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bishopsbeloved · 3 months

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the art of falling in love (part five)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

read this fic on ao3!

Death was first explained to you and Yelena when you were six; Yelena’s favourite of her mother’s pigs passed away, and you were both called in from playing outside to be sat down gravely.

“Girls… Wilbur the piggy has, ah, passed away,” Alexi told you. You stared back at him blankly.

“Do you know what that means?” added Melina more gently.

“Uh… Peter from class said his mom and dad passed away,” Yelena offered after a few moments. “And it means that, like, he can’t see them ever again, so he lives with his aunt now.”

“Yes!” said Alexi enthusiastically, before catching himself and adding in a much more solemn tone, “I mean, ah, yes… very sad. Not good.”

Melina looked at him sternly and he fell silent. “You are right, Yelena. When someone passes away, it means they are no longer with us.”

“Like when you go to the store?”

“No. When I go to the store I am always coming back, да? Passing away is permanent, and it means you never see them again.”

“Oh. But I like Wilbur,” said Yelena sadly, and you nodded in agreement.

“That is what makes life all the more precious,” Melina told you gently. “You never know when someone may pass away — only that everybody will, someday. So you must enjoy the time you have with them, my darlings, and never take it for granted.”

As the years went on and the two of you began to understand what death actually means, that first introduction to it became somewhat of a running joke between you and Yelena (because how else can humans deal with such a terrifying concept as death? You can choose to either laugh or cry, and Yelena will always choose to laugh); the idea of someone passing away will often be referred to as going to the store. For example, Alexi is probably the sole man responsible for the entirety of Ohio state’s roadkill — neither you nor Yelena can remember a car journey with him in the wheel during which some unfortunate creature has not stumbled into his path and suffered fatally for that mistake. Every time it happens, without fail, Yelena will turn around eagerly in her seat or poke her head out of the window and assess the damage before gravely announcing, “That one is definitely not coming back from store.”

It’s a euphemism that can be used in any situation — and often is, actually. Whenever the TV signal packs up (as it often does in such a rural town as your own) and the Kardashians begin to cut out awkwardly, Yelena will throw down the remote and shout in frustration “Ma! The fork thingy on the roof has gone store again,” and Melina will know exactly what she means. Or whenever your history teacher Mr Fury hobbles into class, who is so old he looks like he’s witnessed half the events he teaches you, Yelena will nudge you and whisper “he is close to store’s doorstep now, eh?” Et cetera, et cetera. The phrase gets used often.

You feel silly for your mind wandering to those words, given the circumstances. But all you can think of right now is your overwhelming hopes and prayers that Liho has not gone to the store — and that neither has your bond with Yelena. As for Natasha… well, recent times have been a cruel wake-up call.

It’s been a few hours since Melina left with the cat, and the only text you’ve gotten from her since then says cat in surgery now. Yelena has barricaded herself in your shared room — her room now, you think miserably to yourself. You have never, ever seen her so upset, not in your whole life. You don’t think you’ve ever even argued with her, outside of your usual half-hearted play wrestles. But now she’s shouted at you through your thick heavy door, a solid wall between you, putting miles between the two of you but still not enough distance to lessen the brutality of the words she hurls at you from the other side of it. Words you can’t think of for too long or tears will begin to brim in your eyes all over again. Words which you know you deserve, but ones you never thought you’d hear your best friend say to you.

Now you sit uncomfortably stiff on the couch, feeling like a stranger in the home you’ve grown up in, the silence threatening to suffocate you. You feel almost like a prisoner in your body, unable to move as you relieve the last few hours over and over in your head. There’s no doubt in your mind that Yelena is right. You are an awful person. If you weren’t, if you were better, maybe Natasha would still want you, instead of casting you aside once you began to bore her. Maybe if you were better you’d have been sensible or strong enough to not sneak around with her at all. But you’re not, and now you’ve broken apart a family you weren’t even worthy of in the first place.

Natasha is sat in the armchair opposite you, legs curled beneath her, nursing her bloody nose. Her gaze has been fixed on you for the indeterminable amount of time you’ve both been sat here, but you are too exhausted to care. For once, you have much, much bigger problems than her feelings.

Eventually, she speaks, more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s somewhere else, someone else’s, far away.

“For…” She hesitates. Like there’s something she doesn’t want to say out loud. “For not, uh. For treating you badly.”

Well, that’s not really what you expected her to say.

Your silence prompts her to flounder further. “I just— I don’t, well, I can’t really explain a lot, but I— I know I messed up. You deserved better. And I’m sorry.”

And you’re so done with her, and so little of yourself is left now that you simply stand up and walk away.

Natasha doesn’t even call after you, just kind of makes this sad and defeated little noise that makes your heart hurt. You know it would just ache even more if you turned around again, though. So you don’t. You walk the hall for a few aimless moments before your feet carry you to the only person currently home who you still have a dependable relationship with — Alexi.

His workshop, as he calls it, is adjoined to the kitchen; a tiny wooden door which he has to bend himself double to fit through, leading to the garage. This has been his space for as long as you can remember. You have no idea how he moves with such ease through it when it’s like a maze to you — huge chunks of greasy half-repaired machinery everywhere, cluttered workbenches and racks of tools and shelves of liquids labelled in his indecipherable Russian scrawl. He often has the tiny tin portable perched on a shelf squeaking out radio shows in his mothertongue which he guffaws merrily at, but as you enter now the room is peacefully quiet, save for Alexi’s disjointed hums of a thousand songs in one and the little chink noises the piece of metal he’s working on makes every time he hits it, slowly bending it into shape.

“Ah, привет! Good evening, daughter,” he says cheerfully, without even turning around as you creep up barefoot behind him. He doesn’t say anything more, and neither do you, for a while; you opt to simply sink down onto one of the wooden stools littered about the place and watch Alexi absently while he works. This doesn’t faze him at all. On the occasions where Yelena was busy without you as a kid, you would do this very thing. Alexi would simply chuckle at you and ruffle your hair with a large bearish hand, oftentimes leaving behind little smudges of black motor oil in it. You’re still in your prom outfit, though, with your hair done up intricately, so tonight he stops himself in time.

“Do you think Liho will be okay?” you ask after a while, in a very small voice.

“Oh, да,” he replies, without hesitation. Even with his back to you as he tinkers busily you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Yes, yes. Think of what that kitty has been through already, eh? When you found him he was doing worse than that. He is, uh, tough meat. A fighter.”

Seeing Alexi so placid and unshaken in the face of tonight’s events is strangely calming and you nod, soothed by his words, before another thought strikes you. “Oh… but the vet bills.”

Alexi lets out a low but not unkind laugh. “Ah, не будь глупым, you worry so much. We will figure those out. Melina is a sly fox, has money tucked away in hidey-holes, eh?”

“But— I mean —” You twitch uncomfortably, and Alexi seems to finally cotton onto what it is that you’re really worried about. He sets down his tools with his usual gentleness, which never fails to look foreign on such a giant of a man, and turns to look at you.

“You are member of this family,” he tells you. “No matter what Yelena say. She is angry, sure, but it will blow over, eh? You love the silly little fur man, and we do too. So if these bills will help him of course we will pay it. There is no need for worry.”

“But I ruined everything,” you say quietly.

He laughs again. “Nonsense. You have not ruined any of the things, голубка.”

“But… your date night. And— Natasha,” you hiccup.

“We have date nights all the time, подсолнух, there will be others. And Natasha… well, me and your mama are knowing this for long time. Yelena will be coming round also, eventually. We will figure this all out, we are a family. She is your sister. All of the things will be okay. None of them are ruined.”

And you can’t help but cry at that, at his earnest sincerity, his certainty that things will work out — and because you love him, and he is your family. You tell him so through choked sobs, and he just looks at you softly before wrapping you into a petrol-scented bear hug, prom outfit be damned.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe everything will be okay.

Yelena sinks into another episode over the following days. She does nothing much but sit, a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any feeling, and stare for hours at a time as though seeing something that the rest of you cannot. She has no words left to give, and drifts around on autopilot, only performing basic functional tasks when prompted to — as if they’re an afterthought. Seeing her like this wracks you with guilt in a way none of her episodes have before, because for the first time you know with a crushing certainty that this is because of you. You offer countless times to return to your parents’ house across the road, the residents of which you haven’t conversed with in months, but Alexi and Melina dismiss this as if it’s the silliest idea in the world.

“You are family,” Melina tells you firmly. “Fights happen, да? You stay.”

Even if you’re still welcome in the house you’re certainly not welcome in your usual room. Natasha offers to put you up in hers but drops this very quickly after the look that you give her, so instead a section of the loft is cleared for you. You and Alexi spend a merry Sunday together in his workshop assembling a bedframe for your new space, only to discover once you’ve made it upstairs that it’s actually too large to fit through the attic hatch, so you have to take it to bits to get it up there and then rebuild it all over again. (It doesn’t really matter though, because Alexi is so bemused by the whole thing and his own oversights that it’s impossible to be frustrated at the setback. He just grins so goofily.) When Yelena is in the shower you sneak back into her room to gather as many of your belongings as you can and begin to turn the little space into yours. Melina brings home some fairy lights from the store, you order some posters online and within a week or so you’ve organised yourself a very cozy nest amongst the mess of the loft.

Even now you’ve moved in, over half of the room is still piled high with boxes of various things and piles of junk and the distinct, cloth-draped, dust-gathering shapes of Alexi’s abandoned projects (which he insists on keeping on the basis that he might need them someday, much to Melina’s theatrical chagrin). The various artefacts throughout the room create a kind of ever-changing maze, and you remember playing up here with Yelena when the two of you were kids and it was too cold to play outside — for you, anyway, being someone who’s grown up in a relatively warm American state. To this day Yelena often scorns you for your inability to tolerate any kind of cold, and reminds you of the climates the rest of the family has lived in.

Thinking of her makes your heart involuntarily twinge, and you wince, standing from your perch on the end of your new bed in the vain hopes of shaking it off. As you do so something in the opposite corner of the room catches your eye; the neat pile of scrapbooks Melina worked on for years when you were kids. “I’m going full American mama,” she would quip, spending hours of an evening painstakingly prettying the pages laden with pictures that Alexi had taken throughout the day. You find yourself warmed by these memories, and drift over to the pile of books, settling before it. The newest scrapbooks are naturally at the top, so you shuffle through the pile until you reach the very first scrapbook Mama Melina ever made, which begins the day Yelena came home. You settle down comfortably on the floor, cross-legged like you’re a kid again, and begin to flip through its pages; the very first are adorned with pictures of Melina and Alexi in their youth, and then on their wedding day. After that is the day Yelena came home, absolutely unfazed by this strange new country and its drawling people. Every single photo has the date it was taken written beneath it in perfect cursive, and through the timeline shown you can see that it was barely two weeks into Yelena’s residency here before you and her properly met, and became firm friends. Things progress like that for two years, from when you were five until when you were seven; regular entries are made in the scrapbooks documenting road trips and school plays and lost teeth, all of which you smile upon fondly.

Halfway through the third scrapbook, Natasha comes home. You recognise one of the many pictures documenting this milestone as one that hangs large and framed with pride downstairs above the fire; a stunned, still blue-haired Natalia swathed in thermals, huddled in the corner of Alexi’s rickety old fighter jet on the journey back from the motherland, beaming widely up at whoever’s taking the photo. Despite the fact that you see it every day, seeing it alongside so many others in which she’s so bewildered but so, so happy makes your heart feel so strongly that you have to flip ahead.

You pore over the pages of the main scrapbooks with interest for a while longer, until the main timeline ends and divulges into you, Yelena and Natasha each having your own dedicated scrapbooks. You have no interest in studying your own baby photos, and given all that’s going on reliving Yelena’s would be unbearable right now, so instead you find yourself picking up Natasha’s, and pushing the others aside.

Seeing her grow up before your eyes like this is surreal. In reality you were by her side every day, and most of these changes happen so gradually that you barely even noticed them, but here are immortalised stills from throughout the years which show how she’s grown. When she first came home she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and still had her gentle Russian lilt which the rest of her family retains to this day. As she starts attending public school and socialising with her peers you can see that something changes very hastily within her; a light kind of fades from her eyes. The blue is bleached from her hair, and as the red fades back in its place she seems to fade a little too — into the quiet, observant Natasha that you know today. She doesn’t seem unhappy, as such, but… uncertain, and it dredges up a kind of sadness in your chest that forces you to push the book away, lest the tears in your eyes follow through with their threat to overspill.

You’ve always seen Natasha as someone so secure and sure of herself — so much so that she doesn’t feel the need to speak over anyone else in the room in order to get her opinions across. When she does speak it’s usually a quick, cutting remark that earns laughs and leaves everyone eager to hear more out of her. When she walks into a room heads turn to look at her, no matter where she goes. She knows that. She’s someone worth paying attention to. It’s never occurred to you, not once in your life, that her behaviours aren’t the result of something different. But looking at these pictures has stirred up something in you which you can’t quite describe. A deep sadness at the fact that you’ve probably never known her at all, aside from the parts of the real her that have slipped through the cracks; her Russian accent and sleepy kisses first thing in the morning, her goodnight texts, the way she doesn’t need to ask your order at drive-thrus or coffee shops, the notes she’d leave under your pillow. That’s Natasha. Not whoever this is who’s pushed you away. Not this girl who has bleached the childhood from her hair and taught herself how to be from another place.

You pile the scrapbooks back in the neat and tidy order in which you found them and crawl back to your bed, flopping into it, utterly emotionally exhausted by this trip down memory lane. You think it’s dark outside… you’re certainly tired enough to rest now, anyway, and you do; drifting in and out of an uneasy slumber, visited by vague and twisted recollections from your childhood which disappear upon your waking again, before you can grasp them properly, like the sand of your youth slipping through your fingers.

Mama Melina is a woman of science. She’s always considered herself a grounded person. She doesn’t concern herself with what she doesn’t understand, or care for (namely whatever she cannot see for certain with her own two eyes) to the extent that this is the path her career has taken, and is now what feeds her children. She is, objectively, an intellectual woman. Her analytical methods of thinking have led to scientific breakthroughs in her area of expertise, and she is renowned as an expert at her job. She did not reach this point through belief in the spiritual, or abstract. Hell, being raised in an orphanage herself, she didn’t even really believe in true romantic love until Alexi bore his whole earnest heart to her.

One day, when you were young, you came home from school and, with frightening nonchalance, came home and asked if one of your classmates had been correct in saying that people who kissed others of the same gender were hell-headed sinners. Melina abruptly halted her mundane household task and sat you down, taking one of your hands in hers.

“Sin is a fairytale,” she told you, as delicately as she could. “Nobody knows for certain whether sin or God or heaven or hell are real. To believe that is a choice, a leap of faith which certain people make. But all we know for certain is what’s here now, да? Like I am real, you are real,” she cupped your little face between her warm hands and squeezed gently, making you wrinkle your nose and wriggle happily, “Baba and Yelena are real. But sin is thing you choose to believe in. It is made up stories to make us feel better about death but it does not matter, малыш. What matters is what we do now, when we are alive, not what we do to secure a place in an afterlife that might not exist, eh? We are kind to each other now while we live because we know it to be true that we’re alive. To tell someone else who to kiss was wrong and unkind of that boy at school. Worry about the afterlife once you get there, да? If you want to kiss girls, kiss girls. No one who is kind or worth your time will care.”

She kissed the top of your head before standing back up and returning to her cleaning. No more words were exchanged on the prospect, but from that day onward it has appeared to be common knowledge in the household that you like girls, and that Melina is not a fan of religion justifying bigotry.

In all honesty, she is not a fan of anything that’s not an irrefutable truth. Science is her preferred method of explanation for any problem that may occur. But as her relationship with Alexi has blossomed, and then in turn the ones she shares with her daughters too, she’s learned that facts and feelings do not have to be mutually exclusive. Some of the complexities of the human mind are far beyond her understanding, or indeed any of us — and yet this is a truth which ought to be embraced, not feared. The greatest joys in Melina’s life are its mysteries.

And so Mama Melina has never questioned the dynamic you and Natasha share; at least to her, it’s seemed crystal clear since day one that the two of you harbour affections for one another — admittedly for reasons beyond her comprehension, but it’s nonetheless undeniable to anyone who knows you like she does. She’s watched you grow all of your lives, delicately inching closer to one another like two flowers craning their necks to reach the sun. Melina long ago accepted she’ll never in this lifetime know what higher power reigns as a puppeteer over her, or understand the complexities of love, but she knows better than to pretend as if some things in this world aren’t inexplicably and cosmically connected. You and Natasha only prove this point. If she looks hard enough, Melina can see the red thread that runs from your body to her daughter’s.

Alexi, by far the romantic, wholeheartedly agrees with her, which only furthers Melina’s convictions (he would know better than her, she reasons) — although admittedly the events of the last few months have blindsided the both of them. Melina appears to be more concerned by it than her husband, though; so much so that one night she actually sits him down to ask if he even knows what’s going on, and why there’s this big gaping gulf between her daughters, tearing her family apart.

Alexi just guffaws, so full of mirth that Melina is startled. “Ah Боже мой, my love. Do not be silly, I would have to be blind to miss those daggers over dinner, no? No, do not worry, I’m understand. But love is not easy, ah? Its course has never run so smooth. Remember when I first asked out you? You were so… skittish, like little kitten, for weeks,” he recalls with shining eyes. “And look where we ended up now, ah? These are silly babies. They’ll make mistakes. They need the time that you did.”

His words soothe her, in the way that they always do. She relaxes into his comforting embrace with the knowledge that even if she’s the intellectual (and financial) breadwinner in this relationship, Alexi always knows what to say in the face of the heart’s unpredictability. Maybe he is right. Maybe everyone just needs some time.

So, despite her doubts, time is what Melina gives.

Two weeks after that conversation, Liho comes home. His fur is patchy where it’s been shorn off and started to grow back again, and one of his legs is still bound tightly, but he’s back and he’s yours. He leaps happily into your arms when he sees you (despite the yelp of alarm Melina makes) and it’s like he never left. Yelena comes the closest to you that she’s been in weeks to pet his head while he’s curled up against your chest, and she even allows a smile to escape. You can’t help but smile back, like the beginning of spring after a long harsh winter, hope blossoming in your chest once again.

In the time that it’s taken him to come home, other things have happened too. Natasha’s nose, displaced by the punch Yelena successfully laid on her, heals quickly. Your relationship does not. Something unspoken festers between the two of you, hardening and shrinking and blackening into a sickening nothingness. You can’t look at her now without the taste of something bitter filling your mouth — and yet that boiling hot liquid rage still fills your chest when you think of her with someone else. How is it possible to love someone so much but hate them at the same time? You wish, more than anything, that none of this happened. You wish she would just let you love her without having to ruin it for the both of you.

It’s such an indescribably lonely feeling that the two of you are like this now, when only a short time ago the two of you bore open hearts to one another — well, you gave yours to Natasha, anyway. The more you think about it the less of her you have ever known. She’s a stranger to you. Quite a few times since prom night she’s tried to speak to you — offering another half-assed apology, no doubt — but you’ve only ever shut her down. What is there left to say? Nothing that you want to hear, for sure.

(And maybe the things that still hang heavy in the air between you are better left unsaid.)

A few days after Liho comes home you’re laid on your bed in the attic, with your baby boy himself curled comfortably on your chest, purring away merrily as you scratch at his head. There’s some soft music on in the background but neither of you are really doing much. You’re just trying to enjoy his company, (and he’s evidently enjoying yours,) now that you know not to take it for granted.

The scare you’ve had with him has shifted your perspective on a lot, actually — it’s been a rude but much-needed wake up call. Yelena, just like Liho, is your family, and you want to make up with her. Who knows how long either of you have left, or what might happen?

Yes, you absolutely want to be her sister again. You’re just not sure where to even start.

The knock that comes at your door is unexpected, though, and only more unexpected when you see who your mystery visitor actually is. Yelena stands in your doorway, eyes fixed on Liho on your chest. He mews happily when he sees her.

“Кот,” she says hoarsely, holding out her arms and making grabby hands. You blink, stunned for a moment at the fact that she is talking at all, let alone talking to you. This would usually be a good sign, one that she’s coming back into herself, but these naturally are unprecedented circumstances, and you can’t really be certain what anything means anymore.

Yelena steps forward, jerking you out of your trance; you shoot to your feet and kiss Liho on the forehead before holding him out to her with your hands beneath his armpits so that his legs dangle underneath him, rendering him comically long and thin. Lena scoops him up and curls him against her chest; he purrs contentedly and her eyes crinkle in quiet gratitude before she leaves, humming her song to herself.

