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evilkitten3 · 10 months

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What would you think, if, after getting advice from Iroh, Zuko and the gang travel to the spirit world in order to find Aang’s people so that Aang can teach the air acolytes more about the air nomads? But Zuko gets attacked by a poisonous spirit and reverts back to pre Season 2 Zuko after losing some of his memories due to the poison fogging his mind. Zuko is confused and doesn’t know why he’s firelord. The gang try to explain things to him, but it only causes him to become even more confused. Aang and the gang then leave Zuko behind to spend more time with the air acolytes. While they’re gone, Zuko is very uncertain about what to do, but soon corrupt advisors convince him to restart the war. Zuko doesn’t remember his friendship with Aang, but he hears that he once joined Aang, so Zuko assumes that Aang once brainwashed him into joining team Avatar and turning against his Father. Zuko intends to be a much greater firelord than his father, and he and his army raid the air acolyte settlement in their airships in order to hunt down Aang once again, and end up burning down the settlement. Aang and the gang wonder why Zuko chose to hunt them down again. Aang eventually comes to the conclusion that Zuko backslid due to bad advice from his advisors and because he lost some of his memories. Aang then travels the nations looking for a cure to help restore Zuko’s memories.

Azula escapes from the mental institute and Zuko sends bounty hunters after her to capture her. Soon, Azula gets bitten by a snake, so she finds help in the village of Jang Hui where she is healed by two waterbenders, who are taking refuge there. Jang Hui is the village Katara helped in The Painted Lady. And the villagers aren’t on good terms with the firelord. The villagers accept her and assume that she’s on their side because she’s made an enemy of the Firelord. The villagers teach Azula how to heal people using firebending techniques inspired by water bending, and she ends up becoming a fisherwoman because it’s a fishing town. She starts to warm up to the town, but one day she overhears the waterbenders talking about sneaking out to sabotage the smelting factory(which is currently undergoing reconstruction) in order to help the villagers. Azula offers to join their mission, and the three sneak out to destroy the factory, but she betrays the waterbenders over to the fire nation in hopes that she might bring glory to the fire nation. But now that the waterbenders are captured and eliminated, the town is defenseless. Zuko’s army burns the town down leaving few survivors. Zuko didn’t exactly authorize the attack, but he did give his generals permission to do whatever it takes to stop the villagers from trying to halt the rebuilding of the factory used for the war effort. A few survive and declare revenge on Azula for what she did.

Azula starts to feel terrible about betraying the people who saved her life and indirectly causing the village to be destroyed, since she didn’t know it would be destroyed. And she holds Zuko partially responsible for destroying the village. After wandering around, Azula looks through a telescope and sees Aang try to save a fire nation village from a volcano, and she also sees Zuko. Zuko does nothing after his corrupt advisors tell him to leave the village, saying that Aang will probably die, so Zuko runs away. But Aang manages to save the village from the erupting volcano. Azula gets accepted into the gang when she uses her new healing abilities to heal Aang, who is wounded by the volcano. They reluctantly team up to stop Zuko.

After wandering around the Earth Kingdom to look for a cure for Zuko's memory loss, the gang sees a massive stream of fire pour down from a few fire nation airships hovering above a village. The stream of fire burns the village to the ground, leaving few survivors. It turns out that fire nation scientists developed a highly addictive serum that can increase the fire power of any fire Bender. The downside is that prolonged use of the serum results in loss of the senses, and eventually death. Senses such as taste, smell, sight, touch, and hearing. Zuko intends take the serum and lead a fleet of airships to finish what his Dad started by burning the Earth Kingdom to the ground. After learning what Zuko intends to do, even Aang feels tempted to give up on him.

it's an interesting concept, but i have a few critiques.

first, if the gaang knows zuko lost his memory, why would they leave him in the first place? and even if they did that, surely there'd be somebody in the palace who could say "hey firelord zuko maybe don't restart the war dude wtf" or at least alert the gaang or something.

second, i've seen a lot of people try to have azula's redemption involve learning some kind of healing, and i gotta say, it very very rarely does anything for me. for starters, it (probably unintentionally) reinforces the northern water tribe's ideology that healing is inherently for women (the show admittedly also did this bc the only named male waterbender who uses any kind of healing in any canon that i'm aware of is unalaq). moreover, it's not something i think azula would be particularly good at or have much interest in.

also, why are there waterbenders in jang hui? it's a fire nation village. you said they were taking refuge, but from what, and why there? on top of that, azula knows zuko is firelord and doesn't know he's lost his memories, so why would she assume betraying the waterbenders to the fire nation would bring it glory? if she just broke out of the asylum, then the last time she saw zuko was when he and katara fought her during the agni kai.

third, if zuko lost his memory to a "poisonous" (???) spirit in the spirit world, why are they searching the earth kingdom for a cure? shouldn't they be looking in the spirit world? aang's the avatar, and iroh's gotten in before, so it shouldn't be the hardest thing in the world.

fourth, if zuko lost all his memories of books 2 and 3, he shouldn't know about ozai's plan to burn everything to the ground, since that wasn't established until after he returned to the fire nation with azula, mai, and ty lee.

finally, even before book 1 began, zuko was deeply loyal to his people, balking at the mere idea of sacrificing newbie soldiers for the sake of a win, so i can't fathom a world where zuko is ok with burning down jang hui (a fire nation village) just cuz.

i'm not trying to say there's no potential here, you have some very interesting ideas, but there's a lot that doesn't really work for me.

(to be fair tho i'm not a huge fan of anything involving much of the air acolytes bc i frankly could not give less of a fuck about them. i don't hate them or anything they just don't mean anything to me)

#atla #it's an interesting concept #but honestly as described here it's more confusing than anything else #also the whole premise relies on the idea that zuko blindly listens to what people tell him to do #which is something he's never once managed ever in his life #also the whole ''let's burn everything to the ground'' was something zuko wasn't remotely ok with #bc unlike azula he hasn't been raised to believe that the right thing to say is whatever makes dad proud of you #he HAS been raised to believe that paternal love has to be earned through blood sweat and tears #but if he knew ozai was in prison then obviously the best way to get his favor would be to let him out and reinstate him as firelord #which would be. very confusing to ozai #imagine just sitting in prison and then your son storms in and tells you he's freed himself of brainwashing and you can be in charge again #then imagine having to explain that the avatar can take away bending now but you'd be happy to help him rule from the shadows #since clearly your daughter wasn't of any use #...actually i think you have the start of a really good toxic father-son bonding experience that absolutely nobody wanted #having said that my biggest piece of advice is to cut the serum idea entirely #it makes no sense in the established atla world #they haven't even got antibiotics over there yet #it'll be awhile before they're inventing super soldier serums to create captain fire nation or whatever #also i'm curious what advice iroh gave that prompted all of this #aang doesn't need to go into the spirit world he has all the previous air avatars on psychic speed dial #oh and why would jang hui hate zuko?#katara definitely would've pushed him to send them help #also they apparently became famous for their seafood after the war #so zuko would probably be pretty well liked by them #again it isn't a bad idea it just needs a lot of workshopping #bc right now it raises way more questions than it seems intent on answering

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whatudottu · 1 year

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Okay, so, big news:

Recently Keyan Carlile managed to get his hands on the original version of the TFA Season 4 pitch document (the one where Blackarachnia was the primary antagonist and the season was largely set on Cybertron) and shared it with the world.

And, you’re never gonna believe this: turns out that Blackarachnia experimenting on Blitzwing was never the original intent of the TFA writers and it alongside the whole “being a Triple Changer automatically makes you crazy” concept only came about because Hasbro demanded a Triple Changer Megatron and the writers needed to come with an excuse as to why Megatron would return to Earth.

Meaning that there is at least an 80% chance that Bot Experiment!Blitzwing might have been the direction the writers originally wanted to go if they had the chance to delve deeper into the other Decepticons’ backstories.

(I’m not joking the document is confirmed to be 100% genuine. Look it up yourself if you don’t believe me)

Damn that dang Hasbro and it's desire to mimic the simultaneously running bayverse movies and their Megatron essentialism, we could've got some main villain Blackarachnia that focuses on her shift in opinion on being techno-organic for the worse 😞 something something the continued rejection of her form (especially from her old Autobot friends that never went back or are presently disgusted) yada yada the spiraling need to fix or perhaps understand her frame twisting into 'fuck you assholes techno-organics for the win', if Blackarachnia was destined to be a hypocrite it would fit if she soon after stopped being one even if out of spite rather than being how she is in the show with implied triple changer energon on her hands.

Even if the triple changer insanity was added later to explain why in the hell Megatron would ever want to go back to Earth when he's already BACK ON CYBERTRON with an easy to manipulate, eager to please and ultimately desperate for attention asshole that is Sentinel Prime right in his grasp - so willing is the big chinned buffoon to approach and mock the fallen 'Con leader that he doesn't notice he's walked right into the leader's control - Blitzwing still would have all the reason to be traumatised the scrap out of from a drastic frame modification to the loss of the other 'Con TCs when the first and last at the time perhaps triple changer experiment.

If the original intention for season 4 was going for villain 'not responsible for Blitzwing's 3 modes' Blackarachnia and all the way in the opening episode she and Blitz were already at each other's throat, maybe Blitzwing just caught some rancid 'Autobot scientist' vibes that ended with a mutated youngling.

#ask #anonymous #blackarachnia #tfa blackarachnia #blitzwing #tfa blitzwing #transformers #tfa #maccadam #i suppose if that's how season 4 was originally pitched as maybe what i saw (the techno-organic experiment making sense for her to do)#(rather than the tc experiment) may be what was meant to be #if blitz and arachnia had a friendship- clearly it wasn't enough to handle being gagged at by her oldest but ex-friendship #if blitz and arachnia didn't bond over 'unique (beloathed)'- maybe it was a result of programed biases about what a bot should be #where blitzwing was just about as freak as her as her own body- taking it in a far more 'you are wrong' way than a 'i understand you'#where blitzwing was just about as freak as she sees her own body- taking it in a far more 'you are wrong' way over an 'we are wrong' way #sorta like that one thing going around- ba: i'm going through some shit- bw: ah what's wrong- ba: shut the fuck up- bw: okay rude?#i don't remember what it said but something something self-loathing yada yada lashing out at those with traits you hate about yourself #one of them is about 'not being able to move on from a broken friendship'#the other is about 'pushing everyone away even when they try to understand ain't too great chief'#so depends on what flavour you like #(hmm thinking about how ba in scenario 1 could be the clingy to bw's trust issues- she hasn't seen sentinel in forever so maybe she was-#holding onto hope that her other old friend was actually more active in saving her- turns out she was wrong)

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ink-yy · 3 months

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'would we love eachother if we were normal? if this whole thing never happend?'

