#this series actually is republished

[thelastspeecher]

Made an impulse purchase last night of a book series beloved from my childhood

I went through the author's website to purchase directly so I could get the box set and there was an option to get a signature for free and I was like "well....why not"

So a book set signed by the author is headed my way and I am QUITE excited

[thewidowsledger]

Who Do I Look Out For?

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Word count: 5.7k

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: +18, fluff & angst combo but mostly angst, Natasha has a penis, pregnant reader, traumatized Natty, smut, mutual masturbation, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, soft sex (yes please), grief...not gonna tell you everything sorry…

Author's Note: Finally! First series done! Thank you for keeping up with this one y'all, I hope y'all will still keep up with my next fics after what I did here...this is actually not the plot I originally planned but I liked how this one turned out, I love y'all hehe don't hate me👉👈

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

“Natasha I am here, baby’s here.” Gently, you pulled away. You took her hand and placed it on your swollen belly.

Her hand on your stomach trembled as she felt the warmth of your skin and the life growing inside you. Slowly, her other hand reached up to cradle your face, her fingers gently stroking your cheek. You leaned your forehead against her.

“Feel me, I’m here.”

⧗

You both made your way through the grocery store, Natasha was behind you making sure she could see you but there was a noticeable distance between you and her, as always Natasha thought. You stayed a few steps behind her when she dragged a cart near the counter and hardly spoke. But Natasha made sure to check on you, she glanced over her shoulder at you a few times, but you were lost in your thoughts, seemingly oblivious to her concerned gazes.

As you continued to follow Natasha through the aisles, your eyes were uncontrollably drawn to anything related to strawberries. You began gathering every strawberry product you laid eyes on, strawberry yogurt, strawberry jam, dried strawberries, even a strawberry candle–and placed them in the cart.

“At this rate, we'll need an entire fridge just for strawberry products,” she joked, nervous if you're going to respond or not but to her surprise, you did.

“Mhm,” came your brief, yet music to Natasha's ears. Even that simple sound of response was enough to bring a smile to her face, just a monosyllabic response felt like a small victory for her. It’s been getting hard for her to read you, one second you’ll talk to her and then in a snap you won’t. What’s worse is that most of the time you really won’t.

Natasha watched you from a small distance as you searched for any strawberry related product, her smile widening each time you found a new item to add to the cart. Though you had been distant lately, this moment felt like a return to normal, if only for a brief while. She enjoyed seeing you so animated and distracted, even if it was only over something as piffling as strawberries. Natasha found herself secretly hoping this mood would last a little longer.

Your eyes locked onto a carton of strawberry juice box that seemed to taunt you from the top shelf, just out of your reach. With a determined look on your face, you rose on your tiptoes, attempting to stretch as far as possible to grab it. But as you did, your protruding baby bump proved to be stopping you, preventing you from reaching it.

You were about to call for Natasha when you noticed a woman talking to her—a striking beautiful woman.

As you observed the lady speaking to Natasha, a wave of insecurity washed over you. Her beauty and poise were undeniable and involuntarily, you found yourself comparing yourself to her in your mind.

You noticed her flawless skin, blonde long silky hair not like Thor though and she was wearing a tight dress that flexed the curve of her body. Against your own form–heavy with the weight of pregnancy and marked by the effects of hormones–and the overall feeling of being less physically attractive.

You couldn't help but be conscious of what you're wearing, you were just wearing a spaghetti strap, a long cotton cardigan jacket on top of it and a boho ruffled skirt. But you don't actually feel like it's about what you're wearing, you feel ugly.

As you continued to observe, your mind now focused on the interaction, it became clear that the woman was not just making casual conversation or maybe asking your girlfriend. Her body language was unmistakably flirty, leaning in, touching Natasha's arm and giving her a coy smile.

Your girlfriend, however, seemed oblivious to the woman's advances or chose to dismiss them. Her responses were polite but short and she subtly distanced herself whenever the woman tried to get too close. You actually hated your girlfriend for being like this, it happened many times already. When someone is trying to hit on her, she would either ignore or wait for you to come around to rescue her.

Natasha was trying to finish the conversation with the woman that she didn't even start, but when she sees you, it feels like being saved. She smiled, anticipating that you would add another strawberry item to the cart. However, her smile faded as she watched you place the kitchen knife in the cart instead. She shot a nervous glance at you as you pretended to fix the items you placed in the cart. Her heart rate slightly picked up in concern and fear.

The woman looked at you with a slightly stunned expression, as she saw the bump in your stomach. “Oh…” she muttered, the realization finally setting in. She turned back to Natasha, her tone apologetic.

“I didn't realize,” she offered awkwardly.

Oh, how you wish she realized that it was a knife that you put in the cart.

Meanwhile, Natasha, still somewhat oblivious to the woman's previous attempts to flirt, “I gotta go, that's my wife.”

“Oh…”

You were stunned in place as you heard Natasha speak those words. That’s my wife, each word rolling off her tongue effortlessly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say. Despite your current status as girlfriends, hearing her declare you as her wife sent a rush of emotions through you. The insecurities that had been weighing heavily on your mind earlier seemed to melt away. You immediately walked out while your girlfriend quickly pushed the cart and hurried after you.

As you walked silently through the store, Natasha could sense that something was off with you, well, it has always been like this, nothing new. She still stayed a few steps behind you, giving you the space you needed, like she always does but she couldn't shake the feeling that she had done something wrong. She then stared at the knife you put on the cart and immediately fished it out and put it in the chip aisle before you could even catch her.

Natasha’s eyes pretended to wander around when you walked back at her only to be drawn to a baby section. She followed your every move as you walked through the aisle with a big smile. She was utterly smitten by you, her heart swelling with affection with every glance. Her gaze kept returning to your stomach, to the tiny bump that she noticed grew more prominent each day. Seeing the bump, the evidence of the life growing inside you, etched an even deeper love in her heart. You were carrying her child and it only made you more beautiful in her eyes.

You were perfect.

Natasha then felt a heatwave of longing as she watched you, the cardigan slipping from your shoulder, revealing the soft skin that she had once traced with her fingers and lips. And she coughed as she tried to avoid the thoughts.

It had been too long since she had touched you, too long that she could only recall in her mind the memories and images of you as she struggled to take care of herself alone. She yearned to feel you quiver beneath her once again, to hear the soft gasps that escaped your lips as she brought you to new heights. The way you would melt into her touch like warm wax, you letting her use you without hesitation. The way you would part your lips, your legs…

“Need help?”

Natasha was abruptly brought back to reality when she heard a man’s voice talking to you. She quickly made her way over to you and the stranger who had approached you.

“She's fine,” She then pointed to the item you were trying to reach and asked, “this one, baby? ”

You blinked and gave her a small nod before she reached up and grabbed the item you were trying to get, she placed it on the cart hand and immediately took your hand, pulling you away from the stranger. She finally let go of you when you turned from another aisle but her hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you gently possessively as she looked around the sign of the man.

She doesn't care now, she never made a bold move to touch you, the only time she can be close to you is when she gets to kiss your forehead every morning, she is done being subtle and holding back. She didn't care if she just invaded your space or her act seconds ago would irritate you like how you get irritated by her when she tries to come near your shared bed, because she wouldn't watch any man or anyone get too close with you.

As you turned a corner, you suddenly saw a group of young women who looked like they were still in college. They were all giggling and chatting with each other, and you couldn't help but feel self-conscious, again.

You immediately fidgeted, and pulled your cardigan wishing it would cover your upper body. Being overwhelmed at the situation, you decide that you're done for this day and you immediately head towards the checkout counter.

Natasha trailed behind you, pushing the shopping cart. When she notices your direction, she pipes up, “You're not gonna get anything more, baby?”

You pause for a moment before shaking your head, still feeling a bit insecure and not really in the mood to shop anymore. Natasha picks up on your body language, she notices that you're fidgeting with your cardigan, pulling it tightly around your body. It's a familiar gesture to her, one that you always do when you're feeling insecure.

After you finish paying for your items and the cashier bids you good day, Natasha turns to you with a concerned look on her face. She notices that you're still not quite yourself.

The drive back to the compound was mostly quiet. You sat in the passenger seat of the car, staring out the window, lost in your own thoughts. Natasha glanced over at you occasionally, but she could tell that you weren't quite ready to talk yet—as always.

As she drove, she put on the song “Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You” on the car stereo. The song was special for you because you both always danced together to it in the mornings or after missions when it’s just the two of you. As the song continued to play and your hormones were all over the place due to your pregnancy, making it difficult for you to control your emotions. You could feel your emotions getting the best of you, and you couldn't help but sniffle as tears streamed down your face. And you turned to look at the window to hide your ugly cry face as if your partner hadn't seen it for how long you have been together.

Natasha glanced over at you, noticing you sniffle every now and then but trying to keep her focus on the road. Without thinking, she reached over and took your hand in hers, bringing it to her lips and kissing it tenderly.

As she continued to kiss your hand, Natasha was surprised when you didn't pull it away. Normally, you would have pushed her away when she tried to touch you when you weren't in the mood to be touched, which is most of the time you weren't. However, this time, you let her keep your hand in her lips as she hummed along with the song.

As the song came to an end, a comfortable silence fell over the car. Natasha finally broke the silence by speaking up, her voice soft and gentle.

“You know you're beautiful, right?”

The lump in your throat grew larger, and you could feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It was harder than you thought to hold them back, to keep them from spilling out. Stupid hormones.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, her eyes never leaving the road as she spoke. She needed you to know how she truly felt.

“You know that I could never look at any woman the same way I look at you, right? You’re the absolute most beautiful person in the world to me. Every inch of your skin, every curve and every imperfection, it drives me mad how perfect I find you, baby. I could never take my eyes off you…”

“My beautiful girlfriend, my wife…the beautiful mother of my child.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from falling apart completely, but it was a losing battle. The tears were building up, threatening to overflow, and you could feel your heart twisting inside your chest but her words? Oh, Natasha’s words…

Every time Natasha spoke, it was like a balm to your soul. Whether she was showering you with praise and affection or offering reassurance when you needed it most, her words always managed to touch you in a way that nothing else could. The way she expressed her love and devotion through her words and actions even though at times you weren’t making things easy for her. No matter how many times you heard her sweet words, they still had the power to make you feel adored and loved, reminding you of the deep love you have for the woman despite your hormones making you hate her.

As the tidal wave of emotions overwhelmed you, you couldn't hold back anymore. With a shaky breath, you finally looked over at Natasha with your ugly ass cry face—your face was a mess of tears and snot.

“Hi mama.”

Natasha held your hand in her lips and you laughed at her nickname, it was as though all your insecurities were briefly forgotten. The weight of your negative thoughts and doubts evaporated for a moment, as if a wave had come and washed the shoreline clean. Despite the emotional storm that had just occurred, Natasha’s ability to bring levity to the situation was one of the many things you adored about her.

You bite your lip as you look at her driving, “Baby wants some ice-cream.” You said in a soft murmur and Natasha couldn’t help but melt right then and there, finally hearing your beautiful voice.

“Oh really? I think baby is making mama want some ice-cream.” Natasha accused as she pointed to your tummy, your hand still in her hand.

And that earned another point from Natasha when you giggled again, much longer and louder this time.

⧗

You finally arrived at the compound and you entered your shared bedroom with Natasha, ice cream still in hand, and settled onto the bed. As you took bites of the sweet treat, Natasha busied herself with arranging the groceries in the mini fridge she brought for you since she knew you were pregnant.

The room was quiet, save for your soft sounds of satisfaction as you continued to enjoy your ice cream. There was a sense of comfort and domesticity in the air, a normalcy that was somehow both strange and familiar after all that had happened.

As Natasha finished putting all the strawberry items you hoarded in the grocery store, she removed her leather jacket, revealing the tank top underneath. Then, she shimmied out of her pants, revealing a pair of black boxers that did little to hide the bulge straining against the fabric. You paused, ice cream mid-lick, as you openly gawked at her. The cold treat dripped onto your hand, but you barely noticed, too preoccupied with the sight before you.

You instinctively ate the ice cream in the same way you sucked her. The motion reminded you of the way you had kneel in front of her, face between her thighs, eager to taste her, to please her as she guided you through it.

Spike in sex drive, check.

“I’m gonna shower,” she said, she did not look at you as she immediately went to grab her towel. You on the other hand are all sticky, fingers…and down there. You licked your fingers as you took the final bite of the ice-cream cone.

Only if you knew how much she needed you inside the shower.

Natasha stepped into the shower, the cold water spraying against her flushed skin. She turned the knob all the way to the left, seeking relief from the heat she felt. But it was no use. Her body ached for release, for your touch. The cold water did nothing to cool the fire burning within her.

Two months had passed since what happened and Natasha still struggled to cope. She felt lost, alone, and unheard. The distance between you two only made things worse. She found herself unable to take care of herself, her daily routines a constant reminder of her loneliness. The shame and frustration built up inside her, manifesting in these secret moments of self-relief in the bathroom and shower. She longed for your touch, your comfort, your presence.

“Oh, Y/N…” she moaned, her voice barely audible over the shower. “Y/N…” She pictured you on your knees before her, taking her entire cock into your mouth, your hands caressing her thighs, her hips.

As the water continued to cascade down her body, Natasha's hand picked up pace, stroking her length with desperate need. Her other hand pressed against the shower wall, fingers digging into the tile as she rode out the waves of pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

Natasha's breath hitched as her fantasy took over. She imagined your fingers trailing up her back, drawing her closer, urging her to thrust deeper into your mouth. Her hand mirrored her fantasy, tightening around her base and pumping faster, deeper.

“Y/N,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper as she called out for you. Her body convulsed, her knees buckling as she found her release. Her forehead resting at the cold tile of the bathroom.

While you were slumped and laying in bed. The cold ice-cream did nothing to ease the heat your body is feeling now. Your hands slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, slowly sliding upwards.

Your fingers brushed against your damp panties, you couldn't hold back a soft gasp. You could feel how wet you were. With a trembling hand, you pushed your panties aside, your fingertips grazing your slick folds.

You closed your eyes, imagining Natasha's touch instead of your own. Her gentle caress, her loving touch, her passion. Your breathing hitched as you slowly parted your wet folds, your fingers sliding along your crease. You bit your lip to muffle a moan, your hips rising to meet your hand. You curled your finger, rubbing against your sensitive wall, and your other hand reached up to pinch your nipple through your top.

The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you imagined Natasha's face, her lips, her touch. You then focused on your clit, rubbing it in circles and your free hand fumbled with your shirt, finally freeing your breast.

“Natasha…” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. Your finger rubbing your clit fast, this is the only way you could make yourself come, not the same way Natasha does. Her ways were much, oh so much better. She has different ways on how to make you come and beg for more.

Your breath coming in short pants. “Natasha, please…” you moaned louder, arching your back, your body tensing as the pressure built inside you.

And finally, your body shook violently as your orgasm hit, you buried your fingers deep inside you and you spasmed whenever it hit your clit. You feel your eyes droop and in just a few moments you’re already asleep.

Natasha emerged from the bathroom, a towel on her shoulders. Her face pale and her eyes guilty. And when she approached the bed, she saw you already deep in sleep beneath the covers, your breathing slow and even.

Only if she knew that your fingers were still knuckle-deep in your pussy behind the thick covers of the duvet.

⧗

“Can you go with me? I have a check-up with Dr. Cho.”

Natasha’s heart raced as she processed your words. You never asked for her to accompany you with Dr. Cho appointments before, usually you would go with Wanda or Yelena, literally anyone but not her. So the sudden request caught her off guard. But, she quickly nodded, afraid that you might take it back.

“Of course, I’ll come with you. Thank you, baby. Thank you for asking me to come with you.”

You just nodded along, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of your upcoming appointment or rather with the thought of Natasha going with you for the first time. Your hand absently rubbed your stomach, caressing it. And the redhead watched you, her eyes lingering on the gentle movement of your hand, she longed to touch your belly and talk to the mini me that is growing inside you.

“Do we go now? Or later?”

“I wanna go now.”

As you both walked to the medical bay, you found yourself not lagging behind Natasha like you usually did. Instead, you were walking beside her, close enough that your arms brushed against each other. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed onto her arm, your fingers wrapping around her strong bicep.

The redhead couldn't help but smile, “I got you, Y/N.”

“Hi mama.” Dr. Cho greeted you, you offered the doctor a smile and then Natasha appeared at the frame of the door, “...and mommy.”

“Well then, let’s get started mommies?” Dr. Cho said excitedly. The doctor tried to talk you out of it, giving you advice not just for your relationship but for the future of your child. And by seeing you and Natasha now, she is very happy with the progress.

Dr. Cho ushered you to lie down on the bed. Natasha moved to help you, her strong hands gently supporting you as you climbed up. She adjusted the pillow behind your head.

“You can sit there, Romanoff.” Cho motioned on a chair beside the bed.

Once you and Natasha were settled comfortably on your own, Dr. Cho began preparing the ultrasound equipment. She moved your shirt upward and squirted a generous amount of gel on your exposed belly, the cool liquid making you shiver slightly.

“So, how many weeks are you now, Y/N?” Dr. Cho asked, her eyes focused on the screen. The doctor wants to make sure you are counting and aware about your weeks and the progress of your pregnancy. Before you could reply Natasha spoke up, “21 weeks,” she said confidently, reaching out to your hand.

You weren't mad at all that Natasha answered for you. In fact, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest at her words. She had been keeping track, even though all this time you had pushed her away. The realization shocked you—her dedication and care for you hadn't wavered, despite your coldness, despite your not making it easy on her.

“Good, it's good you're keeping up with Y/N's pregnancy,” Dr. Cho said, nodding approvingly.

“Of course.”

“Let's see if your little one wants to cooperate today,” Dr. Cho said, moving the transducer around your belly. She pointed at the screen. “Alright, there's the head, and that's the spine. Those are the limbs... Ah, now we can see the profile. And…”

Natasha's eyes were fixed on the screen, taking in every word Dr. Cho said—she tried. Suddenly, her gaze flickered down your belly seeing the scar she was very familiar with, and for a moment, she was transported back to that dreadful day. You were pale, unconscious and the doctor beside you was not Dr. Cho.

“Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place.”

Her body stiffened, and without a thought, she snatched her hand away from yours, breaking the connection she has been trying to fix for months. Her breath hitched, and she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the sudden, unwanted memory. The room fell silent and Dr. Cho paused, looking concerned.

“Natasha?” you called out for her. Already missing the warmth of her hand to yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Natasha muttered, apologizing over and over. She stepped backwards and that's when your heart dropped, you didn't want to see her backing up. Not now, you were rebuilding what you both lost.

“Natasha, what’s wrong? Come back here.” You asked worriedly as you tried to sit up.

She shook her head, swallowing a lump on her throat, “Sorry, I’m…sorry.”

“Natasha!” you bawled, trying to heave yourself out of bed as the redhead turned and fled the medbay. You screamed her name again, your heart racing, but she didn't come back. Dr. Cho rushed to catch you, fearing you’d fall.

Defeated, you crumpled back onto the bed, tears spilling over. You clutched at Dr. Cho, burying your face in her scrubs.

“She left again...she promised she’d stay…”

Eventually, Dr. Cho and Bruce managed to calm you down enough to return you to your room. Wanda immediately rushed to the medbay when she heard about you, and once again you heard her cursing your girlfriend’s name as she walked you to your room.

“I am going to kill her, I swear.”

Your bestfriend insisted on staying with you but you wanted to be alone.

And here you are, alone once more, curled up on your shared bed, staring blankly at the wall. You refused to continue the check-up without Natasha by your side. Without her, everything felt pointless.

Hours more passed, and you remained unmoved on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. You'd barely blinked, save for the occasional tear that would slide down your cheek. The pain in your chest grew sharper, intensifying with each passing moment. You hugged your belly protectively, as if shielding the baby from the emotional turmoil.

“She should be here…mommy should be here…” you murmured, tears sliding down your cheeks. You felt abandoned, alone.

“Mommy will never leave us, she promised.”

⧗

Natasha finally returned, her hands shaking as she opened the door to your shared room. She froze when she found you on the bed, looking so small and vulnerable. She didn't want to look at you anymore, because all she could feel was guilt so she immediately made her way to the bathroom.

“Are you drunk?” you asked plainly, making the redhead stop in her tracks. She breathed as she turned, she couldn't respond, her voice stuck in her throat as she saw you sit up on the bed. The room was dark, but her eyes adjusted enough to see your tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

You could smell the alcohol on her from across the room, the acrid scent burning your nostrils. It mingled with the lingering perfume she always wore, creating a sickening combination.

“You left me there alone, you know that right?” you said, your voice cracking with emotion. “Not just me, but our baby. You left us there, I called for you but you didn’t even look back.”

Natasha’s face paled as you spoke, her eyes welling up with tears. “I-I’m so sorry,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to... I didn’t think... I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I just…”

You watched her breathe hard, her chest heaving with sobs as she paced back and forth across the room. She trembled as she brushed her hairs out her face, she then buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with quiet, desperate tears. She was a mess, her usually composed self crumbling before your eyes.

“I feel like... I feel like I have no right to be like this,” Natasha finally spoke, her voice hoarse from crying. “But I paid for it, Y/N. What I did to you, I paid for it. Every night... every night, I always dream of losing you.”

Seeing her in such a state, you couldn't just stand there anymore. You moved towards the bed, your body tensing as you tried to stand straight despite the baby bump.

“I…I saw you there, you were laying in bed. At…at first I thought you were dead,” Natasha looked up at you with red, swollen eyes, her face contorting with fresh grief as she relived the memory.

“He...he threatened to kill you,” Natasha continued, “In front of me. He would wave the knife in front of me, he would laugh and then he would get mad, saying that if I dare to move an inch, he would do bad things to you.”

“And every night, Y/N, every night, I would dream about that. I would dream about not being able to save you…a knife on your…”

You immediately rushed to her and you both ended up on the ground, you gently pulling Natasha into a tight embrace. Her head rested on your shoulder as she continued to cry, her body shaking against yours.

“B-but I killed him, baby. I did, you’re safe now. Our baby…we…we are safe…you are safe…” she pulled you closer to her, “I killed him, I killed him…no one will ever hurt you anymore, I killed him. You’re safe.”

Feeling her cling to you desperately, her words coming out in a panicked, disjointed rush, she was still trapped in that nightmare and you didn’t know. You pulled her even closer, wrapping her in a protective embrace.

“Natasha I am here, baby’s here.” Gently, you pulled away. You took her hand and placed it on your swollen belly.

Her hand on your stomach trembled as she felt the warmth of your skin and the life growing inside you. Slowly, her other hand reached up to cradle your face, her fingers gently stroking your cheek. You leaned your forehead against her.

“Feel me, I’m here.”

“I need to feel you, Y/N. I need to feel you, all of you.”

Understanding her unspoken request, you captured her lips with yours, you poured all of your love and reassurance into the kiss. Your tongue delved into her mouth, tangling with hers as you deepened the kiss, wanting to chase away the last vestiges of her nightmare and replace them with the comfort of your presence.

Natasha stood guiding you both to your feet. She led you backward toward the bed, still not letting go of your lips.

In the blink of an eye, your clothes vanished, leaving your naked bodies pressed together, skin against skin. The sudden lack of barriers between you sent a shiver of desire through you both. Natasha's breasts flattened against your chest as she leaned down, her lips finding yours once more in a searing kiss.

As Natasha settled between your thighs, you could feel her hardness pressed against your lower belly, hot and heavy. The sensation sent a thrill through you, and you wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her even closer.

“Natasha…feel me…”

Her fingers gently caressing your folds, finding you already wet and ready. She coated her length with your slickness, positioning herself at your entrance. She looked into your eyes, her own filled with raw, unbridled desire.

With a slow, gentle thrust, Natasha entered you, her eyes locked onto yours. She was so gentle, so tender, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“My angel,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Natasha began to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm. Each thrust was careful and measured, allowing you to adjust to her size. She peppered your face with soft kisses as she made love to you, murmuring sweet words of devotion. “My love, my heart, my everything…”

You wrapped your legs tightly around her waist, pulling her even deeper. The new angle made her touch that spot inside you that drove you wild.

“N-Natasha…” you moaned, your fingers digging into her back as you clung to her.

She could feel all of you now—your heat, your wetness, your pulsating walls, the warmth of your skin and your beating heart, “Oh, Y/N…” she breathed, her body trembling as she held herself deep.

With a final, powerful thrust, Natasha buried her face in your neck and shattered. Her hot seed spilled into you, her whole body convulsing with the force of her release. You clung to her, your own completion washing over you like a wave as you called out her name. “N-Natasha...Natasha…”

You gently unwrapped your legs from around her waist and brought your hands up to hold her face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped her eyes.

“Forgive yourself, Natasha…”

She shook her head violently, “N-no…you’re here!”

But none of it had been real.

Natasha looked around the room, there was never a grocery, her eyes taking in the clothes strewn across the floor, some still bearing the scent of you that she couldn't bear to wash away especially the strawberry products she reminded of you. Your pregnancy tests, empty bottles and wrappers littered the nightstand, evidence of her neglect of herself. And the lifeless bunch of flowers Clint had given her months ago that was for your funeral. The wilted, dried-out blooms lay scattered on the floor, petals falling like tears, a harsh reminder of reality.

You would always tell Natasha how you liked Thor's hair and Thor, had vanished from Earth and hasn't come back yet since your death. Morgan had stopped playing salon because she would only play it with you.

Your bestfriend, Wanda, had to moved out, her powers were growing unstable and you are the only one who could calm her down. Also, the threat of harming your girlfriend had forced her to leave.

She never had to deal with your mood swings or food cravings, because all she had to deal with is that fact that she wasn't really able to save you and now you are gone forever.

Tears spilled down Natasha's cheeks as she stared at the pregnancy result she had found after the funeral, the cruel irony of it all crashing down on her. She hadn't just failed to save you, but also the innocent life growing inside you. The knife that took your life had also claimed the tiny, fragile being you both had created with love.

The ghostly visions, the heart-wrenching conversations, the passionate embraces...they were all figments of her grief-stricken mind. A desperate attempt to cope with the reality of your loss.

“I was here. You need to let me go, you need to let us go.”

[dwaekkicidal]

The Party

˚ʚPerv!Emo!Han Jisung x Cutesy!Fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Fourth part of 'The Incidents' Series; based off of this ask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: told from his pov, jisung is a huge perv/creep, alcohol consumption (reader gets "drunk" and ji had a few sips), dubcon/noncon, exhibitionism, mean-ish jisung, degradation, name calling (use of whore and ji calls reader a stupid cry baby once lol), nipple play (f), grinding, cumming in underwear (both), Jisung carries reader on his back at the end

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: Italics are Han's thoughts! also the picture is just a reference for the outfit i had in mind :)

The Incidents Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Han stares up in awe at the giant house before him. It’s in a rich neighborhood not far out of town and he easily recognizes the expensive and shiny cars as belonging to some of the well-off kids. They flaunt them everywhere so it’s hard not to recognize them.

He glances down at his text messages, rereading the instructions you sent while nervously fiddling with the collar of his leather jacket. She said just to let myself in… He slowly walks up the walkway of the house, laughing to himself in disbelief at how loud the music is being played. He could hear it loud and clear from inside the damn taxi.

When he finally gets to the porch he sends you a text and opens the door hesitantly, only opening it a few inches to squeeze in without bringing too much attention to him. Once he closes the door and turns, his jaw drops. The inside is huge and has at least 50 people in the living room alone, let alone to giant crowd he can see in the kitchen and hallways. A familiar head pokes out of the kitchen and rushes towards him, a big smile on his face.

Han recognizes the boy as Yeonjun, a tall guy who he used to have dance class with in high school, and who shares a few mutual friends. He smiles back, waving shyly as the boy takes long strides up to him. “Yo!! Han! Nice to see you, man. Y/N told me you were coming but I didn’t think I’d see it haha.” Han chuckles and nods, “I didn’t think I was gonna come either, but she asked so...”

Yeonjun wraps an arm around his neck and leads him around the house, giving him a small tour as they seek out the girl in question together. The taller boy stops occasionally at little tables with snacks and drinks, making sure Han is taken care of before marching onwards in search of those bouncy pigtails. The kindness is more than welcome but Jisung is far from his comfort zone and can't help but chat timidly. He was going to give up and attempt to call her, but suddenly he heard a squeal from his left.

He turns in time to see Y/N running up to him, dressed up in all white and somehow showing more skin than usual. Her shirt parts in multiple places, showing off her cleavage and some side boob as well as her tummy. And no bra..? Is she nuts? His eyes flicker to the thin string that holds the top together and he can feel his eye twitch.

A hand on his shoulder cuts him out of his trance, almost making him fall from the sudden weight. Yeonjun leans in and chuckles, lowly whispering to Han as if anybody could hear them over the music. “She already had a few cups so good luck. If you thought she was touchy before, you can’t imagine how she gets when she drinks.” Han’s eyes widen at the warning, but before he has time to ask what he meant Yeonjun is already gone. The feeling of a body clutching onto his arm has him turning back the opposite way, taking in the rest of her features as she mumbles words at him.

“My goshh~ I didn’t think you’d actually come, Sungie... ‘Missed you soooo much. hehe...” He chuckles and cringes, not sure how to respond. However, he’s not even given a chance to because she starts dragging him down the hallway to the game room where some of her friends are grouped.

About 3 hours pass before Jisung finally settles in, still very uncomfortable but slowly opening up to some of the people there. Y/N had a cup and a half more before everybody began sneaking her water meanwhile Jisung was still on his first cup, only having taken a few sips. He’s too busy zoned out and staring at the floor to realize that they’re almost alone, his mind too busy over the white lace garter that decorates the thigh of his love interest. He’s leaning back on one of the leather couches in the game room, and aside from the few random people who are spread around busy playing their games, or sucking each other's faces, it’s fairly vacant.

Then the song blasting throughout the house suddenly changes to a new one. A slow sensual one that, if he wasn’t so preoccupied, would’ve made him uncomfortable from the sheer seductiveness of it. But this poor little emo boy only realizes once it’s too late: once two hands covered by those familiar white arm warmers rest on his lower tummy. He tenses up and his face darts up to stare at the girl, almost offendedly. Even from this distance, he can smell the sugary sweet sangria on her breath and, for once in his life, the idea of her touching him makes him uneasy.

Y/N smiles, bites her lip, and crawls on top of him, planting a knee on either side of his hips. She leans in until their noses almost touch and Han has half the mind to back away as much as possible. But she only pushes further until she's almost completely pressed up against him. Her hips press down and she looks up at him from under her eyelashes.

His hard-on is resting perfectly against her mound. There’s no way she doesn’t feel that. His brain fries and he stutters out her name in confusion, putting his hands on either side of her shoulders to hold her back. She ignores him completely in favor of slowly running her hands up his stomach and to his chest, pulling the chain around his neck so that he leans into her.

She giggles at his reaction and lowers her hands onto his, pushing them back and lower to rest on her ass, where she then leaves them and wraps her hands around his neck. Those glossy lips of hers are caught between her teeth as she leans into him, her voice low and seductive. “Sungie~” He doesn’t try to move his hands, why would he? He’s enjoying himself. But he does slightly freak out at the thought of people walking in and seeing a freak like him groping the hottest girl on the planet. “What are you doing?!” He looks around the room to make sure there are no prying eyes but her smooth voice drags his attention back to her.

“C’mon~~ Don’t you think I'm pretty?” Her flushed cheeks are almost unnoticeable in the dim lighting but boy does he see it. Their lips ghost and he feels his dick twitch in his jeans when he feels some of her lip gloss get transferred to him. Fuck. I was doing so well today too… “Don’t you want me?” Her voice lowers with each word until she’s whispering against his lips, finally pushing her own against his. His heart beats out of his chest but he lets his eyes close and his hands move up to her waist as he reciprocates the kiss. Her tongue pokes out in an attempt to deepen the kiss and he reluctantly lets it happen. His head spins when their tongues clash and he finds himself losing control when her lip gloss smudges all over their chins. Holy shit... She tastes like strawberries... 

Eventually, they pull away to breathe but she wastes no time and dips down to his neck, leaving sloppy kisses along his Adam's Apple as she mumbles incoherent sentences against it. If the slurring of her words wasn’t enough to discourage him, the recalling of his earlier conversation was. The uneasy feeling from earlier is quickly forgotten when Yeonjun’s voice replays in his head. His hand roughly digs into her hair and pulls her away so that she’s sitting up straight. The moan it pulls from her only makes him harder.

“You know… Yeonjun warned me about how touchy you are when you drink. You do this with every man you get your little hands on?” He whispers against her ear. “N-No only for you, Sungie. I promise~” She pouts and he narrows his eyes at her, not believing it for even a second. “Yeah? Then why does he seem so familiar with how you’re acting right now? You probably whore out every time they have one of these parties. Am I supposed to be your next victim?” Hell. I don’t think I’d even mind being a victim to her.

She whimpers and frowns, shaking her head rapidly and unintentionally rubbing herself harder against his hard-on. He closes his eyes to focus on breathing; while this newfound confidence is nice, he doesn’t think it’s enough to push any further than this, so he just doesn’t respond. Instead choosing to stay quiet and let his other hand squeeze the fat of her thighs, engraving the feeling in his mind. Who knows when I’ll get another chance like this? Might as well take advantage of it too... He knows he shouldn’t. She’s drunk for fucks sake! But GOD does she look so good like this... On my lap, all desperate for me.

The hold on her hair is loosened as he lets his hands roam all over her body. They start at her thighs: running his fingers over the flesh there softly before flattening his palms against her ass and squeezing them, spreading them apart in the process. He glances up at her shutting eyes and nodding head, thinking to himself for a second as he mindlessly fondles her ass. He wonders just how far he can get before she sobers up. She’s gonna fucking hate me... But also, she looks so drunk that she might not even notice. OR remember for that matter.

With every passing second he feels his morals fading away until he eventually decides that today is the day he gives no fucks. Let her find out. Fuck it. His hands move up to her hips again and pull her down, dragging her clothed pussy over his bulge like she was doing earlier. She sighs and closes her eyes all the way, spreading her knees to allow him to pull her farther down. He bites his lip and looks around, staring intensely at the last 2 people in the room who were too busy sucking each other’s faces off to notice his actions. A whimper of his name pulls his attention back to the girl above him. His hooded eyes meet hers as she stares down at him, the neediness painfully obvious. He smirks and tilts his head, playing dumb as she starts to move her hips on her own again.

“Hmm? What’s wrong Y/N?” His hands trail down her thighs and he licks his lips as he stares down at them. His pointer finger and thumb rub the fabric of her lace garter as he waits patiently for her to respond. When she doesn’t he pulls the elastic back, letting it snap against her soft skin there. It pulls a delayed squeak from her and he continues to smirk cockily. The hand moves back up and plays with the hem of her skirt. He can faintly see the dark colored panties she has on and he’s itching to see it. He glances up to see her eyes fluttering open and closed again. She won’t notice...

Then he grabs the fabric and pushes it up against her tummy. He holds it there as he peeks between her legs, watching her pretty panties soak more and more as she pushes down more against him. Her pretty, red panties. You fucking whore.. The hand resting on her ass rises and comes down, slapping the bare flesh there meanly and pulling a shriek from her. “You planned this shit, didn’t you? Asked me for my favorite color just to wear some slutty panties to entice me?” And they’re fucking sheer again. She looks down at him with watery eyes and whines, placing her hand on his shoulder as her hips continue to move. The silence that follows is all the answer he needs. 

He snakes his right hand up her body, stopping at her chest and pinching her nipples through the thin fabric. “Stupid little crybaby... Slutting yourself out for anybody who will give you the time of day.” The hand comes down on her ass again and her hips falter. “Did I say you could stop?” Her head rolls and she continues instantly; he can feel her obedience awakening something new in him.