You almost call out to her, but your body freezes. The door closes behind her you scold yourself for not reaching out, for trying to close this rift between you, but maybe you’ve not given her long enough yet.

What Yelena needs is time, you know. Her whole world has been turned upside down and she has to rebuild it piece by piece. But how much time is enough?

Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to wait much longer.

It’s the last week of school, just over five weeks now since your catastrophic prom night, and you’ve just walked out of your last final. Sam Wilson is waiting for you outside the doors with your favourite flavour of popsicle in his hand, and is already busily consuming his own. When he spots you he waves a broad hand merrily, and you make your way over to him.

“I’m sure you aced it, squirt,” he says before you can even open your mouth, and offers you the popsicle. Unfortunately you’re all too familiar to Ohio’s stifling summer air, making every thought or movement damp and groggy. You accept it gratefully.

Your core friendship group, which you’ve been in for years now, has been pretty turbulent since things went down between you and Yelena. Pairing that with finals and early graduations, you can feel a permanent shift occurring, and it’s frightening. Everyone’s still making effort to maintain contact with you, but this change on top of everything else has you feeling like you’re drowning when you think too long about it. It seems like you never know what are the golden days until they’re gone. (You got twelve golden years with Yelena, but is that where it ends? Will she ever tolerate your presence in her life again?)

Someone who you couldn’t be more grateful for throughout all of this is Sam. One day not long after everything happened you came to him crying, and confessed everything. He patted your back with an aura of awkward concern until your sobs subsided, at which point all he had to offer was, “Huh. Well, I guess that explains why prom night went to shit.”

You can’t help but admire the way that he takes everything in his stride. Nothing fazes him. It’s welcome after spending so long around Natasha, who’s constantly on edge, worried someone else might see her with you. Sam is so unbothered, just being in his presence is calming. He’s become a good and valued friend to you.

“That was your last final,” he reminds you, bringing you back to the present moment. “You’re free now for the whole summer.”

“Oh fuck yeah, man,” you say as the realisation dawns on you.

“How’d you want to celebrate?”

You look up at him and a toothy grin takes root on his face as he realises what you’re about to say.

“Arcade,” you say and he nods fervently in agreement. In recent times you’ve become its most loyal patrons; you retreat there often after classes, whether it’s to recuperate from a bad day or celebrate a good one. Today, thankfully, appears to be the latter.

“Arcade,” he repeats happily, and the two of you amble off out of the school gates and down the hill toward the centre of town, where the Boulevard housing the arcade is located. You chat happily for a little while, about your plans for the summer and what you might do together.

“And, uh… any updates on your… anything?” he asks delicately. It’s a vague question but of course you know what he means.

“Not really.” You deflate a little. “I’m not sure Lena wants me around anymore, to be honest.”

“I’m sure she does,” Sam consoles with a startling certainty. “Seriously. What about Natasha?”

You just shake your head. “I don’t want to… I can’t. Not until Lena…”

“Gives you the okay,” he nods understandingly.

“Yeah, I guess. But until she’s sorry, too. She was really mean,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I get that. It’ll be okay, man.”

You’re not so sure about that, but before you can express this you cross the road and the two of you have reached the arcade, where your troubles are promptly forgotten.

Sam’s words are very quickly proven correct, though — within only a few hours. You arrive home from your arcade trip with some silly winnings tucked under your arm and a smile on your face. It is Friday night, date night for Melina and Alexi, so a car is missing from the driveway and the kitchen is empty as you enter.

Perfect, you think to yourself, and begin to fix yourself some food. These days you’re very careful not to venture into the communal areas of the house unless you’re sure you won’t be treading on anyone else’s toes. You kind of feel like a burden as it is — you’re not a proper part of this family anyway, not in the way that everyone else is — and you don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable in their own home. So you’ve moved bedrooms and now you meticulously strategise what times you’ll make an expedition down to the kitchen. (Sometimes, when you’ve not had a chance to eat yet, you’ll open your bedroom door to a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of you. Everyone in the house denies knowledge when asked but you have your suspicions of who’s behind it.)

Sometimes you think about moving back to the place where you were born, but you’re not sure if you could stomach that. That feels like a forever choice. There’s no going back from that.

Liho pads up to you, excited that you’re home and even more excited that you’re making food. Unable to help yourself, you indulge him with some chin scratches and scraps. Life’s too short, you say. Why shouldn’t you make a fuss of your boy?

He winds himself around your legs contentedly while you cook. It is just you and him and school has finished and you have the whole summer to do what you want, and you are cooking, and for the first time in a while you are able to shut off and experience a moment of complete peace.

Naturally, with the trajectory of your life at the minute, this peace does not last long.

“Is Sam Wilson your new best friend?” says a cool voice behind you. You actually yelp in alarm, and very ungracefully fumble with the piping hot utensils you’re using, burning your hand in the process. Liho hisses, and you do too, making a beeline for the sink.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you mutter half-heartedly. Yelena, now moving to stand fully in the light, just makes a noise in the back of her throat as she opens the cupboard above your head and reaches for the first-aid kit. Her face is carefully unbothered.

“I only asked a question,” she says, moving your food off of the heat. Liho claws at your ankles worriedly. You struggle to process Yelena’s words, much less the fact that she is talking to you. Did you blink and miss a chapter?

“Uh,” you rub at the back of your neck with your hand not under running water, “n-no. No, he’s not my new best friend. I don’t,” your voice drops, and you look away, “I don’t think I have one anymore.”

“You do,” she informs you matter-of-factly, hopping up onto the counter beside you and swinging her legs while you continue to bathe your hand. “If you still want one. But she is very mad at you.”

Your voice catches in your throat.

“She does love you,” Lena continues, “but she is wondering why you did things in the way you did.”

There’s a moment of quiet. You gather your thoughts. You weren’t expecting to have this talk tonight.

“I was scared,” you tell her.

“Of what?”

“Of,” you gesture between the two of you, “this. Of making things bad. I always figured it would be like a,” you tilt your head back to keep from crying, because now would be a stupid time to cry, “a stupid schoolgirl crush, you know? She never even spoke to me, I was just her little sister’s dumb best friend, but then things happened and it was so fast and I was so scared. And I wanted to tell you but she… didn’t. She only wanted me when no one else could see. I guess I hoped that she would — come around, eventually, and then I wouldn’t be lying anymore.” You’re heaving with the effort to not cry. “I was wrong.”

“All this time the mystery girl was treating you like shit, you could have told me who it was,” Yelena implores. “I love my sister but she makes me sad also. She can be a dick, absolutely. She’s the worst. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“She’s your family,” you choke. “I couldn’t cause a— a rift or a problem like that. And what if you believed her over me? And it kept getting worse, and —”

“Сестра,” she leans over, cupping your damp face between her hands and forcing you to look at her, “I would always believe you. Always. Never before have you given reason to not.”

You nod tearfully, and she lets go. The only noise is the running water for a few moments.

“That is probably long enough under tap,” Lena murmurs, turning it off and taking your injured hand in her lap. Opening the first aid kit, she begins to dress the burn. “I am sorry for making you jump.”

“I am sorry for everything else,” you reply honestly. “I was stupid.”

“Yes,” she agrees bluntly. Then, “Natalia was stupider.” When you look up in open surprise, she rolls her eyes. “Close your mouth, you will catch flies. Of course she was stupid, she has fumbled so hard. You,” she pinches your cheek affectionately, “are a catch. I am not even into all of this, but if I was a dater we would be together and I would treat you like four million times better than she does.”

“You already do,” you say quietly, looking down at your hand in her lap as she continues to bandage it.

“Oh absolutely, I am the best.”

Another, much longer, pause. She finishes wrapping your hand, and pats it three times to notify you that she’s done, the exact same way that Mama Melina does. The action makes your heart swell and eyes fill with unexpected tears.

“Do you know why I was so upset by all of it?” she asks unexpectedly. You blink in surprise. This feels like a trick question.

“Because… I lied?”

“Because you picked Natasha over me,” she tells you.

“No I didn’t— what?”

“Yes, you did,” she says, and she’s a little choked all of a sudden. “All of my life Natasha has been the one who everyone looks at first. She is the special one. You are the only one I had first, who was mine. My близнец. And then I find out that for months you have been lying and picking her over me instead. When she is mean, she is so mean sometimes, yes I love her but she is not much like when we were kids anymore, she is so mean. But everyone likes her more than me. Even you.” She turns away.

“No, no I don’t,” you rush to her side, unable to help it now, scooping her close to you. “No I don’t. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. It was stupid to think she’d ever love me, I shouldn’t have— and I shouldn’t have left you out of it. I think I was trying to protect you? I don’t know. You’re always the one to protect me and punch everyone else, I think I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. And her? But it was dumb. Very dumb.”

“Very, very dumb,” Yelena agrees.

“The dumbest.”

“You have broken world record, кролик.”

You laugh a little tearfully, and while Yelena’s arms are wrapped around you she feels it throughout her body. She revels in the feeling of you holding her and loving her again, after the longest time.

“So we are back from the store?” she asks hopefully after a moment. It takes you a moment to process what she means.

“Oh,” you laugh, “we were never there. You will always be my favourite person, Yelena Belova-Shostakov.”

“Okay.” She exhales in relief. “Good. Just, because — well, you know, we have not spoke in so long and you didn’t think you had a best friend, and—”

“No— what? No,” you frown, “that was me giving you space to process and heal. I wasn’t sure you’d want me back,” you laugh. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I promise.”

“I will always want you back,” she says in a small, content voice. “I will always want you home. With me. Not at store.”

“Not at the store,” you repeat.

And just like that, you have your best friend again.

One familial bond repaired doesn’t mean all of them, though — and Yelena’s relationship with her sister has been patchy recently, to put it mildly. In your eyes it’s a plus that they haven’t outright fistfought in the way that they absolutely would if they were any younger, but Mama Melina doesn’t seem to see things that way.

A few days after you and Yelena make up, the two of you along with your parents are sat around the dinner table. At the very least Melina is able to fuss over her twins again, and Alexi is able to once again boom “here comes trouble” whenever the two of you enter a room together. They both take great pleasure in it, much to Yelena’s entertainment and your endearment. You love your parents.

The conversation halts when the front door slams, though. Natasha appears in the kitchen doorway for a second before processing the scene in front of her and slowly backing away, back out of sight.

“What is this about?” Alexi calls after her through a mouthful of food. “Come eat, love.”

There is no response, only footsteps on the stairs.

“Our daughters hate each other,” Melina sighs heavily. When you and Yelena look up at her, she clarifies, “no, not you two. You and Natasha.” She pinches Lena’s cheek.

“We do not hate each other,” Yelena says placidly, much to everyone’s surprise. “I am just angry at her. We will be fine.”

Natasha, who is still within earshot at the top of the stairs, feels her heart skip a beat at this and thinks to herself that just maybe Yelena is ready to be receptive to her attempts at reconnection. Her only issue is she has no idea how to facilitate it. She’s done all the things she can think of, aside from straight up cornering her younger sister — she leaves offerings of food at her door and texts her when the Kardashians are on the TV — but all of it has been treated with nonchalance that’s left her bewildered as to what her next step should be.

Yelena’s got her covered, though.

It’s her turn to strike, she knows, and again she chooses to do it when her sister will least expect it. Nat traipses home late one night, exhausted from cheer practice that overran. (Their next game is the last of the season, and her last cheer match ever considering she’s graduating this summer, so this semester’s team captain Sharon is determined they go out with a bang — even if that bang is a cheerleader toppling from the pyramid out of sheer exhaustion.) She mumbles her greetings and goodnights to Melina and Alexi, who are huddled around a decanter of whiskey in the study with Liho, and stumbles upstairs. All the lights are off up here, and she figures you and Yelena are probably settling down for the night. With a long, wistful look up the spiral staircase towards your firmly closed door, she trudges into her own (pitch-black) room. When she flicks on the light, though, she shrieks in horror. Sat expectantly at the foot of her bed is a long-limbed and blonde-headed figure, with hands folded neatly in its lap.

“Good evening, сестра,” greets the figure, sometimes known as Yelena Belova, with vaguely ominous nonchalance.

Natasha leans back against the door and closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to revert her heart rate to normal. Her first instinct as an older sister is to yell at her to get the fuck out, but in light of recent events this probably wouldn’t be the wisest of choices. Instead, she clamps her mouth tightly shut as she attempts to regain herself.

“I don’t,” she pants after a moment, “I haven’t— what? Hi. What?”

“You should really get a better lock,” Yelena says amusedly. “Very easy to pick.”

“You don’t have to break in,” Natasha grumbles, letting her bag slide to the floor and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Just knock.”

“No fun.” Yelena pokes Nat’s thigh with her toe just like she would when they were kids and for a moment they’re both young again. But she blinks, and the moment is gone, and now they’re two almost-adults with an entire universe between them.

Natasha just groans and flops back to stare up at her ceiling. A few years back you and Yelena helped her paint it blue and now it looks like the sky. It makes her smile when she’s sad sometimes. Yelena joins her, and the two cloudgaze for a moment.

“Why are you in my room?” Natasha asks quietly.

“To annoy you,” Lena quips.

“Success.”

“And to talk,” she continues.

“Also success. We are talking.”

The blonde lunges for her, and Natasha rolls away playfully. “No, I’m serious. Real talking.”

“Alright, I’m all ears.” Nat puts her hands behind her ears and pushes them forward to emphasise her point — again, like they would when they were kids.

“I want to know what you were intending when you started dating Y/N,” Yelena says, and Nat’s stomach drops. She knew this was coming, she knew this was where the conversation would lead, but she was still hoping to stall it for as long as possible just for the joy that her sister is talking to her again. The excitement is short-lived, though.

“We were never dating,” she reminds her quietly.

“Why not?”

The bluntness of the question makes Natasha stop short.

“Because it just, didn’t work out like that, I guess,” she tries. Yelena remains eerily stony.

“It’s not nice to lie to your baby sister, Natalia.”

Natasha deflates. “Because w— because I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I messed up.”

“Step one is awareness,” Yelena nods sagely, while Nat grits her teeth. “So what are you going to do about it?”

She shrugs. “Graduate, and leave town, I guess. You and Y/N are twins again now, and I caused all these problems, so once I leave things should be fixed.”

“Untrue and false,” the blonde interrupts sharply. “That is lie. Y/N/N is crushed. This will not magically be fix if you take off for college.”

“But it will help,” Natasha insists.

“No it won’t,” Yelena pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “oh my god, how are you so stupid. She is in love with you, and she is so patient with you, she is not even angry. Which I would be, by the way, but she’s not. She’s only sure you don’t want her.”

“Huh? But I do.”

“No, like wanting her,” Yelena says gently. “As a whole. Like… unity, ah? Влюбленный. She feels so not good enough for you, and every day you are prove her right. You take only what you want from her and leave the rest. That is not what love is. She feels not loved by you, and that you only like her for the things she can offer you.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mean to,” Natasha says tearfully. Suddenly she is very small, and she draws her knees up to her chest. “I was only… Lena, маленький, I didn’t know what to do.”

“The answer seems pretty simple,” the blonde observes astutely, “all you had to do was either tell her you love her and want to be with her, or tell her it is over. You can’t keep having things in your way forever. She has feelings too, and the relationship cannot be on just your terms. She is not a doll, or toy.”

“I do,” she says hoarsely. “I do, t- the first one. It’s- I do. But I’m so…” She raises a pale trembling palm to run a hand through her hair, inhaling shakily, and with a blink of surprise Yelena realised how scared her older sister truly is.

“What is so terrifying?” she asks tenderly.

“Y/N is a girl.”

Yelena almost laughs at the confession but is able to refrain, and is proud of her capability to do so upon seeing just how agitated her company is over the subject. “Is this all that holds you back? Nobody would care. Ma and Daddy wouldn’t. This is not end of the world.”

“No, you don’t get it,” says Natasha fiercely. “Ever since I came to America... you were here first, you and Y/N, and you just get to be you. You have who you are. But I don’t know who I am, so I have to — do all the American girl things. I have to fit in. I don’t have a Y/N. And American girls don’t kiss girls.”

Yelena stops to consider this. It’s true that Natasha has always put far, far more effort into fitting in and Westernising herself more than she or their parents ever did. Yelena is perfectly content with her slightly broken English and her raspy accent and her life of in-betweenness. She’s okay with being from two places. To her, when she looks in the mirror, that is Yelena Belova. They’re just parts of who she is. She’s never even stopped to consider those as potential insecurities — not when she had other things and feelings (or lack thereof) to worry about. How could something so unchangeable be a source of doubt? And yet here she now sits, struggling to wrap her head around this invisible binary which has suffocated her sister for so many years.

“But you are not… what?” she says confusedly. “You did have a Y/N. All of this… you’re being someone else. I knew something felt strange. I do not understand why? I like who you are before. It wasn’t bad. I like Natalia.”

This seems to break Nat, who buries her face in her hands. Yelena lets out a motherly cluck of sympathy and scoots closer to loop a gangly arm around her sister.

“I just want to be normal,” breathes Natasha.

“But it is not worth all this,” Yelena says, squeezing her sister tightly to her chest. “What does normal even mean? Being cool is not the most important, Natalia. Everybody liking you doesn’t… fix you not liking yourself.” She cringes at her own words, reminding herself a little too much of Darcy’s Pinterest feed, but the words seem to ring true with Nat, at least.

“I am just so scared,” Nat says in a small voice. “And I think I’ve made this so bad it can’t be fixed.”

Yelena pulls away to look her sternly in the eyes. “Things can always be fixed. Maybe not in ideal way you want them to be, but we can always make amends. But you have to be sorry.”

“I am,” Natasha cries, “I am sorry.”

Yelena holds her. “I know.”

She’s not so sure you know it, though.

Maybe somewhere deep down, you do. You see it in the saddened smiles Nat offers you whenever she steps out of your way or leaves a room so you can use it. You see it in the way she brings your favourite snacks home and leaves them in the pantry without word or question, like she doesn’t even expect you to notice. You see it even in the absence of her; in the way that she gives you space, quietly leaving rooms when you enter them so you can use them despite the fact that you can feel in the air how much she wants to stop and talk to you. Sure, you can tell that she’s sorry. But you’re not sure that she knows what she’s sorry for.

You’re not sure she knows how badly she’s really hurt you, with her every move stabbing into you repeatedly over a course of months. Now that the knife is turned on her and she’s the one in exile, a selfish part of you wants to leave her there, just so she knows what it’s like. You guess that’s kind of what you’re doing now. You know this can’t go on forever though. In a couple of months Natasha leaves for out-of-state college, which she announced over dinner a few nights ago. You had to excuse yourself from the table to process that information. Your time is limited, you know, and it’s clear what Natasha wants (to kiss and make up) — but what do you want? To leave this wound untreated, festering for the next eternity? Or to allow yourself peace and let this go?

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” you half-heartedly complain to Yelena one night as the two of you wash the dishes. “It’s not fair.”

“Because you are the bigger person,” Yelena laughs. “Natalia has given you the control. The next move is on you. That’s just the way it is, if it’s fair or no.” She whips you playfully with her tea towel, and the conversation moves on without further incident.

The issue plays on your mind long after the words are spoken, though. Whether you like it or not, Yelena is right. The next move’s on you. But how are you meant to make that call? What is the right move to make?

Well, one of Natasha’s friends appears very opinionated on the subject.

On a particularly warm afternoon, you and Yelena stroll into town, and stop off at May Parker’s ice cream parlour — the best in town.

“Ah,” Yelena grimaces, as you draw close to its glass windows, “it is so busy in there. I go in, you wait out here?”

You smile at her gratefully, and she disappears inside.

“Y/L/N!” a voice calls out behind you, and you turn around to see Bucky Barnes making a beeline for you. He’s about twice your size in every way imaginable, and you gulp.

“Hi?” you say uncertainly. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken to him in your life.

“What’s up with you and Romanov?” Well, he’s straight to the point.

You flounder, mouth opening and shutting, and he’s gracious enough to continue, “look, I know you and her are a thing. Were. I don’t know, she’s being so weird about it. It’s okay, it’s okay, I was her beard. And she was mine,” he adds, gesturing over at Steve Rogers, who’s stood on the other side of the road waiting patiently for his boyfriend. He smiles and waves amiably on cue.

You blink. “And no one thought to inform me?”