#chitchat #lays down #i think protocol has to be some sort of. other universe maybe #stares at the cieling #delete later #what martin said in like 198 really stuck with me #cause they really only bonded over the shared experiences #of trauma they endured #and they grew to love eachother. and then lost it so soon

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thereismusicinmysoul · 9 months

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apparently i am back in my sads about a friend who suddenly cut me off two years ago with no explanation. had a dream where they started talking to me again and now i'm stuck here past midnight sad that it isn't real instead of falling asleep.

#kayleeblogs #personal #are they entitled to decide who they want in their life? absolutely!#but they handled it in the shittiest way possible by implying that I'd done something wrong but refusing to ever say what it was #it sucks even more because they were one of my best friends from highschool #and the other two from our crew have also stopped talking to me because I 'fell off the deep end' re:religion #aka I'm queer and not sure where I stand rn on the whole god thing #but other friend and I had bonded over that being a shared experience and had been doing weekly online hangouts prior to things ending #I still have their birthday in my calendar and every time I see it coming up I want to text them and see how they're doing #but I said I'd respect their decision to completely cut off contact with me so I can't be the one to reach out #wow yikes I really am going through it tonight #at least I've managed to not let myself fall too deep into the hole of 'what if it's really my fault and I fucked things up'#even if I did something wrong... they never said anything and just let it fester. I couldn't fix something I didn't know was broken #pls brain now that I've articulated all this can I finally sleep?? please???

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nanaslutt · 6 months

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choso with tongue piercing? >_<

hngh i need his tongue inside me :(

😝

Bestfriend!Choso X Reader :3

contains: fem reader, teasing, dirty talk, exhibitionism (they're in a car), sexual tension, oral (r!receiving), Choso’s first time giving head, slight jealousy, whipped!Choso & reader, first time receiving, reader has a bad track record w/ guys, mentions of bj, so soft & sweet

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Holy fuck." You swallowed hard at the view in front of you. "My brother convinced me to get it done when he got some of his piercings, said it could be a bonding experience," Choso explained, putting his tongue decorated with the little silver ball back into his mouth. "Did it hurt?" You asked, your mind still reeling that he had hidden a tongue piercing from you for all these years.

"It wasn't horrible, I'm pretty good with pain. I don't really see the point in having it pierced though." He started to explain, "No one ever sees it, even I forget it's there sometimes." Choso finished. You just smiled and nodded, pretending to listen as he kept talking about his experience getting pierced.

You had already thought of 400 scenarios in which you would let choso put his tongue (and piercing) to work on your body, so the pain he went to to get the pretty jewelry wouldnt be in vain. One particular scenario stood out in your head of him tongue fucking you, feeling the metal against your clit and- "You okay?" Choso's voice rang in your ears.

"Huh?" You said, pulling yourself from your daydream. "I asked if you would ever get your tongue pierced and you just froze up." He explained, scrunching his eyebrows together. "Oh! Oh right! I uh, I'm pretty squeamish around needles so thinking about it makes me a little... nervous" You lied through your teeth, thanking the universe that he seemed to believe it.

For the rest of the day the two of you spent together, the only thing you could focus on was his piercing. Unbeknownst to you, he had caught you several times. Choso had purposely run his tongue over his lips to wet them, every so often, just to see your breath hitch when you got a glimpse of the silver.

As he was driving the two of you back to his house for a nightcap, some relaxing song playing in the background, you spoke up through the silence, "Thanks for today Choso! I know the night isn't over yet but the museum you took us to was so much fun, we have to go to the cafe inside next time!" you exclaimed. He turned his head away from the road to look at you, before returning his gaze on the dark street.

"I'm surprised you remembered there was a cafe." He said, a hint of teasing, and snarkiness hiding in his voice. "Huh?" You voiced, tilting your head at him in confusion. "You seemed out of it today." He elaborated, "Is there something going on?" He asked, keeping his voice and face fairly monotone. His question caught you off guard, had you really been acting that weird all day? So much so that he picked up on it? Oh god.

"No! No, I'm just a little tired today, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be weird." You forced out a laugh, once again coming up with a quick and hopefully believable lie. Unluckily for you, Choso saw right through it. "Are you sure? Because you were acting fine until I showed you my piercing." He said, hitting the nail right on the head.

You froze, not expecting him to be able to pinpoint the exact moment in the day you started behaving strangely, why was he so damn observant? "Oh.. really?" You said, no bullshit lies or excuses coming to your tongue, so you tried to laugh it off instead, saying something about a coincidence. "Did me sharing that make you uncomfortable?" He said, making you immediately reassure him that was absolutely not the case.

He turned the car onto your street, driving slowly down the dark path and towards your house. The two of you have been friends for the longest time, spending practically every second together any chance you got, so of course he knew the way to your house like the back of his hand.

"Oh my god no! No choso, really it's.. it's nothing.." You panicked slightly, not wanting him to feel bad for you being a perv and not being able to control yourself over a piercing. You sighed heavily, scrunching your face up as you seriously contemplated telling him what was really going on with you today.

No matter what you did you couldn't stop imagining your oblivious best friend's tongue between your legs, flicking your clit with his tongue and teasing the bud with the cold metal. You wanted to feel guilty you really did, but the vision was too delicious to feel any remorse.

"Does it turn you on?" He asked, pulling into your driveway and putting the car into part before he unbuckled himself and turned his body to face you. The expression on his face was unreadable, which made you nervous. Your face was heating up, and your mouth dropped open and closed like a fish out of water, trying to think of a response as your brain processed his unexpected words. You really didn't want your long-term secret crush on your best friend to be exposed like this.

"The piercing, does it turn you on?" He asked again, rephrasing his question. Oh god.. he was going to call you a perv and kick you out of the car, leaving you cold and alone in your own driveway if you said yes right? He would definitely think you were weird, who thinks about their best friend in that way?

You opted to shut your mouth, as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded as softly as you could, unsure of your own actions. He looked past you, scanning the outside around the two of you to make sure there were no witnesses before he spoke his next words. "Wanna find out why I actually got this piercing?" He asked, making your face turn a dark shade of crimson as you whispered out a needy, "Please.."

"Fuck- Ohmygod right there Choso- Fuck!" Your hands dug into his soft strands of hair as he ate you out like a man starved. He had you on your back in the backseat of the car, legs splayed out for him as he laid between them, feasting on your cunt. He flattened his tongue out against your clit, making sure the ball of the piercing was kissing the little bud before he shook his head back and forth, stimulating your clit against it.

It had happened so fast, he had leaned forward and pressed your lips together, asking if this was okay before he unbuckled your seatbelt while you were distracted, and somehow the two of you had ended up in the backseat. You weren't sure why he didn't just drag you inside but you couldn't lie that the thrill of doing something like this in the car was exciting.

Choso scissored his fingers in and out of you, abusing your g-spot with the pads of his digits as they curled up against it. His tongue was working you over so well, he drew his name over and over on your clit, occasionally sucking it into his warm mouth and humming around it, sending delicious vibrations through your cunt.

Choso had never told you about any of his sexual conquests, so you werent really sure what to expect in terms of how well he would do when he said he was going to eat you out. Now you were begining to think he had a side job as a porn star or something because his technique was unreal.

"H-how are you so fucking g-good mph!" You cut yourself off with a whine when he suckled your clit particularly hard, making your body jolt against him. Truthfully, Choso had never eaten anyone out before, but he most definitely had watched porn and practiced on his hand for the day he got the courage to ask you out.

He wasn't expecting the opportunity to fall into his lap this easily, so when he saw your eyes light up at his piercing, he internally thanked the gods that you caught a glimpse of it in the sun, which led to him revealing the jewelry to you.

Choso always paid the utmost attention to you, without you even knowing it. He knew what you liked and disliked, he even so much as knew every detail about your tone and facial expressions to make sure you were constantly pleased and comfortable, he always wanted the best for you after all.

He watched how people would break your heart and toss you aside like you were nothing, it alwasy made him furious. They were absolute idiots to give you up, he hated seeing you sad over some unemployed nobody who never really cared about you from the start. Althogh he hated them, he couldnt help but feel a little grateful for them. If it werent for them taking you for granted, you might be in a relationship still, and the two of you wouldnt be in his backseat right now.

Choso moaned against your core when your hands tightened in his hair, rolling his eyes at the feeling of your nails digging into his scalp. "Does it feel good?" He said back, knowing damn well your answer. "Yes, yes Choso, fuck!" You moaned, dropping your chin to watch him work between your thighs.

He was already looking at you when your eyes locked with his. His eyebrows scrunched together upon feeling your gaze, keeping his dark eyes on yours as he ate you out with more vigor, drinking in your body’s every reaction to his tongue. The vibrations from his deep groans were going to push you over the edge. "Choso- Choso I'm close," You whined, fighting your eyes from rolling back in your head so you could keep your eyes on his and watch him do his thing.

He was so unbelievably handsome like this, the streetlights casting beautiful shadows on his face, and his expression was so needy it made your heart skip a beat. The way his eyebrows mimicked your expressions whenever he did something that felt particularly good, was so hot, he was so attentive.

The man between your legs was feeling drunk. This was something he only dreamed of and it was actually happening. He felt like his cock was going to burst from just tasting you alone, but he would gladly make home between your thighs forever. "Please," He begged from between your legs, scrunching his eyebrows together as he ate you out with more vigor.