His right hand slides through the top hole of her shirt to grab a handful of her boob, squeezing it as he leans in. He licked her other nipple through the fabric, sucking and nibbling it as her hips continued to rut against him. Eventually, though, the fabric was preventing him from feeling her up properly and it irritated him to no end. The alcohol in his system tells him to rip it open, but the sober side of him shuts the idea down instantly, so he grabs the top string of her shirt, pulling it roughly and freeing her chest to the cold air in the game room. She gasps and tries to cover herself with her arms but he grabs both of her wrists before she can. “Don’t even think about it. You wanted to act like a whore so I'm treating you like one.” He pushed her arms out of the way and grabbed handfuls of her chest with both hands, aggressively massaging the mounds of fat as if proving his point.

He leans back in, releasing the death-grip on one of her boobs and wrapping those pretty pink lips around her bare nipple. His now free hand moves to her ass, slapping the skin before grabbing her hip and grinding her harder against him. Her hands trail into his hair, grabbing handfuls and tugging it as she moans loudly. “S-Sungie! Ahh~” Her sweet voice crying out his name was the last thing he needed to send him over the edge, and the hands in his hair gripped tighter as she came with him, both of their faces scrunching up in pleasure as he continued to move her hips against him and lick her nipple.

Eventually, they both finish riding out their highs and she sleepily wraps her arms around his neck and hides her face in the crook of his neck. He let her stay there as he caught his breath, hands rubbing up and down her back soothingly. He very quickly hears soft snores coming from her and gets up, laying her softly on the couch as he does so. Standing in the same place she was just 10 minutes ago gives him the perfect view to stare down at her, mind boggled at the way she still looks so hot despite being completely ruined.

Her lip gloss was smeared all over the lower part of her face and her lips themselves were swollen and red. Her shirt was still spread wide open, letting anybody who walked in see her pretty tits. His eyes traced the red marks he left against the pudgy skin there as her chest rose and fell with her breaths. Her one nipple had a pretty red tint on it from his insistent suckling. Her skirt hung loosely around her waist, rising with each breath and giving him the perfect view of her panties that were now darkened from her cum. Now I get to see it in real-time.. haha…

Pride filled his chest as the realization hit that he did this. Not Yeonjun. Not Juwon. Not one of those stupid ass frat boys. Me. The post-nut clarity and sudden soberness were almost enough to send him spiraling as another realization filled his head. The realization of what these emotions meant. Feeling jealousy at the thought of other guys touching her and happiness at the feeling of being the one to make her cum in her little red panties. Before he could dwindle further, the girl whined from her spot on the couch before yawning loudly and stretching. Then her sleepy voice filled his ears, “‘Wanna go home Sungie..”

By the time he fixes her outfit, she's fast asleep. Jisung puts her on his back and piggybacks her through the hallways and down the stairs. As the sole of his boots landed on the expensive tile, he quickly realized that nobody was around. The previously packed living room and kitchen were now left in a giant mess and it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. He had so many questions but opted to ignore them for now and adjusted the girl on his back, inching her farther up so that he didn’t drop her.

As he stepped onto the front porch, he was met with a familiar face. Yeonjun cackled out loud at the sight of them, startling the boy and almost waking the sleeping beauty on his back. “You guys are still here? I thought you took her home ages ago??” Yeonjun smiled at him, watching Han breathe deeply to calm the heart attack that he almost had. “Just take her to your house, man. None of her roommates are going home tonight so she’ll be locked out if you go to her place.”

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at the taller boy, “Are... Are you sure?”

“Yeah, she trusts you. And would you rather her sleep in your bed or her apartment hallway where anybody could take advantage of her?” Jisung visibly gulps and nods silently, pushing past the taller boy to meet the taxi that slowly pulled up behind him. He settles her in carefully, almost lovingly, and walks to the opposite side to join her in the back seat. He waved awkwardly at Yeonjun, who watched them and waved with a menacing smile on his face. 

As Yeonjun waved them away he smirked to himself. “That little minx... She’s got him wrapped around her finger haha.”

Taglist: (purple=can't be tagged)

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

@easypeezylemonsquezy @iiriam @soaplickerrr @kimahreummm

@seungfl0wer @4l17h4 @moonlightshostage @whyisaah

@lostgirlinthewoodss @kookiesbunny @piscesrising01 @adollsmind

@iheartbangch4n @evan-rose @klyde06 @ihrtlino @shuporanporang

@zerefdragn33l @sailor--sun

[twilightclouds]

LOVE BEYOND THE SCREEN !

[🎧] a series of headcanons about your streamer boyfriend, kaedehara kazuha.

featuring: streamer! kazuha x gn! reader

content warnings/tags: modern au, fluff(?), gn reader with no pronouns specified.

rin's notes: yes, this is a throwback to ctrl+alt+delete... let it stew in your minds if i'm revamping the series or not :D! also i think i'm sick (again) sos

kazuha is definitely the type of streamer to play cozy games (ie: stardew valley, animal crossing, etc.), but he also enjoys playing horror games on occasion with his streamer friends, and for some reason is always the only one staying calm

he’s often known for his calming voice, whether it be raspy when it’s late at night or soothing for his fans during all times of the day

he also sometimes has a surprisingly chaotic personality, often sleeping late at night to stream and plan out some future stream ideas of his

he doesn’t show his face in his streams, making it rather mysterious on what the streamer actually looks like behind the screen

for his partner, though? depending on whether you’re a streamer of not, it really depends.

if you’re a streamer, your fans would probably notice from the not-so-subtle flirting (or aggression, who knows what your relationship dynamic is) and you two would probably be the last people to actually announce the relationship.

if you’re not a streamer, depending on how comfortable you with a public-ish relationship he’ll either mention you on occasion (always with a gentle voice and loving tone) or kazuha will stream with you, playing various different games and helping you out.

his fans of course love the relationship and dynamic between you two, and there are probably those “kazuha being in love with [name] for 20 minutes straight” videos all across the internet

kazuha would totally play horror games with you while he’s being calm and you’re screaming your head off and be like

⤿ “love, playing a horror game was your idea.”

“well guess what, I’M REGRETTING THAT IDEA!”

he also sometimes randomly confesses his love for you while doing mundane normal activities or during his streams, it always manages to catch you off-guard even when you’re expecting it though

he would totally post some photos of you two together (those faceless ones though for privacy) and his fans go crazy over it all the time

[number 1# [name] x kazuha shipper]: OMG they’re so cute together i’m crying !!!

[kazu’s gf]: DID YOU NOTICE THAT THEY HAVE MATCHING BRACELETS??? WHY CAN’T THAT BE ME??? 😭😭😭

[dove2394]: when do you think that they’re getting married ⤿ reply: [sleigh-the-day]: that's wild bro

he prob holds your hand sometimes while he’s streaming (he’s so amazing that somehow he can use a mouse and keyboard with one hand while the other one is holding yours)

you’re a often guest in his streams and kazuha’s fans are all for it. they can’t wait to see you guys get married. /lh

©twilightclouds. do not repost, plagiarize, feed my works to AI, or republish my works onto any other site without permission. my works will only be posted on tumblr unless written otherwise.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚-𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏

hello, my babies! I am so so so sorry for disappearing and for not writing! I keep running into writer's block, especially regarding my requests, as there's an overload of smut in there, and there are only so many times you can write smut, haha. I hope you like what I've written, all thanks to sebastian stan for looking so fine and @lovebittenbyevans for putting the idea of cop sebastian in my mind! I am open to turning this into a small series, kinda like what @navybrat817 does with their fics. inspired by this photo

summary - there's a fundraising event in your small town, and you happen to run into the hottest officer in town.

warning - the word cunt is used, and thoughts of feeling something's hand against their private parts.

the gif and header I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

It was a hot day as you walked toward the fundraising function held at the local park. Your cherry-printed sundress flowed perfectly in the breeze, and your pink glossy plumped lips spread into a soft smile as you passed by your friendly neighbours. You approach your friend's coffee stand, thanking her graciously, as she instantly hands you the cold drink. Your lips immediately wrap around the straw, drinking the liquidity goodness into your mouth.

“Sooo, baby. Did you see Sebastian?!” Your friend whisper-yells, staring at you with wide eyes as though she has some secrets to spill. You shake your head, not knowing that he is here. “Oh my god! You need to see him! If you thought he was hot in his uniform, you’re going to be on the ground when you see his outfit!” 

You giggle, shaking your head at your friend’s excitement. “You and every other woman in town are obsessed.” You look through her assortment of snacks she has set out, not wanting to look around for the man you guys are talking about. “How much do you want for the coffee?” You reach into your small pink bag, ready to take out your purse.

“Nothing, it was already paid for before you arrived.” You look at her with furrowed brows, and she smirks at you in response. 

“I have a feeling you won’t tell me who.” You squint at her. “Unbelievable.” You shake your head, “Alright, well. I’m going to go look around for a bit.” You lean over and give her a hug before setting off and beginning to look around at the stalls everyone has set up. You hear laughter, and your eyes follow the sound. There stands the police force, all chatting and having a good time. Your breath hitches as your eyes land on Sebastian, one of the hottest officers in your small town. He stands, glistening into the sun with a tan, his body somehow sparkling. Your eyes move down, gulping as you notice his white wife-beater hugging his figure perfectly, how bulky and oversized his biceps look in it. Your gaze moves down, feeling drool in your mouth as you notice his nicely fit slacks. A whimper nearly falls from your lips. The thing that really ties the whole look together is his little man bun. 

You hear a cheer, followed by your name being called, and your eyes move around the group until you land on Anthony, his hands waving around, causing the other men to look over, and you give a soft smile. “Y/n! Come over, baby!” You walk over, chuckling as his arms wrap around you and bring you into a hug. “We’ve been looking for you! Well, actually… Ow!” You look up in time to see a can bouncing off Anthony’s head, and he glares at someone. “What the hell, man?! That’s littering!”

You turn your head, feeling your heart pound as your eyes connect with pretty blues. Sebastian smirks, giving you a nod. “Sorry, Bud. Couldn’t have you running your mouth, especially in front of this gorgeous woman.” He winks, and you feel your cheeks heat up. He spreads his arms, raising a brow. “Where’s my hug, Princess?” You slowly move from Anthony’s hold and into Sebastian’s. Your arms wrap around him, and you sink into him. Your eyes flutter closed, feeling your head become fuzzy as you take in his delicious scent. How could he smell and feel so nice? He should be illegal. “I see you received the coffee.” Sebastian pulls back and gives you a smirk, his eyes flicker down to your plump lips, and his tongue flicks out as he imagines what your gloss would taste like against his lips. 

“You’re the one who bought this for me?!” You look at him, shocked but not surprised. Sebastian had always managed to pay for your things before you even arrived. He nods before directing his attention to the group, spinning you so your back is against his front and his arms wrap around your waist. Your body heats up, feeling your cunt throb from his actions. “Thank you…” You let out quietly, softly smiling as he leans down and kisses the top of your head in response.

“Damn! You’re wasted being a cop, Stan!” Anthony chuckles, sipping his coffee as he stands with his hand in his pocket. 

Sebastian huffs, “And why is that, Mackie?” Anthony smirks, looking between you and Sebastian.

“Because you’re killing all the ladies!” You burst out into a fit of giggles, “So, you would’ve made a great criminal.” Anthony’s brows wiggle, “Sebastian Stan! Killer of Women! He’s the killer that gets away!” His voice booms, and the other officers laugh. 

“Hmm, I could get on that. But there’s only one lady that I’d love to kill with my charm.” Sebastian smirks, looking down at you without you noticing. He pulls you flush against his body, enjoying the shivers that run through you. You felt nice in his arms. Your gaze followed his tanned arms and landed on his large, veiny hands, accessorised with rings. Ones that make you wonder what they would feel like against your most sensitive part. You enjoy being this close to him. You could feel the jealous daggers from the women around you, but you didn’t care about them. You were in Officer Stan’s arms, the hottest guy in town.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[quixotical-lymbo]

hi! Sorry for requesting AGAIN, I just- augh LOVE your writing, chefs kiss! But anyway- onto the request!

could you do a Wukong or Macaque (whichever one you want, I don’t particularly mind!) with a GN reader who takes dares like super seriously? One of their bad traits is that they don’t know how to step down from a challenge. Someone dared them to microwave a fork? Doesn’t even matter if it was a joke they’re still gonna do it! Romantic if you don’t mind! ^^

also remember to take breaks and drink some water!

Pairing: Macaque x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Never double dog dare a person who has no fear and the balls to do it.  Warnings/Tags: Pigsy, Sandy, and Mei cameo, implied drowning, and cussing/strong language used.  Word Count: 500+ words 

 

"...ca…seri…sto.."

Your hearing was the first thing that brought you back from the world of unconsciousness. The pounding headache followed after as you swallowed down the lump in your throat. 

"..never…me..and…"

Your eyelids struggled to lift and a soft whine left you as the fuzzy sounding noises  increased tenfold. 

"Well it certainly looks like it!" Pigsy gestured to you, his eyes flicked onto your face before gasping as you managed to crack one eye open.

"..huh..?" You flinched when a collective shout came from the crowd of people circling the bed you were on. Mei, Pigsy, and Sandy were there talking to you all at once. You could barely make out anything other than a few 'I'm glad you're awake' and 'don't ever scare us again.' 

"Will leave you two alone for a bit," Pigsy sternly glanced at the frowning monkey before dragging both dragon-horse girl and blue giant out of the spare room. You looked at Macaque as he approached the left side of the bed, a goofy smile appeared on your lips as you spoke. 

"I did it." 

Macaque narrowed his eyes.

"I did it." 

"I know." Macaque hissed. "You must be dumb or so stupid to believe I actually meant the damn dare in the first place." 

"Well, you shouldn't have teased me," You retorted coolly. "Sitting at the bottom of the ocean for five minutes wasn't that hard after all." 

"Do you have any self preservation? At all?" Macaque growled. "Actually, don't answer that, I already know you don't." 

"I don't see the big deal, you dared me, I did it, and now you're mad," You looked him in the eyes. "I'm fine." 

"You could have died."

"But I didn't," You grinned. Macaque dropped his head in one hand and exhaled deeply. 

"Is this funny to you?"

"What?" 

"Is this situation a joke to you? You could have seriously harmed yourself—no, you could have died all because of me teasing you?" Macaque's eyes peeked from his hand. You rubbed your hand on your arm and mumbled, "...maybe a little-" 

Macaque called your name sharply. 

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry, alright?" You crossed your arms and looked away. 

Macaque stared at your face for a while before reaching over to grab your arm and unravel your cross to hold your hand. Your face felt warm as you felt a pair of lips ghost over your knuckles. 

"No more dares, okay? Not until you're better again." 

"Aw, what? C'mon that's not fair!" 

Macaque rolled his eyes and joined you on the bed. You grunted as the back of your head was pushed and you were forced to lay against his chest. Not that you were complaining. 

"Fine, no more dangerous dares." 

"Yippe!"

"Which I'll monitor from now on." 

"Aw man."

"Don't pout," Macaque wrapped his arms around you. "If you manage to get more rest I'll get you whatever dessert you want." 

"And If I say I want you~?" You threw one leg over his and snuggled closer to the heat radiating off his body. 

"Don't push your luck, sleep." 

“Yes sir~….OW! Okay, I deserved that." 

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

[deanbrainrotwritings]

dean winchester | MASTERLIST

most of these will be 18+ stories that include sexual or dark themes, individual warnings will be added for each one

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 ONE-SHOTS

boulevard of broken dreams [smut, 2.9k]

description — sharing a room with sam when dean has the sex drive that he has usually means he has to be quiet when he’s doing the dirty with his girl.

livin in you [smut, 4.9k]

description — dean actually loves reading. it should have been obvious what he’d enjoy reading the most. he doesn’t hate all books. he likes fun ones, ones with spice and romance.

watching over me [smut, 2.5k]

description — sex-capades in heaven with dean before he decides to travel the multiverse in the impala like he’s the fucking doctor and the impala is his TARDIS.

city grown willow [smut, 7.1k]

description — in which dean doesn’t die in 15.20 and he’s a stay-at-home dad (hot as hell) and the reader works at a company (vague as hell).

a proclamation [smut, 11k]

description — stanford era dean is a fuckable little sub and i like writing him that way forever. edging him here, actually.

where is my mind? [smut, 7.7k]

description — thinking dean is being annoying with his friendship with crowley. purposely teasing dean and leaving him wanting more, acting like nothing happened.

wild flower [smut, 5.5k]

description — dean gets hit by a spell when fighting a witch and assumes it was harmless or ineffective. he was wrong, but at least he wasn’t dead. he’s a woman now.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 IMAGINES

i hate buffering [fluff, 826]

description — you find out dean is dyslexic.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 HEADCANNONS

being dean's wife [fluff]

description — cute, snuggly, fluffy little hc about my favourite boy and my lovely delusions of wanting dean as my husband being awakened by a request, perfect.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 DRABBLES

bro, ashley's here [fluff, 1.2k]

description — dean goes all the way to make this slumber party magical, especially for his kids.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 SERIES

scream (you make me feel like it’s Halloween) [smut, 3.4k]

description — it’s Halloween and it’s also your birthday, and Dean’s made a lot of promises about how it was gonna be the best night ever.

standing next to you [smut, 4.4k]

description — aka part two of scream (you make me feel like it’s Halloween). Just a continuation of the special night that is Halloween and the reader’s birthday.

the narrative masterlist

description —

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 MISC

bluebird [smut, 3.3k]

description — a threesome with dean and cas, where cas is a harddom and dean is more of a softdom.

taglist

main masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[amidoobles]

Part five of my 3x3 best girls series: Yona

For my fifth piece I have drawn Yona from Akatsuki no Yona or Yona of the Dawn. I first watched the anime for Yona in 2018 (I believe) and, like Akagami no Shirayukihime, instantly fell in love with it. Except, Yona actually had English publications at the time, so I was able to start collecting the series. I am quite fond (and biased) of Yona of the Dawn. Yona has been there for me through changes in my life, so it being in its final arc kinda hurts. Everytime I read a new volume, I kick, scream, laugh, and internally sob — needless to say it’s my favorite manga series of all time. I just wish there was more merch. Please Viz give me an art book.