He shrugs. “Not my place. I think it is my place, though, to ask what’s got her so torn up. You and her fallen out? I’ve never seen her like this. I’on know what to do.”

He may not mean it menacingly, but he’s towering over you and you’re finding it hard to breathe. “She was an asshole, dude,” you say, perhaps a little more defensively than you envisioned. “She wasn’t nice to me and we weren’t even together, because she didn’t see me like that. So yeah, I guess we fell out.”

He frowns, deeply, and takes a moment to process this. “Oh. That… but she does feel that way about you.”

“It’d be nice if she’d show it,” you say bitterly.

His face softens. “Maybe… Look, even if the two of you don’t work it out proper, wouldn’t it be easier to at least clear the air? She likes you so much. She just wants you in her life, I think.”

You look at him uncertainly for a moment, but he holds your gaze earnestly. You know him and Natasha are relatively close, and you don’t see why he’d lie about something like this. It’s definitely tempting to believe.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but you feel a hand on your shoulder and instantly recognise Yelena’s presence just behind you. “What is going on?”

“Just talking,” says Bucky smoothly, but it seems apparent that the moment is over. “See you around, kid.” He crosses the road back to Steve.

“Kid,” you mutter, “he’s one grade older than me.”

“What did he want?” Yelena asks you, and you relay your strange interaction to her. “Oh. Well, he is probably right, but I’m not sure how much it means coming from Natasha’s ex.”

“Were they really together?” you ask, your stomach turning at the thought. Wouldn’t that co-occur with your and her relationship? “He said he was her beard.”

She shrugs. “Not my expertise. Come on, the ice cream will melt.”

You don’t see Bucky Barnes again for the weeks that follow, although you can’t help but wonder what he meant, and what he was trying to achieve. (And a little part inside of you thinks that maybe he could be right.)

“Ma?” says Natasha suddenly. “How did you know you loved Alexi?”

It’s late at night, and the two of them are on the car ride home from Nat’s last cheer game of the season. (At her request it was not a family affair, despite Alexi’s insistence that it was his right to make a fuss of his talented daughter’s performance at her last high school cheer game.) The roads are empty and the towns are sleepy, but Natasha’s question has Melina wide awake.

“Eeh… it was not like a revelation. I did not wake up one day with new clarity. It came to me over time. It took me long time to accept, though. Your father is very patient man.”

“But was there anything specific?” Natasha persists.

Melina purses her lips in thought. “Well, when I met him I was not trusting person. One time when we were in the kind of in between bit right before being proper couple, ah —”

“The talking stage,” Nat supplies helpfully.

“— yes, да. We were in that, nothing proper but something, and he went to touch me and I had a… panic? I shut down. Achh, моя любовь, I was still figuring out who I was and what I did and didn’t like and… still growing up and healing from when I was kid. I was scared.”

Natasha nods solemnly. There are some childhood experiences which, despite unspoken, bind she and her mother at the soul.

“So I freak out, and I expected him to… belittle or leave, or something. But he stays and he is so patient, he apologise for making me jump and fetch me tea, and I thought like wow, he is so gentle. And he is not like the other men I known.”

Again, Natasha nods. Gentle is the perfect descriptor for her father. He’s the most wonderful man she’s ever met.

“So we spent more time together, he was patient with me and always caring. That was the time that I knew I would fall in love with him. But I’m not really know when it happened. Maybe by then it already had, ah? I have only ever had eyes for him. He make me feel… valued, and worthy.”

Natasha just hums in response, for she’s suddenly and embarrassingly on the verge of violent sobbing. She blames Ma and Baba and their beautiful relationship. Nothing else.

“Is this about Y/N?” Melina asks quietly. Natasha opens her mouth to reply and there it is, just as she feared, the waterworks are unleashed. Ma sighs heavily and pulls over.

“Идите сюда,” she says, holding her arms out, and Natasha crawls into them. She rocks her daughter back and forth, exactly how she used to so many years ago when the girl was half this size, while Nat’s face is buried in her mother’s neck. They stay like that for a while, until Natasha’s tears begin to die down.

“Do you want to go and get milkshakes?” Melina breaks the silence. Natasha hums her assent.

The 24-hour diner isn’t far from where they’ve pulled over, and it’s almost empty at this time of night. With no words exchanged Melina orders Natasha’s usual, or what was her usual when she was a kid — a strawberry milkshake and fries. A young Natasha decided strawberry was her favourite as soon as she found out that pink was a girl’s colour. Thinking about that now, especially with the hindsight of her conversation with Yelena, has her stomach turning a little. How long has she been letting her view of the world colour every single choice that she makes? Which parts of her are really her, and which are the ones she’s willed into existence?

It’s a scary line of questioning, and Natasha can feel herself beginning to spiral. No more, she tells herself. Yelena was probably right about needing to get to know herself — and learning her real favourite flavour of milkshake seems a manageable starting point.

“Can I have the caramel one?” she asks Melina gruffly, pointing at the menu. Her mama just nods and alters their order accordingly.

They sit at their usual booth and eat in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional “pass the ketchup”s. Once they’ve finished, though, and Melina can sense her daughter has calmed enough to leave, she turns and says to her, “Love isn’t easy thing to admit. But it’s… not something to be ashamed of. When it comes, just let it happen. It’s scary, but it does not make you weaker, ah? It will do you no good to push it away.” She hesitates, but then seems satisfied with what she’s said. She turns on her heel and heads back out to the car. Natasha, dumbfounded, follows her.

When they finally make it home, Alexi is snoring away upstairs and you’re on the sofa with Yelena sprawled on top of you, fast asleep. You’re wide awake, though, and look up as the two of them come in.

“Night, ma,” Natasha murmurs to her mother, kissing her cheek before tiptoeing off to bed. Melina hums at the action and pads into the living room toward her twins.

“Hi ma,” you chirp, voice a little husky. “Everything okay?”

Your mama nods, and holds out a brown paper bag. “We stopped at diner. Got your favourite. Some for Lena too.”

Your eyes crinkle up into half-moons as you smile at her in gratitude, and Melina smiles back fondly, her chest filling with warmth. “Thank you.”

She kisses Yelena’s forehead, who does not stir, and then yours, lingering for a moment.

“I love you,” she tells you sincerely, and a fierceness glimmers in her gaze that you’re not quite sure what to do with. “We all do.”

“I love you too,” you tell her honestly. You only hope you’re matching her intensity. She holds your gaze for a moment longer as if searching for something within it, then nods, seemingly satisfied, and retreats upstairs to join Alexi, leaving you alone with a meal to demolish, a slumbering blonde pinning you to the sofa and many, many thoughts.

A few days after that conversation, you wander into the backyard (Melina’s carefully pruned pride and joy) to pet Liho, who’s basking peacefully in the summer evening sun.

“Careful of the flowerbed,” you warn as he flexes his claws and kicks his legs happily. “Someone will suffer if Ma’s roses are ruined.”

He huffs in what could be agreement, and you toe absently at the sandy dirt you and Yelena used to play in.

A gentle creaking sounds from somewhere nearby. It’s a noise that makes you feel ten years younger, and curiously, you rise to your feet.

At the far end of the backyard, nestled among the pines and pratia, is the swing set Alexi built a little while after Yelena first moved in. It’s a little haggard-looking, as when Natasha came to America Alexi bodged a third swing so all of you could play together, but to his credit it’s still held up all these years. Sure, it doesn’t get so much use anymore, but sometimes when one of you is feeling a little down you’ll revisit the simpler times of your childhood.

This seems to be what you’ve stumbled upon Natasha doing now. She’s sat on the middle swing (which in times gone by was your swing, as the middle spot often was when you were a kid, so both siblings got to be next to you), rocking back and forth gently as she cradles something small in her hands, turning it over. She’s lost in thought. Wondering if you’ve intruded on something private, you begin to slowly pace away. When you catch sight of what it is in her hands, though, your stomach turns; a small and glistening pink rock, rubbed smooth by years of love.

“You kept that?” you ask quietly. Natasha’s head shoots up and she takes note of your appearance in the same way that a deer takes note of rapidly approaching headlights. Her mouth opens as she fumbles for words, but she just settles for nodding vigorously before lowering her gaze to her lap again.

You don’t really know what to think, or do. You hesitate for a moment, and find yourself thinking of Bucky’s advice — wouldn’t it be easier to clear the air? This tension is suffocating. With this on your mind, you seem to surprise Natasha as much as yourself when your feet march you over to the swing on your left, and your knees bend to seat you. Her entire body tenses as yours nears her. You can tell that, since you’ve gone to great lengths to escape her company recently, this is the last thing she expected. (In all honesty you weren’t really expecting this either. What now?)

“You know that I’m in love with you, right?” Natasha says suddenly, and you freeze. Your chest tightens, and it’s like she’s wrapped herself around it, claiming your breath as her own.

“That’s not funny,” you reply in a small voice. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play with me like that.”

Her stomach lurches. “I’m being serious.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Were you and Bucky ever actually together?”

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes. Were you with him when you were with me, too?”

“N- no,” she says with vehement certainty. “I was — well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, but when him and Steve were a secret I was his cover story. And I guess he was mine, so that I could… yeah.” She gestures towards you, pressing her lips together.

“But even after they came out I was still a secret.”

“I—” Natasha says, and buries her face in her hands for a moment, because this is not how she hoped this would go. “Yes. And that was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I think I was trying to protect you, and me, and you from me because I know how messy I can be, and I wanted you so bad but I didn’t want to drag you down with me. And I still did anyway.” She sighs heavily.

“That’s an interesting way of showing affection,” you quip.

“I know,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I know I haven’t shown it well — at all — and I don’t really blame you for not believing me. Or, uh, hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you say softly.

Her shoulders sag. “Oh. W— well that’s good, then.”

“But I wish I did,” you add.

“No, yeah. That’s fair.”

“You’re really mean.”

Natasha just nods.

“And it’s even worse because I can’t even hate you because you can also be really nice.”

She nods again uncertainly. She’s not really sure how to respond to that.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you so mean sometimes?”

This makes her stop up short. The way that both you and Yelena never fail to cut to the chase or ask the questions that nobody else would will always catch her off guard. “It’s kind of just who I am,” she begins, but at the way your face scrunches she adds, “or who I’ve decided to be, anyway. I don’t really know. I’m not sure… who I am.” Even uttering the statement aloud is a weight lifted from her shoulders. “It’s scary. I guess I… I thought that, like, I have to be the mean one, or someone else will first. To me. You know?”

“Why would anyone be mean to you?”

“Because I like girls,” she says truthfully, and there’s a tremor to her voice.. “And I’m not from here.”

You stare at her. “…? I like girls, and Yelena isn’t from here. No one is mean to us for it.”

“Because Yelena can and will beat the shit out of anyone that tries something,” Nat snorts. “But I just… I don’t know. It’s different for me.” You nod encouragingly and she adds with reluctance, “I don’t— belong here, not really. Or anywhere. I’m too American to be Russian and too Russian to be American. Ma and Baba and Yelena have it figured out, they’re just both and themselves and they don’t even have to think about it. But that’s not so easy for me.”

“Maybe,” you say carefully, “it’s to do with the people you choose to surround yourselves with. Is it possible that you’re… spending time with the wrong people? If you’re made to feel as though these things make you lesser.”

She shrugs. “Probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just… I really don’t have a lot going for me. So I kinda pretend that I do, and then it gets out of hand and I’ve convinced myself that I’m a lot more interesting than I am, to the point that I don’t know who me is. And I get all freaked out. And I’m so scared I kind of just shut off and try not to think, so I guess I’m just an asshole instead. Like it’s a reflex, you know? But it’s not really me. Nothing is me. My entire life is one perpetual identity crisis.” She drops her gaze to toe at the ground.

Your swing comes to a still as you clasp one of her hands between both of yours. They’re warm and perfectly manicured, and her eyes light up at the contact. “You don’t have to know who you are. You just have to exist, and you find out. I’m learning things about myself all the time, and so is Lena. This was my first relationship —” Nat’s stomach drops at the use of the word was “— and I’ve learnt a lot about myself and how I like to be treated. And Lena only came to terms with being aroace this year. Even Ma only just decided she’s demi,” you point out, and Nat can’t help but smile at this. (A little while ago, after Yelena first came out, you and Melina began joining her in attending weekly meetings at the local youth centre for young queer people and their parents. Your mama was determined to be a more educated advocate for her three queer daughters. Very recently, with all this new terminology at her disposal, she dropped into a dinnertime conversation in the presence of the whole family that she thinks she’s demi. “Not that it matters,” she added, “the only one for me is your father,” and she kissed his beaming crinkly cheek with a motherly tenderness. It was a beautiful moment to witness, despite Yelena’s playful booing.)

“I guess,” she says quietly. “Um, I’ve been talking to someone. Professional,” she adds at the look on your face. “Yelena said some stuff that made me realise I probably shouldn’t sort through this alone.”

“Yes, you shouldn’t,” you nod. Natasha raises an eyebrow at your ready agreement. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Lena sees someone. I do too.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “Baba takes me every other Thursday. I have horrible abandonment issues. I guess after everything that’s happened, I’ve kinda internalised some stuff.”

“I definitely took advantage of that,” Nat says guiltily. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”

You look at her. “I know.” Your hand squeezes hers before letting go and she instantly aches to feel it again. “I’m sorry, too. For not… I don’t know, setting more boundaries. Or being more forceful.”

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault.”

You hum, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while as the sun begins to retire.

“You know,” you say suddenly, “you don’t have to move across the country. You can if you want, obviously, it’s your call, but if it’s just because of me… you don’t have to.”

“But-? I’m trying to give you space? To heal,” she says confusedly, and you laugh.

“And it’s very sweet, but I don’t need that much space. I’ve already forgiven you.”

Natasha’s soul leaves her body. “You— huh?”

“I have,” you laugh kindly. “I did some of my own thinking, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t think you need me being mad at you, on top of everything else going on in here.” You tap at her temple gently to emphasise your point, and she shivers. “And I don’t think I need that either. I don’t want to carry that with me.”

“Okay,” Natasha breathes. “T— thank you.”

You wrinkle your nose at her affectionately. “You’re silly.”

She’s awash with the overwhelming need to kiss you, and instead twitches a little, digging her nails into her palm. You take in the movement with such wide-eyed concern that she has to close her eyes for a moment, because she’s almost ill with how much she feels for you. This feeling only grows more intense as you continue.

“I know we’re… whatever we are, but… if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know,” you say more quietly. “I know you’ve been through some stuff, and even when you’re seeing someone for it it can get overwhelming. I do care about you.”

She nods, and swallows thickly. “ I don’t— I— uhm. What does this make us?”

You can hear her hopes heavy on her tongue, and your heart is like lead. “Friends?” you offer. “I— I don’t think we should be anything else, right now.”

Natasha nods, and swallows thickly. With it she swallows back the words but I love you. It must be written across her face, though, because you cup it between your hands (which really isn’t helping her self-restraint at all).

“I love you,” you tell her honestly. “And I always have. But love isn’t… you don’t… I don’t know. That kind of love is something that you earn, I think. And we both need to take care of ourselves.”

“I understand.” Natasha’s voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. “And I want you to feel like I respect your decision. But I also want you to feel like I’m serious. About you. And I will prove it if I have to.”

Against your own better judgement, you smile at her.

One thing about Natasha Romanoff is that she’s not a quitter.

Some would say it’s an endearing quality. More would probably tell her it’s the reason she finds herself in so many messes in the first place. What’s objectively certain is that she’s a stubborn little shit — and and with this determination she’s decided she’s going to win you back. Your slight encouragement, no matter how vague, is enough fuel for a fire that could simmer for months.

It starts as chocolates, and flowers. At this point she seems to have cottoned onto the fact that you’re not one for big, theatrical confessions of love, but rather consistent affirmations of it. Actions, not words, she’s heard you say (although now more than ever before she’s seeing for herself what you mean). So there’s no four-act sonnet recitals when you receive her gifts — although you don’t really receive them at all, in the traditional sense. Rather they seem to begin popping up everywhere you go. At one point you open your locker to a bouquet so over-endowed that flowers begin to tumble out onto the floor. Sam steps neatly to the side and watches with glee as you scramble to clean the mess. (He’s most definitely enjoying watching all of this play out.)

Your favourite of all these surprise gifts is probably one delivered by your own four-legged Cupid himself. Liho headbutts the door to your room open and stalks in with a scowl on his face and something attached to his collar. As soon as you remove it to inspect it he rolls onto his back and looks up at you expectantly, clearly expecting compensation for this favour.

“Yes, you’re a very handsome boy,” you tell him distractedly, using one hand to rub his belly while you attempt to unfurl the note he’s delivered with the other. Yelena lets out a noise of amusement. She’s perched on your bed with the Kardashians paused on her laptop in favour of watching this play out instead.

“You are so ungraceful,” she comments mildly, making no move to help you.

“I love how you always see the best in me,” you reply through gritted teeth.

After a moment, you manage to succeed in your task. I picked these for you :), the letter reads. You glance over at Liho’s collar again to see a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots, only slightly battered from their journey and bound neatly by brown twine.

“Another gift from the mystery girl?” Yelena teases, and you groan.

“Okay, saying mystery girl is officially banned. It’s giving me war flashbacks.”

“And that is fair,” your sister muses, getting to her feet to inspect your latest delivery. After she’s done she sits back on her heels. “You don’t have to keep turning her down, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s just because of me. You have my… blessing, or whatever. But on the condition that you’re not gross about it.” She rolls her eyes, and nudges your cheek with her nose. You squirm good-naturedly.

“Why thank you, your Grace.”

“Yes, I’m the graceful one,” she preens.

“Sure,” you snort, and she smirks. “Um, thank you, though. That’s good to know. I guess I’m still… figuring it out, but she’s growing on me again.” And it’s true. You have your reservations now, but she’s trying to remind you why you first fell for her (and yeah, she might be succeeding). Part of you wonders if she’s turning on the superficiality again, but after she spilled her guts to you on the swing set you’re trying to have faith that she really is turning a new leaf, and charming you authentically.

Yelena considers this. “Yes, okay. This makes sense. Remember to tell me if she tries anything again though. I will put them up.” She raises her fists and you giggle, but you know she’s at least partially serious. She’s very athletic in her own right and people at school go out of their way to avoid crossing her. That’s how you’ve stayed out of trouble your whole life — by standing behind Yelena and letting her handle it instead. Where you hesitate, she dives right in. You adore that about her, though.

“Do you know what you’ll do once she’s out of state?” Lena asks, and you shrug.

“Figure it out as we go, I guess. I don’t know if she’ll lose interest in me.”

The blonde looks up fiercely. “If she does that I will stick them up.”

You beam at her, admittedly less for the violence and more for the sentiment behind it. She beams back for reasons more ambiguous.

“Do you know what we will do?” Yelena queries. Upon your frown she elaborates, “next year when it is our turn to pick college. You and me, what will we do?”

“Pick the same one, and both get in because we’re super smart, and we’ll be roommates. And you can make us mac and cheese every night,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She contemplates this.

“Okay,” she says, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Can we hit play now? I want to know what’s happen to Kim’s diamond earring.”

“Two cookies say she gets it back.”

“Two cookies say eat my ass the way a fish ate her earring,” she retorts, and the two of you settle on the bed again. (You have two more cookies than usual after dinner.)

Despite the witticism you take Yelena’s blessing with pride, and it means a lot more to you than you let on. Now that every single member of your family has shown their support for your relationship you can’t help but feel a slight ray of hope, the likes of which you thought had been stomped out long ago. Never before have you dared to imagine a situation where you could actually have a shot with the girl of your dreams, who you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember — and yet here you are, with her putting her back out working overtime to win you over, and your family watching with interest. Every morning you wake up a little warmer to the idea of letting this happen.

That doesn’t mean Natasha’s out of the woods yet, though, and you’re careful to make this clear to her. She senses your hesitance, and completely understands its presence. She’ll wait for you as long as it takes. (She’s genuinely stunned at how forgiving you have been of her, in all honesty.) In fact she takes your reluctances in her stride in a way that actually has you feeling more for her — but again, you know better than to repeat your mistakes of the past, and so you take this as slowly as you can considering she’s coming on strong and you live under the same roof.

Three months of summer lie ahead of you, stretching out like an endless expanse of sunset-tinted possibility. You and Yelena manage to land jobs at the video store in town — Yelena goes blazing into the interview and makes it clear as she can that the two of you are a package deal. Wong, the guy who runs the place, just seems grateful for the help.