He released his fingers from your tight hole and opted to replace them with his tongue, pressing his face as tightly against you as he could to make sure his tongue was fucking inside you as deep as possible, making sure to lick his tongue upwards against your walls so you could feel his piercing inside you. His fingers came to rub little circles on your clit with expert precision, making your legs start to shake.

You dug your nails against his scalp as you humped your hips against his face, hearing his muffled moans encourage you from between your thighs. "Ohmygod Choso! I-I'm cumming-" You wined before you felt the knot start to unravel. Choso swore he almost came in his pants at how sensually you cried out his name, mentally recording it for later.

He kept up his ministrations on your pussy, drinking up everything you gave him as you came hard on his face, squishing his soft cheeks between your thighs. He was mesmerized as he watched your body shake and curl in on itself, he stared at your mouth as it dropped open and spilled out profanities and whines of his name, broken on your tongue. When your back relaxed against the seat of the car once more he slowed his fingers on your clit, careful to not overstimulate you.

"Holy f-fuck Choso." You whispered, leaving your hands in his hair and running them through your own, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You took a quick look around in the post haze of your orgasm and noticed how foggy the windows were, so much for trying not to be obvious; anyone with half a brain would know what was going on if they walked past your car.

After he made sure he licked you clean, he pulled his face back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, raising his body to sit comfortably on the seat as his other large hand came to caress your thigh soothingly. "Was that okay?" He asked, looking at you like a puppy.

"Okay?" You repeated, astonished he was asking as if he didn't just witness how hard you came, "I'm pretty sure that was the best orgasm I've ever had in my life." You laughed, making him smile at your words as your hand came down on top of his while he was petting your thigh. "Thank felt so good Choso, thank you." You said blushing as you closed your legs, noticing how exposed you were in comparison to him.

Of course, he picked up on this, he reached over to pick up your previously discarded panties from the floor of the car, wiping them off before he handed them, alone with your pants, to you. You said your thanks to him and he nodded shyly, a stark difference to how he was acting moments ago. It wasn't till you were almost finished getting dressed again when you noticed his massive boner. How did you not see it before? You felt so bad for letting him sit like that for god knows how long.

"Choso, you're hard." You said, stating the obvious. The man blushed and pulled his t-shirt over his hard-on to cover it. "Let me take care of it for you." You offered, leaning your body over his and placing your hands on his toned thighs, "I-Its okay-" His warm hands came down to grab your forearms, stopping you. "What? Really? It doesn't look okay," You giggled, looking up between your lashes at him.

Of course, he wanted you to get him off, that sounded perfect, but he needed to properly take care of you first. Your legs were still trembling and you were still out of breath, on top of that he could tell you were tired; that orgasm had taken a lot out of you, so he could wait. "Don't worry about me, I'll go down." He assured, rubbing his hands on your wrists soothingly and making you hum. "I still need to clean you up and make sure you're okay." He finished, making you blush. No man has ever said that to you before, and no man has ever eaten you out before tonight either but you wouldn't tell Choso that right now.

Truthfully, you were feeling tired, and the prospect of Choso cleaning you up didnt sound half bad right now, "Are you sure? It really wont take long." You offered one last time. He smiled and pushed your arms off of his thighs so he could leave the car, "Im sure, some other time." He said boldly, making you nod silently as he opened the car door and stepped out.

You started to do the same but his voice stopped you in your tracks, "Don't move." He ordered, so you didn't. It didn't take long after he shut his own door that he was opening yours, Choso now standing in front of you as he leaned inside the car and scooped you into his arms, making you giggle as he slammed the door behind him. "Choso! I can walk." You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he held you in a princess carry.

"Don't wanna take any chances, your legs are still trembling pretty hard." He said, making you blush and want to hide away at his exposing words. "I think you're the sweetest man I'll ever know." You said to him, smiling at his blushing face as he quickly avoided his eyes with yours. He moved his hand to effortlessly type in your door code as he brought the both of you inside, away from the chilly air.

I better be, he wanted to say, but opted to only acknowledge your words with a hum as the front door clicked shut behind the both of you.

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thewinchestah · 4 months

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"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy <;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths.

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you.

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room.

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.” Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie”

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming.

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness.

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over.

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away.

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place.

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon.

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it.

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair.

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward.

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen.

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine.

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile.

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first.

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin.

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me”

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors.

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”.

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash.

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence.

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room”

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?”

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it.

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission.

“Take my breath away, Alastor”

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious.

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back.

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard.

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it.

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him.

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him, making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down.

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started”

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way”

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs.

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver.

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control.

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined he would, if he had more time to work on you.

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much.

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more.

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you.

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure.

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame”

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this pain of being broken feels good.

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face.

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth.

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this” Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture.

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep.

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

#hello guys im insane can you tell?#eu escrevi isso aqui na força do odio puro e genuino de quem ta sendo xingada no twitter tem dias #alastor #alstor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor fanfic #the radio demon #the radio demon x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin fic #autora também está no cio #serio aquela msuica sento no bico da glock rebolo e tiro o short e vem vamo fudeee o gabriel tirou o meu cabaço e me botou de quatro nao #sai da minha cabeça #aquariano nato também não #QUEBRA A CAMA DESSAS PUTAAAAAAAAA #baixaria

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spirits-having-flown · 6 months

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“matthew, it is with heavy heart i say goodbye. the times we had together are honestly among the favorite times of my life. it was an honor to share the stage with you and to call you my friend. i will always smile when i think of you and i’ll never forget you. never. spread your wings and fly brother, you’re finally free. much love. and i guess you’re keeping the 20 bucks you owe me.” - matt leblanc

“i am so grateful for every moment i had with you matty and i miss you every day. when you work with someone as closely as i did with matthew, there are thousands of moments i wish i could share. for now here's one of my favorites. to give a little backstory, chandler and monica were supposed to have a one night fling in london. but because of the audience's reaction, it became the beginning of their love story. in this scene, before we started rolling, he whispered a funny line for me to say. he often did things like that. he was funny and he was kind. 🤍🕊️" - courteney cox

“oh boy this one has cut deep... having to say goodbye to our matty has been an insane wave of emotions that i've never experienced before. we all experience loss at some point in our lives. loss of life or loss of love. being able to really sit in this grief allows you to feel the moments of joy and gratitude for having loved someone that deep. and we loved him deeply. he was such a part of our dna. we were always the 6 of us. this was a chosen family that forever changed the course of who we were and what our path was going to be. for matty, he knew he loved to make people laugh. as he said himself, if he didn't hear the 'laugh' he thought he was going to die. his life literally depended on it. and boy did he succeed in doing just that. he made all of us laugh. and laugh hard. in the last couple weeks, i've been pouring over our texts to one another. laughing and crying then laughing again. i'll keep them forever and ever. i found one text that he sent me out of nowhere one day. it says it all. matty, i love you so much and i know you are now completely at peace and out of any pain. i talk to you every day... sometimes i can almost hear you saying "could you BE any crazier?" rest little brother. you always made my day... ❤️🕊️” - jennifer aniston

“matty, thank you for ten incredible years of laughter and creativity. i will never forget your impeccable comic timing and delivery. you could take a straight line of dialogue and bend it to your will, resulting in something so entirely original and unexpectedly funny it still astonishes. and you had heart. which you were generous with, and shared with us, so we could create a family out of six strangers. this photo is from one of my favorite moments with you. now it makes me smile and grieve at the same time. i imagine you up there, somewhere, in the same white suit, hands in your pockets, looking around— "Could there BE any more clouds?” “ - david schwimmer

“shot the pilot, friends like us, got picked up then immediately, we were at the nbc upfronts. then... you suggested we play poker and made it so much fun while we initially bonded. thank you for that. thank you for making me laugh so hard at something you said, that my muscles ached, and tears poured down my face every day. thank you for your open heart in a six way relationship that required compromise. and a lot of "talking." thank you for showing up at work when you weren't well and then, being completely brilliant. thank you for the best 10 years a person gets to have. thank you for trusting me. thank you for all I learned about grace and love through knowing you. thank you for the time i got to have with you, matthew.” - lisa kudrow

friends cast remembers matthew perry 🤍🕊️

#these tributes are so sweet #still cant believe that hes gone #rip matthew perry #friends #matthew perry #chandler bing #matt leblanc #joey tribbiani #courteney cox #monica geller #jennifer aniston #rachel green #david schwimmer #ross geller #lisa kudrow #phoebe buffay

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waitimcomingtoo · 11 months

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Interception

Pairing: Peter Parker x Best Friend!Reader

Synopsis: Flash’s pool party turns into a kissing party and Peter fears you’ll kiss someone else

Masterlist

“Hobo. Bride of hobo. Are you coming to my party Friday?” Flash said as he held up a bright orange flyer that had the details of a pool party at his house on it.

“What party?” Peter asked as he shut his locket.

“The party you weren’t invited to. Later suckers.” Flash laughed obnoxiously, flipped you both off, and then ran away. You and Peter looked at each other before shaking your heads in disbelief.

“Wow. I haven’t been called a sucker in…ever.” You realized.

“Me either. I thought it was one of those fake high school experiences that only happens in movies. Like a bully asking for your lunch money or dunking your head in a toilet.” Peter replied.

“Or making a volcano for the science fair.” You added, making Peter smile.

“Yeah. Exactly.” He said as he looked at you fondly for understanding him.

“So what are we gonna do Friday while the rest of our school goes to Flash’s super cool party?” You asked as you threw some books in your locker.

“Oh, we’re hanging out on Friday? I didn’t know that.” Peter blushed at your nonchalant invitation. You’d never hung out just the two of you before and the fact that it seemed like an obvious choice of plans for you made Peter happy.

“Well, duh. Neds definitely gonna be invited ever since him and Flash bonded over getting left behind on the field trip freshman year. We should do something.”

“Just you and me?” Peter asked with a hopeful smile.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.” You smiled back and wondered if the thought of alone time was as exciting for you as it was for Peter.

“Maybe we can grab some ice cream and then hang out on my roof. It’s pretty nice up there once you scare the bats away.”