Anyhoo, for this piece I wanted to focus on learning how to layer watercolors more, which I think I achieved. I wanna get better at making more “finished” looking pieces. To me, my art always feels as though there are still some rough patches to it because I grow lazy at the end, so I want to fix that. Overall, I think I did good on this piece, but I need to learn to figure out how to keep the watercolor from bleeding into sections I don’t want it to. Also, Yona's armor was the hardest part. I'm not used to drawing details. Man, the hand though, that's a good hand.

Finally, if you like Yona of the Dawn I’d recommend Kusanagi’s other series Mugen Spiral and NG Life. Especially NG Life. Someone please republish it in English.

[plaguelily-art]

It's been a rough year for me so it's been uh, forever since I posted any art.

Anyhow finally got around to making some Octopath fanart since I love both the games so much but rarely make art for them. Was planning to do a series of "additional crossed paths I would have liked to see" but after I finished this I realized I just wanted to draw Ochette and Temenos, because their shared connection to the Dark Entity is SO interesting to me, wish we could have seen more stuff about that in the game proper. Might actually finish the other three arts I had planned for the project, but depends on how my creative energy pans out I guess.

Not sure how I feel about the colors/lighting, but considering how long my break from art was between drawing Ikona and this, I don't think this is too bad.

—————————————————————————

2024, Spring Digital (Adobe Photoshop) Ochette and Temenos are characters from Octopath Traveler II, and belong to Square Enix. Artwork belongs to me.

This image (published by the artist to deviantart.com/plaguelily, plaguelily-art.tumblr.com) may not be reproduced, copied, edited, republished, reuploaded, distributed, or redistributed in any way, and I do not give permission for the creation of any sort of derivatives of my work including the use of the work in datasets used for generation of AI art or any other sort of procedurally generated image program or software. Thank you.

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

<<Previous Chapter<<

**Masterlist**

>>Next Chapter>>

==================================

Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: Some bad habits are hard to break, and despite his best attempts to be kind, Izzy still manages to mess things up between you.

A/N: And we are back with the second chapter! Thank you for giving this fanfiction a chance. Every like and reblog means the world to me.

Content Warning: Self-depricating inner monologues, reference to the Kraken's torment and torture in Season 2, mutual pining and Izzy being a dick. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

=============================

It had to be noted that, the First Mate of the Revenge was indeed, a man of few words. And the few words that left his lips, were usually either a command or a curse. Though that was not quite strictly true when it came to addressing someone such as yourself. It had not gone unnoticed by the crew that, there was a certain softening of Izzy's tone, whenever he addressed you directly. His curses were said more in jest, than in true anger and there was something akin to fondness in his gaze, as he stared at you for longer than what was considered appropriate from a friend.

While some called Buttons a Sea Witch, perhaps it was you, who was the true magic wielder. Had you not ensnared the First Mate with your powers of compassion and competency? Though you sang no siren song like Swede, you had managed to captivate the mind and heart of the most austere person on the Revenge. If that were not the work of sorcery, then what else coukd it be?

Even now, as Izzy patrolled the deck, barking his usual commands and vulgar threats, there was no denying he kept glancing at the entrance to the hull, where you would be found within the ship's kitchen, helping Roach plan ahead for the upcoming storm.

"I mean look at him, the man's like a lovesick puppy." Lucius scoffed, as he watched the silver-haired pirate like a hawk, scrutinising over every movement and twitch with a level of surveillance that would put even the keenest-eyed night watcher to shame.

Cringing at the verbal observation, Oluwande dared to look in the general direction of the First Mate, whom had thankfully, not seemed to have paid attention to the scribe's declaration. "Sssh, Lucius. He'll hear you."

"Yeah, babe. I love you but you gotta keep your voice down." Pete agreed, taking the rope from his betrothed and making quick work of the shirked task, seeming happy enough to complete the work for them both.

Smirking at the horrified reactions, Lucius looked like a cat who had gotten the cream. Since his lover had taken charge of securing some nearby barrels, he took the opportunity to light himself a cigarette. "Good. I want him too because then, maybe if he does, he'll grow a pair of balls and actually do something about the situation."

"Have they seriously not confessed anything to each other yet?" Archie questioned, genuinely surprised that it had taken you both so long to finally couple up. In the same amount of time, she herself had managed to acquire two partners. Your dire situation did cause the pirate to question whetger or not you were absolutely useless when it came to the matter of love.

"Not according to (y/n), no."

"I wish they'd hurry up. I've got good money riding on them getting together before the next full moon." Wee John grumbled, as he carried a barrel passed the gossiping group. He had invested several coins into the outcome of your poorly-timed love life and by he'll or by high water, he was going to get a good return on his investment- even if it meant locking you and Izzy in the store cupboard himself. Hell, he'd shove you both into a burlap sack, if he thought it would boost his chances on winning the bet.

"You and me both." Archie scoffed.

He could hear them. Not clearly enough to make out what they were saying but enough to hear the sound of constant nattering. It was incessant, irritating. Like having tge constant buzz of a pesky wasp in you vicinity. Izzy longed for his days on the Queen Anne, where tge crew we focused on work, not idle chatter. Judging by the way that Lucius fellow kept glaring at him, the First Mate surmised that he was the topic of conversation. "Oi! You lot," he yelled, having finally reached the end of his patience. "I told you to prep the ship, not stand around gossiping like washer women!" leaning heavily against the railing, Izzy let out a string of curse words. Whilst not a religious man, he did ask whatever deity was listening, to give him strength and the will power to not throw someone overboard. "Fucking useless."

"Hey, Izzy."

He tensed at that familiar sound, that voice that never failed to stir something dark and wonderful within his soul. It brought to life a part of him he thought permanently dead. Turns out, it was just in a state of dormancy, waiting to be awakened at the right time. Or, at least of Izzy, the right person. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Roach lock down the pantry?" to an untrained ear, his lack of greeting might have sounded barbed and unwelcoming but you knew him better than that. The silver-haired pirate might have even gone so far as to say, you were the only one who knew him as well as himself.

The average person started a conversation with 'hello' but your dear Israel Hands was less conventional in his approach. "Yeah, we just finished. Oh, I brought you some tea. Thought you might appreciate it." you offered him one of the steaming cups of tea in yiur grasp. With a word of thanks, you both took a moment to savour the first sip, letting the warmth run through your veins and stave of tge slight chill in the air. "How's it going up here?"

"We'll be dead in the water come daybreak, if this lot don't do their fucking job right!" he all but screamed the final part of the sentence, easily earning himself a chorus of 'fuck off, Iggy' and 'we're doing our best here, dude!'

Your cheshire cat grin only grew, as you relished in the harmless feud between the crew and the First Mate. "Wow, that good, huh?" you teased, nudging Izzy with your elbow.

"Can you go down there and help 'em when you're finished with your tea? I need someone with half a braincell to check the sails are secured properly." he implored, pinching the bridge of his nose, as a migraine already started to form. Already feeling overwhelmed, the last thing Izzy needed was to add 'check the twats had correctly prepped the rigging' to his never-ending list of chores.

Sensing his palpable stress, you were quick to place a gentle hand on his shoulder in reassurance. Though public displays of affection were not common between you both, you speculated that since the pirate had not flinched but in fact, leaned into your touch, that he was comfortable with the gesture. "No problem, boss." his returned smile did not quite meet his eyes but a win was a win. You had at least eased Izzy of one burden. "How bad is the storm looking?"

When your hand eventually dropped from his arm, it took everything in Izzy's power to keep his voice steady, as he gave an answer to your question. Oh, how he longed to take your hand in his and place it back in his arm, so that he may feel your gentle warmth through the material of his shirt once more. "If Ed's calculations are correct, which they usually are, then...bad."

"Sounds like it'll be fun." you sighed, your attention now on the looming, dark grey clouds the besmirched the periwinkle skies with the promise of rain and turmoil.

While you were distracted by the landscape, Izzy was preoccupied by you. That was it, just you. There were not a multitude of opportunities in the day, where the First Mate had the chance to be this close to you. Where he could drink in your appearance, under the guise of merely being invested in your conversation. It felt wrong to him to be so infatuated with someone, who quite frankly, would never return his feelings but he was a starved man. Taking in every moment, every snippet of closeness he could get, until one day, your heart belonged to another.

Sometimes, he liked to delude himself and believe- just for a moment- that your kindness, your patience towards him, were all a hint towards you sharing his adoring sentiments. That perhaps, you could indeed fall for someone so wretched and broken as him.

The illusion never lasted long. Such fairytales of beauties falling so hopelessly in love with a beast were nothing but children's stories. The very same fairytales found in Stede's library, no doubt. And Izzy, well, Izzy was nothing if not a realist. He knew that you only tolerated him because you felt forever in his debt for saving your life. The silver-haired pirate had told you time and time again that you did not owe him anything but being as stubborn as you are, he doubted that you had paid him any mind. "Where are you staying tonight?" he asked, tone softer than he would have liked. Keeping up appearances around you was nearly impossible.

"I'm gonna bunk up with Oluwande, Jim, and Archie. They've got space on the floor of their cabin."

It was a relief, he mused, that at least you would be sleeping somewhere safe tonight, rather than in the communal space with the others. Still, Izzy could not help but wonder what it would be like, to offer you his own cabin to stay in. He would sleep on the floor, of course, he was a gentleman after all- well, that was debatable but he did possess some morals and understanding of social etiquette- and the last thing the pirate would want to do, was force you into an uncomfortable situation but no. Instead, he kept his yearnings to himself and responded in his usually curt manner. "That's good."

"What about you?" you asked, wondering if Izzy had plans on how he was going to ride out the storm. You assumed alone. Although, you felt a pang of jealously towards the non-existent crewmate, who may one day occupy the same living quarters as the man you were hopelessly besotted with. It was silly really, to feel resentment for someone who had not yet joined the team of misfit pirates and yet, it was inevitable that they would soon in the near future, waltz into Izzy's life and give him the love he most deserved. And as much as it pained you to accept your fate, you knew that could never be you.

"What about me?" he shrugged, unaware of your inner turmoil.

Correct, it could never be you who had the privilege to wake up beside him everyday or have the chsnce to call him yours. He would never see you as anything but some wounded creature he had saved from the brink of death. Certainly not worthy of courting the infamous Israel Hands. "Well-"

But before you could answer, Izzy caught sight of something. No, someone watching you both talk. Lucius. Fuck, he loathed that young man. He could not quite fathom what it was about the scribe that made his blood boil but just seeing him standing there, occasionally whispering something to Pete and smirking, as he cast a glance in your general direction, made Izzy see red.

Then it clicked. The oncoming storm. Of course. Those bastards. They knew of his past, thanks to Fang. No doubt they had told you the story too about how as a young sailor, he had not been able to keep down the contents of his stomach during a storm. Fuck, that nicknane too. You must have been revolted by him. Thought him completely and utterly pathetic. "-Look, whatever those twats have been saying, it's not true. I threw up one time-" Izzy began to defend himself, hoping it was not too late to salvage his reputation.

"-Oh, shit. No, I'm not referring to that. Fuck." you were quick to interrupt his rambling explanation. Sure, yeah, you knew the origin of his nickname, Izzy the Spewer but the story had not altered your opinion of the pirate. So, he threw up! Big deal. So had you during your first storm, and no one had bothered to call you, (y/n) the vomiter. "I just know that, storms bring up a lot of memories for some of the crew." you further explained, hoping he woukd catch the underlying meaning behind your words. "If you catch my drift?"

It took a moment but then a flicker of understanding sparked within Izzy's eyes, as he fully understand your insinuation. "Ah."

"Yeah." you smiled meekly, hoping not to trigger any unwanted memories for the pirate. All you wanted was to assure him that, if he needed comfort, you would be more than willing to provide him with comfort and company until the rain ceased and the skies became agate blue once more. "Will...will you be okay? Tonight, that is."

He knew, somewhere deep down. Deep, deep down, that your asking after his wellbeing was not an attack on his character, that you did not view him as weak for what had happened those many moon cycles ago, when the Kraken had stole him of his leg. This was your way of saying, "Hey, I'm here for you. If you need me", right?

Wrong. The poisonous voice of reasoning whispered in his ear, reminding him not to bet soft and be so sentimental. Of course you pitied him. How coukd you not? He was a disgrace. A washed up has been of a legend, who could no longer ride the coat tails of Blackbeard anymore. You were not offering him anything in the way of kindness, you were just reminding him of yet another mistake in his checkered past.

Before he could stop himself, the words left his lips and it was too late to take them back. "I'm not a fucking child, (y/n)." Izzy almost winced at how hurt you looked, as you flinched at his sudden outburst. Each time- and unfortunately, there had been more than one occasion- your pained expression left a lasting scar upon his heart. A fresh wound of regret that bled out over and over again. He did not mean to be this way with you. It was a defence mechanism, not that was much of an excuse really. Izzy should have- no, he did know- better. His sharp tongue was going to drive you away one day and he would only have hinsekf to blame. What's done was done.

There was nothing he could do, except keep up the charade and retire quickly from sight. He did not have to glance in the direction of the crew to know that they had all played witness to the entire exchange. No doubt he would have to sleep with one eye open tonight or maybe Roach would just spit in his food like last time. "Finish your tea and go fucking check the rigging. That's an order."

"Yes, boss." only minutes earlier, that nickname had been fondly used, now it just felt bitter to the taste.

Without another word, the First Mate abandoned your side and disappeared below deck.

Under the guise of work, your friends had been watching the entire exchange through side eye glances or in Lucius's case, just straight up staring.

Though idle hands appeared busy, Pete had in fact, tied the same knot several times. It was important to get everything secured ahead of the storm but in that moment, his mind was distracted. Casting a glance at the love of his life, his suspicions were confirmed, Lucius felt the same way as him- completely and utterly livid on your behalf. "Yeah, you ain't winning that money back, mate." he muttered to a frozen in rage Wee John, who merely stood holding another barrel, looking like he was contemplating throwing it at Izzy.

"Fucks sake, what a dickhead." he hissed, seemingly deciding against the idea, as he placed it with a resounding thud upon the deck.

Lucius could not stand to see you looking so hurt, as you stared longingly after the bastard who had dared upset you. The scribe knew he always teased you about your intense crush on the First Mate but it was during moments like these, where he really had to question what it was that made you so smitten with Izzy the Spewer. The man was volatile and about as pleasant as a cup of cold sick. Worst of all, this was not the first time he had stormed off after saying something cruel, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your hurt emotions. "I'm gonna go and see if they're okay."

"Maybe give it a moment, babe. Look." Pete urged his partner to take pause and watch you down your drink.

Despite wanting to abandon his post and assume the role of comforting friend, Lucius instead watched as you fought back tears and climbed the rigging, towards the crow's nest, no doubt seeking some privacy away from the watchful eyes of your friends.

"He really is the fucking worst. I genuinely do not get why (y/n) likes him so much." Archie mused, as she wondered if it was possible to find a snake at sea and put it in the bastard's bed?

With all the mysticism of a Sea Witch, the conversation was quickly intercepted by Buttons, whom decided to impart a great wisdom upon those in his vicinity. "'Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind. Therefore, is winged cupid painted blind?'"

There was a pause, as the gathered crew ruminated on his words. Well, partially ruminated. Most just sat there, looking confused or proverbially scratching their heads, unsure what to make of his revelation. Not one to admit his lack of knowledge, Lucius made a conscientious effort to nod his head and pretend he had understood the poet musings of the fellow pirate. "Right, yeah. What he said. Makes total sense."

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A/N: Thank you for reading up until the end of the chapter! I look forward to updating you all with a new instalment soon. Before I go, can anyone guess where Buttons's quote comes from?

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Wilbert's Worst

Right, so I really was open to having my mind changed on The Worst One but nobody’s argument has budged me.

I was going to write a complete, balanced essay on The Worst W. Awdry Book, but I’m a) mired in the research phase (hey if anyone knows someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of Tom and Jerry hit me up, for real) and b) right now I wanna talk about the characters and their Beloved Dynamics instead. 

So I'm just gonna get this out of the way so I can post the poll and move on to answering fun asks and watching Tom and Jerry in peace. Behold: a salty and unbalanced review.

Wilbert’s biggest failure of a children’s storybook? 

Henry the Green Engine 

Ohhh… because of the, uh, ra —?

Because of the racism, yes!

Oh. You do know that since 1972 they’ve republished it without the n-slur? 

Good for them. Two things: 

1. I know it used to be there, I’m never able to read it without knowing it was there in the first edition.

2. I consistently try, when ranking the books, to consider them in the context in which they came out. Because of this, I don’t like using “things that happened later” (like a new character never being properly used again or whatever) against the book. This helps me evaluate the author’s successes and failures against what they were trying to achieve when they wrote it vs what I would most want (blorbo content). It helps me not bring to bear the whole weight of fanon and fandom on a text that should be able to stand or fall on its own. Tl;dr I try to read the books like a guy who picked it up in 1951, or whatever. 

And yeah, if I’d bought this when it came out it would have had the slur. I’m going to judge it accordingly. 

Look, racism is bad, no argument, but does that mean the book as a whole must be condemned? 

Yeah, I think the slur and the “aaaand suddenly, blackface! heeheehee” bullshit fuck over the entire book, game over. Go directly to jail, do not collect $200. 

The Railway Series is not a work of high art or deep thorny complex literature. The books are meant for children — small children, at that. Children small enough to get bedtime stories read to them. The main goal of each book (especially this early on — you do have to manage secondary priorities like “pleasing the long-time fanbase” the longer you go, but right now we’re only 6 books into the series) is to create a happy imaginary world to enhance childhoods and family lives… to impart to other parents and kids a similar cosy happiness to that the author and his own kids enjoyed when he was workshopping/drafting the stories for them. When we say “children’s book” we really do mean little’uns — these average 1.25 full-color illustrations per page!

