concerned that a letter from Stark gets you so affectionate, huh?” But she cups your cheeks and brings you in for a kiss anyways, sharing your excitement with you.

The interview took place at the Avengers Compound. Over the phone, Pepper Potts explained to you that you’d likely be working closely to the Avengers and thus with Tony. Where he went you would go. You were fine with that as long as you had access to the labs and could get your hands working.

Natasha was the one to drive you to the in-person interview once your background check came through clean. She was already someone with complete access and Tony wouldn’t have to send Happy or Pepper and increase your anxiety by sitting in silence.

Natasha knew how to filter out the nerves by keeping you occupied. She discussed the features of the Compound with you, and she mentions that you’ll finally get to meet her cat Liho who she’s been discussing in great detail to about you.

You had squeezed her hand and kissed the back of it before you were separated for the interview.

Tony liked you — maybe? You couldn’t tell through his highly-caffeinated, long-winded tour once you sped through the interview with him.

He had asked you mostly engineering questions . . . Oddly enough. No, “where do you see yourself in the next five years? What starting pay is best? What hours do you see working the most?”

“It’s all bullshit,” he said to you, leaning across his office desk with furrowed brows. “I plan on paying you your worth and if you’re as dedicated as you say you are, you’ll have trouble leaving the lab to sleep. And you’ll stay because I am the best there is in terms of what you want to do.”

He clocked it — but you shouldn’t have been entirely surprised. Money wasn’t much to him materially and he sat you down in the lab and watched as you began tinkering with things and babbling about their use.

He hired you within two hours.

Natasha, however, had to come hunt you down by seven at night. She found you and Tony buried into one of his suit’s arms as he was explaining the workings to you and what made it run.

“Agent Romanoff requests entrance, Mr. Stark. Shall I let her in?”

The voice above scared you. You jumped and admittingly almost twisted a wire or two. Tony scratched his chin and said, “I guess I should’ve told you about FRIDAY. That’s FRIDAY. She’s a good friend.”

“Thank you.”

“What is she?” You wondered. There was no indication of another person or even an intercom in the room.

“She’s an artificial intelligence I developed after Wanda’s husband decided he wanted to be a real boy,” the genius replied, leaning against the table to stare down at you. “She makes our lives a little easier but if you don’t want have an extesinal crisis I’d stay away from asking her if she has feelings.”

“Mr. Stark —“ the womanized AI started again, but Tony cut it off.

“Let Romanoff in. Let’s see what I’m in trouble for this time.”

The doors slid open with nothing more than a whisper and your girlfriend strides in. Her hair is up in a ponytail and she looks like she just got done doing something active. You let your eyes graze over her.

“Are you done hogging my girlfriend now, Stark?” Natasha questioned, rounding the workbench to look down at what had you so fascinated for hours.

“I suppose,” Tony said gloomily. “But don’t keep her away too long. I hired her and plan on squeezing her brain of all its important juices.”

Natasha leaned forward over your shoulder to kiss your cheek. Then she quirked a brow at Tony. “Juices stay in her brain or I’ll fuck up your suits.”

“Who makes your Widow Bites, again?”

Natasha pointed a steady finger in his direction. “Don’t test me, playboy.”

“You forgot the rest of the title.”

Natasha ignored him and leaned back down, kissing your cheeks in peppered pecks. The actions forced you to set down your tools and lean into her. “What’ve you been here doing, my love?”

“Mr. Stark is showing me how he makes his suits work and how else that technology can be used,” you told her, turning around on the stool to face her. You grin up at her, a twinkle bright in your eye. “This is so important and . . . God, Nat. I love this. Thank you.”

“Thank her?” Tony protests nearby, a clatter of objects following. “I cannot believe —“

You glance his way but Natasha puts a finger under your chin. “I’m glad your dream is coming to fruition, Malyshka,” she said, green eyes soft. “Would you like to spend the night?”

You stared up at her wide eyed. “Really? With you?”

Natasha’s answering smile was practically feral.

“Get out of my lab,” Tony grumbled. “And don’t come back until you’re decent tomorrow morning. With coffee!”

It’s been a year and you don’t think you could have made a career this successful this quickly. Not without the support of Natasha [ who insisted you could’ve done it anyway ].

But right now you were exhausted and more than anything felt like you needed a vacation. You had time built up waiting to be used but in the year you’ve been working at the Compound, no time felt right.