The store becomes somewhat of a hangout spot for the two of you, who work the same hours and are joined at the hip like always, and it’s a safe bet to stop by if anyone wants to find you. Sam often swings by to playfully irritate the both of you, since the marina where his parents’ boat is docked is just round the corner, and Natasha will meet you when you’re closing to take you out for dinner after. (Sometimes Yelena tags along to these meals, and gleefully revels in the awkwardness her presence causes.) Since you and Yelena are twins again too, things are looking up for your friendship group and they’ve taken to visiting also. You’re delighted to spend time with them again. (Seeing Makkari’s face light up when she steps into the Deaf & Subtitled section of the store makes your whole week.)

In fact, word seems to have gotten out about the fact that Wong’s employed you, because one sleepy Tuesday afternoon Bucky Barnes drops by to rent a DVD. He picks one at random, not even glancing at the cover, and as you scan it through for him he says to you lowly, “thank you for making Natasha happy again. She cares so much about you.” He offers you a genuine smile before heading out abruptly and almost forgetting his DVD in the process. (You suspect his purchase was a mere means to talk to you.) It’s a strange interaction, but decidedly more pleasant than your last with him, so you take it no further.

Another perk of having this job is that you have your own money now. You’re not really sure what to do with it at first; the only thing that occurs to you is that you want to get a gift for Natasha. At the end of the summer is her graduation — she’ll walk and wear the square hat and everything, and you’re very excited to embarrass her with photos of the event — and after that she’ll leave for college. Her graduation is the perfect time to present her with said gift, you decide.

You know you want the gift to be meaningful, but you’re not really sure of the specifics. Luckily for you, one night on the roof with Natasha is all you need for the inspiration to strike.

Can’t sleep, you text her one night, after hours of fruitless tossing and turning.

She replies immediately.

Me neither

Come down to my room :)

If you want to!!! she adds after a moment, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. She is adorable.

Omw, you tell her, rolling out of bed.

The door is unlocked!!!!!! just come in

You follow her instructions and slip inside. The room is cosily lit, with her fairy lights on and her little lamp shaped like Calcifer flickering merrily; the bed is unmade, as if someone’s been in it recently, but Natasha herself is nowhere to be seen.

“Nat?” you call out uncertainly, and squeak in surprise when her head pops through the window. She smiles softly at your reaction.

“I’m out here,” she tells you. “C’mon, there’s space for both of us.” She wriggles along her perch on the flat row of tiles of the roof, and pats the empty spot beside her. Antics like this don’t faze you after twelve years of friendship with Yelena. You clamber out beside her readily.

“Hi,” says Natasha a little bashfully, once you’re settled. You lean up to peck her lips and she flushes. “Y— yeah. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” you reply sweetly. “It’s nice out here.”

“It is,” she agrees, her gaze not straying from you. You take no notice, though; your sights are set to the heavens. No matter how much you snipe about how annoying it is to live in a small town, the views still take your breath away. The stars shimmer bright above you, as they do almost every night. They’re not the only beautiful sight your town has to offer; Wanda adores the rocky hills at the edge of town, where many scavengers like squirrels and raccoons have made their home (one boy in your grade, Peter Quill, has befriended one of the raccoons and affectionately named him ‘Rocket’. He visits Rocket every day after lunch with his leftovers from the cafeteria). Occasionally she’s able to convince everyone in your group to accompany her hiking there. Despite your grumbling, it does make for an enjoyable day out.

“I come out here when I can’t sleep,” she tells you quietly.

“I sit on the roof sometimes,” you reply, and you beam at each other. It’s true — you do, but sharing the information feels vulnerable. You’ve figured out how to hoist yourself up through the skylight in the loft and onto the utmost point of the house, but it’s an activity you’ve kept as your own for now. While you adore more than anything being twins with Yelena, and living your life with her, you’re also learning how to exist by yourself for the first time in your life, and enjoying having your own space. Your little corner in the attic has afforded you many freedoms, and not just material ones.

“You see the moon?” Nat asks. The planet in question hangs round and heavy over the horizon, not quite full.

“How could I miss her?” She’s the most beautiful thing in sight.

“You know the difference between waxing and waning?” Natasha prompts, and you shake your head, solely because you love when she talks about her passions. “Waxing is when the moon transitions from a new moon to a full moon — so she fills out. See, that’s what she’s doing now.”

“She’s nearly full,” you remark quietly.

“Yup.” She grins. “Now when she’s waxing, she fills in from the right side — so she kinda looks like a C.” She makes a C shape with her left hand and holds it up against the sky to confirm that, yes, while the moon is waxing it vaguely resembles the letter. “But soon she’ll start to wane — maybe next week? After the full moon. Waning is the transition from the full moon back to the new moon, so she shrinks away into nothing. She’s eaten away from the left side, so she looks like a reverse C.” Nat makes a C shape with her right hand this time, so that it’s reversed, and holds it up to compare to the moon. They don’t match up right now, but they’ll get there someday.

“This is my favourite period though,” she confesses, her voice dropping a little lower, “of the lunar cycle. When the moon is waxing.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels,” she hesitates. “I don’t know. It feels like gross to say out loud but it kinda just feels like, encouraging. Things are always changing. They won’t be like this forever, you know? The cycle keeps on repeating itself.”

“The cycle keeps on repeating itself,” you repeat, and she smiles at you.

“Yeah. You don’t think it’s… dumb? I don’t know, I’ve never brought anyone else up here. I —”

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell her, and she kisses you gently.

The next day you go out and buy a crescent moon necklace.

Natasha has been coming into your room more and more often lately, and you don’t trust yourself to not leave it lying around in plain sight, so one day while she’s out you enlist Alexi’s help to loosen one of the floorboards in the attic so you can stash things under it inconspicuously.

“It’s not for anything suspicious,” you tell him quickly, “you can look under it whenever you want. It’s just to hide gifts and —”

“Relax, sunflower,” he chuckles, “you are entitled to your secrets.”

The necklace stays hidden there until summer draws to a close.

The weeks fly by in a golden haze and before you know it, you’re getting ready for Natasha’s graduation.

Alexi is stood on the landing in his smartest suit, and flexing proudly in the mirror on the wall. “It still fits!” he booms triumphantly.

“Don’t forget to wear your nice shirt, любовь,” Melina calls up the stairs to him. “No one with holes in.” He deflates a little, and retreats back into their bedroom to change.

“He looks fine,” Yelena scolds half-heartedly as she lumbers down the stairs, holding out her wrists to Melina. “Can you do my cufflinks?”

“Where’s your please?” Melina retorts, but she sets her clutch down so she can use both hands to help her daughter.

“We have to leave in ten minutes,” Natasha announces as she bursts from her own room. “Семья, I know what you are like, and we cannot be late.”

“Relax, love.” Alexi reemerges from the bedroom in a different shirt this time. “I will go and start the car,” he starts down the stairs, “and— oh.” He pauses as several buttons pop off his shirt simultaneously. “Ебать.” He turns around and subduedly makes his way back up the stairs.

“Baba,” Natasha groans. “This is what I mean.”

“Hey! I am nearly ready,” says Yelena indignantly, nodding at her mother in thanks for doing her cufflinks before ducking in front of the mirror. “Oh shit, where is my tie?”

“Language,” reprimands Melina.

“See?” Natasha sighs exasperatedly. “Y/N/N is the only one who’s ready.” She hurries down the stairs to where you’re stood in the hall, watching the scene unfold serenely. You’ve been ready to leave for the last ten minutes. She beams at you and pecks you on the cheek just shy of your lips. You flush, and the crescent moon necklace burns a hole in your pocket. Now isn’t the time, though.

Eventually, you all make it into the car, with everyone now sporting correctly-fitting outfits. As always on car journeys, you’re in the back, sandwiched in the middle between Natasha and Yelena. Lena scrolls through her phone disinterestedly, headphones in, while Natasha vibrates on your other side with anticipation and nerves. You take one of her hands between both of yours and she stills instantly.

“I am very proud of you,” you say quietly, “to have made it this far, with these grades. You’ve gotten into your dream college. You can do anything. Today will go fine.”

She doesn’t speak for fear of bawling and potentially ruining her eyeliner, so instead she rests her head on your shoulder in silent gratitude. She doesn’t move until you arrive, at which point she shows you all to your seats (front row, you note) and disappears to the backstage meeting point for all of the graduates.

The actual ceremony doesn’t begin for a while, so Melina converses with the other parents seated around her while Alexi nods politely, and you and Yelena compete in a thumb war. Eventually Principal Rambeau steps onto the stage and a silence settles on the gathered audience.

“Thank you all for attending,” she begins. “We’re here to celebrate our wonderful seniors, who have put in so much work to make it here today, and walk this stage.” She continues like that for a short while before they begin to call the students’ names, and they each walk across the stage in turn to claim their diploma. Natasha is a little later on the register, so you just sit back and enjoy the show — you’ve lived in this small town all your life, where most people know of each other, and so you recognise or even know the vast majority of the people who make their way across the stage. Some of them choose to make a memorable exit from their high school career (like Happy Hogan who chooses to breakdance his way across the stage, or Ned Leeds who walks proudly in a hot dog suit), whereas others take the more graceful route (see Valkyrie King, a prominent athlete of the school, who walks with confidence and regally basks in everyone’s recognition of her). When Natasha Romanova-Shostakov is called, she walks the stage a little bashfully, and with a blush accepts the cheers showered upon her after several years of being the cheer team’s star. You clap and shout louder than anyone else, and to Yelena’s glee capture several shots of her in her square graduate cap. Front row seat privilege.

After the presentations, the students flood into the crowd and people break off into little groups. The air hums with the joy of people laughing and congratulating and embracing one another. Natasha makes her way over to you and Yelena, who are stood now with your parents beside the refreshments. She brightens when she spots you, and is instantly by your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“There is my girl!” Melina cheers. An outbreak of hugging ensues.

You mingle politely for a while with the other families milling around your own. Natasha appears intermittently, being the centre of attention today. Yelena is by your side (with her arm annoyingly resting on your shoulder to remind you that she’s taller) until one of her hockey friends pilfers her to show her something. In the few moments that you’re unaccompanied, Natasha resurfaces from the crowd, takes your arm and leads you somewhere a little quieter, and a little less visible to the masses.

“I just, um,” she realises she’s still holding your arm and lets go of it with a blush, “I wanted to thank you for being here. Like actually. It means a lot to me. I know— I know that in a couple of weeks I won’t be here properly, and it might make things weird, but —”

Now is the perfect time, you decide. As she continues to nervously ramble you pull the crescent moon necklace in its little velvet box from your pocket, and present it to her. She falls silent and looks at you.

“It’s for you,” you say unnecessarily, opening it to show her the treasure inside. Her eyes widen. “I— I want to do this with you. I want to give us a try. I like being with you.”

And as you clasp the delicate chain around her neck, and lean up to press a chaste kiss to her lips, Natasha understands. Love is something you earn.

She entwines your hand with hers, and together the two of you make your way back towards your family.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au #mama melina paramore reference u get a cookie if u spot it

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shepherdsheart · 9 months

Text

City Spirit

DpxDc prompt

Vlad had grown tired of the young Badgers games, if the boy would not listen! Comply! Fine then, Vlad would take the hint then, but if the boy wouldn’t join him he would just have to remove the boy.

It had taken months of planning and scheming but he had finally figured out how to permanently rid himself of the thorn in his side called Phantom or better yet Danny.

Sure it took some persuasion and quite a bit of money but with the help of an old crooked spell caster Vlad had set up the perfect trap. He would finally be rid of the boy leaving him to rid of the boys father and be the comforting arms Maddie would turn to when Jack was finally gone. It was perfect really.

Now here he was face to face with the young halfa as the first step of his plan was set in motion.

A wicked grin ripped across his face as he held the blue blazing core towards the young halfa causing a snarl to rip from the boy.

“Now, now young Daniel. That’s now way to act, you might cause me to drop this precious little thing.” He grinned as he dropped the core only to catch it a moment later.

The panic in the little badgers eyes was so delightful it sent chills up his spine. There was no way the boy would attack with the risk of damaging the core that he held in his hands.

“Give her back! She has nothing to do with this!”

“Ohh but that’s where your wrong little badger, she has everything to do with this.” With that Vlad fled and of course the boy took the bait. He gave chase hot on Vlads tail as they picked up speed.

The chase was probably faster than Vlad or Phantom had ever gone and it was thrilling. To bad this would be phantoms last, after today Vlad would never have to deal with the boy again.

With the speed they were going it didn’t take but a few hours of chasing before the gloomy city of Gotham came in sight and Vlad belt the feeling of success swell in his chest as they flew over the city straight for an old clock tower.

Vlad easily turned intangible as he entered the tower and came to a stop against the back wall before turning to watch as the boy flew inside and stopped in the center, he’s chest heaving from the long and quick paced flight.

The boy was in the perfect position.

“Are you finally done with this pointless chase.” The boy growled as he moved closer like a cat ready to pounce on its prey.

“I am only just beginning little badger.” Vlad said as he helped the small core up causing the boy to stop in his tracks. “Now why don’t we land and talk this out, I’m certain you wouldn’t want anything to happen to little Dani now would you?”

“Don’t you dare! Do you realize what you’ve done! You’ve broken one of the realms biggest laws!”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them now would it?” Vlad said as they began to float downward before both of there feet were planted on the ground.

Now that they were both firmly planted on the ground Vlad smiled. The second phase of the plan was active and everything was going swimmingly.

“Vlad please just give her back.”

“Ohh, begging now are we? That’s new even for you little badger.” Vlad said as he held the core close, “I quite like that, do it again!”

The boy visibly stiffened before he balled his fists and glared at Vlad, “pleas, don’t hurt her. I’m begging you give her back!” The boy practically sobbed.

Vlad grinned, ohh this was fantastic! Absolutely brilliant, he had the boy at the palm of his hand literally.

“I don’t think that was sincere, why don’t you beg some more. Show me just how far your willing to go! Beg on your knees, grovel before me and beg for her mercy!” He growled out as he gripped the core tightly causing a whining sound to come from the small orb in his hand.

The boy flinched and stared at him wide eyed before slowly he dropped to his knees. The look of hatred raged in the boys eyes as tears welled in them.

Who knew victory would be so thrilling!

With a cackle Vlad lived off before his grip tightened even more around the small core. Sadly a sacrifice must be made for the plan to work so no matter how much he enjoyed the boys begging he had to do what needed to be done.

He watched as the boys eyes widened in horror as the smallest of cracks appeared before it quickly grew in size and began to fracture across the whole of the core like lightning before finally it shattered.

A wail filled the air but it was to late, the deed had been done and the runes had activated. The whole clocktower lit up in neon green and the wail went unheard as the power from the spell overwhelmed the attack.

Vlad watched as green chains latched into the kneeling boy, his arms and legs restrained as well as his neck.

Vlad watched curiously as the old mage approached the boy who’s eyes now completely glowed green. The old coot placed his hand on the boys head before he began chanting in a language Vlad could not comprehend.

Immediately the boy began to wither in pain as green runes etched across his skin and his form began to change. No longer was there a 18 year old kneeling before the mage but a small boy with white hair.

Phantom was no more but in his place was a young city spirit, bound to the city Gotham and as such his form would represent the city itself.

Vlad didn’t think he would change so much. Phantom or Gotham was a small child of 8 to 10 years old with soft white hair that had flecks of black and deep green eyes, his tan skin etched in runes and his death scars, the linchenburg scars on his left arm traveling up to his heart and neck now glowed an eerie green.

Then there was the change in clothes, His face was covered completely in a mask only leaving the boys eyes and the bridge of his nose visibly. Then there was the rest of him so much line one of the bats little Robins but the armor was black and grey without any insignia in sight. His left arm and neck were the only parts of the boy left bare showing the deep glowing scars and his neck was etched in a dark runes that bound him to the city much like a collar.

Finally the glowing faded ad the boy collapsed as the chains faded into nothingness. The deed was done, the boy would never get in his way again. Sure he had to make the sacrifice but in truth it was worth it as he would have never been able to kill the boy so he had done the next best thing. He had trapped him.

Gotham was far from Amity, far away where he could no longer get in Vlad’s way.

“It’s been done, I’ll take my leave now.” The old mage said as he removed himself from Vlad’s sight.

Vlad landed and kneeled next to the unconscious boy. “How cute, it seems that the bats and birds influence the city far more than what I thought.” He grinned as he held the boys face in his hands.

It really was a shame Vlad couldn’t keep the boy as his own but this would do and maybe he could come back for him once he had Maddie at his side.

He grinned at the thought before he set the boy down. He had plans to make and a wife to take!

————————————————————————

(Late night ideas are always fun so I hope y’all enjoy.)

Should i keep going with this?

#dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dp x dc prompt

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myeagleexpert · 5 months

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖘

sinopse:The curious case of the prefect of Ramcharcke raises theories and hypotheses, and each has a basis for it. Which one will be right? What do you believe in?

Characters: NRC Staff,Dire Crowley, Divus Crewel, Mozus Trein, Asthon Vargas, Sam.

“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙”

Crowley completely agrees with the said philosopher, as a director of a renowned school built on the controversial values of historical figures. He KNOWS that every NRC student is a place full of angry, arrogant, hormone-bombed teenagers, which is why he is so magnificently kind to Yuu. Who would give a complete stranger a place to sleep without magic? Who would do everything to make Yuu return to her beloved world even if it cost hours of work? Oh, how generous the director is, right?

For some reason, Yuu is managing to keep well. Survival is the word that would best define this situation. Now how she is managing to do this is difficult to talk about. At some point the director thought of carefully analyzing the case of the strange student without magic. In a school with cruel students, you, Yuu, are the only one with altruistic thinking and no magic. Why would the carriage that has never made a mistake in all these centuries of power bring a person like that with no aspect other than the basics? Unless…

Yuu has the potential to be evil in her own world, but not in this one where she is in a clearly vulnerable position, Crowley concluded and fell deeper into his reveries. So to survive you will have to adopt a good and pure image until you have enough strength to overcome your enemies, little by little, until you reach the top of the chain. Like every human being he has ever encountered in his secular life, Crowley feels that the thirst for power and blood is deep inside in Yuu. That's why he sends her to do various dangerous jobs and jobs, disguised traps. It's like a challenge: How far the wolf in sheep's clothing go? Roll your dice and place your bets, as Director Crowley will be keeping an eye on you.

“𝙈𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙨𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙪𝙥𝙩𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙢”

Perhaps in the analytical mind of the cruel chemistry teacher, Crewel, he had gone through the stages of denial and finally surrendered to the illusion. Yuu is a sweet and hardworking girl. That's it. Period. They had some time to develop a complicated relationship of father and daughter, mentor and student, but when Divus accepted his “fated role” according to him, it was a one-way thing. He will not allow any rowdy cub to offend her with repulsive lies. Did Yuu poison the students? Yuu blew up old bullying rooms? Did Yuu cheat on tests and manipulate students? LIES! She was just defending herself. His precious little puppy would never submit to such a low attitude.

His “filhota”, a term he learned from her, isn't like that, is it? So stay away from these disobedient puppies Yuu, they tarnish your image, dear.

“𝙈𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧”

Trein not only agrees with this theory, but he could prove it from a very practical experience: Yuu.

Having raised his own family, two daughters, a cat and being an experienced teacher at school for years, he knows how to masterfully recognize each type of student in his class: The nerd, the clown, the teacher's pet, the one who doesn't know anything about nothing, the one who knows everything, the one who pretends to know everything, the lazy and many others….but what about Yuu? How does she characterize herself in this group of characters?

What a curious case, a student without any kind of magic, with few memories, and in a school of arrogant boys without any support? How did she survive for so long? How does she adapt so easily? One day she's a nobody, and the next she has contacts with important princes and shady merchants. One day she knows nothing about the world that has stopped, and the next she knows more than Trein himself in his years of apprenticeship. In some way or another the stranger knows every secret of every hallway in the school, and holds them in the palm of her calloused hand.

The blank figure has immense potential for creation and destruction, and something tells Trey that the foreigner's innocent look and sharp tongue have dangerous odds.

"𝙈𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣"

Vargas could not agree with this theory more truthfully! The human body is designed to be challenged every day, and what would be the limit? As the trainer of every type of creature, from beastmen, fairies, merfolk, humans, hybrids and everything in between, he can say with certainty that there is nothing more rewarding than seeing a student overcome their obstacles!