And these books sold in large numbers. This means it’s a certainty that somewhere in 1951 there was a Black family who owned the whole series, who went out to the shops, whose kid was like “ooh! Henry gets a book, neat…,” who like everyone else enjoyed the wild ride of Henry’s inspection and coal and wreck and rebuild… only to get verbally spat on one page from the end. 

Real mood-killer there. Epic fail, as the cool kids used to say in my youth. 

All right, fine, cool kids never said that. Anyway, statistically speaking there was certainly even more than one family that got that experience. Not to mention the non-Black families who even in 1951 were like “... wtf? i’d smack my kid if they ever said a word like that around me, geez. no.” Just a lot of people who had the light the book was kindling in them snuffed out all at once. 

You can actually be totally racist and your book not commit creative suicide on the penultimate page! Awdry flubbed his job of 'bestselling books-for-six-year-olds' here. Creative failure. Unforced error. Automatic zero. 

But times were different then, you have to consider it in the context of the time. 

1951 U.K. was not the nadir of multiracial equality or Black power, but jfc. I can assure you that over 99% of children’s books published that year in the Anglosphere managed to not use the n-slur. 

All right, all right. That was bad. But this feels off-topic. If you had never known about what used to be “Henry’s Sneeze,” would you still rank the entire book as dead last in the Wilbert Awdry corpus? 

Not dead last, but it is not a strong book. “Coal” and “The Flying Kipper” are super-interesting as material for Henry, but after that the book kind of falls off a cliff; the intrigue drops dramatically. The railway incidents chosen to make stories of are all solid choices, but it was not only “Sneeze” where Awdry’s handling of the material feels clumsy and weird. (And I’m not even talking here of the “heehee blackface — ain’t i a stinker?” gag in “Sneeze.”) 

But… “The Flying Kipper”? C’mon. It’s a superb story and no book that contains it can be the absolute worst in the series. 

“TFK” remains easily the best single TVS episode ever – but a lot of that is down to Britt and David’s artistry and judgment. 

Don’t get me wrong, a full-on railway wreck makes interesting material. But I don’t think the book does nearly as much with it as it could (and I’m trying sooooo hard here to forget about the amazing TVS adaptation, as I think it REALLY shows Awdry up. Even so, the storytelling here is surprisingly tepid and low-stakes). I get that Awdry probably wanted to lean into the comic angle and not make Henry’s condition afterwards seem too grave, in order to ensure the material wasn’t too dark for his young audience? (*mutters* again, a level of tender consideration for his readers’ youth that went right out the window when it came to small Black kids, evidently coz he couldn’t imagine that they read) Understandable, laudable — but if he outright refuses* to make the wreck too dramatic or scary then, well, then the wreck isn’t real scary or dramatic. And it can’t save the rest of the book from its flaws. 

*For all I know it could have been the publishers who insisted that the wreck be made preschooler-safe, that’s possible (although it’s also consistent with Awdry’s brand of humor and his overall low degree of emotionalism in his writing). Either way, though, the end result book is what it is and it will be judged accordingly. 

In addition to not being as exciting as many remember... @trainsupessandhuntresses asked me once if I thought some of Awdry's stories were "mean-spirited." I had to assent vigorously. And a surprisingly high proportion of those "mean" moments are in Henry the Green Engine? For some reason? It’s not just the racism. Awdry was not in the game to give Henry a deserved happy ending, he’d wanted to kill him off (the fuck?) and when his publishers prevented him (I don’t say this often, especially since I love how salty the Awdrys get about their publishers, but this in case good job, publishers!!) he wrote “TFK” with the primary motivation of giving Henry a new engine basis. Any soft or hearty emotions we get out of the deal are a side-effect — the only emotion that was fueling Awdry as he wrote this was spite, spite and a weird resentment towards his poor, long-suffering, invaluable illustrator. (I don’t blame Awdry for being frustrated that the engine illustrations were continually inaccurate or confusing, but I do think it’s weird to read all this great Henry material knowing that it was written with such poor grace.) 

So his ‘happy Henry’ stuff feels perfunctory; his Percy interlude is just brutal (why did you have to drag Percy into Henry’s book purely to give him a fuck-up, a scolding, and a messy dunce cap?); Gordon’s savaging of Henry for being too happy after recovering from a near-death experience is such an incredibly low point for Gordon that it’s hard for me to accept it as canon (there’s being proud, boastful, and self-absorbed, and then there’s being the straight-up raccoon dumpster fire Gordon is in that scene). Oh, and I think “call the police [local constabulary, doesn’t bear firearms]” woulda probably a less reckless way of dealing with the rock-throwing youths than the sneeze of hot locomotive ashes, which of course the Fat Controller doesn’t like, that shit coulda been real dangerous! Mind, there are small rays of kindness throughout that do get me (the interactions between Henry and his crew feeling to me the least perfunctory and most heartfelt), but this is overall such a mean-spirited book. God. It starts off with such a gentle story (almost a non-story, if you’re in it purely for the “railway incidents” game and not character drama), but in short order the vibes just sorta suck. At least in other RWS books, when the vibes are off, they’re usually off near the beginning and then improve by the end. This one gets worse as it goes on. Oof. Don’t like that. 

Also, the last page is sooooo lame. I suspect the publisher strong-armed Awdry into writing most of it so that at least the slur wasn’t on the last page of the book... and if Awdry had any idea of how much he’d just empowered Henry and all his fans in this book he shouldn’t have found it hard to find 50 extra words to sum things up. As it was, he’s just filling space and running out the clock, lol. Lame wrap-up. Boring. As usual when it comes to every little thing about this book, Britt and David closed this up better (mind, their closer – “He had taught Gordon and silly boys a lesson, with a whistle and a sneeze” – also sucked. But at least it was blessedly short.)

Didn’t you once list HtGE on a list of your favorite Wilbert Awdry books? 

I did list it as one of the books that “at one time or another” have been my favorite in the series. Unfortunately in the case of HtGE, that was back when I really couldn’t read a story that I knew from the TVS without mentally substituting the adaptation into my brain as I read… largely overriding the actual text. Plus, everything I knew from TVS as a kid kind of automatically got a halo effect. Plus, I was super into Henry’s arc. 

The first time I read HtGE after calming down and actually reading all the books as books... massive disappointment. There is such a gap there between what I'd thought the book said (all our incredible fanon work overanalyzing and headcanoning Henry and building this beautiful fantasy arc about disability!) vs. what it actually said (limp and careless writing, mean vibes, airbrushed n-slur, bad aftertaste). 

I do think there is some stuff about the development of Awdry’s storytelling technique here that is interesting (again, Tom and Jerry superfans reading this, please shoot me a message!) but it doesn’t counteract everything else. 

At least we’re over the racism stuff? 

Nah, I’m not over it, actually. 

[thewidowsledger]

Look Out For That Rage

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags | Warnings: +18, pregnant reader, pregnancy rage, emotional wreck r, sleepy r, jealousy, puking, weird food cravings, weird pregnancy cravings in general not just with food👀 r being obsessed in watching Natasha eat🥴 watching you eat…is so exciting ‘cause nobody else does- S.J.

Author's Note: This part can be boring, just highlights the weird pregnancy cravings that were actually referenced by my cousin's weird cravings and needs when she was pregnant. And I also watched and researched some pregnancy experiences on TikTok so if you find them weird, just scroll away. If I would have a weird food craving it will definitely be vanilla ice-cream and I will dip nuggies and fries to it, what's yours? xD

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

“Aunt Y/N wants Uncle Thor in her bedroom.” Morgan mumbled innocently and everyone's attention honed in on her.

Natasha immediately tensed, her eyes widening with disbelief and possessiveness.

“Why on earth does she want Uncle Thor in our bedroom?”

⧗

You abruptly woke up, feeling a wave of nausea wash over you. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, and the overwhelming sensation of being sick forced you to scramble out of bed and rush to the bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet in time, hunching over and vomiting repeatedly.

The absence of Natasha only heightened your emotions, and tears welled up in your eyes. You clutched the edge of the toilet, the solitude only adding to your already distressed state.

You looked back in the bedroom in desperation, searching for any sign of your girlfriend, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Natty?” you called out for her, weak and nauseous, your voice growing more desperate with each hoarse call. “Nat?”

“Lybov?” Wanda called on the door. She heard you call for Natasha with a hoarse voice, panic instantly shot through her and she flung open the door to the bathroom, only to find you hunched over the toilet retching and weeping.

Kneeling beside you, she gathered your hair away from your face and held it in a ponytail, gently rubbing soothing circles to soothe your upset stomach.

After what felt like an eternity, the last wave of nausea finally subsided, and you collapsed against Wanda, your body weak and shaky. She held you close, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she murmured soothing words into your ear.

“It's alright, I’m here.”

Wanda gently took a tissue from the nearby countertop and carefully wiped your mouth, gently removing any remaining vomit. The overwhelming smell of your own vomit caused your stomach to churn once more. She looked down at you as you looked up at her. For a brief moment, you suddenly broke down, a sob escaping your lips, raw and uncontrollable. Your tears spilled from your eyes, and you huddled against your best friend, your body shaking with the force of your crying. Your sobbing grew more intense, Wanda's panic rose, her heart aching at the sight of your distress. She held you tighter, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she tried to soothe your anguish.

“Shh, shh, it's alright,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I've got you, lyubov. I've got you.”

Wanda eased you back onto the bed, her gentle touch guiding you carefully. Just as you leaned against the pillows, the door creaked open, and Natasha appeared, a tray in her hands. She carried a plate of freshly cooked pancakes, topped with a generous dollop of strawberry jam, the aroma of sweetness filling the room. It was your favorite that she always made but right now you fought hard not to want to eat it.

“I want to sleep.”

Natasha, despite the tension in the air, gently insisted, “Detka, you need to eat.”

Wanda remained standing awkwardly in the room, caught in the middle of the tense exchange between you and Natasha. Her eyes darted between the two of you, unsure of what to do or say to ease the mounting tension. But one thing for sure is that she likes how you’re being stubborn and hard with your girlfriend, as you should, she said in her mind.

Natasha picked up the plate of pancakes, but you only huffed in response trying to fight the sweet aroma wafting through the air as she held it out towards you.

“No!” you tucked yourself back in the bed covering your whole body so you wouldn't get the smell of the freshly cooked pancakes.

“Give it to me.” Natasha's grip on the plate of pancakes tightened at Wanda's words. She despised the idea of you listening to Wanda instead of her, she’s your girlfriend for god’s sake. But knowing that this is the only way to ensure you'll eat, she reluctantly handed over the plate to Wanda, her expression betraying her frustration and jealousy.

“I think Y/N would appreciate it if you go out that door right now,” she tried to soften the blow with a gentle smile, but Natasha knew that the witch was really trying to get into her. It took all her self-control to suppress her initial reaction of anger. Instead, she simply nodded tight lipped, biting back any biting retorts that threatened to spill from her lips.

Natasha looked at the comforter you're hiding from, “Detka, please eat. I’ll be right back.” You only huffed, rolling your eyes beneath the thick blanket.

As soon as your girlfriend was out of the door. Wanda sat on your bed, she made sure that she's not sitting on your leg. “Lyubov, I know you're hungry.”

“No, I’m sleepy. I don't want to eat.” You groggily respond, trying your best to keep yourself awake.

“I know you're sleepy, I know you're tired, but that's all the more reason to eat something. You need to keep your strength up, especially now that you're pregnant. Think of the baby. The baby needs you to eat and be healthy.”

“Lyubov?” Wanda called again, as she waited for a response. But when she heard nothing, she carefully peeked over the blankets. There she saw you, fast asleep, your face relaxed and peaceful in slumber. She let out a sigh and carefully, she tucked the comforter around you, making sure to leave your head free from its cozy confines.

Wanda gently set the plate back down on the tray beside your bed and covered it. She looked at you for a moment, her heart filled with affection as she watched you sleep. Without a sound, she then quietly left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

“Did she eat?” Natasha inquired as soon as she saw Wanda, she was actually waiting for her but Wanda remained silent, her expression betraying nothing. Natasha took that as a sign and a smug look at her face, confirming her suspicion that you also didn't listen even to your best friend. Wanda saw the look on Natasha's face and immediately felt the need to defend herself.

“She fell asleep immediately,” Wanda finally spoke up, annoyed by Natasha's reaction.

A heavy silence fell over the two of them after Wanda's words. Natasha fidgeted nervously, her eyes darting around the room while Wanda was preparing herself some orange juice. The weight of the silence became unbearable and finally, Natasha broke it.

“Wanda, I know I messed up with Y/N and I know you're upset about it. I want to fix things and make it up to her, but I can't do that if you're constantly standing in my way.”

Natasha continued, her voice growing more earnest and frustrated. “Please, Wanda. I apologize for hurting your friend, let me fix my mistake. I care about your best friend deeply, and I don't want to lose her love because I was a stupid. I know I screwed up, but I promise I'll do better. Just give me a chance.”

Wanda's gaze softened just a bit as she saw the sincerity in Natasha's eyes, but she still wasn't fully convinced. As your friend or best friend, she needed to look out for you and make sure you weren't hurt again.

“Do you remember what I said to you through comms?” the witch asked.

“I do,” Natasha replied, “you'd kill me if anything happened to Y/N and the baby.”

Wanda hummed, “Good, you remember. I want you to keep that in mind,” she firmly reiterated before exiting the kitchen leaving your girlfriend alone.

⧗

After an hour of peaceful sleep, you finally stirred, slowly opening your eyes. This time, there was no lingering dizziness or nausea, but a nagging hunger pang made itself known in your stomach. You sat up in bed, groggily rubbing your eyes, your thoughts immediately turning to the need to satisfy your appetite.

You remembered the pancakes your girlfriend made for you. There, you noticed the tray that Natasha had brought earlier, adorned with the pancakes still waiting for you.

Hungry and eager, you picked up the plate of pancakes and began devouring the.. The taste of sweetness and warmth filled your mouth with each bite, each mouthful satisfying the ache in your stomach. You could feel the texture of the pancakes, the sticky sweetness of the fresh strawberry with the syrup mingling with the fluffy softness as you hurriedly finished each bite. Within a matter of minutes, you had nearly cleaned the whole plate, no crumbs and syrup marks remaining.

Natasha slowly eased open the door, peeking her head into the room. You glanced up at her briefly, your expression flat as you remained in bed. Your bad mood was evident, and you made no attempt to acknowledge her presence. She entered the room quietly, sensing your mood but still approaching you anyway.

Natasha tried to engage you in conversation, her voice gentle and careful.

“Hey, detka. Did you have a good sleep?”

You don't know why you are being like this, but you cannot actually stand the presence of your girlfriend. Is it because of the other night? Maybe. Is it because earlier that she was nowhere to be found when she literally said that she'll be here for you? Maybe.

Your cold attitude was evident as you placed the plate back on the tray with a loud thud, the sound so forceful and sharp that one might worry it had been broken.

Natasha flinched at the noise, her eyes widening slightly as she watched you set the plate down. Your irritation was palpable, and even the harsh sound you made didn't seem to bring you any satisfaction.

“You finished the pancake, I see,” she winced. You met her gaze with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, your expression unamused and aloof.

“Can you not talk?” you demanded.

Natasha tried to soothe you, but she was quickly cut off by your next outburst.

“Det—”

“Can you not breathe?” you continued, your voice getting louder to Natasha's liking. Your girlfriend was taken aback by your demand but held her breath instinctively.

“Can you just…just leave?!” you finally shouted as you flail your hands, your demand and mood only worsening.

And with that your girlfriend hurriedly made her way out of the room. Natasha gasped for air, her breaths coming out shaky and fast. The redhead was terrified to do anything that might only fan the flames of your mood.

“Hey Auntie Nat.”

“Fuck!” Natasha hissed in surprise as she heard a small voice call her name. She looked down to see Morgan standing in front of her, startled by the unexpected presence of the child. Her heart was still racing from your mood swings and the sight of Morgan only made her gasp for air once more.

Natasha took a deep breath to calm herself, and a slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she looked down at her goddaughter. “Hey, kid whatchu here for?”

Morgan's small voice piped up, “I wan’ see Aunt Y/N.”

Natasha quickly shifted gears, determined not to let the kid witness your moodiness. So the redhead found herself awkwardly explaining to Morgan that you are not in a good mood right now, trying to skirt around the truth in a way that the kid would understand. But Morgan, being a curious and innocent kid, kept firing off questions.

“Aunt Y/N is resting now.” Natasha started.

“Is she sick?” the kid asked, her voice full of innocent confusion. “I really wan’ see her.” she pouts.

“No, no, she's not sick,” Natasha replied immediately, “Well, she was.”

“She was sick?” Morgan repeated Natasha's words, still puzzled and now worried for you.

Natasha bit her lip, mentally sighing at the kid's persistence. She’s trying to remain patient despite the barrage of questions.

“Okay…” Natasha sighed kneeling in front of the kid, “You see, your Aunt Y/N is sick, but she's getting better,” Natasha said, she pushed some hair on the kid’s face using her slender fingers, “but she's very sensitive right now, and seeing people might stress her out. So it's best if we don't disturb her…for now.”

Natasha paused, Morgan always wanted to go to the compound’s gym but her father didn't want her to see the team training and sparring there. The redhead was quick to ask the little Morgan, “What about we go to the gym?”

The kid thought about it for a brief moment, her enthusiasm momentarily diminished as she thought of you. She had brought lots of hair ties, ribbons and hair brushes to play with you, and she’s really excited to see you. So when the kid hesitantly nodded Natasha smiled at her, and she reached out to pinch her cheek affectionately before she took Morgan's hand in hers, her small fingers intertwining the redhead’s.

As the two were making their way to the gym, they happened to bump into Maria.

“Nat!” Maria called. “How are you? How's Y/N and the little bean?”

“We’re all okay, how's your shoulder?” Natasha asked her partner, inquiring about her injury that she had during the last mission.

The two fell into a deep conversation, neither of them noticed Morgan carefully slipping away from Natasha’s grasp. She quietly tiptoed down the hallway, her small feet barely making a sound as she moved towards your room.