Natasha had gotten as busy as you not long after you started with missions that she would come home from bloodied and bruised. Patching her up was scarier than her leaving sometimes because you couldn’t tell which injuries were surface and which ones needed the keen eye of Doctor Cho.

You’d been stuck in the lab the last week and Natasha had left a month ago. She had found Wanda Maximoff — the Scarlett Witch who fell in love with Vision but ultimately lost him to Thanos as a sacrifice to save everyone else.

Natasha had looked at you grimly when she told you it was an undercover operation. You were confused, “Aren’t you sort of friends?”

“Yes, which might make it all the more volatile, sadly. She has taken a town under her control and Sam and I are both being sent in.” She leaned down to kiss you but you pulled back.

“A town? That’s . . . That sounds like a lot of power, Nat,” you whisper, uneasiness settling inside your gut. “Are you sure that it’s safe to go in?”

“It’s not safe,” she says slowly, gently. “But Wanda is my friend as you said and she is hurting but she’s lashing out at innocent people in response. It will look better from people she knows to break her from it than S.W.O.R.D. marching in. She is not on good terms with them.”

“I see.” You looked down at her suit and adjusted some things, fiddling mostly. She allowed you to do so even if nothing was really wrong with it. “Are your Widow Bites charged?”

“They could take down a bear,” she promised, then kissed you. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“We’re taking a vacation,” you told her firmly. “I’ll ask Tony when you get back. He won’t protest . . . Much.”

Natasha smirks. “If he does, I’ll kick his ass.”

You watched her and Sam board the Quinjet already missing her. Once the aircraft was out of sight was when you dug yourself back into your work. Tony didn’t ask, but he would force more breaks on you that he didn’t give himself.

Sleeping by yourself had become a lonely affair without Nat; though you did have her ever-watchful companion of the night. Liho cuddled nicely most nights as long as you fed her on time. She was a good motivator to get out of the lab by seven at the latest.

Two months without Natasha and not a peep from her has you hyper focused on anything but her. You designed a new technology you hoped could enable pipes in some countries to not need replacement as much, and keep water fresh with auto-testers.

It was still a work in progress and Tony was not shy to peek over your shoulder and cross out when something wouldn’t work in his eyes — and usually he was right when you got to the phase where you created a prototype.

“Kid.” A rough hand landed on your shoulder. You jolted slightly, spilling screws and bolts and whatever else you had collected onto the floor around you.

“Fuck.” Your hand carded through your hair, messy from a day of non-stop work. “Sorry, Tony. I’ll pick it up. Just —“

“FRIDAY can get it,” he said just as a specialized roomba came humming out from a miniature doorway in the corner and started cleaning up the mess. “It’s like ten PM, kid. Go to your rooms.”

“I fed Liho already,” you murmured, picking at your thumb with your index finger as you went over your fifth blueprint. “She’s fine.”

“Not talking about the cat.”

You broke away from the small, dimly lit zone you had sequestered yourself into and turned. Tony was in some pajamas with fuzzy slippers.

“You know as well as anybody I don’t leave this lab,” he started, awkwardly shuffling his feet. “But look — Nat made me promise that you wouldn’t burn yourself out.”

You furrowed your brow, “I’m not burnt out. I’m fine.” Your head was pounding and you knew you stank since your last shower was the night before — but anything beat going back to that quiet place.

“You’re talking to deputy director of burnt out, I’m afraid,” Tony retorted, gesturing for you to stand. It was a standoff when you sort of just sat there and he waited expectantly. “Don’t make me be your boss, Y/N, seriously.”

You sighed, leaning backward enough to reach the lamp to flick it off and get up. Your muscles ached deeply when you wobbled across the lab to the doors.

“Night, kid,” Tony calls as he sets down the other hallway of the compound where his and Peppers’ rooms are located.

Liho meowed loudly, eyes like lamplights in the darkened floor of your rooms as you entered. She rubbed between your legs and purred thickly before darting off to Nat’s bedroom to wait in bed for you.

One hot shower later and you crawled into the sheets, curling around Natasha’s previously untouched pillows instead of yours. You missed her deeply. So deeply.

You hoped sleep would chase away the longing.

Natasha pressed a few switches and pulled a lever that allowed her to safely gear the Quinjet into a safe landing. She waited for everything to power down properly, drooping in her seat and rubbing at her eyes. One of them still healing from being bruised.

The town was unhexed and mostly unharmed. Just traumatized and distraught by the events that plagued them for two months by the mysterious witch that held them hostage.