The chest was filled with pride when he closely analyzed Yuu's case. He clearly remembered the student's first days at school, her steps were so light that the wind would carry her away, so weak and malnourished that she wouldn't walk a complete circle around the field without fainting, her look scared, her breathing heavy. She couldn't fly any higher than Azul and every time she spoke, her voice was shaky, like a kitten learning to meow.

Just look at the overcoming! Not only are her steps firm and determined, but she runs very fast as well. And even when an envious person tries to push him in a competition, she pushes him harder, making him fall to the ground. 12 eggs a day. 12 EGGS PER DAY. A diet that the trainer himself follows and just look at the results. The prey body has evolved into that of a hunter. Big, strong, fast and adaptable. Perfect.

Maybe you should be worried about the way she beats the past bullies who tormented her blue and purple? The way she hunts them is different, it's personal, it's physical, it's animal.

It seems like the game has changed, doesn't it?

“𝙈𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙣’𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙛”

The friends on the other side tell every secret and gossip that leaves the salesman, Sam, astonished. Sometimes it's hard to believe, other times he has to check it out with his own eyes. But for Sam, it's much more fun and engaging to analyze the situation like a grotesque soap opera. Each “little thing” is a sign for the next chapter. One day, among the hygiene products that are intended just for her, Yuu bought a different knife, an enchanted amulet and cans of a different type of fish and also a bottle of rat poison. Would it be for the rats of Ramshackle?.... No, the friends on the other side said that Yuu made an alliance with the rats, and so, she gets more information from the school. What type of information? who knows? For what? What will she do with the poison then? Pay attention to the next chapters.

A shadow wandering around in the morning once commented that on one of Jack's morning walks, he commented to Yuu that she "seemed to adapt to Twisted Wonderland fairly quickly.." And as soon as he found out, he ran as fast as his ghostly figure allowed him, so determined to be the first to tell Sam a hot piece of gossip that he didn't stay until the end of the conversation, and consequently left the merchant and his friends on the other side curious to know what Yuu's answer is.

Is Yuu letting her changes show to her troublemaking first-year friends, or has she tried to keep a mask on for a while? We cannot deny that her “strange” behavior is commendable for analysis. The one who enters the lion's den and comes out intact, the one who melts the heart of an evil icy queen, the one who entered as a sacrificial lamb and came back as the leader of the pack. Ohhh~~what interesting character development! More and more shadows surround Yuu now, watchful and thirsty for her next steps.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

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j-niret · 10 months

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写真を撮る

✩‧₊˚ pairing — bf!lee minho x hyperfem!f!reader warnings — fluff, light smut (didn’t go too much in depth), minho is a soft dom, a lowkey salty minho (you’ll see why hehe), breeding kink, taking pics during ya know what (w/ consent ofc), mentions of aftercare

✩‧₊˚ requested? no!

title means “photograph” in japanese. can you tell i was listening to drive while writing this? 🤭

you think you might actually have an online shopping addiction… yet another package arrived waiting for you at the doorstep. you excitedly skip to the door and pick up the box sitting on the porch, wasting no time to run upstairs and pry it open. “oh god.. not another one,” minho face palms at your buying compulsion, “no wonder the mail lady knows you on a personal level, she’s practically here more than me!” you roll your eyes, paying zero attention to him as you greedily pull out all the new adorable plushies you purchased. you now finally have the korilakkuma plush with a pink fluffy bunny hat in your possession and you couldn’t be happier. “hush, needed this for my collection and the bun was too cute to pass up!” your voice slightly squeaks towards the end as you held the 13” plush close to your heart.

he sighs, there’s absolutely no hope in getting you to stop it’s just something he’s going to have to deal with. he always teases you for buying the most random items, anything remotely interesting or another cute ad from tiktok you’d buy it blindly only to have most of it collect dust on your shelves or closet. minho was starkly different than you, he was much more conscious of the things he bought — unless it came to accessories for his cats or expensive ingredients he tries in advancing his cooking skills. he was a humble minimalist while you needed to have everything under the sun. he secretly adored the way your face would light up at the ring of the doorbell every time to alert you had a new package; he knew you loved him before anything but your obsession with online shopping was running a very close second.

“what do you do with all these plushies anyways? they can’t talk, can’t make you food, send daily cat pics, or even make you feel as good as i do. i don’t get the hype!” minho sounded so bitter, it was probably because you were giving the plushies more attention than him. “awwh, is my wittle baby getting jealous of some stuffies?” you tease, giggling at him feeling fake betrayed. “why would i be jealous of inanimate objects? don’t use that baby tone on me, only i can do that to you!” he hissed, giving you piercing glare. “shh, don’t say that, they’re listening!” you gasp while covering the plushie’s ears at his insult, you really treated all of them like your babies. “it’s nice you care more about them than your breathing and alive boyfriend right in front of you but i guess that’s okay.” he mutters sarcastically. was he actually mad at you? you really couldn’t tell at this point.

minho had a peculiar sense of humor in which sometimes you couldn’t detect if he was actually joking or not, he’d say things with the straightest face and you’d sit there pondering his intention. he still held a calm demeanor but his words seemed to affect you more than usual. why were you getting so worked up right now? “a-are you mad? did i do something wrong..?” you whine, lowering your head trying not to look at him. “what? no. just messing around petal, you know i like to play.” he chuckles, resting his hand under your chin to perch your head up, “look at me when i talk to you.” he orders sternly, forcing to make eye contact with him as you press your thighs together underneath the pleated tennis skirt you wore. you had no words left to say but before you could utter anything his lips shape into a mischievous smirk, “how ‘bout i pump a few kids in you while you hold onto the precious bun for dear life? sound good?”

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

he was right when he said you’d need to hold on for dear life, you suffocated the poor plushy as you whimpered and cry out to him. “m-minho— can’t- can’t take more, please- t-too much!” you struggle to conjure up words but his pace still won’t let up. eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he sends more deep thrusts your way, holding your leg up high in the air. what a stunning sight under him, your gorgeous body splayed under the bed in this lewd position all for him; keeping only the tennis skirt and ruffle trim socks you wore upon his request. “what’s that petal? said you want more?” he coos, producing harsher strokes, feeling the heat inside rush to your core, squeezing the plush bun while your face contorts. his veiny hand cascades your whole body, ending up on your tummy to lock you steady in place. you really are the prettiest thing to him.

the acceleration of his hips driving into you almost brought tears to your eyes but you put your big girl pants on and suck it up, you wanted to prove to minho that you were his good girl. “mmm.. so perfect for me petal, such a good girl for taking all of me so beautifully.” he husks, sending comforting praises “you’ll be rewarded well for this kitten.” his expression goes from focused to being engrossed by something else. his cell phone??? you watch in bemusement as he picks it up to unlock it with face ID, still never slowing down his speed. minho proceeds to open the camera application, pointing the phone towards you, you attempt to shy away but he gets upset by this. “no don’t move, you look too cute right now, i need to capture this forever. can i?” you nod, it was kind of him to ask but you’d do anything he says anyway. he snaps a couple quick shots of you before tossing his phone to the side, those pics will definitely come in handy on the days he can’t have you.

minho never left you with empty promises, he kept his word and milked every last drop he had, painting his own pretty picture in you. his body collapsed on top of yours, catching a moment to breathe while caressing the apex of your stained inner thighs. trailing lazy kisses down your neck as he praises how good you were for him. his sweet voice is like a melody to your ears, a total sucker for the way he treats you after being in dom mode. “let me go run you a bath, i’ll get you all nice and cleaned up petal.” he pats your thigh before getting up. a warm bubble bath was much deserved, you were in desperate need to soak your aching body. you didn’t even notice that you still had the plushy in your hands, surprised you committed to it for so long. you were excited to take your bath but knowing minho’s stamina… this may just be another excuse for a round 2.

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho skz #skz fluff #skz smut #lee know x female reader #skz x reader #lee minho imagines #stray kids minho #lee know fic #lee know smut #skz fic

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dulcesiabits · 5 months

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your shadow under the illusory moon, p.2.

summary: out of everything he's done in his life, it's his relationship with you that haunts lyney.

notes: 2k words, fic, first part, childhood friends au, spoilers for lyney's backstory, the first part has the most context for this fic

Lyney has always believed in miracles.

In Sumeru, there’s a particular theory about a cat in a box. Until you open the box, the cat is caught in a state between life and death; in other words, it is both, at once. A living contradiction, a miracle of its own, as long as the box is closed and the truth is unknown. There are things in this world that require a similar layer of belief. Anything can be manipulated and falsified. Perspective can change the very nature of an object. Not everything that is as it seems.

Of course, there are patterns and rules to miracles. Like any good magician, Lyney knows all the right tricks to create the perfect stage for such a miracle to bloom. However, there’s also an element of randomness to any event, unpredictable factors that can change the course of a life.

The bouquet in his hands is one such factor. A simple collection of flowers, pink cyclamens and tender red columbines, tied together with a string. For the past few months, similar bouquets have appeared in his dressing room.

“You’re nervous,” Lynette comments.

He twirls the bouquet airily. “Why would I be? These are just… presents from a fan, after all.”

Lynette throws him an unimpressed stare. “Right. But it’s not just any fan, brother. I think it’s obvious from all of your little research that the person who sent these is–”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Lyney interrupts. His palms are clammy, and he carefully places the flowers back down on the table. “And if, and only if, they were the one to do this, I don’t think they’d be happy to see me.”

Lynnette purses her lips, but says nothing else. He knows what his sister is thinking, just from the unimpressed flick of her tail: he’s a coward. There’s nothing he can say to that when she’s right.

But how can he be brave when the person he has to face is you?

—

In rare moments alone, Lyney tumbles through his memories like a kaleidoscope, peering up at each brilliantly colored piece of halcyon days, long past. All of his most beautiful memories always involve you: his childhood friend, his first love, a fellow ragtag orphan running through the streets by his side.

You were the cleverest child on the streets, and Lyney had been honored to call you his friend. His favorite memories involve the summer, when you, he and Lynette would sneak down to the beach to roll up your pant legs and step into the surf, shrieking as it washed over your ankles. You would collect shells and set up crab traps, digging for mollusks and building elaborate castles that the tide would wash away.

On one such day, Lynette wandered off to check the crab traps, giving you and Lyney a few minutes alone. She had shoved him with her elbow, reminding him to make the most of the time she had generously allotted for him, ears twitching amusedly when he stammered and turned bright red.

Though Lynette always pushed him to make a move, at the end of the day, Lyney was delighted just to be by your side. You were his precious family, no matter the nature of your feelings.

“This is pretty,” Lyney murmured. He’s holding what looks like a drop of starlight in his palm, a smooth piece of red glass. The two of you had been digging through the surf for a little while now, searching for little trinkets and treasures. Mostly you and he would pick up shells, seaweed and odd bits and ends the water rolled in. On rare occasions, you might find a coin that someone dropped.

“It’s sea glass,” you informed him. “Broken glass bottles get worn down by the water and sand until they’re smooth like that.”

“You know so much,” he said admiringly.

“I read about it,” you said. You beckoned him closer, then dropped another treasure in his palm, a piece of green glass. “You can have this. I thought you’d like it.”

He fingered the drops of sea glass in his hands. “We need another piece.”

“Why?”

“Because we need a third piece,” he said. “For you.”

You smiled, childish joy breaking across your face. “Really? Okay.”

“It’s like a miracle that we found these treasures today,” Lyney said. “Maybe we were meant to find them.”

You shook your head, and you have that look in your eyes: the one that made you look older than you really were. “There are no such things as miracles, Lyney. It was only a coincidence.”

You walked leisurely along the beach, your shoes in your hands, tracking footsteps across the soft sand. After a beat, Lyney hurried to keep up with you, his own footsteps like lovers next to yours. The tide would wash them away, but for now, these were proof that the two of you existed.

In hindsight, Lyney has always been a little jealous that you can look at the world in the way you do. To you, everything is neat and simple. You only believe in what you can see, and once explained to him that there are rules, patterns and calculations that govern the world. The truth is a single immovable force. There are no miracles or contradictions.

“What you see is what you get,” you had said. “You can only trust your eyes.”

But that’s where you’re wrong, he thinks. There are countless lies in the world, a bevy of facades and mirages and deceptions. Even the truth is never quite so simple.

After Lyney was forcibly separated from you, his days dulled, colored with desperation and fear.

The noble that took him and Lynette in would never let him see you. In that house, he was kept on a tight leash. Freedom was always just out of his grasp, hindered by watching eyes and hidden threats.

“You can’t associate with orphans like that anymore. But if you do well, perhaps I can take your friend in, too,” the noble purred.

A lie, of course, but he had been young and desperate and naive. And then Lynette was stolen, and the noble murdered, and Father became their next caretaker.

“You have to let go of your past or you won’t survive,” she had warned. “The only family you have now is the House of the Hearth. I don’t want to hear talk of this friend again.”

And yet, Lyney clung to you desperately. Throughout the training. Throughout the cold, bitter nights. Throughout the distrust and the initial bullying. The memories of your time together provided warmth that he held tightly to his chest like a star. As long as he could get through this, then he could see you again. Everything would be made right with the world, and it would no longer feel as if his chest was being torn to shreds every second he was away from you.

Lyney needed leverage, a plan. No, he needed a miracle. Because only those with power had the right to do what they wanted in the world. Hadn’t he learned that, time and time again?

“Father, there’s someone I know that would be an invaluable asset to the Fatui,” he posited, once he had enough successes under his belt for Father to find him useful. “They’re clever, and skilled with their hands.”

Father smiled thinly. “And are you asking me this for my sake, or yours? Not just anyone can become a Fatuus. Could they survive here?”

He had bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

Because how could Lyney do that to you, for his own selfish desire to keep you close? He couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering from injuries that were so common in their line of work, of never knowing whenever this would be the night you wouldn’t make it home, of you always living despised by the people around you, just for who you had to associate with to survive.

And worse. What if you were sent off to someone like Dottore, who treated his underlings like pawns and experiments?

You had built your own life, from what little he had heard. Information about you was ferreted out in coincidences. To investigate you directly would be to put a target on your back, so he could only hear snatches of your name through association with the more important people and places around you. Last he was told, you worked at the Fontaine Research Institute, and had made a decent name for yourself as a mechanic. Could he rip you away from the tranquil life you had created, and thrust you into a place like the Fatui?

“Why don’t you just talk to them, Lyney?” Lynette had asked once. “Enough of these games.”

“And what if they don’t want to see me, Lynette?”

She sighed, and he dipped his head.

He’s a coward, but Lyney can’t touch you with his bloodstained hands. He doesn’t deserve to love you anymore, because of the things he has done– of the things he will do, for Father’s sake. You live in the sunlight, and he lives in the shadows cast by your light.

Lyney finds himself thinking of you when he wanders into a little trinket shop one day. There are rows of handmade bookmarks, and the sight of it reminds him of how you used to always have your nose buried in a book. On a whim, he buys one, keeping it tucked in his pocket like a secret, a connection that tethers the two of you together.

Maybe if things hadn’t gone so horribly wrong, he would be by your side right now. The two of you would live in a little home together, and be a real family again.

But dreams were just that: dreams. In the end, there are some miracles even a magician can’t make true.

–

When Lyney steps into the dressing room and he comes face to face with you for the first time in years, his mind goes blank.

You watch him like a wary animal, and his breathing quickens in his chest. He can’t do this. Not now. Not ever. The years are cruel, because even though you’re older and more tired, he can still find traces of the friend he once knew more intimately than his own self.

“Why, hello there. Are you a fan? I didn’t expect to see someone back here,” he finds himself saying. Even off the stage, Lyney finds himself slipping into a mask. He watches himself from an audience seat, performing a part for you.

Have you been okay? He wants to beg like a child. Have you been safe? Has anyone hurt you? But none of those thoughts pass his lips throughout your conversation with him.

When your attention wanders, it’s easy enough for Lyney to carefully spirit away your bag, and, with shaking hands, slide his bookmark into it.

When you turn to go, he can’t help himself. “Did you enjoy today’s show?” Lyney asks.

“I could understand why people like your magic shows so much.”

“But do you like them?”

You tilt your head, considering his question like you would a math equation. “Well, I don’t really believe in magic. But I appreciate the effort and the logistics behind each trick.”

“I’m glad, then.” A knot of tension loosens in his chest. It’s confirmation of what he’s known, from searching for you in the crowds for the past few weeks when he first realized you had been showing up at his shows: that despite everything, you were still watching him. His first audience member, and the most precious one. “Have a nice night.”

When you’re gone, Lyney collapses onto the dressing room table, hands shaking as he grips the wood, so hard his knuckles turn white. Your bouquet remains, and he brings the petals to his face, breathing in the fading fragrance.

There are things in this world that can never be truly repaired or forgiven, like how a shattered bowl will always bear memories of its cracks, or some animals hold grudges for the rest of their lives, remembering the face of their tormentors.

But Lyney believes in miracles. In the unexpected, in the unpredictable, in the contradictory nature of the world. And one day, maybe a miracle will bring him back to your side.

#liya writes #genshin impact #lyney #genshin impact lyney #genshin impact x reader #x reader #lyney x reader #lyney is the most conflict avoidant man in the world fr #i felt like the first fic was somewhat incomplete so!!! i figured writing about lyney's perspective (equally biased) would help that #i love tormenting him <3

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mother-na · 5 months

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Bully Daddy!Gojo and Kind Brother!Megumi!

A drabble about your Daddy!Gojo bullying you and your sweet older Brother!Megumi trying his best to help you.

Warnings!!: Incest (blood relation is left to reader‘s decision), bullying.

Gojo doesn't mean to make you feel so sad, honest! It’s just that you're his little girl!

Gojo doesn't want you running off to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer or worse, you could fall in love! You're his strong little girl, people would kill to have your hand as Satoru Gojo’s daughter! It's a dangerous world!

Megumi wouldn't have cared, honestly, but as few know he too cannot stand a bully. Of course, his opponent being the man who essentially sponsored him, Gojo, it's not so easy for him.

So Megumi can't do much for you, but when you slip into your room to cry, he’ll be there to listen about how Gojo teased you about your weight or tripped you in front of your friends.

Gojo will do anything to prevent you from realizing you're anything good. You're his daughter, and he's not so oblivious to not be aware of how he himself was once quite full himself. If his daughter were to suddenly believe she was too good for him, he might just die!

So yes, Gojo might trip you in front of your friends and spill drinks on your new clothes, but it's all because he loves you!

And yes, Gojo might take some weird shots of you or drool a bit into the shitty excuses of meals he makes you, but all that's only because you're so dear to him!

Megumi has no idea Gojo is so severe, but he knows when someone takes things to far. Gojo’s around for all the cute innocent faces you make sure, but he's never around when you cry and weep as a result!

After a hard day of being near your cruel dad, curling up with the quiet and kind Megumi is the perfect remedy.

Megumi will hold you close and tuck you in, your dad wouldn't dare tarnish his students opinion of him, at least not so obviously in front of Megumi.

Unbeknownst to Megumi, Gojo only refrains from teasing you in front of him because he too is aware you need the comfort.

Megumi is your driving force to stay. What would you do without your brother! And Gojo knows that oh so well.

After years of being your anchor, Megumi has come to terms (in his delusions anyway) that there's no way you could live without him.

You cried when you spilled your fried rice, and when you favorite fictional character died, and when you saw a cat. How could Megumi possibly entrust such an innocent fragile person to the rest of the world? Simple, he couldn't.

This said, Gojo and Megumi both agree on one thing. If they want to prevent you from running away, they've both gotta do their part.

Megumi would never admit, but hearing Gojo’s bullshit reasoning he’d begun to understand. If you, a precious girl, became someone like Gojo? The thought alone sent shivers down his spine.

Gojo secretly wishes you thought better of him, but he gets it. How could you hold the man who makes your life hell in better regard than the one who's there for your throughout it all?

And secretly, Megumi likes being the only one close to you. After all, he and Gojo would never let a stranger near you.

Even if you did run away, just to get away from it all, Gojo and Megumi would just drag you back.

Gojo would be, as you guessed, mean about it. He might not usually act like your daddy, but he will when it's convenient for him.

Gojo would have to hold himself back, his hand sternly hitting your butt, spanking you for your disobedience. The way your butt slowly turns red, it'd have his head reeling!

But even as he punishes you, Gojo would speak kind words. Words about just how much he loves you! He does it all because he loves you! You're just a silly girl, you shouldn’t disobey your father, you know.

And Megumi? Megumi would be just outside the door, without your knowledge. He’d flinch at every hit resounding out the door, imagining your poor tears and feeling angry. He’ll be sure to yell at Gojo for his over-the-top behavior.