“I love that idea. It’s a date.” You replied without thinking. You face dropped when you realized what you called it while Peter turned bright red.

“Or whatever we want to call it.” You quickly added with a forced laugh.

“We can call it a date.” Peter shrugged, taking you by surprise. You smiled at him just as the bell rang.

“Well then it’s a date. Catch you later, P.” You squeezed Peters arm before going to your next class. Peter watched you leave with a dreamy smile on his face. This Friday, you’d finally be going on a date. Whether it was an ice cream date, a friend date, or a date date, he was just happy to be going with you.

The next day, Flash caught up to you on campus and walked with you to your next class.

“Hey, pookie. I would like to formally invite you to my pool party.” Flash said as he held out a flyer for his party.

“Really? What made you change your mind?” You laughed in surprise and took the flyer.

“I realized something and had a change of heart.” He replied.

“Oh yeah? What did you realize?”

“That inviting you gets I mean to see you in a bathing suit.” Flash said, making you laugh in shock.

“Gross. But thanks. For the invite, I mean. Not for the other thing.” You said and shoved the flyer in your backpack.

“You can bring Parker too. Since you two are dating or cousins or whatever.”

“Neither.” You chuckled. “But yeah, I’ll bring him.”

“Perf. See you Friday, my little cinnamon apple.” Flash blew you a kiss and walked away just as Peter approached you.

“What did he want?” Peter faked a laugh and hoped it hid the jealousy he felt when he saw Flash blowing you a kiss.

“Good news. Flash kindly extended the invitation to us.” You said and took the flyer out to show Peter.

“Oh, really? So we can go?” Peter asked and hoped he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt. He could care less about a stupid party. He just wanted to be with you.

“Yeah. If you want.” You shrugged, also not really wanting to go. Your date with Peter sounded much more appealing.

“Sure. It’ll be fun.” Peter lied through a smile.

“Maybe we can still get ice cream after. Just the two of us.” You suggested, making Peters smile turn genuine.

“Yeah. If the party’s lame, we can just slip out and go on our date.” Peter said just to use the word “date” again. You smiled sheepishly and nodded your head.

“It probably will be lame. We can stay for the food and then have some real fun. Just me and you.”

“Ned will probably want to come with us, though.” Peter realized as his disappointment returned.

“Too bad.” You shrugged. “He can hang with us anytime. But he can’t come on our date.”

Peter grinned as you said everything he hoped you would. Your date was still on the table and he might even get to see you in a bikini before it. That was the only thing making either of you want to go to the party.

When Friday came, there was prep to be done. You and Peter went to your dorms after class and began to prepare for the evening ahead. Peter laid out all his swim trunks before trying them all on to see which one he could best impress you in. Meanwhile, you were looking in your floor length mirror and making an important decision.

“I’m gonna shave my entire body.” You whispered to yourself. When MJ came home from class a little while later, she found you covered neck to toe in shaving cream with a razor in your hand.

“Should I even ask?” She asked when you froze at the sound of her opening the door.

“Pool party.” You told her. “Peters gonna be there. I don’t want him to know I have body hair. He can’t see the hair on my upper thighs. He just can’t, MJ.”

“Every single person literally ever, including Peter, has body hair covering their entire body. He already knows you have hair on your thighs. Everyone does. Why do you have to do all this?” She couldn’t help but laugh as she gestured to your shaving cream covered body.

“Look, you don’t shave your armpits and that’s amazing and more power to you for not caring about society’s expectations for female body hair, but tonight, I do care. I care enough to need Peter to think I’m as sleek and slippery as an exfoliated baby dolphin covered in baby oil.”

“Fine. Give me a razor. I’ll do your back.” MJ sighed and held out her hand. You fist pumped before giving her a spare razor.

Peter was back in his room making sure he looked his best for you. He ended up in navy blue swim trunks and a fitted white T-shirt that you complimented once. He twirled around in front of his mirror and made sure everything looked right. When he was satisfied, he drenched himself in body spray, grabbed a towel, and headed to your dorm.

You rinsed off the shaving cream and put on a perfume that Peter said he liked once before changing into your bathing suit. You put your hair into two braids and threw a big shirt on over it just as Peter came knocking on your door. You gave MJ a look before throwing on a smile and opening the door.

“Hey, P. Oh, I like that shirt.” You complimented him as you leaned against your door.

“Oh, thanks.” Peter blushed even though he only wore that shirt for you. “I, uh, like your hair like that.”

“Thanks. I didn’t want the chlorine to dry it out.” You shrugged and tugged on one of your braids to draw attention to it.

“It’s cute.” Peter said in a weak voice, making your smile.

“Yeah? I’ll have to do it more often then.” You did your best to flirt. Peter laughed shyly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You should. It looks really good on you.” He said without making eye contact. Something was most definitely in the air between you tonight and you both felt it. You touched your braid again not to draw attention to it, but to feel beneath your fingers what Peter was seeing.

“Damn. I thought the awkward friend hook up happens after the party. Should I leave?” MJ said from behind you. You hung your head in shame as Peter turned red.

“We’re leaving. Bye.” You gave her a look as you grabbed your bag and shut the door.

“Use protection! And I don’t mean sunblock.” She called after you from inside your dorm room.

“Oh my God. We need to get out of here.” You laughed in embarrassment and took Peters hand to pull him towards the elevator. Once you were in the elevator, you stood side by side and avoided eye contact since MJ had now made things awkward. You didn’t know how tonight was gonna go, but going to sleep as more than friends with Peter would be nice. Even if all that happened was a kiss, you’d be satisfied.

You and Peters hands bumped a few times as you walked to Flash’s house. You had a feeling in your gut that once you walked into this party, things were going to change. You could only hope they were changing for the better.

“Well look who it is. Frick and Frack. Welcome to my party.” Flash greeted you and Peter as you walked in through his gate. Flash’s house was naturally enormous and his pool looked like a lake. There was a water fall on one end, a diving board, and a tray of drinks going around on an inflatable table. Flash himself was in the tiniest pair of swim trunks you had ever seen. They were golden and had his name stitched across the butt, making you and Peter burst out laughing when you saw it.

“Hey Flash. Thanks for the invite.”

“My pleasure. Or, it will be once you drop that shirt.” Flash winked at you. “Anyways, hope you guys brushed your teeth before this.”

“Why?” You frowned. You had, of course, and so did Peter.

“Because this is a kissing party.” Flash said like it was obvious. Your eyebrows went up and you looked at Peter who was just as confused.

“Sorry, what? What the hell is a kissing party?” You laughed, thinking he was kidding.

“Duh. It’s a party where you kiss as a competition.” Flash rolled his eyes. “The person at the end of the party who kisses the most people wins.”

“Wins what?” Peter wondered.

“The Cuban Rizzle Crisis.” Flash shrugged. “You’re crowned Rizz Khalifa. The Rizzly Bear. You get a degree in Quantum Rizzics. You become the Rizzard of Oz. You star in Harry Potter and the Rizzoner of Azcaban. You feel me?”

There was a long, long silence as you and Peter stared at Flash. Flash’s gaze was piercing as he looked back at the two of you with no shame.

“What?” Peter said finally, making Flash roll his eyes.

“Just kiss as many people as you can and keep count.”

“But can’t multiple people win if they all kiss everyone at the party?” You pointed out.

“Not everyone plays.” Flash shrugged. “Plus, people are always coming and going. There is never a fixed amount of people here. And you can deny a kiss if you think the person is gross.”

“So you probably won’t get any kisses then.” Peter said, making you laugh.

“Suck my balls, Parker.” Flash scoffed before turning to you.

“By the way, cutie pie, that’s an open invitation.” He said with a wink.

“Hard pass.” You replied.

“All right. Let me know if you change your mind, pookie.” He winked at you again and you looked away.

“I won’t. And I don’t think I’m gonna play. I don’t really get down like that.” You told Flash. Peter internally sighed in relief. He had feared that you were gonna play and end up kissing other people while he had to watch. But luckily, you were on the same page.

“Me either.” Peter added. You looked at him in surprise before smiling.

“Fine. You two can just make out in the corner or call your grandma or something.” Flash grumbled.

“Again, not dating and not cousins.” You corrected Flash.

“Whatever. I don’t judge.” Flash held up his hands and walked away. Once you and Peter were alone again, you looked at each other and laughed.

“Kissing party? Come on. That’s not a real thing, is it?” Peter asked you.

“I think he got it from a movie or something. There’s no way people really do this. Imagine the germs. Bleh.” You stuck your tongue out and then pulled your shirt off. Peters whole world stopped as he saw you in a bathing suit for the first time since sixth grade. He didn’t realize how much he was staring until he heard you laugh uncomfortably.

“Peter? Are you still with me?” You asked and waved a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah. Sorry. I thought I saw a bug on your leg.” He lied before tugging his shirt off. You stared at him shamelessly until the shirt was over his head and then pretended you were looking somewhere else. It had slipped your mind that Peter got randomly jacked one day and he had just reminded you with a full view. You’d only ever seen his muscles through his occasional tight shirt but this was much more revealing than that. You snuck one more glance and gulped before throwing on a smile.

“Do you want to get in the water?” You asked. Being in the water mean you wouldn’t have to fight for your life trying not to stare at Peters body for a while.

“Sure.” He smiled and held out his arm. You wrapped your arm around his and walked over to the stairs of the pool.

“Ah it’s…not cold. It’s actually the perfect temperature.” You realized after bracing yourself for the cold pool water.

“Of course he has a heated pool.” Peter grumbled and walked in. You swam over to a spot near some people but also a little isolated. The people behind you were making out and once you both noticed that, you blushed.

“Wow. They’re earning points already.” You chuckled.

“I know. I wonder who’s gonna win.”

“Us. Definitely.” You joked, making Peter laugh.

“Oh, for sure. I’m already making a list in my head of all the people I’m gonna kiss.” He played along.

“Oh yeah? Who’s at the top of the list?” You asked as you swam closer to Peter. Peter looked at your lips and then into your eyes before smiling shyly.