You were lying on your bed, your mind in a storm of mixed emotions, when you heard the distinct sound of the door handle turning. At first, you only saw the door opening with no one at the entrance. But then, your gaze shifted downward and your eyes landed on the small figure of Morgan, standing at the doorway.

Immediately, a warm smile spread across your face as you saw Morgan standing at the door. You sat up in bed, your expression softening.

“Hi little girl,” you said in a gentle voice as if you didn't sound like a dragon shouting at your girlfriend earlier. You patted the spot on the bed next to you. “What are you doing here?”

Morgan, who's very excited to see you eagerly trotted into the room, her small feet pattering against the floor. She climbed up onto the bed and sat next to you. The kid looked up at you, her small frame barely taking up any space on the bed. “I wanted to see you,” she said, her voice filled with eagerness.

Morgan's simple but heartfelt confession touched your heart, melting away some of the storm emotions you're feeling a while ago. You smiled at her, your eyes softening as you looked down at the sweet little kid sitting beside you.

“Aww, that's really sweet of you. I'm glad you came to see me. Whatchu got there, Morgan?” You reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately.

Morgan's eyes lit up as she showed you the set of cute ties, a variety of ribbons, glittered hairpins and mini scrunchies and hair brushes she had brought with her.

“I brought it so we can play salon,” she said, her tone filled with innocent eagerness.

“Want me to tie your hair?” You asked and the kid’s small head nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

With a gentle smile, you patted your lap, she quickly moved to settle onto your lap comfortably. You began to sift through the hair ties and brushes that she had laid out before you, asking her which one to use first and the ones she likes.

You started to tie Morgan's hair, she couldn't help but giggle with excitement. Every now and then, she would let out a small gasp or a squeal as you pulled a lock of hair into place. She occasionally turned her head to look up at you with a big smile on her face, expressing her joy at the play time you were having together.

After completing the hairstyle, you reached over to your bedside table and pulled out a small compact mirror. You handed the mirror to the little girl sitting on your lap, a smile on your lips.

“Look at that!” You beamed, “You look so beautiful, little miss Potts!”

Morgan took the mirror and looked at her reflection, her eyes widening with delight. She admired the hairstyle you had just done for her, her hand touching the butterfly clips curiously.

“Thanks aunt Y/N!”

“You're welcome,” you squeak, poking Morgan’s cheek that made her giggle, “Can you call uncle Thor for me? Love?”

The kid eagerly nodded and immediately sprinted towards the door.

“Careful love!” You yelled out to her.

⧗

“So? What's up with Y/N?”

“She doesn't want me to breathe,” Natasha sighed plopping herself to the sofa and that made the team burst into laughter.

Natasha's face scrunched up slightly as she spoke, “I didn't know that being angry when your partner is breathing was included in the package deal of pregnancy.”

Clint held his hands up, trying to contain his laughter, “Ah, pregnancy rage. It's a thing alright.”

“Laura, you know,” he started, laughing between his words, “One minute, she would be laughing uncontrollably at my joke, and the next, she would be yelling at me for forgetting to put the toilet seat down. I swear, I slept on the couch more during those nine months than I ever did!”

Thor clapped a hand on Natasha's shoulder, his voice filled with booming Asguardian laugh. “That’s not pregnancy rage, it's the joys of pregnancy!”

Maria smiled warmly at her partner, “Just be patient with her,” she suggested gently.

“I won't get tired, I don't have the reason to,” she asserted. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she continued, “In fact, I find it cute and scary. I can handle it.”

“Oh wait until she makes you sleep on the floor or couch, I’m here when you have back pains already.”

As the conversation continued, the group's attention was abruptly interrupted and it was none other than Morgan, who came charging into the room with a big smile on her face.

“Uncle Thor, Uncle Thor!”

Thor chuckled as Morgan practically threw herself at him, his strong arms effortlessly catching the little girl.

“Morgan, you ditched Auntie Nat, where did you go?” she asked, pouting at the girl. Then, noticing the girl's hair, she added, “And your hair looks so beautiful!”

“Auntie Y/N did my hair!” the little girl announced proudly, her face lit up with a bright smile.

Clint suddenly spoke up, a puzzled look on his face. “Wait, Nat,” he began. “I thought Y/N is in a bad mood and doesn't wanna see people. How come she did Morgan's hair?”

“Oh no, I think Y/N only doesn't wanna see Nat…” she whispered, her teeth grazing her lower lip as she looked at her partner.

“Aunt Y/N want Uncle Thor in her bedroom.” Morgan mumbled innocently and everyone's attention honed in on her.

Natasha immediately tensed, her eyes widening with disbelief and possessiveness.

“Why on earth does she want Uncle Thor in our bedroom?” She leaned forward, her voice sharp as she repeated the question, emphasizing the word “our.”

The little girl shrugged innocently. She then promptly hopped off Thor's lap, her small hand gripping his fingers with surprising strength. Her voice carried a tone of innocent excitement as she tugged gently on his hand.

“C'mon, Uncle Thor,” she urged, her small figure already setting off in the direction of your shared bedroom.

Thor's eyes shifted nervously to Natasha, seeking her approval before proceeding. After all, she was your girlfriend, and he wasn't sure why you had specifically requested his presence in your room, and your girlfriend has no idea too which is making her crazy.

Natasha released an exasperated sigh, she crossed her arms before Clint spoke up, breaking the palpable tension in the room with his words.

“Guys, you really think Y/N would do something immoral?” Clint asked in disbelief. After a brief pause he told Thor to go.

Thor nodded slowly, his expression contemplative as his eyes darted towards Natasha who was looking at the ceiling, her frustration evident in the way she chewed on her lower lip and crossing her arms together tightly. Before anyone could say anything else, Morgan impatiently tugged on Thor's hand, her young energy fueling her impatience.

As the little girl pushed open the door to your room, Thor followed closely behind her. The door closed quietly behind them as Morgan led Thor further inside, her small hand still wrapped around his calloused fingers.

“What's up, Asguardian?” you greeted, your arms crossed, cocking your brows at him playfully.

“I’m good and delighted to be here, how about you? How are you feeling Y/N?” Thor replied with his usual charm.

His voice seemed to have a profound effect on you, causing your cheeks to flush lightly, and you responded softly, “I'm doing good, Thor. Well, thank you for accepting my invite.”

Morgan quickly ran towards your bed and in a moment, she plopped down in your lap, a giggle escaping her. The little girl snuggled against you, her small frame feeling warm and soft against your own.

You gestured gently and patted the edge of the bed, silently inviting Thor to take a seat.

“Y/N…” he called out your name very carefully, “I don't think Natasha will like—” but you cut him off mid-sentence. Without giving him a chance to finish, you retorted, “She's not here, is she?”

The Asguardian froze in place, he knew better than to deny you. He has heard your girlfriend rant about your mood swings and he has no intention of provoking or triggering your pregnancy rage which he calls joys of pregnancy and he’s now taking it back.

“I think you can sit on the floor while I sit at the edge of the bed,” you smiled innocently pointing at the floor between your legs.

Thor slowly settled himself between your legs, the metal components of his armor clinking against each other. His broad back was facing you and his heart was beating fast calling all the gods he knew, to his surprise you began to run your fingers through his hair, gently fixing the locks and neatening his usually unruly mane. Then, you requested Morgan to hand you the biggest brush with glitter and ribbon resins on it.

And that to set Thor at ease. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that you were just simply intending to do his hair.

As you continued to brush through Thor's hair, you found yourself admiring its beauty and thickness. The golden locks felt soft and smooth under your touch, and you couldn't help but marvel at the healthy and radiant appearance of his hair.

“I hope my baby will have your hair.” You whispered and Thor just nervously chuckled. “Can you ask the goddesses you know if they can make my baby's hair like this?” you peeked at his side.

Thor took a deep breath, choosing his words with extreme caution, “I know some of the goddesses of my realm,” he repeated, his voice laced with nervousness. He knew he was treading on thin ice, both literally and figuratively, as he tried to find the right words to explain.

“But I cannot guarantee that they can grant such a boon,” he continued, his voice softer. “You understand, right? These things are…not completely within my control.”

“Blah, blah, blah…”

Thor's heart thumped loudly in his chest, he cannot believe that a human is making him feel dangerously scared and nervous!

“You could have said no, Thor,” You handed him a mirror, “Okay your hair is all done and pretty.” Thor held the mirror, taking a moment to regard his freshly braided locks with a lot of pink ribbons and sparkly pins in there, he then saw you at the mirror behind him with a small grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“The payment is my baby having your hair, if that really is not possible I guess I’ll just have to settle with another redhead,” you said as the Asguardian stood. Right now you only have two choices, making Thor ask for a goddess that can grant your wish or just accept the fact that your baby will have the same hair as your girlfriend, your hair is not even on the choices.

As Thor stepped towards the door, a thought crossed your mind and you called out to him, “Oh, and Thor,” to which he turned back to face you. You added cheerfully, “Tell Jane I said hi!”

Thor nodded with a smile on his face and waved at you before disappearing in your room. You now turned your focus on Morgan behind you who’s too focused on placing the hair ties on the bed, “So, who's our next client?”

Natasha has been staring at Thor, Yelena and Wanda who’s in a kitchen laughing and admiring each other’s hair. You also called Yelena and Wanda for you to have their hair done with glittery ribbons and hairpins.

“I want my hair done like that too!” Natasha whined as she was unable to contain her jealousy, she actually doesn't know if she wants her hair done like that or she was more interested in getting your attention than the actual hairstyle itself.

Clint couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at Natasha's pouty expression. He reached over and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Maybe you can ask Morgan if they accept walk-ins.”

⧗

It had been three weeks since the initial pregnancy was revealed, and now you found yourself in the fifteenth week of your pregnancy. Over time, your baby bump has grown more prominent, a visible evidence of the life growing inside you. The symptoms such as morning sickness and cravings had lessened slightly, but a new set of discomforts had taken their place. Your body felt heavier, your feet were swollen, and there were times when you felt exhausted and sluggish.

As for Natasha, Clint had been true to his warnings, and you had banished Natasha to the couch. Your irritation and mood swings were becoming more and more intense as your pregnancy progressed, and you found it increasingly difficult to tolerate even the smallest actions from your girlfriend. Although Natasha was being nothing but loving and supportive, your pregnancy hormones had rendered you quite irritable, causing you to snap at her often…and grew distant to her.

There are also specifically weird things that grew into you like you being not able to go a day without touching Thor’s silky golden locks, which made your girlfriend extremely jealous whenever you ask for Thor and whenever she had to watch you get to play with his hair.

And the food cravings had taken a strange and unexpected turn. There was this one time, you had a hankering for a mango, but it couldn't just be any mango; it had to be from India and you want Natasha to get it, not anyone. Tony, always eager to appease you, even if it meant borrowing one of his jets he arranged for Natasha to go to India to get you those specific mangos you wanted. And the moment Natasha returned, you just placed the mangos in the refrigerator and simply stared at them. Every time you opened the fridge, you made sure the mangos were there, almost as if they were a security blanket.

Sam, who just came back from a mission, was unaware of your mango situation and he accidentally ate one. When you checked the fridge and noticed that one mango was missing, you lost your temper and stormed through the compound, determined to find the culprit who had dared to touch your sacred mangos. Thanks to Natasha for saving Sam from your raging wrath, she immediately replaced it and told you that it just fell god knows where in the fridge but you immediately bought it though.

Today, your pregnancy cravings had struck again, like always and this time, you found yourself craving Wanda's famous paprikash. The thought of the rich, spicy dish made your stomach growl. Wanda, upon hearing of your desire, was absolutely delighted. She was thrilled to cook her speciality for you.

Your eyes lit up as Wanda approached, she carried a steaming plate of paprikash, the rich red sauce clinging to the edges and the golden, tender vegetables visible within. You could almost taste the dish already, your mouth watering in anticipation. Wanda reached the table, placing the plate in front of you with a radiant smile on her face.

You smiled up at your bestfriend, thanking her for the meal before taking a spoonful of the dish. The spicy, fragrant flavors exploded on your taste buds, the warmth of the food coating your tongue. After a moment of pure satisfaction, you placed the spoon back down, once again just staring at the food. Wanda, who had resumed her cleaning at the kitchen counter noticed you not touching your food, furrowing her brow in confusion at your lack of enthusiasm for the food. She knew how much you had been craving it, so why weren't you eating more?

“Lyubov? Is there something wrong?” Wanda asked, worried that you didn't like her cooking. But she always cooks her paprikash the same way so nothing could go wrong.

You quickly reassured her, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “No, Wanda, it's perfect, but I think it's not that spicy for me.”

Wanda chuckled at your comment. “Y/N, I actually reduced the spice because I know you're quite sensitive to spicy foods,” she explained.

“Well it's not that spicy to me.” You said flatly which made Wanda freeze in place, your attitude shifting from being ecstatic about the food and being cold about it.

Your actions seemed almost frenzied as you suddenly stood up, rummaging through the cabinets to find a hot sauce. With a splash, you poured almost half an amount of hot sauce onto the plate of paprikash, the vibrant red sauce mixing with the redder colors of the dish.

Wanda watched all of this in stunned silence, her mind racing to make sense of your behavior. Weird pregnancy cravings, she thought to herself.

You took a spoonful of the food again, now satisfied at the level of spiciness of the food.

“I’m full,” You announced as you pushed the plate away.

“Y/N, you've only had two spoons.” Wanda scolded, placing her hands at her waist. She glanced at the barely touched food on the plate, confusion etched on her face. How could you possibly be full after eating such a small amount, especially when you had just drenched it with hot sauce? It seemed like your pregnancy cravings were reaching new heights.

Food cravings, check. Weird food cravings, check.

“Where’s Natnat?” you asked as you tap the table impatiently, when you were about to stand you saw your girlfriend entering the kitchen.

“Hey, I was looking for you. I’m gonna go to the grocery do you want some—”

“Eat,” you cut her off not minding a word coming out of her mouth.

Natasha didn't hesitate and approached you immediately. She enveloped you in a tight hug, planting a tender kiss on the side of your forehead like she always does whenever she sees you. You clung to her for a brief moment before abruptly pulling away, creating a physical and emotional distance. It's no new to Natasha actually, since the incident you grew distant to her but she couldn't pinpoint if it was due to the hormones associated with your pregnancy or if you haven't forgiven her yet.

You haven't been affectionate to her and you haven't been actually intimate to each other and it's been so hard for Natasha…literally.

Natasha took a seat across from you at the table, you pushed the bowl of paprikash to her, “Here, eat.”

“Oh, okay.”

When Natasha took a bite she immediately felt the burning sensation on her tongue. Her eyes water as she tries to suppress the urge to cough. She didn't want to let on that the food was too spicy, not wanting to dampen your efforts in making her eat.

Wanda, however, simply tightened her lips, saying nothing as she watched Natasha try to maintain her composure.

You watched Natasha struggling with the food, completely oblivious to the fact that it was too spicy for her. You asked, “Good?”

Natasha, just responded with a tight smile, her eyes watering from the spiciness. “Y-yeah, it is,” she forced herself to say, hoping to avoid further questions. She looked back to Wanda who just gave her an awkward smile.

“Wanda cooked it. But I contributed by adding some generous amount of hot sauce.” You said plainly as you watch her like a hawk watching its prey eat.

“Thanks, Wanda,” your girlfriend managed to say between coughs, “Generous amount of hot sauce, huh,” she added, as she wiped her forehead that began to gleam with sweat as she took another bite.

Yelena entered the kitchen and saw Wanda watching you and your girlfriend, “So what are we watching?” the blonde asked.

“Let's just say that Y/N craved my paprikash, had two bites and she made her girlfriend eat it and now she's having some fun watching her girlfriend finish the food.”

“Did you notice that she has been watching Natasha eat for like a week now?” Yelena whispered to the redhead.

“Yeah, we bring in her favorite foods or Natasha gets them herself, only for her to end up consuming almost all of it while Y/N watches her, because if she won't, it's the end for your sister.”

The blonde's voice dropped to a murmur, when an intriguing theory just came up in her mind, “Is it like a... kink thing or something? Y'know watching your partner eat brings you pleasure...” she then stopped when she saw Wanda staring at her in disbelief.

“Seriously, Yelena?” she snapped as she crossed her arms, “I doubt it's that. Y/N is pregnant, hormones and cravings do weird things.”

Yelena, never one to back down, pointed another idea she had in mind, “And horny things.” Wanda could only let out an exasperated sigh.

“Why in the hell Natasha is all red?” Yelena whispered as she looked at her sister who looked like a tomato, she then let out a gasp as she spotted a familiar hot sauce bottle at the table.

“Is that my hot sauce?!”

Next

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: 'Affirmations' ༄࿔ MinLix

⤷ Mirror Sex | Worship | Handjob

♱ word count: 1.4k

♱ warnings: MxM(Member x Member), dom!Minho x sub!Felix, talk about body image issues + 1 negative comment about Felix’s looks (ill curse your bloodline.), minho calls himself daddy once hehe, worship, praise, hand job, blowjob mentions (both receiving), cum eating (?), mirror "sex"

♱ notes: i actually really like this? i hope felix knows how fucking beautiful he is

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“Say it again.” Minho’s voice is breathy and almost desperate as he mumbles the command into Felix’s ear. The younger boy shivers in front of him in response and whines in defiance, shaking his head.

“C’mon, baby~ I just want to hear you repeat that bullshit again.” Minho’s rough hands caress up and down Felix’s arms and he can feel the boy’s resolve caving with every inch he covers. But it’s not until Minho’s hand trails down to the younger man’s dripping cock and squeezes that he fully caves, doing so with a quiet sob.

“I-I didn’t say anything, hyung.” He pouts deeply and cranes his neck slightly to meet the elder’s narrowed eyes, “I… I just agreed with a comment about how I looked rather… unattractive.” Minho hums in response and starts moving his hand again, holding a tight grip on Felix and slowly jerking him off.