This was originally meant to be both Gojo AND Geto as your dads buuuut I got lazy and didn't want to do an analysis of Geto before beginning.

I also considered writing a second little one-shot where you run away from your mean daddy but this was too short so I tossed the end in there.

209 notes · View notes

allysunny · 7 months

Note

how would you feel about Miguel x deceased!reader angst like he is looking at old videos of his old life with Gabi??

Fragments of Yesterday | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: Character death, blood, descriptions of violence, angst, very sad Miguel. If I missed anything, please do let me know!

A/N: I AM BACK??? I am SO sorry for the delay! Uni has just started once again, and I was busy sorting everything out. These first few weeks are super hectic, and I barely had any time to write. Anyways, I hope you like this piece! I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it - I think I've written better stuff. I love the ending but something feels off, maybe it was too abrupt? Not sure I like how it turned out. But! It's very angsty and sad, and I had a blast writing it because I LOVE writing angst (shocking!)

Also, I tried to do some more research on the spanish language and on how to use endearement terms. I would hate to be disrespectful to a culture and language that isn't mine, so if there's anything wrong with the spanish here, please do let me know, and I promise I will do better! I'm also deathly afraid of fetishizing Miguel and his culture, so please do call me out if my writing ever does that. It really isn't my intention.

Anyways, I hope you guys like it! I haven't forgotten about my other requests, and am working on them :) Just please, be patient with me. Thank you! <3

“Papa! Papa, look! Doesn’t Mama look gorgeous?” His precious little girl said, pulling him by the hand. The camera he held captured only what was before him, which shifted in just a few seconds. He’d been sitting down on his living room’s couch, camera pointed at the floor as he tried to figure out how to get it to work. Then, he was crossing every room in his apartment until he was met with the sight of you, standing right in front of your mirror.

“Stooop looking at the camera!” Gabriela shouted once more, tugging his arm. He did what she asked, placing it down and walking towards you. Your daughter looked adorable in her pale pink dress, all frills and ribbons, a flower headband adorning her head and pulling her curls back. “Look at her! Look at Mama!”

And so he did, and wow.

You looked…

Wow.

“Cat got your tongue, Miggy?” You looked over your shoulder to give him a flirty smile. Your face was in full display, since you’d pushed your hair back to form a ponytail, and only a single rebellious strand fell, giving you that air of effortless, timeless beauty Miguel has always considered you to have.

He took you in. The dark blue dress that fitted you perfectly, long, silky sleeves flowing as you moved around. The sweetheart neckline was flattering on your body, hugging your figure in all the right ways, and making your husband salivate just by looking at you.

“Doesn’t Mama look like a princess?” Gabriela asked once again, looking up at you in awe. You smiled and bent over, taking her cheeks in your hands, and placing the most tender kiss on top of her forehead.

“You’re the princess, mija. You look wonderful.” The little girl beamed, hands resting on top of yours. She then turns to her Papa, who’s still smiling like a fool.

“Answer, Papa!”

You tilted your head to the side, smiling at your husband.

“Go on, Papa, answer your daughter.” You said to him with a small chuckle.

Miguel gathered his thoughts. His gorgeous wife was standing right next to his beautiful daughter. The two most precious people in the entire world were standing right in front of him, making this a sight to remember.

“You’re right, mija. Your Mama does look like a princess.” You blushed at his words, doing a silly little twirl for him and your daughter. Gabriela’s jaw fell wide open, and she clapped happily, claiming you really were a princess.

The you in the video got closer, meaning Miguel approached the both of you with his camera. Turning it around, the three of you could finally appear in one frame together. Him, all sharp cheekbones, and tired eyes, you, all dazzling smile and sparkling gaze, and your daughter, a sweet mix of the two.

“Say hi to the video,” he said happily, and the both of you obliged. You, waving gracefully, and Gabriela doing it as if her life depended on it.

The video ended.

Right away, another one started.

“Shhhh, she’s sleeping!” You hushed your husband as soon as he stepped into the room. You’d been nursing little Gabriela for a while now, and after what felt like an eternity, she’d finally fallen asleep. Her tiny mouth was parted, and the slow rise and fall of her chest was a gentle reminder that she was alive and well.

“Just wanted to record this moment,” Was the reply Miguel gave you. He pointed the camera at you and melted at the sight. Lately you’d been complaining about your appearance – your hair felt dry and flat, the bags under your eyes were huge, and your body had gone through a lot of changes. But Miguel?

He saw a beautiful and radiant woman, whose body had transformed to accommodate his child. Whose smile was ever as dazzling, whose eyebags were a testament of the love and care you had for your daughter. He saw a goddess, and he hoped his video camera lens could capture that.

“She looks like you.” You said with a smile, finger lightly tracing the round, chubby cheek of your child. “I personally think it’s quite unfair. I did all the work.”

“I’d say I worked quite hard myself,” Miguel replied, sitting close to you, and giving you a chuckle, “I mean, if it weren’t for me…” You raised an eyebrow, and Miguel was quick to shut up, but not before giving you a light chuckle. “Fine, fine. I guess it is unfair.”

He placed the camera on top of the small coffee table in front of the couch and placing a protective arm around your figure. His hand came up to caress his little girl’s head, and although you weren’t used to the sight of mighty Miguel O’Hara becoming putty whenever he saw her, you couldn’t say you weren’t pleased.

“Mis hermosas chicas…” He mumbled, glancing up at you. You swore you could see pure, sheer, raw adoration in those eyes of his. How you loved whenever your husband got like this, when he sat down and idolised the hell out of you and your little girl.

Big bad brooding Miguel O’Hara was a lovesick fool, and a proud father. How sweet.

The last video was the most recent.

“Come, come, Papa! Hurry up!” This point of view was odd, floating up in the air, ominously overlooking the O’Hara family. Gabriela had asked Lyla to film the occasion, and she happily obliged.

“Mija, I’m not exactly getting younger, slow down,” Was the lie he told her – as if he, the one and only Spiderman, could not catch up with a child. Still, he adored playing into Gabriela’s antics.

“Keep your eyes closed, otherwise it’ll be spoiled!”

You smiled at the two of them, cautiously watching from afar, to make sure your daughter didn’t accidentally have Miguel run into a wall or a door – there was no way you’d let something like that ruin the surprise the two of you had spent days preparing.

“Watch your step…” Gabriela muttered, carefully leading her father down the stairs to the rooftop of your building.

A spider-sense would be useful on most occasions, but Miguel found himself trusting you completely. Besides, it’d only ruin the surprise. He didn’t want that. He’d seen the small gestures that were meant to keep him far away, found the both of you whispering and plotting on the couch, only to loudly change topics as soon as he walked in – his wife and daughter were very thorough about this surprise.

“Alright, you can open them in three… two…. One… Sorpresa!” Gabriela yelled excitedly, pointing at the lively scene before her.

The roof was nicely decorated, full of lights and colourful balloons. There was a small table with a very expensive-looking bottle of wine, and his favourite empanadas. Hanging on by a few stripes of colourful tape, was a banner with the words “Congratulations on the promotion!” hand drawn on them.

Miguel was speechless.

He’d confided in you that he was going after a promotion at his job. He started working longer shifts, coming home at the oddest hours, and barely getting any sleep, but it eventually paid off. Not only was his salary better, but he would be able to spend more time at home, spoiling his wife and watching his little girl grow.

A smile graced his features.

“You did all this for me, nena?” He asked, turning to face Gabriela who smiled at him proudly.

She nodded enthusiastically, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him near the table.

“Mama helped! Look, we have all your favourites. I even helped make the empanadas! And we got those crunchy fries you like – see? Congrats Papa!”

It was hard not to feel happy. He had always found his daughter’s happiness to be the most contagious thing in the world, and often found himself indulging in whatever shenanigans she might have, if only it meant keeping a smile on her face. The same applied to you – Miguel was whipped, to say the least.

Which was why everything had become so much harder when the two of you passed away.

Miguel remembers it as if it was yesterday.

An anomaly had broken loose on HQ – a Green Goblin variant, one who wasn’t even supposed to exist, vicious and cruel. It resented being locked up by the leader of the Spider Society and was out to get whatever or whomever he loved the most. This man was cunning. He evaded every single Spiderman Miguel sent after him, even going as far as to almost knocking him unconscious, and, hiding in plain sight, stole whatever records Miguel had on you.

They were mostly safety plans and protocols, but with the help of the technology from his own (somehow inexistent) universe, the Goblin was able to find you and Gabriela. It took a while for Lyla to wake Miguel up. He was nearly out, and those few moments he spent on the floor trying to regain consciousness, had been precious. If it weren’t for those moments, perhaps you’d still be alive.

You were picking her up from school, walking hand in hand as she told you all that happened to her that day, recalling every single detail. You were smiling, and so was she.

As soon as the Goblin left HQ, Miguel knew exactly where he was headed.

From then on, it felt like a race against time.

His heart pounded loudly against his chest – he needed to get you to safety as soon as possible.

Miguel asked (more like demanded) Lyla to call you, and for a few mere seconds, it seemed like everything could work out. He tried to sound as calm as possible; there was no need to freak you out, not when you had Gabriela with you, and the most important thing was getting you to safety.

“Hey honey,” You greeted him with that warm tone, and Miguel could swear he could hear your smile in those words.

“Hi Papa!” Gabriela interjected, to which you chuckled.

“I was just picking her up from school – “

“Mi amor, listen to me, I need you to get Gabriela and hide, right now. Just do as I say, please, find somewhere you can hide, and – “

He was cut off by the sound of a scream, coming from the other side of the phone. A scream that was most likely yours.

He ran faster, swung faster, he as much as flew to you.

But while Miguel tried to hurry the shock up to get to his family, the Green Goblin was already there, frightening you and Gabriela, who had walked inside a bakery to get a treat before heading home. You were standing in front of her, in a feeble attempt to protect your little girl from harm.

“Stay back!” You yelled, removing a small gadget from your pocket. A sort of mix between a gun and a taser, a small invention Miguel had concocted to keep you safe. Should it the target, they’d feel terrible amounts of pain not only from the bullet, but also from the electricity said bullet would shoot through their body. You fired it once. Then twice. Then a third time, but to no avail. The Goblin’s suit was too thick, and you’d perhaps have made the same damage if you threw rocks at him. It was useless.

“Well look who we have here.” His words were acid, disgusting and lethal, and they almost made you cower before him. Almost. You had to be strong for Gabriela. Miguel was sure to be here soon, you knew it. “Such a pretty little thing. And his offspring.” The way he said the word made it seem like he detested the taste of it, and for some reason, it made you stand taller in front of your daughter.

“Let’s see how he likes feeling the same kind of despair I did.” The Goblin snarled, seizing you with only one arm. He was big, bigger than you, bigger than your sweet Miguel – this creature was a monster, and a big one. Grabbing you seemed like an easy task for him.

“Mama!” Gabriela yelled, arms reaching up to try and pull you. It didn’t work.

“Let me go, you disgusting vermin!” You pounded your fists against his chest, tried slapping him, punching him, clawing his eyes out, but it seemed like you were only tiring yourself out instead of harming him. “When Spiderman gets here…”

“Spiderman? Oh, you poor thing. You really think Spiderman will come?”

“He’s here! Spiderman’s coming!” You could hear the relief in Gabriela’s voice.

But that relief did not last long.

The Goblin looked to his side, snarling as soon as he spotted Miguel, who was approaching at an abnormal speed.

“Well, well…” The creature snarled, looking between you and Miguel. “I wish I had more time. I do like a bit of dramatics. Hey Spidey? You watching?” Having said this, the creature strengthened his grip on you, and, after floating a few meters above the ground, released you. Well, he didn’t simply release you. He threw you against the floor with all the strength he could muster.

Time seemed to stop for him.

It was like Miguel could see you in slow motion, tears falling from your eyes as you glanced at him, silently begging him to do something. The life you two had carved with each other flashed before your eyes. Meeting you at that shitty empanada place, bringing you flowers, saying “I do”, holding you tightly as you clutched that positive test in your hands, crying with joy at the sight of you with your daughter, kissing you before going to work. They replayed in his mind repeatedly, and he all but flew in your direction, hoping he would be fast enough to save you.

The loud “thud” coming from below him informed him of otherwise.

In that moment, Miguel didn’t know what to do. He had no idea what had just happened. He couldn’t process the information that was standing right in front of him. You, limbs contorted in a billion different positions, eyes wide open and terrified, a big pool of blood forming by your head.

What was happening? Why were you on the floor? Why weren’t you moving?

Miguel was used to death. He was used to not being able to save everyone – more than once did you have to coax him back to sleep after nightmares, ones that derived from his inability to get every single person to safety. But actually seeing you on the floor like this? It was the hardest thing Miguel had ever tried to process. He had never accepted the idea of you dying. In his mind, he’d always be able to save you.

“Spiderman! Spiderman please – help me!” It was Gabriela’s frightened voice that made him look up from your figure. And he wished he’d done it sooner.

Miguel had to deal with villains and anomalies in a daily basis. Some liked talking. Some liked taunting. Sometimes, these two characteristics managed to buy him some time, managed to get him to save the civilians, to get him to save the day. But this Green Goblin was different. He wasn’t interested in talking. There was no self-centred monologue, no well-crafted speech that allowed him to swoop in and save the innocent passerby. This Green Goblin was out for blood.

“Hey Spidey,” The Goblin was once again floating midair on his platform, holding Gabriela by her neck. Shocking hell, her neck. Miguel used his webs, swinging as fast as he could, following the creature, who, with every word, floated higher and higher. “Remember what you told me back in your little Society? That you would defeat me? What were the words you used? Oh. That’s right, you said you’d crush me.”

Shit, shit, shit. Why was he so damn slow. Why was the Goblin so damn fast. A few more meters and he’d be there. A few more meters and he’d be holding his little girl, he would save his little girl, he’d save her and take her home, everything would be fine –

“I guess I’m the one who’s doing the crushing now.”

A rippling scream came out of his daughter’s mouth.

The kind of sound no parent should hear coming from their child.

He could hear the sound of bones crushing. The sound of breath coming to a halt.

And then, as if the girl was nothing but trash, he released her.

Miguel lunged in her direction, and by some miracle, was able to get a hold of her before she fell to the floor.

“Gabi, Gabi, look at me. Talk to me Gabriela, please.” He mumbled as soon as he safely landed on the floor, hands coming up to check her face. And that’s when his eyes landed on her neck. Her small, frail neck, completely shattered by that monster’s hands.

Miguel doesn’t quite know what happened next. He saw red, and the only thing he remembers, are the limbs of the Green Goblin scattered around the street. Some in his hands. Some on the floor. The creature’s throat was right under his foot.

And what came next was pain.

Unbearable pain.

Learning to live without you and Gabriela had been the hardest thing he had ever done.

In fact, it was so hard, he still didn’t know how to do it.

There were the nightmares, the terrible nightmares he had the first few months. He saw your death in his dreams repeatedly. Miguel couldn’t close his eyes. If he as much as blinked, he would be met with your figure, lying on the floor, lifeless eyes filled with tears, or his daughter’s tiny neck in that horrible position.

It was as if all the good memories he had with you had vanished, giving room to the awful images of your dead bodies.

So, he settled for the videos.

Visual memories of the three of you as a family. Some of you were from Christmas time. Perhaps you were decorating the Christmas tree, as a fitting playlist (most likely chosen by you) played in the background. He had a few of Gabriela opening her presents. Soccer balls and equipment, books on her favourite hobbies, a big teddy bear and other toys a child her age would like.

Videos of the three of you out on dates. At the zoo, pointing at the giraffes and laughing at their silly smiles. At the park, eating ice cream and observing the clouds.

Some videos were just from the two of you. Walks in the park you wished to remember, lazy mornings long before Gabriela was born, where you set the camera on your nightstand and press kiss after kiss against his naked back, picnics on the rooftop of your apartment.

Miguel would forever be grateful to you, for always bringing a camera everywhere you went, or insisting to record every waking moment your family spent together with your phone. It had been these recordings that Miguel turned to on his darkest hours.

Sometimes, Peter B. and the kids found him hunched over his desk, silently crying as he clutched your daughter’s teddy bear in her hands. He would whisper to it, apologising profusely for not being able to save her, for being a terrible father and an even worse superhero. The group had also caught him whispering words to the framed pictures he had of you. He’d cry and ask for forgiveness, ask for advice, ask for a sign that you were still with him, somehow.

It hurt to see Miguel like this.

He refused to be Spiderman for a few days, claiming he wasn’t good enough to protect the city. If he couldn’t protect you and Gabriela, surely that must mean he is not fit to save anyone at all. But with a lot of convincing from Peter, he realised that your deaths were the reason he had to protect the city. To keep things like these from happening ever again.

Miguel looked at the screen in front of him.

You were so gorgeous. You always had been. Even when you looked away in embarrassment, or when you woke up, hair tousled in every direction, or bent over the toilet, puking your guts out. You were so beautiful. Right now, he watched as you helped Gabriela get ready for her birthday party, combing her hair and putting it up on two little pigtails. Your little girl looked radiant. Everyone said she looked like Miguel, but he saw you in her eyes, in the way she smiled, in the way he helped others.

In fact, Miguel saw her everywhere.

He saw her in the gentle way the sun kissed his skin whenever he felt too defeated to wake up. He saw her in the way his pieces of bread looked like funny shapes. He saw her in the way birds played with each other midair, chirping and spreading their wings in a sign of freedom.

And he saw you too.

Whenever the breeze blew lightly against his face, he could swear it was your lips he felt against your temple. Whenever his food was too hot against his tongue, it was as if he could hear you say, “Slow down guapo, the food ain’t going anywhere”. Every time he saved someone, he could hear you, oh so vividly, as you praised him and told him you were proud of him.

Learning to live without you and Gabriela had been the hardest thing he had ever done.

In fact, it was sohard, he still didn’t know how to do it.

But he was learning.

And if his wife and daughter stayed by his side like this – he was sure he could do it.

A/N: That's it! I hope you guys liked it! I can't wait to show you guys what other requests I've been writing. They're all so creative!

Have an amazing day, everyone!

209 notes · View notes

signedeclipse · 1 year

Note

hi! Can I get some headcanons with petplay, with Dōma, Muzan, and Shinobu? If you don't do that kink feel free to ignore this!

Douma | Muzan | Shinobu [X Reader]

In which they share a pet/master dynamic with their s/o and get heated with it.

Douma

To him, humans are very akin to animals

Rabid, wild things that have such strange rituals, doing absolutely anything to survive

But you were different from those predators, something gentle, something more of a prey he wanted to protect

Like a rabbit!

He doesn't really realise he treats you like that, because it's apart of your everyday life

He gives you 'treats' when you do something he likes, and pets you on the head all the time

You're just so timid and easily frightened

It's so cute to him!

Douma would eventually introduce the dynamic to your more intimate moments

He likes seeing you in the fake long ears and round little tail he got for you

He loves when you fall on your hands and knees for him, and follow him around like the good little bunny you are

The demon doesn't really know what the dynamic is, as far as he's concerned you're his cute little plaything that he wants to protect and ravage

It will be very public in the cult, at least seeing you collared or being pampered by him and called bunny

Mosaics and religious artefacts are made with you in it, represented by a small rabbit held by the demon

Besides, you both fuck like rabbits too

Muzan

The demon lord craved control over everything in his life, even his s/o

Of course he was far more lenient with you, but you seemed to crave listening to his every word when you weren't being such a brat

It didn't go unpunished, but your punishments were far from painful, just overwhelming

He is subtle in the dynamic, besides the petname and a nice leash to tug you by

Anytime he is sat reading, he likes to have you kneeling beside him, with your leash wrapped around his hand and head resting on his lap

His weak kitty, his precious kitten, something that needed to be protected from the world, and shown how to behave

Not only is his life with you private, but you as a whole

You are his and his alone, and in a sense your home is your cage, the only place a precious thing like you should be

Cats can be very bratty, so he has a few things around that he can tie you up and leave you strapped it until the only thing you can do is mewl

" Good kitty "

Shinobu

Surprisingly the worst of the two

She keeps it insanely private, but behind closed doors Shinobu is a total freak

She'll tie your ankles to your thighs so you have to walk on your hands and knees

Collar you and tug on your leash so you force your pace into her pussy

She wants full control over her dumb little puppy

Will 100% have a dog bowl for you to drink out of, and she loves watching you humiliatingly do so

Your dynamic is kind of 24/7 but out of sight, with your public collar being a necklace with a small lock on it so no one thought much of it

Probably has a bed with non conspicuous bars under it that acts as your cage

You usually sleep with her, but if you've been bratty or behaving badly you'll sleep under there, or when you find it more comfortable

Will make you drool like a dog too, after ruining your orgasms for an hour and then making you cum nonstop for another hour

Authors Note - OKAY FIRST you chose the best characters for this because if anyone asked me who has a petplay kink I would have said these three

Secondly, this is probably the most personally controversial ask ive ever gotten because all my social circles (communities, school and work) are very prestigous/formal and sometimes I wonder what they'd think if they found this acc and saw this.