“The list is actually just your name written a hundred times in your handwriting.” Peter joked. You smiled in shock and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Really? Tell me more about that?” You asked. Peter gulped and wasn’t planning on telling you anything. Instead, he’d show you how he felt by finally kissing you.

But before that could happen, Brad Davis swam over and tapped your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n. I didn’t see you come in.” He smiled.

“Oh, yeah. Peter and I just got here.” You smiled in disappointment and let go of Peter.

“Cool, cool. So, I’m sure Flash told you what kind of party this is.” Brad said, making Peters senses go off. Brad wanted a kiss and as the captain of your schools basketball team, he might get it.

“He sure did. Which is when Peter and I told him we aren’t playing.” You said through a fake laugh to dilute the uncomfortable situation.

“Oh, my bad. I came over here to kiss you but I didn’t realize you guys were dating.” Brad said apologetically. You and Peter exchanged a look and he gulped.

“We’re not dating.” Peter forced a laughed as well.

“Ohhh. Cool. So I can kiss you?” Brad asked and moved closer. Peter felt white hot jealousy in his veins and looked at you to see what you were gonna do.

“Like I said, not playing.” You laughed awkwardly and moved away from him.

“No sweat. Let me know if you change your mind.” Brad smiled at you and swam back to his friends. Peter blew out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and looked at you. You had your hands over your mouth and wide eyes.

“Oh my God. That was so awkward. I need to get out of here.” You whispered to Peter.

“Let’s go get some food.” Peter suggested. You agreed and got out of the pool together. Peter put a hand on your back and got a towel for you so you could cover yourself when you went inside.

“Uh oh, my Virgin alarm is going off.” Flash said when you and Peter walked into the kitchen where a group of your classmates were. Peter rolled his eyes as Flash walked towards the two of you with his hand flat like a metal detector.

“Beep, beep, beep. I found them. I found the virgins.” Flash gasped as he waved his hand over you and Peter.

“Knock it off, Flash.” Peter grumbled as his face flushed.

“I had to. You two are the only ones not playing.” Flash replied. Everyone looked at you and you suddenly felt insecure for not participating.

“Really? I thought you said other people weren’t playing.” You asked.

“They dipped.” Flash shrugged. “Everyone here is a part of the game. Expect for Chastity Mary and Pete the Prude over here.”

“I’ll play.” You blurted just to make everyone stop staring at you like you were a giant loser. Peter looked at you in confusion and you gave him a stressed look.

“Me too.” Peter nodded to back you up. You didn’t actually want to play, but the peer pressure had gotten to you. That and the fact that this little game might be the perfect excuse to get Peter to kiss you.

“Oh, shit. You’re really playing? In that case…” Flash closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss you with his lips puckered. You picked a strawberry off the table and shoved it in his mouth while Peter laughed.

“Guys, Neds here.” One of the boys in the kitchen gasped.

“NED! NED! NED! NED!” Everyone funneled out of the kitchen in a mob while cheering for Ned.

“Did you know Ned had a cult following?” You asked Peter.

“Kinda. He’s famous around here ever since he got them to reinstate all day breakfast in the dining hall.” Peter explained.

“That was him? Shit, I’d cheer for him too.”

“I should go say hi to him. If he had time for old friends, that is.” Peter joked.

“Y/n, over here!” One of the girls in your grade came over and took your arm. You gave Peter an apologetic look as she pulled you away.

“I’ll catch up with you later!” You told him before disappearing back outside with the girl.

It was almost an hour before you and Peter were reuniting. Now that you were in the competition, Peter could not relax. He was on high alert all night as he tried to spot you in the large crowd. He couldn’t enjoy the party because he was too busy fantasizing about the worst case scenario of you kissing all the popular boys and falling in love with one of them. After you’d been mingling in your respective friend groups for a while, you spotted each other on either side of the pools waterfall. You swam under the waterfall and stayed close to the wall so you were protected by the wall of water but not getting wet.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Peter smiled and swam to you.

“Have you?” You smiled in return and swam closer to him.

“I have. The boys started wrestling each other and I wanted to give it a go with you.” Peter joked. You laughed and swam even closer to him so that your chests were touching. A comfortable silence fell between you and the rest of the party fell away. You couldn’t really see or hear anyone outside of the waterfall so it felt like it was just the two of you.

“So have you kissed anyone yet?” Peter asked and held his breath.

“No. People keep asking me but I keep declining. I don’t think I’m winning tonight.” You clicked your tongue.

“Me either.” Peter laughed in relief.

“So you haven’t kissed anyone?”

“No. No one’s asked me.” He admitted.

“So kiss me.” You shrugged and held your breath for his response. Peter turned around and looked behind him but didn’t see anyone.

“Who are you talking to?” He asked you.

“You, you dingus.” You laughed. “I’m asking you.”

“You want to kiss me?” Peter asked in disbelief and pointed to himself. You nodded your head and Peter felt a panic rise in his chest.

“N-no.” Peter weakly stammered.

“No?” You asked as your eyebrows went up.

“Sorry. No, thank you. Is what I meant.” Peter corrected himself.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” You laughed awkwardly and swam back a little.

“Just because-“

“No, it’s totally cool.” You cut him off. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I just-“

“I’m gonna go get a drink. See you later?” You smiled at him and quickly swam away. Peter was frozen under the waterfall as he processed what happened. Suddenly, Ned burst under the waterfall with urgency.

“Dude! What the hell was that?” He asked and swam to Peter.

“I panicked! I didn’t think she was gonna ask me that!” Peter whispered harshly.

“Why wouldn’t she? This is a kissing party!”

“Kissing parties aren’t real! That’s not a thing that exists. This is a made up concept. Think of the germs! You haven’t thought of the germs you bitch!” Peter exclaimed. Ned jutted in his back in surprise and Peter felt bad.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Ned whispered.

“Because I just blew my chances with Y/n and I’m angry!” Peter whispered back.

“Well why didn’t you kiss her?”

“Because.” Peter whined. “I don’t want our first kiss to be because of this gross game. I wanted it to be because we wanted it.”

“Dude, she hasn’t kissed a single person tonight. You’re the only one she asked.” Ned pointed out.

“Your tone makes me think you’re leading me to a profound conclusion.”

“Clearly she only agreed to play so she could kiss you. That’s why she’s been saying no to everyone else but asked you. She’s not playing the game. She just wanted to kiss you.” Ned said and smacked Peters chest.

“No. That would mean she likes me. And there’s no way she likes me.” Peter insisted.

“Then why would she agree to play this game if she was gonna say no to everyone but you?”

“Because she’s a silly goose? I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers, Ned. Maybe she was just being a silly little guy.”

“Dude, she’s likes you.” Ned groaned. “And she just shot her shot. And you shot her down.”

“That’s way too many shots.” Peter whispered in fear that Ned was right.

“You need to go smooch that girl before you lose her forever.” Ned told him.

“Oh God. Do you think that will happen? Do you think she’ll kiss somebody else?” Peter gulped and chewed his nails.

“Probably. If I’m right about her liking you, that means she just got rejected and is probably super hurt and embarrassed. She’ll be looking for someone to distract her and remind her that she’s desirable. Plus, I heard Brad and Flash are tied and Y/n is the only girl they haven’t kissed. If they get to her before you do, you’re done.”

“Oh God. I can’t let that happen.”

“You might be a little late for that. Turn around.” Ned looked guilty as he pointed over Peters shoulder. Peter turned to see you and Flash sitting on the edge of the pool together. You were laughing at something he was saying, making Peters stomach drop.

“Oh no! She can’t kiss Flash. I’ve never seen him apply chapstick once in his life. And he licked the back of the bus seat in fifth grade during a game of Truth or Dare so he’s definitely carrying some sort of disease.”

“I remember that. He picked truth and then randomly licked the seat top to bottom.” Ned recalled.

“She can’t kiss that mouth. He has cooties. He can’t give my beloved cooties.” Peter said as determination filled his body.

“You need to do that think football players do when they catch the ball that was thrown at a different player.” Ned told him.

“Interception?”

“No. That’s the show about sitting down your family member who has an addiction and sending them to rehab.” Ned waved his hand.

“That’s Intervention.”

“No, Intervention is the Tom Cruise movie where he goes to space and his daughter is Renesmee from Twilight.”

“For starters, I’m not really sure why you called her Renesmee “from Twilight” as if there is any other character in any other movie with that name, but you also just described the movie Intersteller. Which is with Matthew McConaughey, not Tom Cruise.” Peter corrected him.

“So what movie am I thinking of?” Ned wondered.

“Fuck if I know. I’ll be right back.” Peter said and swam over to you and Flash. He saw Flash starting to lean in and in a panic, grabbed a beach ball and threw it at him.

“Ow. What was that?” Flash looked around once the ball hit him in the head.

“Hey guys. What’s going on?” Peter smoothly slid into the convo.

“Hi, Peter.” You smiled shyly and then looked back at Flash.

“It was Inception.” Ned said suddenly as he joined Peters side. Peter face palmed and you just looked confused.

“What was Inception? What did that mean?” Flash asked in genuine confusion.

“The movie I was thinking of. Inception starring Leonardo DiCaprio. That’s what you have to do to Y/n.” Ned explained. He slowly turned and realized you were sitting right there on the pool edge and smiled sheepishly.

“Oh, hey Y/n. Lovely weather we’re having, no?” Ned asked.

“What about an inception?” You playfully narrowed your eyes at Peter.

“He means interception.” Peter mumbled in embarrassment.

“Intercept what?” You asked as you slipped into the pool to be closer to Peter.

“Your kiss with Flash.” Peter admitted as he looked into your eyes. His big brown eyes were full of guilt and you couldn’t stay mad even if you wanted to.

“Ew. You thought I was gonna kiss Flash?” You laughed. “Not after what he did to that bus seat in fifth grade. No offense, Flash.”

“Was it that bad? It tasted like dry Ramen.” Flash shrugged.

“Who eats dry Ramen?” Ned asked.

“People who question the status quo and reject the suffocating confines of the shell society puts us in.” Flash stated.

“What the fuck are you ever talking about?” You whispered to yourself.