“And why did you agree with that? Surely my pretty baby doesn’t actually think he’s ugly? Right?” Felix visibly gulps at the question and darts his eyes between the two boba ones that are staring into his soul so aggressively. “Hmm?”

“I… I don’t know…” Minho could tell the boy was lying right away and he sighs loudly before letting go of his cock and pushing against his lower back. Felix has no time to react before he’s pushed onto his knees, and he’s immediately falling onto his hands after losing his balance from the sudden movement.

He lays his forehead on the sheets and closes his eyes with a whine, needy for Minho’s touch but slightly ashamed of the situation at the same time. The older man doesn’t give much thought to the action and lands a series of small, warning smacks to Felix’s ass.

“Do you really think that, Jagi?” Felix stays quiet until Minho lands a mean smack to his ass, causing him to yelp.

“I… Sometimes?” His voice is shaky, it's obvious he’s trying to hold back tears. Minho almost has half a mind to stop everything to comfort the man below him, but he has other ways of making him feel better. And he would argue that his best idea ever comes when he meets his own eyes in the mirror across the room.

“Come.” He softly commands Felix, and the younger listens immediately. He pushes himself up on shaky hands and takes deep breaths as he stands to his feet with shaky legs. Minho leads him to the mirror, standing Felix directly in front of it before standing behind him.

Felix frowns at his reflection and tries to look away, but Minho catches his chin and forces him to look forward. He takes the chance to look the younger up and down, not so discreetly licking his lips as he takes in the drool-worthy view in front of him.

Felix’s whole body is a light shade of red, both from the embarrassment of being completely naked while Minho is still mostly dressed as well as from the pleasure of having his cock played with. Minho’s eyes catch the various freckles that litter his body, and he makes a note to cover those areas with his own kind of marks later on.

“Hyung…” Felix’s deep voice meets Minho’s ears and his eyes snap up to the mirror. He raises an eyebrow curiously and watches as Felix leans back on him in response, wrapping his small hands around Minho’s veiny ones and laying them flat on his own thighs.

Minho knows what he wants, but he’s not willing to give it just yet. He has a point to prove right now. But for now, to avoid any emotional dams breaking, he starts massaging Felix’s thighs and nuzzles into his neck, allowing him the affection that will keep him grounded. He places a few soft kisses around his neck before leading the kisses up to the back of Felix’s ear, making him shiver and close his eyes.

“My sexy boy… Such a shame that he doesn’t see it.” Minho’s hands slowly and teasingly trail up Felix’s sides, squeezing the flesh there every few seconds. Felix whines and grinds back against Minho’s bulge only to be held tightly in place.

“Say it.”

“Huh?” Felix’s eyes crack open and meet Minho’s sharp ones in the mirror. He furrows his eyebrows when Minho doesn’t respond, not fully understanding what he wants.

“Say it. I want you to say that you’re sexy.” Felix gulps and frowns. “If you won’t see how beautiful you are, I’ll have to fuck it into you. But only after you admit how sexy you are.”

“Hyuung-”

“C’mon, bbokie… Give Daddy what he wants, and he’ll give you everything you want.” Minho watches with a smirk as Felix weighs his options and, considering he’s not really given many, he gives in rather quickly.

“I’m…sexy..?”

“Are you asking me or are you telling me?” Felix groans and rolls his head back onto Minho’s shoulder. “Repeat after me, baby.”

“You’re beautiful.” Felix hesitates but once Minho’s hand forces his chin forward again, he follows along.

“I’m beautiful…”

“Louder. And look at yourself when you say it.” Felix frowns but listens immediately, repeating himself louder and looking his reflection in the eyes as he says it. Minho nods and places a kiss on his shoulderblade.

“Your whole body is sexy; your arms, your legs, your stomach.”

“My arms, legs, and stomach are sexy.” Minho grants him another kiss on his shoulder and moves his hand to Felix’s dripping cock. Despite his protests, his cock is harder than before and drips with precum from the positive affirmations.

“Your cock is pretty.” Felix’s eyes drop to between his legs and he watches Minho trace circles into his inner thighs.

“My- My cock is pretty.” Minho smiles and places a kiss on Felix’s neck right as his hand wraps around his cock. He starts slowly stroking him again, this time with a stronger grip. Felix moans and his eyes flutter shut momentarily when Minho’s thumb slides across his leaking slit.

“I’m proud of you and how far you’ve come in life.”

“I’m proud of myself and how far I’ve come.” Minho’s hand speeds up and Felix keens when his stomach starts to clench.

“Your body deserves love and respect. As it is.” 

“My body deserves love and respect as it is… Hyung…” Minho smiles and drops to his knees, settling himself on his calves on Felix’s side and placing kisses on his hip bone.

“You’re doing so well, baby. One more for me, ok?” Felix nods eagerly and tangles his hands in Minho’s hair, tugging it lightly and making Minho moan quietly. “You are important, strong, and drop-dead gorgeous.” Felix’s thighs tense up and he takes a second to breathe before repeating, his orgasm dangerously close.

“I’m- I’m important, strong, and- fuck!” Felix whines and bites down on his free hand when Minho wraps his lips around his tip, sucking harshly as he moves his hand eagerly. His eyes narrowed at the way Felix missed a word, but the boy did well enough for his liking for him to grant him his wish

His free hand sneaks to Felix’s ass and he kneads the muscle there appreciatively as he angles Felix’s slightly sideways. He cums soon after thanks to Minho humming around him, his hips bucking and his legs shaking as he tries to hold his body weight up as he cums. Minho looks up just in time for Felix’s eyes to flutter open, and he moans louder even louder when their eyes meet.

Once he’s finished coming down, Minho rises to his feet and wraps his arms around Felix. He pulls the younger into him with a tight grip on his hips and pulls him into a kiss, letting him taste himself on his tongue.

“Let me repay you, hyung. For treating me so well.” Felix looks up at him under his eyelashes and, despite how dedicated he was to his goal earlier, Minho is not as strong as he thought he was. And Felix’s shiny, pleading eyes are all too convincing, so he quickly agrees. 

He smirks to himself when Felix pushes him onto the bed and drops to his knees, giving Minho a nice view of his bare backside in the mirror. His smile stays plastered on his face even as Felix’s small hands sneak into the hem of his sweats and pull them down. His cock twitches at the devious little smile on the younger man’s face, and he can already tell it’s going to be a long night.

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @4l17h4

@felixsangelicfreckles

[hxhhasmysoul]

Do you think that… if Gege had took more breaks if even put jjk on hiatus- similarly to how Togashi would take hiatus for hxh- do you think that Gege would have spend the much needed break and rest to give jjk the pacing and proper development that the story needed?

It's not impossible, but I think the issue is more complex than that.

From what I've gathered from one of Gege's recent interviews, their writing process is a bit like mine. The story is less planned and it more evolves. This means that the author is kinda screwed if they can't edit let's say something on page/in chapter/in episode 5 once they've written page/chapter/episode 30 where some concept already mentioned in chapter 5 gets clarified/changed/etc.

If you're writing something that will only be published once completely finished and edited, it doesn't matter what your writing process is. But if you publish stuff in increments, almost instantly after writing it, then well, it's out there.

I have rewritten parts of already published fic chapters and updated them on AO3 without a second thought, because the story I was writing evolved and I wanted something to be different/clearer/mentioned/better set up/etc in an earlier chapter.

Miura, the author of Berserk, rewrote and republished parts of it, because when he started writing Berserk, he didn't really have a proper idea of Guts' backstory and other crucial elements.

The whole thing with Nobara's mum, the New Shadow Style school, earlier the merger and the foreign military invasion or Yuki, and most importantly Yuuji’s family. All of that feels like ideas that clarified/appeared in Gege's mind too late to be properly developed, or like ideas that felt good at the time but then like stopped fitting the vision. Especially when Gege decided to quickly wind down JJK somewhere mid the Culling Games. 

If I remember correctly they also expressed dissatisfaction with how the Culling Games shaped out be. It may be that Gege’d started writing them in the shape they are now because it seemed to them they had a good idea of what to do with them, and then once writing them it turned out the idea was not what they wanted. 

This happens to me all the time, I’ll write myself into a corner. Even in things I’ve written in collaboration with a friend, where we kinda try to brainstorm ideas thoroughly. Until you write something, you really have very little idea what it will feel like to you once written. And what actual shape it will take. I sometimes write a scene and it takes such a fucking turn… And I rehearse scenes in my head several times before I even open the file. And in such a situation, once you read how the scene went, you see that your initial idea for it was lacking. It felt good in broad strokes but once all of it comes together in detail, when you actually have to write all the sentences, only then you actually see how this scene connects to everything. 

I think a few things came together. Health and time crunch is one thing. I’ve written about it before, but the fact that it seems Gege never planned to turn Zero into a full length series and actually pitched something else. Or that JJK was supposed to be cancelled early on and things from much further down the line were moved so that Yuuji’s death at the detention centre would serve as an ending. 

And this combined with the fact that this is Gege’s first long form story. I don’t think they realised how their writing style would affect it. They might have not even imagined what it would be like for them to write a long story like this. 

People often accuse Gege of asspulls, of making shit up as they go along… this is what fucking writing is… you make up shit as you go along. The fact that some long form stories seem very coherent and so on is usually a mix of experience, luck, and either a planning oriented writing style where the writer is actually good at sticking to their plans, and/or the ability to fucking edit to shape.

So like, I think that Gege really discovered a lot about themself with JJK. 

JJK has some really good ideas and characters and masterfully written moments. It has also disappointing moments, meh or underdeveloped ideas and underused or overused characters.

__________

PS. A bit of salt to make myself feel better.

Underused: 

Nobara, Yuki, Hana, Angel, Kenjaku, Uraume, Hakari, Noritoshi, Kaori, Jin, Sukuna, Eso, Kechizu, Chousou even, Toudou, Tengen, Uro, Yorozu, Tsumiki, Higuruma, Inumaki, Shoko, kinda Megumi even, and in the ending even Yuuji. (I’m sure I forgot some)

Overused:

Gojou as a motivator throughout the Culling Games, Gojou in Shinjuku, Yuuta in the Culling Games, Yuuta killing Mother, Yuuta wasting everyone’s time in the fight with Sukuna, Gojou’s carcass so Yuuta again… did I mention Gojou and Yuuta? Oh and Kusakabe… why is he not dead? I’d add here Naoya, but he at least got humiliated 4 times first by Touji, then by Chousou and Yuuta (the fucking only time Yuuta did anything borderline acceptable) and then by Maki twice. Oh and Sukuna, he was overused for fighting, and underused as a character with interesting potential (he ate no one! Unless it's in some unleaked pages.).

[pricechecktranslations]

A question about your opinion! What are for you the best part of the Chronicles, and the less interesting one? Or maybe, where do you think Mothy showed his talent the most, and do you think there's a section of the Chronicles where he seems to have just dropped the ball?

Hmm, that's hard to answer because I think it's pretty clear as you go through the series (at least, in the order they came out) that mothy greatly improves as a writer over the years. So even though there's parts that I deeply enjoyed and found exceptionally well plotted (the Daughter of Evil novels for example), the actual writing itself is better, I think, in later books.

I'll also cite Gift, Pierrot, and Judgment of Corruption as some of my favorites of the later novels.

I think probably the books that I'm the least enthusiastic about would have to be the OSS novels, to be honest. It's not that I dislike them--there's actually a lot of things I enjoyed about the experience reading them, and I like (mostly) that they feel a bit darker in tone and content than the rest of the books considering the position OSS holds in the series. But there are too many elements that feel rushed, dropped, or retconned to me to appreciate them fully. I think mothy probably had some things in mind that might make more sense if he were to republish and revise the other books, but as it stands now they almost feel like a prequel to a different series entirely than the rest of Evillious.

[familyvideowithsteve]

façade, pt. six : Hawkins' party - steve harrington x fem!reader

This material may not be copied, reproduced, displayed, modified. This is my work, do not steal it, do not republish it.

summary: A new earthquake has opened the gate further, destroying and killing many. The first monsters have arrived, they couldn't be any less prepared.

warnings: (reading the first series is highly recommended) /NSFW/, no use of Y/n, she/her pronouns with no physical description, violence, near death experiences, blood, weapons, insecure thoughts, angst, self doubt, trust issues, jealousy, nightmares, anxiety disorders and depression (warnings for the entire series not the individual parts)

word count: 5,1K

façade the first series | the sequel | spotify playlist | pt. seven

  Dustin opened his eyes, and instantly took a breath in, he looked around him, his brain processing what just happened until pain in his already hurt leg forced him to try to look down at his legs, but he couldn’t.

His upper body was trapped under a heavy piece of beam, his arms could barely move, as for his legs, he could feel something heavy also blocking them, but he couldn’t know for sure, he wasn’t strong enough to get out of there on his own. 

  A whispered cuss word left his lips and he looked around, he really looked and he actually realised what had happened, he remembered he was in their friend’s house when it happened, it seemed like the ground was slipping away from their feet violently, quite literally as they didn’t have any time to react nor realise. 

  Her house was completely destroyed, there was nothing left except remnants of a house down on the ground, and it wasn’t just hers’, every house on the street was destroyed, the Wheelers', the entire neighbourhood.

  Second thing he noticed was the atmosphere, it had thickened up, white particles or spores —he didn’t know what it was really, none of them did— were everywhere, it felt cold, and dark, there was a weird smell around and it wasn’t just because the night had set, no, the Upside Down had started bleeding into Hawkins. 

  The atmosphere, the sky, everything seemed to lean towards Hawkins' invasion. 

  His head turned to the side as soon as he heard some noise, as it was abnormally silent around him, his eyes widened, he tried to calm his breathing but not knowing who or what was around as it seemed she was right, Vecna had struck when they least expected it. 

  His heart was pounding in his chest, his eyes trying to look in all the directions he could, but he couldn’t, he nearly had a heart attack when he made out Steve’s figure crouching down to his direction, approaching slowly.

  He was whispering his name around, trying to be as silent as possible even if his feet kept cracking around on the remnants of the house, cautious as to not step on anyone as they couldn’t see shit. 

The moon or the stars were nowhere to be seen probably due to the thick dark clouds. 

“Steve!” He stopped in his tracks and followed the sound of Dustin’s whispered voice, he managed to find him by feeling around, with his help he removed the first piece of beam lying on his upper body, then proceeded to free his legs. 

  By luck, his strained ankle had only worsened, he didn’t have any broken bones, though he could feel the scrapes, the raw skin on his face and on different parts of his body.

  Warm blood running on the side of his face, next to his eyes, the arch of his eyebrows made him wince as he sat up, dizziness starting to blurry his vision, he was forced to slow down his movements. 

  He couldn’t see much but Steve was eyeing in his direction, as best as he could, only perceiving the smallest bits of reflected light in his eyes, his brows furrowed as he heard Dustin’s breathing alter for just a second in pain. 

  “What’s wrong?” Steve let out in a whisper, one of his hands trying to feel around for him until he found one of his knees (he hopes), his movements cautious, trying to sense an injury, blood, anything. 

  “I can feel blood running along the side of my face but not that much, so it’s probably not that bad but my head is-”, he paused, realising Steve was whispering, he wasn’t. Why would he whisper?

  “What? Dustin?” There again! More panicked, his voice cracking a bit but he whispered again. 

  “Why are you whispering Steve?” 

  Dustin heard the shallow breathing leave his lips, almost like his body was shaking, a goosebump took over his body, “I suppose I.. heard some familiar noise when I came back to my senses.. The Upside Down kind of familiar noises..” 

  It had the effects of a cold shower on Dustin, his back straightening, his heart beating picking up faster against his ribcage, sweat beading down his temple, “What?” 

It wasn’t a what? kind of question, more like a way to verbalise his difficulty to acknowledge the truth, he couldn’t believe it, at all, not until they heard something cracking, their heads immediately jerked to the side, listening carefully. 

  It sounded like multiple cracks, like footsteps, and it didn’t look like it came just from one person or creature, it came into their direction until it stopped suddenly, Steve’s heart was beating at an abnormal rate, his eyes just trying so hard to catch something, he began to wonder if the weird gurgling sound he heard were real or made up in his mind in terror. 

  Seconds of silence felt like an eternity of apprehension, until it started again and directly towards them, then a voice, “Steve? Robin?” 

  Nancy. 

  Dustin and Steve let out a breath of relief, Steve’s hand on his chest as if to soothe his rapid breathing and heartbeat, “You fucking scared us arriving like that, goddamit, Nancy!”, Dustin’s voice almost shouted, in a controlled whisper-yell. 

  She continued, crouching down to them, his voice guiding her, “I’m sorry, I just- I can’t- Are you guys okay?” 

  Steve could kind of imagine where she was from her voice, “Mostly just scrapes, I don’t know for sure about Dustin, we can’t see shit. Are you-” 

  “I don’t want to be unpleasant but my leg is stuck and I would very much like to be unstuck and not feel this horrible weight on my already weak ankle, please.” 

  They both got into action, with one hand Steve lead hers’ to one side of the beam, him on the other side, they lifted it on the count of three, despite the weight they managed to rise it up enough for Dustin to crawl a bit forward, and put it down as silently as they could. 

  It hurt, but it already felt better, he didn’t feel any blood so it probably was good, right ?

He hated so fucking much that Vecna / Henry / One had chosen nightime to invade Hawkins, he probably would have done the same to have the upper hand, but goddamit how unpractical was it?! 

  “Are you okay, do you feel blood, or- or like it burns, or, I don’t know..”

  Dustin shook his head as he whispered back to Nancy, “No, I don’t think so, I don’t feel my splint though, we might need to make a homemade one, that or-,” he paused, feeling around his ankle, no his splint was there, “-crutches. I do sense my splint now that my hands are on it, but I don’t think I can rest my weight on my leg, limping is a hard pass, so, crutches.” 

  “Yeah, okay, but we can’t do that now, we can’t see shit, we need to find the others, regroup, you’re limping for now, let’s just wait for the sun to rise, at least,” she answered back, her head turned to the side, trying to focus on the darkness, maybe shadows could help them navigate, the difference in the darkness precisely. 