Thirdly, thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy <3

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #kny #kny headcanons #x reader #reader insert #douma x reader #douma #shinobu #shinobu x reader #muzan #muzan x reader #headcanons

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ellabsprincess · 10 months

Note

Can you do an Ellabs no reader drabble for their early mornings?

I think Ellie would be the type to love her sleep and always want to sleep in, and Abby would be the type to be more regimented and have an early morning routine, leaving her to be the one to wake a grumpy, tired Ellie up all the time. i think abby would know how to cook too, so she would make her breakfast a lot.

The odd times where Abby wants to sleep in, Ellie would wake up before her and want her attention and get all needy… 🥰

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i'm literally so sorry this took so long babes and OKAY i know y'all wanted "a better use for that mouth" first but i am struggling to put together a plot and i feel a little stuck on that fic so please accept this ellabs fic first

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 - 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, very suggestive (not really any explicit smut), talk of thigh riding, fluffy and sappy ellabs stuff, ellie being a needy little shit (affectionate), firefighter!abby, VERY BRIEF mommy kink, dom!abby + sub!ellie dynamic, NO READER INSERT

ellie's eyes flutter open, her vision blurry and obscured. her world seems fuzzy, but as she blinks a few more times, the bed beneath her comes into view. abby's side of the bed is neatly made, tucked and folded to perfection, her pillows fluffed and plump as if they've never even been slept on.

a radiant beam of sunshine has cast itself over the eggshell-colored sheets, illuminating the room via the skylight above the large bed. as ellie comes to her senses, taking in the peace and tranquility of the quiet saturday morning, she notices the smell of sweetness and the sound of crackling, cooking meat, coming from the kitchen. it's not really a surprise. abby is an early riser, a gym rat who gets up entirely too early to get a workout in while her precious girlfriend is still asleep. she must have come home hungry from building up her physique, and decided to make breakfast.

ellie follows the enticing smells out of the bedroom, throwing the bedsheets off of herself and trailing the scent of sweetness like an old-timey cartoon cat enticed by the smell of fresh-cooked turkey.

she feels a bit pathetic, walking into the living room with her messy bed head and her pajamas astray. on the other hand, abby is a sight to be seen in the kitchen, covered in a light, glistening sheen of sweat from her workout, her cheeks still slightly pink from exertion. her arm and leg muscles flexing as she moves with the grace of a ballet dancer around the kitchen, working to prepare a hearty meal. and of course, her signature braid is completely in tact, not a single loose hair visible.

ellie clears her throat, trying to clear all of her body of her remaining confusing and annoying morning grogginess. abby whips around, slightly started by the sight of ellie.

"oh hey baby, didn't expect you to be up so early! was gonna surprise you with some breakfast in bed."

ellie smiles, awake enough to acknowledge the sweetness and kindness of abby's actions. her tired brain still feels like a combination of syrup and tv static inside her head, so she only gives a soft whine in response, but abby understands.

abby knows their dynamic well by now. ever since they moved in, it's been the same routine almost every morning. she wakes up before the crack of dawn, hits the gym and clears her head, and then comes home to her sleepy girlfriend still curled up in bed, often laying spread out like a beached starfish and breathing in abby's signature pine scent still lingering on the sheets.

but abby doesn't mind. no, she loves the opposing dynamic of her relationship, and she adores that ellie loves to sleep in, when the perfectionist side of abby makes her get up and work on herself most days. she loves her carefree ellie. she needs that energy to balance out her own internal monologue that always begs her to do everything perfectly. she needs her ellie.

ellie trudges towards the kitchen, dragging her feet against the soft, plush rug of the living room as she blindly makes her way towards her girlfriend. she rubs her eyes, desperately trying to rub the last of the sleep away. reaching the kitchen island, she pulls out a barstool and plops down with a soft thunk, resting her head in her hands and gazing at abby. at the sound of ellie's tiredness and careless state, abby smirks. she adores these lazy mornings with her girlfriend more than anything.

sure, she likes to be taken care of herself, but it feels nice to be a provider for ellie, and to make her food and take care of her when her brain is too tired and sleepy to let her do anything by herself.

after a few more minutes of shuffling around the kitchen, abby finally plates the breakfast. an omelet, stuffed with proteins and flavorful herbs, and a small side smoothie bowl full of fresh fruits and sweet grains, just dripping with sweet honey nectar.

ellie almost drools at the plate in front of her, of course plated and staged to perfection, as abby wouldn't have it any other way. the fruit of the smoothie bowl making a perfect symmetrical spiral, the herbs placed so delicately on top of the omelet. abby was typically rough with her hands, working as a firefighter, but she had a deep appreciation for the arts, and loved to express herself through culinary means.

placing a strong hand on ellie's upper back, abby gracefully slides into the seat next to ellie, her own edible artwork sitting in front of her.

"i love you baby," abby says, almost a whisper.

"love you abs, thank you for taking care of me," ellie responds, slightly mumbling in her lethargic state.

"always ellie. anything for my best girl."

and so they sit in peaceful silence, the room only filled with the sounds of birds chirping outside the slightly ajar kitchen window, and the soft clinks and chinks of their silverware on their plates, and the quiet clunks of their glasses reconnecting with the counter after a sip of refreshing water.

it's nothing much, just a simple breakfast together as a couple. but it's that moment of peace that's everything to them.

THE NEXT MORNING

"abby c'mon"

"abby"

"abbyyyyy"

"mommy?"

abby's eyelids flutter open at the nickname. it's only barely light in the bedroom, just a few gentle sun rays streaming in through the windows.

as abby comes to her senses, she realizes that ellie is curled up against her front, nuzzled into her broad chest. she's letting out muffled little mewls and whines among the desperate pet names. abby also realizes with a raise of her eyebrows that ellie's legs are wrapped around one of abby's muscular thighs, leaving ellie's clothed cunt perfected placed among the mountain of ridged muscle.

"oh poor baby, you woke up needy els?" abby coos.

"mhm, need you mommy." ellie pleads, hiding her face in the middle of abby's chest.

abby chuckles. "well then go ahead baby, grind the drooling cunt against mommy's thigh."

it seems that every once in a while, they liked to change up their routine. after all, who doesn't enjoy a bit of morning fun?

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @m-3-ijiworld @seraqhites @uraesthete @hehatesmati @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @elliespookie @dropsofs4turn @millersaurora @jjmaybankslittleslut @amitycat @digit4lslut @dykefromstatefarm @inlovewithelliewilliams @hi2647 @kissesskittens @elliewilliamsthang @franreadss @findingds @slut4ellienabby @lllijeu @zahraaziza @lias-writings @thelastofrowie @feelsoseencantdream @shaemonyou @limerenze @zethd @xnoviee @elliewilliamsfuckbuddy

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

Note

Surprise, Surprise

AN: It took me a while @navybrat817 but I did something with this little thot you sent me back in June for my birthday. This serves as a follow- up to my kinktober fic Need you now.

Unbeta'd ramblings

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Relationship: Alpha! Nomad Steve x Omega! Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: Angst, Attempted assault, Misogyny, Mild Violence, Fluff and Feels, implied sexy times.

Steve leant forward, his weight shifting on to his arms as his hands lay flat against the control panel. It was just a reflex. Getting closer to the view screen wouldn’t change what it was saying, wouldn’t change the fact that he didn’t know where you were.

“I’ve gotta find her, Tony.”

“Chill your boots, Capsicle. She’ll be somewhere.”

Steve ground his teeth, biting back an angry retort.

“I haven’t seen or heard from her in months. She’s overdue her heat. Her apartment is all packed and cleared out. If she’s hurt, or in danger, I’ll never forgive myself.”

A firm hand came down on Steve’s shoulder.

“We’ll find your girl, Stevie. I’m sure Stark and I can put aside our differences long enough.”

There was a derisive snort from Tony’s workstation but Steve chose to ignore it.

“Thanks, Buck. I appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I could do, you know, considering that helping me is what got you into this in the first place.”

Steve gave Bucky a small smile.

“It wasn’t your fault, Buck. Blame the Accords.”

“But they’re rescinded now,” added Tony. “So now we’re a happy family once again, let’s find Cap’s errant Omega, shall we. Then Cyborg and I can go back to ignoring each other.”

Steve sighed and shook his head.

Where could you be?

You made your way down the busy sidewalk, trying your best not to get jostled by everyone else who seemed to be going in the opposite direction. It was cold and dark out, and you had on your big winter coat, but just the act of going against the flow was getting you all hot and sweaty. You didn’t dare undo it though.

It had been 5 months since you’d last seen Steve, when your one word missive via text had brought him out of hiding for a brief few days during your heat. A few days in which you could forget that he was a wanted man on the run. A nomad. He’d just been Steve. Your mate. Your Alpha.

But it was getting hard now. His scent had almost completely faded from his shirt, the one you currently wore. You were desperate to have the vestiges of him on your skin, not only because you missed him, but for safety.

You may wear a mating scar on your neck, but you barely had any Alpha scent lingering on you, meaning that some Alphas, unmated ones, saw you as fair game. An abandoned mated Omega was just a single Omega in their eyes. You’d already suffered some harassment in the last few weeks, cat calls and the such like, but you needed to keep yourself safe.

You pressed on. It was only another couple of blocks until you got back to your shitty apartment. You missed your old one, but after Steve’s last visit, when clarity had hit you a few weeks later, you knew that for his and your safety you couldn’t stay there. You’d packed up only the most precious of your belongings and hit the road.

Suddenly someone bumped into you with surprising force and you spun, your bags dropping to the ground, before you inelegantly joined them. You breathed a sigh of relief when you realised you’d landed on your backside.

You were just reorientating yourself, a part of you frustrated by how everyone was just passing you by, when a shadow fell over you.

“Need a hand?”

You looked up, and saw two men standing over you. The one who’d spoken had his hand out.

You accepted, tentatively, and let out a small gasp as he easily hefted you to your feet. He smiled at you, but there was something off about it, the way it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“You ought to be careful, omega. Being out here, in the dark, all on your lonesome.”

His friend thrust your belongings into your arms and you gripped them tightly so as not to spill them again. You were feeling uncomfortable and just wanted to get home.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you for stopping to help.” You made to step around them and carry on your way, but the pair shifted, caging you in against the side of the building behind you.

“Never a problem for a pretty omega.” His smile turned into a predatory grin and you tried to school your features and not let your discomfort show.

“Well, thank you again…” You took another step, but neither of them moved.

“We’re you going in such a hurry? Thought we could get to know each other better. Maybe you thank us properly.”

You steeled yourself for the inevitable confrontation and tried to nonchalantly catch the eye of a passer-by. Any passer-by.

“Look. I’m appreciative. But I’ve got to get home to my Alpha.” You tilted your head to show your mating scar, but the man just dropped his head slightly, and scented you. You couldn’t repress the full body shiver such an invasion of privacy the act elicited.

“The thing is, ‘mega, I see the scar, but you barely have any of your alpha scent on you. Makes me think you’ve been abandoned, sweet thing.”

You glared before trying to push your way between them.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

He grabbed your upper arm, jerking you to a halt.

“Then come with us nicely, and you won’t have any.”

“No. I’m not going with you. I owe you no other thanks than what I’ve given. And even if I didn’t have an alpha, which I do, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere with either of you.”

The grip on your arm tightened and you couldn’t stop the small cry of pain you let out.

“Ungrateful, omega bitch. Let’s see if you change your tune when you’ve got a knot in you.”

His friend took hold of your other arm and between them they started to haul you towards the mouth of an alley. You dropped your bags again so you’d have your hands free and dropped your weight to make it harder for them to move you. Also, it was now time to make a scene.

“Get off of me. Let me go, you creeps!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, squirming and twisting their grasp, but in the time you’d been interacting with them, the massive crowds that had been your bane earlier on had now disappeared.

You turned your head and latched your teeth onto one of the hands holding you, feeling a burst of pride in your chest when you broke the skin and the man cried out. He dropped you as he let go, and you sank to the floor. Your joy was short-lived though when he back-handed you around the face, and you went dizzy from the force of it. Your vision was cloudy as they pulled you back up.

“Just think, sweetheart. We were willing to be nice. Could have made sure you enjoyed it, but now? Now it’s just for us.” He turned to his buddy. “When did omegas get so uppity? Was a time when as an alpha you just had to say jump and omegas would ask how high.”

Your panic was rising, along with the bile in your throat, but then you smelt it.

Smelt him.

Your salvation.

For a moment you thought your brain was playing tricks on you, but then your hindbrain started whining excitedly and you knew it was true.

“Let. Her. Go.”

A deep growl sounded from the street end of the alley, and your would-be assailants dropped you and turned at the sound. You caught yourself on your palms, scrapping them on the hard, filthy ground, but you didn’t care.

“Steve!” His blue eyes flicked over you, no doubt checking to see how much you’d been hurt, as he stalked forward towards the two men.

“How dare you touch my mate. How dare you touch any omega like that.” His voice was unsettlingly calm and you saw the two men look towards each other, a silent conversation about fight or flight. They didn’t make their decision quickly enough though, because suddenly Steve was in front of them, knocking them out with one punch each, then walking past them, already forgotten, as he focused on you.

“Are you okay, baby?” His voice was full of trepidation as he scooped you up against his chest. You rubbed your face into the crook of his neck, covering your skin with his scent and allowing it to calm you.

“‘M okay, Steve. Just lost my stuff.”

You felt his chuckle rumble through your body.

“I’ll get you some more stuff, Omega. Let’s get you home.”

You allowed him to carry you, your fingers curled into the lapels of his brown suede jacket. You inhaled his scent deeply, and realised after a few minutes that you were purring. Steve pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you were sure you could hear him smile.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Missed you too.”

You didn’t tell him where your apartment was, but you weren’t surprised that he knew. Of course he’d found out, otherwise he wouldn’t have been in this neighbourhood anyway. He let you back on your feet outside your door, and you were glad that you’d put your keys in your pocket and not your bag. You opened the door and walked through, flicking on the light and illuminating your meagre accommodation.

You could tell Steve wasn’t impressed. If the scent of his dissatisfaction wasn’t obvious enough, the way he went around the whole place, scoping out locks on all the windows would have let you know.

“Baby, why are you living here? Why did you leave your old apartment?”

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth. You couldn’t get away with not telling him, so sooner rather than later was obviously the best strategy. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him. You still had your coat on, and with how much heat Steve pumped out, you were starting to sweat within a few seconds.

“I was scared, Steve. And I felt vulnerable. My mind was telling me that I had to go somewhere safe. Somewhere unknown. What if someone had followed you the last time you had visited. Then we…I wouldn’t be safe.”

“You’ve neer felt like that before, Omega. I’ve visited you for your heat there lots of times.”

Laughter bubbled up your throat, and you shook your head, a wry smile on your face.

“Yeah, but last time was sort of different.”

Steve looked down at you, confusion on his face, as you stepped away from him and unzipped your coat, pulling it off and tossing it aside.

Your mate looked at you.

Frozen still.

Mouth agape.

Then he dropped to his knees in front of you, wrapped his arm around your thickened waist and pressed his cheek to your swollen belly, which was barely covered by his worn black t-shirt. You let him have a moment, and just ran your fingers through his dirty blonde locks, humming gently and letting out a soothing scent.

When he pulled his face away and sat back on his heels he was looking up at you in awe. His eyes were red rimmed and you could see the tracks of a few silent tears on his pinked cheeks.

“You’re having my pup?”

You smiled at him and put out your hand to pull him up.

“Yes, silly. Although, I have a feeling it might be pups. Two.”

Steve stood, only to stagger a few feet to your worn sofa, before dropping down into it and pulling you with him to sit across his lap. One of his arms was around your back, supporting you, and the other lay across your stomach, long fingers splayed over your bump. He gave you a soft, lingering kiss, before pulling back and shaking his head, still in disbelief.

“You’re having my pups. Pups. You. Me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at him, how shocked he was by it all.

“Well, that’s generally what happens when an Alpha and an Omega love each other very much and have a special cuddle…oww!”

You let out a cry as Steve playfully nipped at your neck, just above your mating scar, before running his tongue over it.

“Okay, just stop teasing me, baby. It’s a shock, alright? I knew it was a possibility, but I just didn’t think it would happen. Not yet.”

“Steve, it’s not like we were doing anything to prevent it.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…it’s just part of me thought it wouldn’t happen until we were properly together again.”

Your heart sunk in your chest, as he reminded you of the current state of your relationship.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you resumed toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“When do you have to go?”

“Well, I was thinking that we’d stay here tonight, then pack you up and move you to the compound tomorrow.”

You sat back up with a start.

“What? Compound? What do you mean?”

“Well, now I’m back, I have a big apartment at the Compound, and if you’re there with me, then we can get you the best medical care and…”

You scrabbled off his lap, chest suddenly tight.

“Back? You’re back? When? How? I’m…oh my god, I can’t breathe.”

You sank to the floor, leaning over and dragging air into your lungs. Steve knelt down beside you rubbing your back, letting his scent flow in an effort to soothe you.

“My turn to shock you, ey, Omega?”

You nodded, still unable to speak and feeling a prickling in your eyes.

“I don’t know how you missed it, but the Accords were rescinded. I mean I still gotta have a long ass meeting with some high up folk, but I’m no longer a wanted man. Tony and I have even made tentative steps to get our friendship back on track. Brought Bucky back with me too.”

You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his, uncaring at the tears rolling down your face.

“You’re back, you’re back. Oh god. And I’m having your pups and I can move out of this shitty apartment. Pinch me, I’m dreaming.”

Steve chuckled, and then for the second time in as many hours scooped you up into his arms.

“How about you show me where you sleep in this awful place, and I’ll bite your neck instead, Omega…”

His words were almost a growl as he rubbed his face up against yours, and you felt heat suffuse your body.”

“I’d like that very much, Alpha…”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @talia-rumlow

#alpha steve rogers #nomad!steve #alpha steve x omega reader #nomad steve x reader #alpha nomad steve #late writes #asks answered #jen's got mail #love my moots

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i-smoke-chapstick · 7 days

Text

Request: I'm already back for more. As l've already told you I love your interpretation of a reader with dwarfism and since you are okay with me requesting more, can I get multiple headcanons of Gotham!Rogues x Dwarf!reader with just either simply day to day headcanons or their first reaction to meeting/seeing them? Rogues including jervis(obv Imao), Jerome, Oswald, Victor fries, Zsasz, and ra's al ghul!

The plot can be the reader being similar to the Cheshire Cat or Nightcrawler when it comes to teleportation powers. They're friends with Barbara, Selina, and Tabitha. The rogues always see photos on them on the news, newspapers, and sometimes in person but if they even get caught staring, reader teleports themself and whoever they're with away, so they don't really get a chance to talk or know them.

Like last time, only write this if you're okay with it and I'll understand if you can't or just don't want too!

Thank you tons again! - anon

‘VOULEZ-VOUS,

-GOTHAM VILLIANS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Jervis Tetch, Jerome Valeska, Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Fries, Victor Zsasz, Ra's Al Ghul

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; gotham villians with a cheshire cat!reader who has dwarfism!

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. FLUFF! I love readers power SOSOSOSO much! Super creative <3 Also villians being whipped for reader just cuz they can. Protective Tabitha. REALLY protective Oswald. Jerome's a bit insensitive. Victor Zsasz is not immune to a pretty girls smile. Have never written for Victor Fries or Ra's, so fingers crossed their parts aren’t too bad! Ra’s and Fries parts got a little angsty

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝑉𝐼𝑆 𝑇𝐸𝑇𝐶𝐻

♫ “Across the room, your eyes are glowin' in the dark." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Oh, the man is completely enthralled with you. How could he not be? You're the missing piece to his wonderland puzzle.

Similarly to Alice, he believes your powers go hand and hand with each other. He rules the mind, while you have complete control of your body. His first thought when he see's you in the newspaper is simple.

He must have you.