Natasha and Sam had gone in so quickly — before Wanda had a second to realize there was a disturbance. They posed as a married couple and played along with her games — the way she ran her show.

Natasha ached deeply for Wanda. All she saw when witnessing these events were acts of a broken woman failed by the world. She understood why the witch had done it. If it had been you . . .

Natasha put her fingers against the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, still waiting for the low beeping signal that would alert her that the Quinjet was finished cooling down.

They hadn’t expected a second witch. Not until Wanda figured out who she was and that was as soon as Wanda realized Natasha and Sam were there — not just creations she forgot she made.

It was a fucking disaster.

Wanda was gone. Again. She had defeated this other witch that seemed to have sought Wanda out for her power but as a result she ran without talking to Natasha.

She could still taste Wanda’s despair and shame.

“Nat.” Someone nudged her. She rolled the chair around and found Sam waiting for her. He gestured to the open backend of the Quinjet. “We’re home now. I think you should get some rest.”

Natasha smiled as she got to her feet, making sure she didn’t forget to do anything before following him out and making the trek across the landing zone to the Compound.

It was too early. Two in the morning — and she would only be crawling next to you in her bed and drinking in your scent and catching up on lost sleep. Hopefully.

Liho was not there to greet her.

It was disappointing — her cat was easily made a traitor it would appear. She dropped her bag on the ground by the door and made her way to the bedroom, leaning in the doorway.

Liho poked her head up, ears pinned back before realizing it was Natasha there and chirped a greeting. Rolled onto her back and purred loudly from her spot in the crook of your blanketed legs.

“Been keeping her company, Liho?” the spy asked, reaching over to skritch her behind the ears. “Good kitty.”

Liho blinked in agreement before releasing Nat to the bathroom, where she did her best to spot clean so she wouldn’t wake you with a full on shower.

She climbed into bed behind you and sighed when you seemed to automatically melt into her as if on instinct.

She was asleep within seconds.

You woke up to more warmth than Liho usually has in one tiny body to provide for you. You moved around and stretched, turning into the warmth —

You shot up.

“Where’s the fire?” Natasha grumbled as she turned back over and buried her face into the pillow without taking at least one hand off your body.

“When the fuck did you get home?” you fell completely on top of her in attempt to body hug her completely.

Nat groaned, but adjusted back onto her back so you could curl up on her chest. A hand went up the back of your shirt and traced the skin of your spine. “Uhh . . . Like two?”

You nosed under her chin, peppering kisses where bruises seemed to lay. “I wanted you unharmed.”

“Tried my best, Malyshka.”

You moved up and closer to her to grasp her chin between your thumb and index finger. She opened her green eyes and smiled crookedly at you. "Gonna just stare?"

You kissed her if nothing else, then to at least shut her up. She responded to the kiss instantly with need that outdid your own.

Her nails found home in the skin of your back, dragging carefully up and down as the kiss was deepened more than it already was. You pulled back, fully straddling her waist and was quick to remove your shirt. She let you.

"So beautiful," you breathed, nosing yourself into her neck and nibbling. She grunted as she pushed your ass closer to her in an attempt to keep you in place.

"You feel so good," Nat murmured back, straining her neck upwards to give you more access. With more openings to proceed and no reason to stop, your lips began a path at the same time your hand started floundering backwards for her shorts.

"Want 'em off," you breathed against her skin. It was too close to a whine for your liking but Natasha obeyed your request anyways and helped you to remove the shorts.

You pulled your lips away to situate yourself and brushed your fingers against her thigh. "Did you miss me?" you asked casually as you went about tracing random designs close but not close enough to where she wanted you.

"You know I did. Every day," she said, that normally composed woman of yours sounding rather out of breath.

You smiled and trailed your fingers a bit closer -- just barely brushing her slit. "I missed you too," you told her, reaching a finger into her pussy and gathering wetness and run it up to her clit.

She drew in air. "Malyshka," she said shortly, "teasing me is not in your favor. It has never worked before."

You ignored her and set a slow pace just as your hips started circling with your finger, adding some pressure onto your hand and more stimulation for yourself. Her hands found home on your hips.

You leaned in close to her ear without stopping, whispering so lowly that she could be forgiven if she hadn't heard it, "I touched myself so much thinking about you when you were gone. It was usually never enough, though. You always know what to do -- how to please me. Isn't it sad how I can't seem to please myself in the ways you seem to know how?"