  It wasn’t that easy, Steve helped Dustin walk to the forest’s edge with Nancy leading the way, her voice a beacon for them to follow. 

They had nothing to do except wait, hope for the night to end, and for the day to finally rise, if it even did. 

  They didn’t find anyone else yet, hoping they would hear the others, or some noise to alert them of someone’s or something’s presence, but the night was quiet, they took turns staying awake, barely able to relax enough to get some rest.

  The light of day did manage to peek through the atmosphere, but it reflected the Upside Down's atmosphere, it wasn't bright like it usually was, it was semi dark like the end of a sunset.

  They were hopeful in finding more survivors that, just like them, were just hiding, but they found bodies instead, the first of many. 

  Neighbours at first, it wasn't a shocker, the magnitude of the earthquake, the gates opening further without any warning, the monsters of the Upside Down invading Hawkins.. It made sense that they would experience loss, close to them or not, then they saw it. It didn’t make sense anymore. 

  Steve didn't know how to react, he was shocked. Staring into her battered body, his gaze focused on something completely different, far away from her, but the image was imprinted in his retinas. 

He felt a hand setting on his shoulder, but he completely ignored it, barely acknowledged it. 

  The blue and red stripes from her blouse gave it away, and he couldn’t believe it, in a hurry he stepped closer and got rid of debris that fell on her, his eyes and eyebrows widened, goosebumps rising along his body as he faced a view he didn’t want to face, ever. 

Her eyes were just so… open and limpid, so lifeless. A greyish colour on the parts of her body he could recognize that surprisingly weren’t covered in dried blood, haematomas or dirt, her mouth slightly open, her lips cracked, dirtied by dried blood and dirt. 

  Her eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, in her last moments it seemed her face held pause on her feelings, and based on it, she suffered, and he hated it. 

  He hated everything about it. He couldn’t believe his best friend had endured such a terrible death. 

  It seemed like it was weeks ago when it was only days ago that Robin had told him they wouldn't be as lucky as the years prior in their adventure to kill Vecna, the stakes were too high, it was too dangerous, too great of a bet.

  A cold chill went through his body as a violent thought interrupted his mind, he began navigating the scene, trying to identify any sign of someone else's body. 

  Two remained missing, and he didn't even dare whispering her name, as if saying it out loud would make it happen, like it would give credit to some sort of prophecy and he would find her dead and he would lose it. 

Robin is already hard enough, not her. It’s impossible. 

  Steve and Nancy did their best to get her out of the debris, they couldn’t do much to properly give her a burial. 

They did as much as they could to pay their respect, her body resting in the edge of the forest, at the bottom of the neighbourhood, arms resting along her body, eyes and mouth forcefully closed. 

He never looked back at her, as it didn’t seem real, he would wake up soon. He’d have to. 

  They took advantage of the following light hours to look around for people, both Eddie and her were missing, impossible to find in the debris. Nancy found her father, her sister.. And unfortunately, her mother too. Her reaction was similar to Steve’s, dazed. It was impossible to believe. 

  Her brain knew it all too well and automatically started its defence mechanism: numbness. 

They did the same for her family, rested them next to Robin, she was trying her hardest to not remember their faces like that, with all the blood and.. the terror on her mother’s face, the pain on her sister’s face. She didn’t want to remember that. 

  Given they haven’t found anyone else alive, they decided on trying to walk around the neighbourhood, trying to look for anything that could be useful. Steve found some ducking tape, and improvised crutches for Dustin so he could follow them faster and maybe with less pain. They managed to find canned food, and surprisingly some water bottles, some were untouched, as if there never was an earthquake. 

  Even if the day had set earlier, the daylight wasn’t as authentic as it used to be, it looked like a morose, cloudy day in November, the red lightning striking the sky, the sound of it echoed in the city, the clouds resembled more and more like the ones in the Upside Down. 

It seemed like daylight was a faded copy of itself, the creatures weren’t there, only the atmosphere and the chaos around them proved they weren’t in some collective nightmare. 

  As it got darker they agreed on needing a place to hide, as they walked towards the city centre they observed their surroundings, saddened and astonished.  

Streets they’ve known all their life were completely unrecognisable, as they got closer to the town hall and the familiar shops they’ve grown to see since they were little, they’ve come into some that were still intact. 

  They agreed on hiding in one of them as the day welcomed more darkness, it seemed the day was shorter, or, as they had no way of knowing what time of the day it was, they were a bit disoriented. They improvised mattresses with piles of knotted clothes, they attended to their wounds, cleaned with some water and soap they found in the restroom and used broken pieces of mirrors to see their faces. 

Scrapes, dried blood, bruises, small cuts, they seemed to be pretty lucky. 

  They weren’t hungry but still ate, and both Nancy and Steve took turns staying awake and resting, with a piece of broken mirror taped to some wood, it was better than nothing. Steve took the first watch, he wasn’t sleepy at all. 

Thankfully, the shop had curtains, so they were able to hide behind them. He looked through them a few times, and he did see some bats and demodogs passing through, always remaining incredibly silent, staying vigilant for any sounds, any signs that danger was around the corner. 

  He was so focused he hadn’t realised that hours passed and Nancy had awoken and gotten closer to him, telling him he could rest for a couple hours, but he couldn’t. 

He was lying under a thin duvet, staring at the wall as his mind kept spinning around, keeping him awake. 

Robin kept him awake, the uncertainty that lay in their future, how, in one single moment, their lives had completely changed, it kept him awake. 

  She kept him awake. Was she alive? Safe? Had she partnered up with Eddie or was he also missing? Why were they missing? Has something happened? Questions like those kept circling around and around in his head, he couldn’t escape them, he couldn’t put them to sleep. 

  Then, he replayed his last memory, how furious and hurt she looked before she stormed to her room, they had fought, and she was so right. He had dismissed her concern and her ideas for Nancy. His hand’s hold on the duvet tightened, guilt invading him. Shame crept up on him like claws digging in his flesh, running deep in his veins. Tears of anger that he hadn’t even noticed ran across his nose and fell on the material under his head.

  In a rampage, he pushed the tears away from his eyes, a cry of despair forming but blocked in his throat.

He refused to let his furry, sadness and disgust of himself be seen by others, especially Nancy, whom, unbeknownst to her, was in the centre of that fight, and as he suspected, was a cause for their relationship to be so difficult, her jealousy was.. poisonous. 

Exhaustion got the upper hand, and he quietly fell asleep, still holding his duvet tightly, under Nancy’s very discreet gaze. 

Her body jolted awake, eyes wide open, taking a big breath in. Her body was stuck in hypervigilance mode, her brain already trying to process everything that happened. Her heartbeat spiking the more she realised what happened and where she was. 

  A sense of urgency invaded her brain as goosebumps started to spread on her skin, feeling cold with the adrenaline, the shortness of breath quickly followed, a visceral intuition to panic invaded her bloodstream, made her stomach feel sick. It was too familiar, all too familiar. 

She found herself stuck alone in a nightmare once again.

  She was tired of having to survive on her own, fight on her own, she began to wonder the worthiness of it, the necessity of it, it had to be… right? 

  She struggled to realise where she stood, she was stuck from her chest to her legs, she could only move her head around, but there wasn’t anything to see, it was too dark, only the red lightning striking through the sky, she instantly knew she had been right, and that with more preparation maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.. She decided on stopping on the what ifs, there were too many of them and it wouldn’t help her. 

  She tried to look around, the slight movements in her body halted everything as she felt something digging deeper on the side of her abdomen, the same one that had been bitten off by bats days ago, she couldn’t contain the reflex to look down and only moved more, she let her head fall down on whatever it was, exhaling loudly as she tried to not let out any cry or scream. A strong intuition telling her she needed to be silent. 

  Immobile, tried to control her breathing to make it hurt less, but the more she stayed in that position the more she felt its pressure, she was certain the wound had cracked open. Something had pierced through, she didn’t know how deep but she definitely felt it sting, the electric shot of pain coursing through her nerves at every breath she took. 

  She could only hear her own muffles in the darkness and coldness surrounding her, very faint clouds of mist escaping her lips as each exhale she gave out, she quit on moving, completely relaxing her aching muscles. 

Her eyesight focused on the sky, its black and reddish colour whenever lightning struck.

  It’s almost pretty. 

  A faint and distant scream echoed through the silence, her head followed its direction and another wave of pain shot through her body, reminding her once again to not make any sudden moves. 

The scream happened only once, it was too far to really distinguish if it was made by a human or an animal, and if it were the latter —realisation felt like a cold shower. 

Her heartbeat started spiking, she began to feel it against her ribcage, goosebumps and this coldness in her limbs, she started sobbing uncontrollably, pinching her lips with her teeth, her eyes stuck in the direction the scream came from. 

  Knuckles turning white from the tightness of her fists, giving everything she had not to succumb to terror. 

  Don’t scream. Stop crying. Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t. Scream. 

  Vagabond pearly tears escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks, she couldn’t contain the sobs that escaped her lips. 

  “Steve?” It felt strange having to listen to herself so weak, so vulnerable, her voice so shaky. 

  Another uncontrollable sob, an ugly cry accompanied by another fresh wave of cold tears, this time her voice could only whisper, “Steve.”

  She was making up her mind to give up; the fight or flight response was suddenly surprisingly very quiet, she almost felt ready to give up, she felt so tired, so cold, it was so tempting.

The adrenaline, the emotional tool of the situation, has completely exhausted her.

She let it get the best of her, her eyes closed ever so slowly.. and everything got darker.

Steve bolted awake as someone was shaking him, he heard Dustin’s voice muffled pleas for him to wake, he was on high alert immediately, eyes and eyebrows widened, the teenager’s face wouldn’t help him realise what was happening so he turned to Nancy. 

  She was taping tightly blades to a strong piece of wood, “The sun hasn’t risen yet, I’ve seen some shadows move around, they have torches. We need to get ready to move and fast.” 

  “I don’t understand- it’s people, they could-” 

  “I’ve been watching them, I heard screams, guns, they’re attracting the creatures our way, I don’t know how or who they are but they seem to know that they’re afraid of fire. Steve, get up. We need to move, as quickly as possible.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice, he quickly gathered his stuff, grabbed his makeshift spear, and made sure to strap the backpack on his shoulders, they exited through the back door, Nancy opening the walk, Dustin in the middle with his crutches and Steve closing the walk.

Both young adults had spears in their hands, cautious on their way to leave, too aware that they couldn’t see much, they had to play their luck, use their unknown opponents’ torches like a compass, know where they are and avoid it. 

A thought came into Steve’s head when he made out the shadow of what seemed to be riffles, they were seriously under equipped, he had imagined that some people would probably survive, just like they have, but he certainly didn’t imagine that they would be so prepared, so easily and rapidly armed to the teeth. 

  He wished they had better equipment and fighting gear to defend themselves, gosh, she was so right, but the harsh reality was that they didn’t, they had to survive with barely anything.. but what if—? No. 

  He stopped himself before exploring further his train of thoughts.. he didn’t like where it led him, even if he wondered if and when he would cross the line he was so hesitant to cross. He knows he’ll do it if it comes to it, but has it really come to that? Have the remaining people simply just lost any common sense and were ready to turn against themselves? 

  Killing those demobats and demodogs meant barely nothing compared to humans.. it really is the end of the World, isn’t it? 

  They were too slow, Dustin had trouble manoeuvring his crutches in the dark, a single moment of inadvertence —blindness would be more adequate— with no moonlight, no streetlight, only that goddammit light of that torch was useful to them but also because he stepped on broken glass and the sound of crutches on glass wasn’t, at all, discreet. 

  They tried to retreat quickly, Steve grabbed the crutches, with one hand around his waist, helped him walk faster, they rushed into the forest, Nancy could recognise someone she saw in The War Zone, someone who probably participated in the witch hunt against Eddie. 

  And then it struck. 

  Were they still hunting him? Venging Jason’s death? Did they have any idea of what was really happening or weren’t they just opportunists taking advantage of the situation? 

  Gunshots fired in their way as the three young adults ran as fast as they could through the forest, hunters quick on their footsteps, they weren’t afraid of using their guns, bits of trees shot off, their aim wasn’t precise at all, but it worked perfectly to install fear in their system, Dustin couldn’t really feel his ankle hurting with the adrenaline. 

Soon enough, they heard demobats shrieks piercing through the night, and surely, the following scream was enough to make Nancy’s blood run cold.  

She could recognise that shriek anywhere since she heard it back in the Upside Down, the first time she went there looking for Barbara. 

  Everyone’s footsteps halted abruptly, clearly unexpecting to hear such a strident sound. It was barely noticeable, everyone was so stunned, but Steve and Nancy shared a glance, a grave look plastered on her face. 

Eyebrows slightly furrowed, her eyes widened, her hands trembling. She felt the muscles in her body starting to tense, her body what it was, its response was almost automatic. 

As for the others, pure terror was setting in their bodies as seconds passed and the echo of the scream travelled through the woods. 

They were absolutely petrified on the spot. 

  It seemed like Steve and Nancy understood each other with only a glance, they began running, hoping they would take some advance on their opponents, the thing is, some of them were so afraid, they hesitated on following them, they watched a few running away, trying to catch the young adults, Eddie’s followers, as they enjoyed shouting confidently. 

The others weren’t as.. audacious, glaring at each other uncomfortably, not exactly knowing if they could —or should— give in to panic, or follow them, was it worth it dying for ?

  They received a reality check quickly as they heard hurried steps coming their way, and not from the same direction as the others, another scream, much closer than anticipated. They broke apart, gave in to fear, their flight response sent them away but the demogorgon was fast, it arrived on them like a bowling ball, getting its fun out of them in no time. 

  Leaving them bleeding to death on the cold soil, with no hope, the awareness of dying a terrible and agonising death and not being able to do anything but feel their heartbeats spiking then lowering, the temperature dropping suddenly, their fingers and toes, then the pins and needles in their arms and legs. 

Fighting that tiredness, that adrenaline trying to numb them into nothingness. 

Until there was nothing they could do but get lured into the void. 

Nancy had a plan —okay, no, scratch that, the start of a plan, just that— with absolutely zero guarantee that it would work or that any of them would come out of it alive. Having some kind of advance on their opponents, she hoped to find some kind of crevasse or hidden spot to hide into, she felt the tiniest bit of hope once she caught a glimpse of what seemed to be the rocks near Lovers’ Lake. 

  She grabbed Steve’s arm and made the three of them turn right to hide in a tall and tight crevasse near Skull Rock, Dustin was the one who got there first, then Steve and Nancy. 

“I have an idea,” she started, amid catching her breath, her eyes closed momentarily, all struggling to take big breaths.

  “They were able to light torches, that means they have activation energy and combustibles. We could take it from them. Demogorgons are terrified of fire, it likes it cold, remember?” 

“How? They have guns, there’s more of them, based on that scenario we’re losing,” Dustin complained, taking his crutches from Steve, who replied back, “Not necessarily, we have the element of surprise,” holding the spear firmer in his hand, shooting a glance at Nancy.

  Footsteps quickly alerted them that they weren’t the only one near Skull Rock, based on the noise and the number of feet, it wasn’t the demogorgon yet, so they still had time before it arrived, Steve and Nancy both were holding onto their spear, deep into the crevasse. 

  They arrived, using only the lighter as a form of light which was an advantage because it illuminated less than the torch, there were less chances of being seen, they approached towards the entrance, and when two of them were closer, they rushed to them, wielding their spears at them. 

  The lighter fell and they realised there were four of those men, Steve had managed to stab one of them in the stomach, twisting the ‘blade’, giving him a shove away with his shoulder, he dodged a bullet and charged him. 

Nancy’s petite figure didn’t allow her to shove him the way Steve did, but she stabbed him multiple times. 

  Another scream, and there it was, they could hear the Demogorgon’s feet getting closer, Nancy rushed to grab the lighter and a piece of wood. She called for Steve as she ripped a piece of her shirt to tie it around the wood, and when she turned around she saw he was in trouble. The hurried footsteps were getting so close and next thing she knew, it was already there. 

Standing, a strident and paralysing scream left from its maw.

  Steve’s opponent let go of him as the Demogorgon stood on its back legs and charged at the two men in front of it. In some kind of blurry rush, Nancy tried to get closer to Steve and gripped his arm toward their hiding spot. 

She recalls hearing the man screaming to his death, but the creature wasn’t done, they tried to rush into the crevasse, deep into it, but it grabbed Steve’s ankle on its way in. 

He lost balance, fell on his front and was pulled towards the creature as Nancy and Dustin were screaming his name. She was trying her hardest to pull on Steve’s shoulder but she couldn’t match its strength. 

She had to let go; she focused on the piece of wood and tried to light it on fire. She knew it wouldn’t last that much as there wasn’t any oil or fuel on it but making a fire was urgent. 

  Fingers shaking she managed to light it and shoved the torch in front of the Demogorgon, it let go of Steve and at the same time as it took a step back from the fire, a massive shotgun pierced through the woods and the creature’s shoulder was a bit blown away by the recoil of the bullet hitting. 

  They didn’t know if it could get madder and more violent, and they honestly didn’t want to know, but whoever was firing those bullets, aimed perfectly, each bullet forced the Demogorgon to back away, until a lighted spear shot travelled to it and caught fire. 

It stopped rapidly as it seemed to have vanished, just like that night in ‘83 where Jonathan, Steve and Nancy burned one alive. 

  They knew it wasn’t dead as they heard its scream echo in the distance, a revengeful and menacing growl travelling in the woods, with a strong smell of blood and hot flesh, sending a gag through Steve as he was struggling to get back on his feet, painful pins and needles around the leg the creature had pulled so hard on. 

  He felt warmth on his calf, and now that he could think of it, a bit lightheaded. 

The world around him was spinning, and before he could say or do something, everything turned black in a matter of seconds, it stopped hurting, spinning.

  He couldn’t hear Nancy calling out for him to wake up, to not give up.

It felt so accessible, so easy, so… welcoming, what else could he do as he had lost all hope in his life? 

-> pt. seven

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