“Who knows? Did I hear Y/n wanted to kiss little old me?” Flash batted his eyelashes and pretended to tuck hair behind his ear.

“No, you didn’t.” You told him.

“Wait, so you didn’t come over here to kiss Flash?” Peter asked you.

“Ew, no. Why would you ever think that?”

“Because you wanted to forget that I rejected you.” Peter said, making your eyes widen.

“You rejected Y/n?” Flash laughed in surprise. “That is an M.Night Shamelan level twist right there. That shocked me more than that one Black Mirror episode where it turns out he was a pedofile after I spent the whole episode feeling bad for him.”

“What are you talking about now?” You whined.

“I actually know what he’s talking about.” Peter admitted. “That episode was crazy.”

“Right? When the mom was like “Kids, Kenny? You were looking at kids?” I nearly threw my phone at my TV. On God. I was rooting for him. And best believe, that is the last time I will ever root for a white man.” Flash shook his head. Everyone in the pool was looking at you guys now and trying to peer into the conversation. There was an awkward silence and even more awkward eye contact before Flash spoke again.

“So why didn’t you want to kiss Y/n?” He asked Peter.

“I was kinda also wondering that.” You admitted and looked at Peter for answers.

“Can we talk somewhere else? In private?” Peter asked you quietly.

“You’re just gonna let me hear that much of the conversation and then leave at the end? Talk about edging.” Flash scoffed.

“Fine. He can hear. In fact, everyone should hear this.” Peter decided and got up on the pool steps.

“Hey, everyone. I have an announcement.” Peter said as he cupped his hands around his mouth.

“I like Y/n. As more than a friend.” He announced as he pointed to you. You smiled in delight while everyone else gave each other the side eye.

“No one gives a shit, Parker.” A boy shouted after a long moment of silence.

“Everybody knew that.” Another girl added.

“Do a flip!” Someone shouted.

“He thinks he’s the main character or something, I swear.” Someone else muttered.

“Oh. I thought that would get a bigger reaction.” Peter frowned and walked back down into the pool to go back to you.

“You like me?” You smiled softly.

“I do. A lot.” Peter admitted with the same soft smile.

“Then why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Because I didn’t want our first kiss to be apart of this stupid game.” Peter told you. “I also wanted to be wearing underwear the first time we kissed. I guess I’m picky.”

“I’m never wearing underwear. Ever. Even when I wear jeans.” Flash said, reminding you that he was there. You turned your entire body to look at him because of how shocked you were by that statement.

“Why not?” You asked him.

“It blocks the flow of my mojo.” He said and pointed to his crotch before moving his hand it and outward flow. You blinked a few times and then turned back to Peter.

“Peter, I only played the game because I wanted to kiss one person. You.” You told him.

“That’s why I started playing. But when you came up to me and asked me, I was so caught off guard that I panicked and said no.”

“Is your guard up now?” You asked him.

“Probably not. Peter could never afford a guard. Get it? Because he’s poor.” Flash said and then laughed at his own joke. Peter rolled his eyes before looking at you again.

“If you asked me again, I’d say yes.” He told you.

“I’m not gonna ask you again. But that’s good to know.” You smiled at him, making his smile drop.

“Y/n, over here.” A girl on the other side of the pool called.

“See you around.” You waved to Peter before swimming to the girl. Peter and Flash stood there in shock as the processed what had happened.

“Dude, that was brutal.” Flash said. “That was worse than the staph infection that hospitalized me after I licked that bus seat.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t ask me.” Peter whispered in disbelief. “And who the fuck keeps saying “Y/n, over here?””

“I can’t believe you rejected her, announced to the whole party that you liked her, and then she rejected you! That’s gold, man. You can’t make this stuff up. Anyways, later loser.” Flash hopped into the pool and started to swim away. He suddenly popped up in front of Peter, this time, with goggles on this time.

“Unless you wanted to play mermaids?” Flash asked him. Peter stared at him for a minute and then nodded.

“I do, actually. Yeah.”

“Amazing. My tail is blue. What’s yours?”

“Please let me be blue.” Peter whined. “I just got rejected by my best friend.”

“Fine. I’ll be orange.” Flash rolled his eyes.

Once the party had started to fizzle out, Peter got out of the pool and went over to where he had left his stuff. You walked over to him and he tensed up.

“Hey.” You said as you approached him.

“Oh, hi.” Peter said cautiously. He had no idea what you were here for after all of the bizarre interactions you had tonight.

“Towel?” You asked and offered him a fresh towel.

“Yeah, thanks.” He accepted it and eyed you skeptically before drying off.

“You should really try to ring your hair out. Chlorine might damage those curls.” You said and nodded towards Peters hair.

“Oh, thanks.” He said and rubbed his towel all over his head. When he was finished, he noticed you staring at him with a fond smile.

“What?” He wondered.

“You missed a spot. Here, let me help.” You said and took the towel. You rubbed it all over his head to dry his hair and then moved it to reveal his face. He was blushing, like always, but had a sad look in his eyes. You let the towel fall to around his neck and then pulled it to bring him closer so you could kiss him.

“Did you really think I was gonna kiss you for the first time with Flash Thompson sitting between us?” You asked once you pulled away.

“So that’s why you didn’t ask me again?” Peter smiled as he connected the dots.

“I’m like you. I wanted it to be special.” You shrugged.

“I think it would be even more special if it happened again.” He replied. You laughed and kissed him again, which he was ready for this time.

“So.” He said once you pulled away. “You still down for that ice cream date?”

“It’s a date.” You nodded and smiled.

“I know. I literally just said that.”

“Don’t ruin the moment, P.” You warned him.

“Fine.” He smiled. “Let’s go on our date.”

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graysoncritic · 14 days

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A (Negative) Analysis of Tom Taylor's Nightwing Run - Introduction

Introduction Who is Dick Grayson? What Went Wrong? Dick's Characterization What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon What Went Wrong? Bludhaven (Part 1, Part 2) What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson What Went Wrong? Bea Bennett What Went Wrong? Villains Conclusion Bibliography

I want to start this essay by admitting I’m actually embarrassed by its length. Why did I spend so much time on something I dislike? The truth is, I did not begin this with the intention of creating such an extensive, formal study of the Tom Taylor and Bruno Redondo’s Nightwing run and how it reflects the wider problems with DC’s handling of one of their most iconic characters. I was just trying to organize the thoughts that came up during discussions with other Dick Grayson fans. Before I knew it, I had enough material, enough desire to challenge myself, and enough frustrations to vent to properly create this monstrosity.

I did not begin this Nightwing run determined to hate it. In fact, I was ready to love it. As Taylor promoted the run before the first issue was officially released, I was so excited for it. As I read short interviews where he discussed Heartless, I could not wait to have a new, incredible villain. Foolishly, I believed Taylor when he said he loved Dick Grayson.

Needless to say, I was disappointed. Then frustrated. Then angry. The beginning of any story is a period where writer and reader form an indirect bond, and as the story progresses, so do the highs and the lows of said relationship. As such, a reader’s tolerance for negative factors will either increase or decrease depending on their experience up until that point.

In other words, if the writer fails to earn the reader’s trust and instead takes their attention for granted, even seemingly insignificant details become irritating in a way they would not be if presented in a better story. In such scenarios, the reader can no longer overlook those minor moments because there’s little good to balance them out with. It is a death by a thousand cuts.

In the case of Taylor and Redondo’s run, along with those thousand cuts are also broken bones, internal bleeding, head trauma, and severed limbs. A weak plot, simplistic morality that undermines the story’s stated themes, and, most importantly, a careless disregard for Dick Grayson and everything he stands for utterly destroyed my enjoyment of this series.

It is still too early to tell what sort of impact Taylor’s (as of time of writing, still unfinished) run will have on Dick Grayson’s future portrayals. But just because we cannot predict its long term significance, it does not mean we cannot critique it. Currently, we simply lack the benefit of hindsight.

If this essay were to have a thesis, then it is this: Tom Taylor and Bruno Redondo’s Nightwing not only fails to tell a compelling Nightwing story, but it also exemplifies a cynical, self-serving, and shallow approach to storytelling that prioritizes creating hollow viral moments to boost the creators’ own online popularity over crafting a good story, honoring the character in their care, and respecting his fans – fans who have, historically, often been women, queer folk, and other individuals who felt othered by a cisheteronormative patriarchal society. Taylor and Redondo’s thoughtless and superficial narrative not only undermine the socially progressive ideals they supposedly care for by propagating a cisheteronormative patriarchal worldview, but they also demonstrate a lack of love and understanding for the character in their care. At best, Taylor and Redondo have no interest in getting to know Dick Grayson, nor any respect for their predecessor and their contributions to this character. At worst, they despise Dick so much that they wish to reinvent him into something completely different, tossing away everything that was special to his fans in order to appeal to a readership that never cared about Dick Grayson.

I structured this essay so that, hopefully, each part will build on the ones that came prior. Naturally, because all aspects of a story are interlaced, there will be overlaps between each of the sections. As it may have become obvious from this introduction, I’ll be focusing primarily on the writing of this run. That is not to say that I will not address the art, but writing is the field I know most about, and so it feels only fair to focus my critique on that.

I hope that by the end of this essay, I will have successfully proved that this run’s mishandling of different narrative elements betray a cynical appropriation of progressive ideology and a disregard and disinterest in what makes Dick Grayson so special to so many people. This is an attitude that is present within DC Comics’ current ethos as a whole.

Now, who is this essay for? Honestly, it’s probably not for Tom Taylor fans. I do not believe I’ll be persuading anyone with my writing, and, to be quite honest, neither would I say I wish to do so. Taylor and Redondo’s run has won numerous awards and has many dedicated fans who adore it for what it is. If that is you, then I’m glad. I wish I could be among your numbers. I wish more than anything that I could love this story. But I do not, and I know many others agree with me, and it is to them, I think, that I’m speaking to. As Taylor’s run is praised to heaven and back, I needed a safe space to voice my thoughts. This essay became this safe space. And to others who also feel unseen by the constant praise this run is getting, I think this could speak to you, as well. To be cliche and cringe, this will hopefully let you know that you are not alone.