Fingernails dug into your hips just as you sank two fingers into her cunt, your thumb replacing your index on her clit to keep the slow and steady circles going as you began to thrust into her.

She broke into Russian curses and brought her teeth to your shoulder, digging them in to keep from getting loud. You wished she didn't feel the need to contain herself -- she never had to with you.

"You're doing so good," Nat breathed around your shoulder, eyes squeezed tight as you pushed one hand deep into the mattress and reangled to try and find that one spot inside her that you know drives her insane.

"Fuck, Malyshka, right there," she moaned, abdomen flexing from the strain as you picked up your pace and your strength. She loved rough and you weren't one to deny it when she said words to you that had you putty in your hands.

Even when you fucked her she was in control in the most powerful way.

"I need you to make me come," was drawled in your ear, growing less composed the closer she was getting to her orgasm. You could fell it to in the way she spent longer clenched around your fingers and the way she grew wetter.

"Yeah?" you whisper back, locking in and going for broke as you began at a speed not usually in your range but the sounds and way Natasha clutched you encouraged you on.

"I'm so close."

"Then come for me," you begged her. You need to feel it, to see it, to fucking drink it in like you did with everything that was Natasha Romanoff.

The sting in your hips grew near unbearable as she crossed her legs behind your back and froze up. You fucked her through her orgasm and ensured not to look away one second.

It was a quiet thing, the way she came. Never too much noise but always expressive from the flush in her face and chest to the way her face goes lax in ways nobody else gets to see but you.

You helped her ride down the waves until she sank into the sheets, eyes opening onto the ceiling as her chest rose and fell heavily.

"Have you been practicing while I've been gone?" she wheezed, raking her fingers through her hair as you climbed off of her and licked your fingers clean of her.

"Oh yeah, I've got so much practice," you teased with a cheeky grin. "Me, myself, and my vibrator."

You suddenly had your world spun around too quickly for you to comprehend. Before you knew it, you found yourself looking up at Natasha.

"Stay," she ordered sternly, sliding off of your prone form and making her way to the closet.

You did not argue but you did watch her ass sway as she disappeared.

You were no better than a man.

She returned buckled into a harness, adjusting the straps and you peered up to see which dildo she chose. If it was the eight incher, you think you'd die.

It was the eight incher.

Your head fell heavily back onto the pillows and knew now that Natasha was taking no prisoners today as she settled her knees on the edge of the bed and dragged your ass all the way down.

She saw the look on your face and gained a wicked gleam to her eye. "What -- you thought you'd get away with what you just did? Not have consequences?"

"Kinda," you admitted.

"Appreciate the honesty -- but no dice." She smacked your ass. "Roll over, ass in the air."

You were purposefully slow in your movements, considering that she planned on undressing you and then straight up fucking you in this position and you decided to give her somewhat of a challenge in the process.

"Princess," she warned as she reached for the hem of your shirt. "You're being a brat."

"Sounds like a big problem . . . for you."

She ripped your shirt clean off to your chagrin, and made quick work with your sweats and underwear next. She ran open-palmed hands up the sides of your thighs and ass as she took in the sight of you.

Then her eyes glanced downward to your ass and she kicked your ankles open to where she could see your exposed pussy. Her mouth watered at how wet it was.

"Look at you," she husked, leaning over you and licking a stripe down your back. "So spread open and ready to take me. Do you need my fingers first, baby?"

Your reply was muffled by the sheets. Natasha took a handful of your hair and pulled your head up, "What was that?"

"Fingers first," you slurred and her lips quirked up at that hazy cloud starting to form in your eyes.

"Fingers first . . . ?" she trailed off, tugging just a bit harder.

"Please," you added quickly.

Natasha hummed with approval before dropping your head back onto the bed. "Alright -- since you're so fucking tight and need some fingers to loosen you up, I suppose I can warm you up."

You squeaked something out but Natasha did not force you to elaborate, knowing it was likely just garbled words anyway. She did not tease, did not draw it out. She simply thrusted three fingers in after testing your wetness.

Your body raised off the bed at the intrusion, "Nat," you whimpered clutching the sheets, "too much."

"Too much?" she repeated, raising a brow, "are you sure?"

She let you think about it as she worked her fingers in and out of you, and she removed one to give you a moment to think. "T-three, Natty."

"Are you sure?" she asked again, doing three fingers in and then two. Keeping you both over-and-under stimulated at once in the best way. "For such a smart, beautiful girl you sure are being dumb right now. Can't even make up your mind."