He will do anything it takes to track you down. He finds himself becoming more and more entranced with the prospect of you working with him, partners in crime, connected body and soul. Of course those feelings of admiration become obsession.

Before you know it, the man is going lengths to find you; just like how he was with Alice. Hiring Jim Gordon as a bounty hunter? Mayhaps...

When he finally finds you at the siren's club, he can't help but be in awe. You're so small, so fragile, so unique. He wants to kiss your flattened cheekbones that look like pure porcelain. Your his doll.

"My dear, Y/N!" He's calling when he finds you, his teeth spread into a wide grin. He finds your eyes quickly turning to meet his gaze, glowing underneath the club's light. His shadow towers over you.

"You look ravishing, I must admi-" He goes to speak, just before you disappear from thin air. His mouth is open for a few moments, eyebrows scrunched.

Where did his precious little Cheshire Cat go?

Oh yeah, he's pouting. He's never been a fan of the disappearing act. But he doesn't mind. He's determined. He's played this game with Alice for far too long, he will not take no for an answer.

You'll find notes, gifts, flowers, dresses tailored to your sizing. All perfectly crafted from Gotham's most professional hypnotized seamstresses or florists.

Barbara is smirking when she finds the gifts, cackling about how sweet small little Y/N has a loony admirer. Tabitha's less than pleased, throwing out any bouquet she finds before you see them. Selina agrees, the guy's a freak.

It's up to you if you want to give him a chance <3 He would be the most devoted lover and partner if you decided too...if not a bit overly infatuated.

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝛰𝑀𝐸 𝑉𝐴𝐿𝐸𝑆𝐾𝐴

♫ “Nothing promised, no regrets." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Uh oh! Murderous clown on the loose, and he's also 100% fixated, just like a certain hatter.

Jerome brushes you off at first, don't get him wrong, he adores your work on the city. Nothing he loves more than seeing some horribles destroy Gotham! He's a fan, if you could call him that.

It takes him some time to warm up to the idea of being whipped. But once he is, you have him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

Similar to Jervis- he can't help himself. You're powerful. You're strange. You're a freak just like him and the rest of these bad boys in Gotham! You remind him of the circus, all different shapes and sizes of people around him. You belong with him. By his side. On his side. Maybe sitting in his lap... What?

Yeah, he's not sure where that came from either. But hey, he's not complaining! He likes to think he's a bachelor, a young beau waiting for his turn in the love game! Before he knows it, he's slicking his hair back, putting on his finest and most colorful suits, and making sure his face is stapled all the way. Then he's getting his cult to crash the Siren's club. Moment of silence for Tabitha who will have to clean it up after.

The place is a shit show, people in makeup dancing wildly and giggling manically. Tabitha, Barbra, Selina and you get tied up in the confusion. It's hard to fight back against a bunch of crazies when your expensive alcohol is being thrown at walls, and you four are simultaneously tied up together in one big rope. Barbra's throwing a bit of a hissy fit.

Everyone is quiet when Jerome enters, dressed to the nines, with a loud and boisterous,

"Hey gorgeous! I'm sure you've heard of me," He speaks, bending down to your level, invading your personal space. He goes to continue, until the four of you evaporate before him. Teleported away. He's left staring at the loose ropes, smile unchanged- but eyes widened in surprise.

Oh. Okay. So that's how it's gonna be. Alright.

Jerome loves a game of cat and mouse.

He craves attention. He loves the center stage, and he will not be ignored. No no no no.

He will not leave your club alone until you confront him. Yeah, sorry Babs and Tabs. Barbara will start urging you to just "sleep with the damn clown!" while Tabitha is trying desperately to not have you anywhere near that creep.

But the club isn't all he'll do, doll! No, he'll get his cult to do more and more mass murders and sprees across the city, each one broadcasted on live television. Each time, he looks into the camera, blood on his face, professing his undying love.

"This is for you, Y/N!" He's showcasing the violence around, "Call me!" He gestures, ending the broadcast abruptly.

Well, kind of hard to ignore a man when your club is in shambles, Barbara is going batshit insane, AND you have Jim Gordon trying to find you; just in order to stop these massacres around the city in your honor.

Once again, you should give the man a chance! He doesn't think he'd make a horrible boyfriend, y'know, if you're into gingers.

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

♫ “Take it now or leave it." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Ozzie's a bit harder to gauge, because I don't think he'd become infatuated with someone unless he got to meet them first. So for arguments sake, we are just going to say you two have meet previously on many occasions! Specifically when he's had some bad blood with Barbara and Tabitha.

At first, he detests you. He thinks you're a nuisance, and a powerful tool for the Siren's. You can escape from ANYONES grasp, and take them with you. His nose is scrunching up every time he thinks of just how he can get rid of you.

Well, if he can't get rid of you, he's well versed in manipulation. Perhaps he can convince you to join his team.

You're going about your day at the club, tending bar on a step stool, the usual. Oswald comes in, Victor trailing behind him. Tabitha and Barbara are instantly on alert.

"Hello." Oswald fixes his suit jacket, rolling his cane in his fingertips. He wears a faux smile, and Tabitha huffs.

"What can we help you with, Ozzie?" Barbara is smiling, just as fake as his. It's a weird Gotham crime boss stand-off.

"I was wondering if you, my dear," He speaks, suddenly nodding down to you, "Would like to accompany me for lunch tomorrow."

Yeah, everyone's jaws drop, including Oswald's at the silence. Oswald didn't necessarily intend for it to sound like he was trying to ask you on a date. He's flushing red under everyone's gaze, suddenly fidgeting. If you look closely, Victor's giving a lazy amused smirk in the back.

"Like hell-" Tabitha's about to answer for you, before you squint at the man.

"Sure." You scan him up and down, hesitantly. Before anyone has a chance to speak, Oswald's turning on his heel.

"Wonderful! 2:00 sharp. Don't be late." He's smiling, knowing he's got a one-up on the Siren's.

...Well, leave it Oz to have things never work out quite his way. One lunch turns into two, and two turns into three. He's forcing himself to remember why he's doing this; you are just a tool. This is all a charade!

Hard to focus though, when you two seem to enjoy one another's company. Like when you show him what it feels like to teleport, (He's closing his eyes in fear, only for it to feel like nothing.) Or when you two have a strangely intimate discussion about what it was like growing up not very normal.

He's opening up about his schoolyard bullies, about his mother. About the feeling of being taunted, teased for his nose or height. You tell him, you know the feeling.

He stares at you, eyes focused solely on you. He's enamored.

He turns viciously protective over you. Any snide comment made towards you by a henchman of his, or a frequent at the Siren's club, they are brutally stabbed to death, a bit impulsively, with a bottle shard.

When he realizes he's falling in love with you, similar to Jervis, he likes doing grand gestures to get your attention. If there's anything you desire, you'll get it. Which is why when he finds out you're avoiding him, he becomes sour.

What? Why are you leaving him? He doesn't understand. The intimacies you two have shared, did they mean nothing to you? He's hurt, he's angry, he's aggressive. He's more irritable than usual; and judging from the fact he's irritable ALL the time, it's pretty bad. If you don't explain yourself, this sadness will probably turn into anger. He already believes you two have some weird pseudo-romantic relationship, so he's taking this like a break-up. He's a vengeful ex.

Whenever he stops by the Siren's club, and sees you teleport away at the sight of him, it stings. It all comes to a head when he's breaking down in his mansion. You will have to be the one to confront him, because he'll be too busy sulking. He loves you. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. If you don't want to talk to him, he won't force you, even if he's going crazy trying to figure out why.

When he sees you, he's standing up in a hurry, fumbling over his words, sniffling. His blue-green eyes are puffy, and you'll have to sigh and talk to him.

Please, tell him why your avoiding him. Explain if you're insecure, if you're scared of loving. He'll be thankful for the explanation. He'll be angry on your behalf for anyone who made you believe you were unloved, whether for your dwarfism or your powers. He's promising to kill for you, tear down the city to avenge you.

"Okay, Oz, I'm not dead yet."

"Yet?!"

Cuties <3

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆

♫ “Now is all we get." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Forgive him, he’s trying his hardest not to care, and failing miserably.

Similarly to Ozzie, I can’t see him becoming infatuated or obsessed like Jerome and Jervis so quickly, not since what happened with Nora. So, I’m imagining you’ve also met him once or twice; using your powers for the sirens, just like he and firefly have done some hitjobs for you four in the past.

He’s in love with the idea of having a family; of being accepted, of leaving this life behind. It’s made him bitter, cold; but the man will do anything for love. Anything.

And it’s hard not to notice the small woman running around on her toes in the club, parts of her body vanishing here and there. You’re gorgeous to him. Those small cheshire-like smiles you send him when he’s supposed to be working. They break his hard exterior. He doesn’t know if he loves or hates it. He loves it.

Even a small pit of jealousy fills him, whenever he sees you in the news. Or when he watches silently on the sidelines, while you talk with Barbara and Tabitha and Selina. You do it so effortlessly. How could anyone not be entranced by you?

He thinks that he’s a freak. Firefly’s a freak. Just like Jerome and Oz, he definitely finds solace in the idea you are just like him. You’re one of them; a freak. Pushed out by Gotham’s careless inhabitants, forced into this life. He remembers being driven out of town by Penguins army. He wonders if you’ve expirenced the same treatment at one point in your life. He wants to show you, he’s here for you. He loves you, every part of you. No matter how unconvential or mistreated. He just wants to take care of you.

Just like Oz, he’ll be ready to kill anyone for you. Freeze em’ to death in one single sweep. Just give him the go ahead.

Victor is terrified of hurting you, as well. Not only your tiny stature, but he’s sure he’d get ice burns from his fingertips. He imagines a life where it’s just the two of you, without the cold, back when he was just himself. He dreams of cooking for you. Owning an apartment. Even having a family. He swears, he’d be gentle. But he’s too uncertain. He isn’t good enough, and he certainly isn’t good for you.

You’ll have to be the first person to talk to him, warm up to him. He might not state it directly, other than a nonchalant nod here and there, but it makes him feel special. It’s the little interactions you two have that make him fall helmet over heels.

You two will spend hours, at the club, watching from the sidelines. Barbara and Tabitha out on business, Selina doing…Selina things. You’ll poke fun at the passerby’s to get a reaction out of him.

“Oh god, I just saw that guy kissing that girl- what’s he doing with that other chick?…Oh- they are making out. Oh, okay, he’s taking him to the back. I’ll give you $20 if Barbara kills this guy for doing it on her desk.” You’re snickering, gossiping. Every now and then you look over at him to see him already staring at you, the hint of a smile on his lips. It’s all you’ll get for now…until he responds.

“…Guess you’ll owe me $20 then.” He’s firing back, voice low. It’s the first time he’s spoken. The first time you’ve seen him do something other than brooding. It’s sweet.

These little things will become routine, and he’ll find solace in them. Eventually you’ll even play some tricks with your teleportation on the clubs costomers, scaring them, bumping into them. All the while you’re watching him in the corner, smiling, exhaling through his nose. He playfully scolds you sometimes, other times he chuckles. Either way, it’s a sight to see.

God, please don’t dissapear on this man. I don’t think he could take it. Gotham be damned, if you ever find yourself scared of him, he’d be broken. He’d think it was his fault, he’d think he lost his second chance at love. If you ran away from him, he might just up and leave Gotham.

But even if you did try to avoid him for awhile, I think he’d let you go without a fight. He’d just be more sulky than usual, more prone to picking petty fights with Firefly. You might find the room uncomfortably cold, even when he’s not occupying it. (He froze the AC to the club, he was upset. Sorry Barbara.)

I think he’s the only one on this list of characters that Barbara, Tabitha, and Selina might all actively approve of. Barbara wouldn’t mind having a henchman dating her bestie; soldifies his loyalty to them. Also, he’s good eye-candy. Tabitha doesn’t have any personal issue with the man, other than previously working with Penguin, of course. Selina will still make fun of him for being a walking freezer, but hey, what can you do. You have their blessing.

If you caught him before he decided to up and leave, explain to him why you run away, why you’ve been avoiding him. He won’t just understand, he’ll practically worship you. He’ll explain himself too, why he’s terrified of touching you. It’s not because of your dwarfism, or your powers. It’s just how he’s afraid of hurting or loosing you. Loving people is hard.

If he could cry, he would. But his tears will freeze when they touch his cheek. You’ll have to show him you aren’t fragile. He’ll believe you.

You guys can heal eachother.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍

♫ “The girl means business, so I'll offer her a drink." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

THIS Victor, on the other hand, is much more brash in his approaches to courting you.

He’s heard about you on the radio, from his boss, seen you in the newspapers, on the tv, watched you from the window in your apartment.

…What? Who said that?

He studies your every move. The man is calculated in his methods, what can he say? He’s not obsessed! (loud incorrect buzzer)

He just wants to size you up a little, see who the newest danger is in Gotham. He’ll convince himself he’s doing it for his boss, whether it be Falcone or Penguin. But it definitely goes deeper.

Unlike the other villians on this list that see your dwarfism as something to empathize with, Victor doesn’t really pay it any mind. He’s been around the block a few times- he’s been with women of all ages, heights, race, etc. The man really doesn’t have a type. What he’s attracted to is strength, independence, someone who will laugh at his dry humor with him. He’s stalked you at the club. He sees the way you banter with Tabitha and Selina, the way you make Barbara dissapear when she’s being too annoying with a flick of your wrist.

He’s incredibly attracted to a woman whose witty and good at what they do. Just like him.

Victor’s more subtle in his approach. He’ll make it casual.

So when you’re at the bar in the club, sitting around, watching the passerby’s, he’ll make his move.

“Now, what’s a girl like you doing here, alone?” He sneaks up behind you, giving you a start. You flush red at the man in front of you. Victor Zsasz. The words are spoken as he drums his fingers on the bar, cocking his head at your short frame. He towers over you, caging you in.

When you don’t speak, it doesn’t phase him. You’re about to teleport away in an instant, until he drawls your attention back to him with a lazy smile.

“So…” He whistles. “What’s your drink of choice? Wait- Let me guess.” The man doesn’t stop talking, listing off drinks that are most definitely not your drink of choice.

He watches you all the time. He knows exactly what your favorite drink is. But he wants you to stay.

It’s a bit awkward, a bit intimidating, and strangely charming. He speaks with an inflection that borders on sarcasm and curiosity. It’s intriguing, coming from Gotham’s most dangerous hitman.

“Can I ask-“ You squeak, now nursing a drink he ordered for you. It’s a Vodka Cran, and it could be worse. “…Is there a hit on me?”

He stares at you expressionless for uncomfortably long, before it forms into something quizzical.

“…Nah,” His voice is slow. He clicks his tongue. “Just an admirer.”

There’s an awkward scilence. He shrugs.

“Y’know. I’m a big fan of this place. Like the ambience.” He sips his own drink, you don’t know what it is. Just as his words sound out, you swear you can overhear a gunshot in the distance, probably from Barbara’s meeting with some other underground boss. Somehow, the sentiment makes you laugh.

He perks up at the sound.

You aren’t used to this. Someone being so casual about you, your powers, your small stature. He’s a bit flirty from time to time, but between the alcohol and his quips, you don’t seem to mind. He seems oddly genuine in his demeanor with every compliment or joke that slips.

You two keep the banter going for the rest of the night. Mostly chatting about how tiring your respective bosses can be. He does a poor drunken impression of Penguin, and you do one of Barbara. It’s a relaxing night in comparison to what you usually expirence living in Gotham.

You think you only see him every so often. Coming by the club whenever Penguin comes, or when a job is sent out, and his target is there. He’ll always send you a wink when he leaves, blood on his face.

But he sees you every day.

Yeah, the stalking only worsens. If you find your phone in different places throughout the day, or your window reopened, he’s the reason why.

He’s fine like this. In his head, the two of you are going steady. He’s pretty committed. You’re his girl, and that’s that.

Until you start avoiding him like the plague.

Zsasz WILL find a way to confront you. He doesn’t care if you teleport away each and everytime. He’ll find a way to get the message clear, through other means.

If you find a “talk to me.” with a smiley face, written with some poor saps blood, on your mirror, I apologize. He’s gotta get the message sent somehow.

Yeah, he won’t give up. He’ll go great lengths to get you two back together. He’s also listening to disco break-up ballads to cope. He’s getting the zsaszettes to stalk you when he can’t. If you still won’t budge, yeah, Tabitha might end up with a gun pointed at her head until you talk to him.

He’s not necessarily angry, but chasing after you is certainly taking a toll on him. Give the guy some credit.

Tabitha, still with a gun pointed at her, will be barking at you to not talk to him. He’s a creep, he’s an asshole, and you shouldn’t compromise your honor! (His eye will twitch at her words, trigger finger itching.)

Up to you what you decide to do! Explain the situation, talk to him, make things official, or…bye bye Tabitha. And that still won’t stop him. He doesn’t take rejection very seriously.

When you tell him exactly why you teleport yourself away, he’s the only one on this list who might think it’s stupid. He’ll understand, don’t get me wrong, but this is Gotham! Why would you be insecure? He garuntees you he’s met at least ten other people with far worse skeletons in their closet. You’ll have to teach him that’s not the issue.

Yeah, our little sociopath has a hard time with feelings. But I think you two would maybe be good for eachother! Teach him to listen more, whip him up into shape, and reap the benefits of having Gotham’s number one hitman as your personal bodyguard and lover. He’ll take you to stakeouts, make fun of Jim Gordon, crash your place. You two can watch Netflix under the blankets. He loves your size- cuddling into you like his own personal pillow.

Tabitha’s very dissapointed.

𝑅𝐴’𝑆 𝐴𝐿 𝐺𝐻𝑈𝐿

♫ “I'm really glad you came, you know the stars, you know the game.” Voulez-Vous by ABBA

May god have mercy on your soul, reader. Ra’s is a sight to behold when he’s in love.

He heard whispers of your name all around Gotham. He sees you on the news when he’s absentmindedly listening. A girl who can teleport herself and others, to any location? Even the power to control which body parts you maneuver. Extrodinary.

He’s immeadiatley infatuated with your power. He wants to covet you. Possess you. Have you close to him. He needs to see your power for himself.

He’s similarly calculated in his response to tracking you down. He will appear at the club, slinking into the shadows, whispering a quaint,

“Hello.”

It makes you jump, and as if on instinct, you teleport yourself away. He marvels at the way in which you do so right infront of his eyes. How rare it is, for him to be so easily confounded.

He must see you again.

You’ll feel his presence every now and then. Maybe even catch a glimpse of him watching you. You’ll turn back, eyes squinted, only to find he’s not there anymore. It confuses you just the same.

Though, you eventually get used to him watching. It turns into a little game between the two of you. If he can catch you, if you can catch him. It’s strangely endearing.

He’s also becoming increasingly more attentive to your daily habits. He memorizes your schedule. He sends members of the League of Shadows to observe you, to take notes on how you use your powers.

If any member insults you, or pokes fun at your dwarfism, Ra’s will spare them no mercy. Yeah…he’s making it a big deal. He’s ruthlessly insulting them for their ignorance, before killing them without a second thought. In a way, you belong to Ra’s already. He will not stand for disrespect among his order.

Ra’s is a gentleman. Just like Ozzie and Jervis, you’ll find gifts littered around your apartment. Little notes from him, written in the most exquisite cursive, expressing his admiration of you. Beautiful, rare, and expensive jewelry, tailored to the size of your wrists and neck.

You’ll see him exiting Barbara’s office sometimes, when he needs her for the demons head. He’ll send you a smile, half-way gentle, half-way playful. He’s unsure where the lines between love and facination blur; but he’s slowly realizing he loves you. He hasn’t felt such a way in decades. He’s been alive for very very long. No human woman has made him feel so helpless. He enjoys it thoroughly.

He’ll confess, the night before Gotham is meant to be blown to the ground. He’ll turn up, before the events are set in motion. You won’t have a clue in the world what he’s up to.

“My dear.” He’ll drawl, and you’ll go to teleport away, as you always do. It’s tradition for you two at this point.

Before you get a chance, he’ll click is tongue at you.

“Wait.” He speaks, voice sounding strangely desperate. It makes you freeze. “Come with me. Leave the city. Get somewhere else. I’d like to show you my home.”

Your choice, if you choose to leave with him. He’d make for a very attentive lover, and would protect you at any cost. But if you choose to do so, you’ll leave Tabitha and Barbara and Selina to their own fate <\3

Not that it matters if you decide to reject his offer. He’ll have you, one way or another.

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