Finally, I want to acknowledge some people whose thoughts greatly contributed to the creation of this essay. For around three years now I’ve been having wonderful interactions with other Dick Grayson’s fans, and those discussions were not only incredibly fun and cathartic, but also provided great insight into what needed to be included in this essay. My best friend especially gave me a space to vent when I got frustrated, and my original outline borrowed a lot from the messages I sent her, as well as notes I took for our discussions.

I’ll also be directly quoting four different Dick Grayson fans (identified as Dick Grayson Fans A, B, and C in order to allow them to keep their anonymity). Their analyses were so critical to the formation of my thesis and for a lot of what will be addressed in this essay that I actually feel like they deserve co-credit in this essay. Dick Grayson Fan B especially deserves a shoutout in helping me track down a couple of pages used as supporting evidence, as I knew what pages I was looking for but was having a hard time remembering in which issue they were located. I’m quoting them with permission, and crediting their ideas and contributions whenever relevant.

Now, without any further ado, let’s get started.

#nightwing #dick grayson #anti tom taylor

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grandprixwinnerlandonorris · 6 months

Text

Friends Don't | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: you go out to celebrate George's home race win, not even imagining what the night will bring

Warnings: smut, drunk driving, unprotected sex

A/N: you will maybe have to necessarily read part 1 and part 2 hehe. For the sake of the plot, we'll pretend some things already happened. I've spent the whole week writing this and only got it to all click together from the third attempt. Third time's a charm, right? But at least had a blast while editing, which is a rarity. I actually enjoy writing these 'chapters' and building this world sm <3

Sundays were a day for rest and relaxation. A day for sitting down with a good book and a cup of coffee. A day for cuddling up with a loved one and watching a movie. A day for taking some time for yourself; a day to reflect and recharge.

That was, of course, unless your best friend was George Russell. And that your Sundays didn't consist of spending most weekends a year at different race tracks around the world. Not all of them, but you tried to be there for him at least once or twice a month, as much as the opportunity allowed.

That afternoon, George took the checkered flag in Silverstone in P1 and now you were in your room, preparing for tonight's celebration. The victory party was going to be wild, and you knew it. You had seen how George celebrated previous wins, and tonight was going to be no different. Especially because it was his home race.

You took a deep breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. You had dressed to impress, wearing a sparkly blue dress that fit you perfectly. Finishing your look with a pair of strappy heels and a silver necklace, you couldn't help but think about how previous events with George brought you even closer together.

Your friendship kind of became more... intimate. No pun intended. Guess you were both afraid not to lose each other over the past experiences, and that deepened your bond whether either of you wanted to admit or not. Now your only fear was that your closeness wouldn't tear you apart.

A soft knock pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see George standing at the door with a sheepish grin on his face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his hair tousled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and husky. "Ready to party?"

Never before have you paid any mind to the nicknames he called you, but now a thrill ran down your spine. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only person in the world.

"I am," you said, smiling at him.

As you stepped out of the door, George took your hand in his and led you to the car waiting outside. The drive to the club was short, but the anticipation was high. The party was in full swing when you arrived; loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

George led you to the VIP section where his friends and family were already celebrating. You saw his siblings and a few of his close racing buddies. You could hear their loud cheering as they saw George walk in with you and feel the envious glares of the other women in the room.

George handed you a glass of champagne and raised his own in a toast. "To the best damn team in the world," he said, looking at you and his friends.

Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together. You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, feeling it go down smoothly. The night was young, and the energy in the room was electric.

The party kept going on as the night deepened, and the noise of the songs blasted through the room. Glasses were filled up with drinks constantly, making it more of an effort to ignore the effects of the booze. You found yourself on the dance floor, surrounded by George and his friends. The bass of the music throbbed in your chest, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm.

Throughout the night, each person had a chance to take their turn with you on the dance floor, and eventually you were spinning around in George's arms. The heat of the club mixed with the buzz of the alcohol made your skin flush against his. You could feel his muscles flexing as he twirled you around, his hand firmly holding onto yours. The closer you danced, the more the tension between you grew.

For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was watching. You moved on him like it was just the two of you in the world, your hands moving over his body like never before, and hips swaying in perfect synchronicity. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. You felt yourself getting lost in him, and something stirred inside you.

And it seemed like George caught up on your odd behavior as the song faded away. He grabbed your arm and started leading you away from the dance floor until you reached a quiet corner. But your drunken mind wasn't understanding his intentions.

You threw yourself onto him and he had to secure your hips with his hands to stop you from slipping. You let out a hazy chuckle as you started grinding against him once more before he pushed you back against the wall.

"Stop it, that's not why I brought you here."

But you didn't listen. You pulled yourself even closer, letting your lips brush against his neck. "Then why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, your breath tickling his skin. "The drinks have gone to your head. I brought you here to take a break and cool off a little." he avoided telling you that you were drunk and not acting like yourself, afraid to provoke any unnecessary argument between you two.

Still, you weren't paying any attention. You were too inebriated to realize that your behavior was a little out of character, and you certainly weren't considering the consequences of your actions. You clasped your hands around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him again.

George tried to keep a respectable distance between you, pushing his hip backwards as you pushed yours forward, fighting the urge to get too close. That got you into an interesting position; you were leaning against the wall in between his arms with your shoulders as he leaned into you with his upper body. Your hand naughtily ran down his side, poking him. You knew you probably shouldn't touch him, but you couldn't stop yourself. His muscles strained as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're getting awfully close to me," he murmured, unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. His fingers slowly slid from their grip on the wall.

"Then don't push me away," you said back.

His face was just inches away now, and your lips unconsciously moved closer. The atmosphere between you two was thick with anticipation, a feeling that you currently relished in. Your lips were only a breath away from his when he spoke.

"We can't." his eyes locked with yours.

"Why?" you asked breathily.

"Because we're best friends." his voice was barely a whisper.

He hoped the reason he gave you would remind you of everything you asked from him that first time. But he didn't tell you that he feared you'd regret it when you sobered up, and that it would be his fault for not stopping it.

"And?" in the state that you were, did he really think that would stop you? He couldn't have been more wrong. You wanted to push him to feel something. Anything. "Best friends can do a lot of things." you smirked.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still on yours. "No, they can't." he gritted, shaking his head.

"You're right." you said, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "They can't do this." and your hips finally met his.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay level headed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in desperation, his hands pressed flat on the wall behind you, trying their best not to touch you as they dangerously started slipping down.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palms as you glided them down his torso. "Remember how you said you can read my body language?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding his head.

"What is it telling you now?" you whispered against his lips.

"It's telling me we're going to be in big trouble if you don't stop this," he replied. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"Then don't fight it. Show me." you murmured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. Your arms snaked around his neck and fingers twined through the hair at its nape, pulling him closer. You couldn't believe that you had done all those other things, but never kissed. And when ultimately his mouth closed on yours, it was like finally locating the elusive jigsaw piece on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday while tidying up your home that you thought had been lost forever. It made you almost not want to kiss anyone else ever again — almost, because deep down you knew you shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his head tilted to get a better angle. The kiss was soft, tentative, like both of you were very aware of what might happen. You pressed your mouth against his more firmly, tasting him. Parting your lips slightly, you felt the silky wetness of his tongue on yours. You bit his lower lip, letting out a deep moan when he groaned in response, hands that were in his hair tugging on the strands slightly. He groaned into your mouth again, pulling you even closer against him. You had no idea how long you were kissing, but it was definitely not enough.

The kiss broke, and you leaned your face against his neck, panting heavily. He glanced down at you, his lips so close to yours that if you had merely lifted your head, they'd be touching again. The warmth emanating from your body made him want to do things he knew he shouldn’t. He placed his forehead against yours, trying desperately to get control of himself.

"We should get back." he said between breaths. Your head was spinning from the alcohol and his scent and the magical kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were no longer kissing him. You opened your eyes and met with him.

"We should, before they realize we're missing." you nodded. He frowned, but his eyes were smiling. He was relieved, but he was also worried for you and what tomorrow might bring when you sobered up.

"Lets go," he said, turning around, but kept an arm around your waist so as to not let you get lost. You looped one arm around his neck, holding onto his shoulder, and gently hit his other shoulder with your head.

The night was still young and the party was still going. Music was playing, people were dancing, and laughter filled the room. Your friends cheered when they saw you two come in together, but neither of you paid any attention to them; all that mattered was that you were here, with him. Guys grabbed drinks for the both of you from different parts of the room and put it in your hands.

You found a spot on the couch and George sat next to you, his arm around your waist protectively. The conversations flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you both forgot what had happened earlier as you joined the rest of the group in drinking, singing along with music and laughing.

He later found you on the dance floor swaying around completely out of rhythm with a drink in your hand. Your face lit up when you saw him.

"There you are, my champion." you leaned into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"I won the race, not the championship.” he chuckled.

“Mm, don’t care. To me you are the champion.” you slurred, pouting.

“Hey, is everything alright?" he asked, supporting you.

"Mmhmm." you mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." you could hear the frown on his face. "You're drunk." he spat as he attempted to take away the half empty glass from your grasp.

"I'm not." you said, feeling yourself lose your balance a little as you swayed back and forth. He put his arm around you to help you balance.

"Yes, you are. I should've taken you home the first time around." he sighed, somehow not surprised you managed to get even drunker. You were both intoxicated for that matter, it's just that George knew how to hold his liquor. And he looked to never go over his limit in case something like this happened.

"No." you tried to pull away from him.

"I'm taking you home." he tightened his grip around you, leading you out of the party. You mumbled something in response, not quite sure what you were saying.

He helped you into his car and buckled your seat belt for you, before getting in himself. He drove slowly, carefully navigating the roads while you were almost passed out in his passenger seat. Every now and then he'd take a hand off the wheel to reach over and brush your hair away from your face or wipe away a stray tear from your cheek if one escaped your eye. As he turned into your street and parked the car, your eyes fluttered open.

"Um, could you walk me to the door?" you asked.