You whined a little into the sheets. "M'sorry. Feels good."

"Aw, I'm sure it does baby," Natasha crooned, lacing her tone with thick false sympathy. "Is that what's making it hard to think? How good it feels?"

She watched you nod into the bed. "S'lot, Natty."

"I bet," the redhead agreed, just barely brushing against your g-spot and never actually giving you enough pleasure to come. "Maybe I should go put my cock away if you're unsure if you can handle even three fingers."

"N-no!" you garbled, tightening around her suddenly. She brushed your hair from the nape of your neck and leaned down to kiss it tenderly. "Wanna take it."

"Oh baby, I want you to take it too," she says, nibbling a mark where she started a kiss. "But are you so sure you can handle it? You're so sensitive today."

"Yes! Yes I can handle it," you promised raptly, ass starting to arch higher and meeting Natasha's thrust with fevered passion. "P-please. Wanna take it."

"Okay, okay, Malyshka," she soothed and moved her lips to pepper kisses along what parts of her face was exposed to her. "Okay. You can have my cock because you're a good girl and good girls get what they need."

The praise sent a jerk through your nervous system at the same time as she pulled out with her fingers intentionally running along your walls.

She eyes the fingers covered in your wetness and resists the urge to lick them clean. Rather she decides to give your mouth something to do by putting them up to you, "Suck, baby."

Just as you took her fingers into your mouth you let out a low noise that was damn near animalistic as Natasha took you with her cock. She slipped in smoothly, eyes twitching at the pressure she felt at the base on her.

With her free hand she slithers down between your body and the surface of the bed so she could start putting pressure on your engorged clit.

She let you adjust before deciding to finally, after a few seconds of waiting, begin slow movements that already had shivers wracking through you.

She decides to talk you through them, to bring you as much pleasure as she possibly can in this moment after two months of not touching you at all, "How's it feel? Is my cock hitting you where it should?"

"S'full," you somehow managed. Well, if you were still talking . . . she pulled all the way out and pushed back in at a punishing pace.

"Gonna try to keep you full, too," she went on as her rotations on your clit began to increase and grew rougher. You were suffocating her cock and if she could truly feel it like a man . . .

"My Gods," she laughed mockingly, "were you this desperate for my touch that you're melting this quickly? I've not been inside you that long, Malyshka."

Whatever noise you made went right through Nat's ears. She was rough and unforgiving now as she practically had you choking on her fingers while the tip of the dildo brushed repeatedly on your g-spot.

Your thighs were trembling with signs that you were close even if you could not so much as whisper a word to tell Nat.

She knew your tells anyway -- just as you knew hers. You were drooling around her fingers and unable to form coherent sentences, you were grinding her hand into the sheets and giving her a rug-burn more than likely, and you were stuttering with every wave of near-pleasure that shocked you.

Natasha decided denying and playing the game of keepaway wasn't on the table today. She wanted to make you come.

It didn't take very long. One good jab of her thumb into your clit timed with her cock hitting just right sent you spiraling into a squealing orgasm that was wracking your entire body.

Natasha was left startled when she found it hard to fuck you through it, growing slippery and soaking the sheets beneath the two of you as another orgasm crashed through you with her fingers still working you.

As the pleasure ebbed away into fuzzy content, Natasha collapsed over your back and breathing against you in a way that brought immense comfort, you slowly came back to yourself.

You nipped her fingers.

Natasha scoffed as she pulled them out, leaning down to give you kisses wherever she could reach. "I make you squirt like a fountain and you bite me?"

You rolled over so that her hands were forced to settle on your knees. The strap-on had been removed at some point in your daze and was thrown aside to be washed later.

"I am never letting you go," you announced, peering up at her with a dopy smile. "That was literally mind-shattering."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "At least you find me good for something." She helped you sit up. "Are you okay?"

"Did you just not hear me say mind-shattering? As in . . . orgasms?"

"Okay, smartass." She pinched your hip and was rewarded with a yelp as she pushed you to your feet. "To the bath with you. I'm changing the sheets and setting us up for vacation then calling Tony. Get a bath ready or else."

You smiled and leaned in the doorway to your bathroom, eyeing her. "You're so cute when you're determined."

"When it comes to the axis my world spins on," Natasha said, growing serious as she walked over to you and rested her forehead against yours, "nothing could pry me away from what I want."

PART THREE

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #htwswy

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