"I was planning on it," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Both of your arms wrapped around his left one, holding on for support, as he walked you to your apartment. Your little nap helped clear the haze from your head, but you were still tipsy. When you reached the entrance of your flat, you propped yourself against the door and blinked up at him.

"Do you want to come inside?" inviting your best friend into your home have never before seemed more dangerous and George should've known better than to say yes.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you asked to break an awkward silence that fell among you the moment he shut the door.

Before even waiting for his answer, you made your way towards the kitchen, but he extended his arm and grabbed your waist, preventing you from moving further.

"I think we both had enough to drink tonight," he said.

"Then what do you want to do?" you whispered.

"I want to claim my prize." he must have had a few more drinks than usual at the club to summon up the courage for that sentiment.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the alcohol still fogging your mind but not enough to miss the implication of his words. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. His hand still rested on your waist, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress.

"Is that what I am, a prize?"

"No, no." he said quickly, his eyes softening. "You're so much more than that, you know that." his hand cupped the side of your face. "When I saw you looking up at me on the podium today, I realized I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one who had been cheering me on from the sidelines all this time. You've been there for me when no one else was." he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You've been my lucky charm all these years and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

The way he was looking at you made your chest heave with a mixture of emotions. You were both under the influence, and you knew this was not the best time to make decisions, but you couldn't resist him. You leaned in and attached your lips together again, only this time with more passion, more desire. You could feel his hands running through your hair as he kissed you back, his tongue playing with yours, his body pressing against yours.

He pulled away, looking at you with a hunger you had never seen before. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to say anything. His lips crashed onto yours, hungrily claiming your mouth as his own. Your body responded to his touch, your hands roaming over his chest and tangling in his hair. He lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Climbing on top of you, his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. You moaned softly, your hands gripping tightly onto his muscular back. He pulled his lips away from you, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

You nodded, reaching up and pulling him back down. He gently kissed you again and you responded in kind, but he pulled away again.

"I'll stop if you tell me to." he whispered. "I don't want to do this unless you want to."

"I want to." you murmured. The alcohol may have distorted your judgment, but it surely helped your courage.

"Are you sure?" he asked a third time. You laughed softly, trying to push him off. He had you pinned to the mattress, still pressing you down.

"Yes, I'm sure." you said, no longer laughing.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you hard, his fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of your dress. He ran his hands underneath, gently resting them on your ribs, and pulled your dress upwards. You lifted your hands above your head, freeing him of the task of removing your dress as you squiggled out of it and freed yourself from the restriction that was your dress.

He kissed you again, letting his hands run over your bare skin. His lips kissed down your throat and chest, his hands undoing your bra. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, taking in the sight of you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. You blushed, and he smiled. His lips traveled down your leg, gently caressing the outside of your thigh. "But I'm a little jealous, you know?" his lips traveled back up, his tongue tracing over the slope of your breast and hands kneading them softly. "You got to taste me, and I..."

He kissed his way down your body, his hands going over every inch of exposed skin, reminding you how skillfully he handled you that very first time. He reached your inner thigh and slid his hand underneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers brush against you before a long finger slid inside you. You moaned loudly, spreading your legs apart for him. He smiled against your neck, his teeth taking in your skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind.

His finger slowly moved inside you, circling you before sliding in and out. His hand pulled your underwear down, you kicking them off to the side. His mouth moved down your figure, hovering over your breasts. He teased you for a moment, blowing against your nipples before drawing the tip of his tongue over one. He did the same with the other, his fingers never ceasing to move. His kisses continued further down, over your stomach until they reached your mound.

"Can I?" he asked, peeking at you.

"Please..." you tried to hide the shake in your voice.

His tongue slid between your lips, gently licking you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. He teased you, his tongue circling your clit before sliding inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart. You spread your legs even wider, your body arching up to him. He leaned in, gently sucking on your clit and you moaned loudly, his tongue moving faster. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against his face.

You were nearing your end, your moans growing louder with every movement of his tongue. You could feel his lips smile against your skin, enjoying the sounds you were making. You cried out, your body tensing as you came, shaking against him. He pulled away, slowly kissing his way up to the top again. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, not hurrying you up as you sucked in his bottom lip, squeezing out your own juices.

"Taking that trophy is the second best thing that has ever happened to me." he whispered. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "The first, of course, being you. You're my greatest reward." he continued as you trailed kisses down his neck, removing the shirt off his shoulders.

"Stop talking, George."

"Sorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes, surrendering above you.

You kissed his chest, your nails raking up and down his sides, feeling his muscles tense. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and could sense the urgency in his touch. His hardness pressed against you, begging to be liberated. You pulled away from him, reaching for his belt buckle and his eyes shot open, hands reaching for yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again. He knew if you go any further there would be no going back and some irreversible things would be done.

"Are you sure?" you asked back, smiling mischievously. "I thought this is what you wanted." your nail dangerously circled around his lower abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with every word he spoke.

"I-I do. I'm just making sure you're not doing it just because I want it." you could tell he was really struggling to hold himself back.

"I think we've already established that..." you whispered against his lips and prompted your body more to his.

"Okay," his hand moved away from yours, and you undid his belt.

His pants fell around his feet and he kicked them off. His boxers were the last thing left, and you reached for them, slowly pulling them down. His hand held the back of your head as he kissed you, his tongue twirling around yours. You moved to pull away but he held on tighter.

His boxers hit the floor and you looked up at him, his hands resting on your frame. Gently taking your hand, he placed it on his dick. You gasped, feeling it grow even more underneath your touch. He pulled away, his lips planting kisses down your neck as his hand guided yours up and down his length. You felt him shiver as you grazed the tip with your nails, his breath hitching. He removed his hand, and your eyes shot open when you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

He teased you, running it up and down your slit. You threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching against him. The more he prolonged what you needed the most, the more your neediness grew. You tried to guide him inside you but he resisted, placing a finger on your lips instead. He dragged it over them before he made you suck on it, his eyes never leaving your face as he blew a stream of air out. Your eyes widened when you felt his head brush against you again, making you gasp audibly, his name falling from your lips.

"Please," you remembered what he told you the first time he had you in his arms like this. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." you chanted over and over again.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Hearing you beg for him made his head spin again. It was like you'd put him under a spell every time you'd utter that word and he'd not be able to deny you anything. Not that he ever wanted.

He slowly pushed inside of you, stopping at every inch to wait for you to adjust. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he began to move again. He kissed you, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you more. He was so gentle, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. This was not the normal rough, lustful sex. This was the man who loved the sight of you, the sounds of your pleasure. This was the man who wanted to make love to you, to show you what true pleasure was.

Your fingers sank into his back again, and he responded by thrusting into you harder, your moans getting louder. His lips traveled down your chest, his tongue flicking a nipple as he pushed into you again.

"Oh, god." you moaned, George's name falling from your mouth repeatedly. Your hands dug into the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"You feel so good... so damn good," he kissed your skin. "Making me feel like I don't ever want to take anybody else again."

"Don't stop, please, whatever it is that you're doing, please, just don't stop." you cried, twining your legs around him to press him deeper.

He moaned in pleasure when you did, his hands tightening their grip around you. His breathing grew heavier and faster, your bodies reacting to each other. He was so close, and he could feel you held right on the edge.

You cried out his name, your form shuddering under him. He had no intention of stopping, and he continued his movements as you kept shaking, your voice loud enough to wake up the whole apartment complex.

"You, George, only you…" you whispered into his ear as you were coming down.

You felt his whole build shake, his cock pulsing inside of you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to hear him as he climaxed. You wanted to hear the sounds he made, the sweetest song in the world.

"George… George…" you panted, your breathing coming out in jagged breaths.

He cursed, as his body trembled with pleasure. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he came. You buried your face in his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. He kissed you, holding you close to him. He wanted to stay inside you forever, to feel the sight of your face as he pleased you. You did that to him. You were the one making him see another reality where only he and you existed.

But he pulled away, your eyes searching for his as you slowly came back to reality. He kissed you again, his lips landing on yours.

"That was amazing… you were amazing…" he whispered, stroking your face gently.

"So were you." you said back, playing with the bangs that fell over his forehead.

He rested his head on your chest, finding a comfortable spot, your hands moving into his hair.

"Are you going to stay?" you whispered, uncertain.

"Only if you want me to."

"Always."

He hugged you tightly and rolled over so that you were now on top of him. His fingers softly ran along your back as your body let go and fully relaxed. The peaceful sound of your heartbeats and his breath seemed to take over the room. You drew near to him, feeling the up and down movements of his chest gently rock you to sleep, matters of your friendship left for tomorrow's morning news.

Next part

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just-aake · 13 days

Text

Dyeing to See You Again

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The need for a change of style brings about a reunion between Natasha and her old friend.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 6659

Ohio - 1995

Three years ago, in the heart of the Midwest, a typical family of four moved into the ordinary suburban home next to yours.

Naturally, as their neighbor, you became interested in learning about the new family, especially since you found out that one of their daughters was similar to you in age.

Initially closed off in the beginning, you slowly chipped away at the girl’s cold exterior until eventually the two of you became inseparable friends, forming a close bond with her over the three years they’ve lived here so far.

Currently, you find yourselves in the bathroom of her home amidst a chaotic mess of scattered bottles of hair products and dyes, the result of two young teens messing around without supervision.

You watch as Natasha removes the towel from her head, revealing the experiment that the two of you have been working on, and your eyes widen in shock at the sight.

“Uh oh, Nat, I think we might’ve mixed up the wrong bottles,” you exclaim in a slight panic as you rush around to pick up the different dyes, trying to find the one that was applied to her hair.

“I’m so sorry, Natasha,” you apologize as you try to figure out where you two went wrong.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Natasha reassures, her voice distracted in awe as she examines the strands of her newly colored hair in the mirror.

“It’s blue,” you state plainly in disbelief at her untroubled state.

“Yeah, but…it was my choice,” Natasha says with a widening happy grin.

You drop the bottles in your hand and tilt your head at her in confusion.

“I thought you said that your mom was okay with this.”

Natasha makes an unsure sound before shrugging, “I’m sure she will be..I think.”

You twist your lips skeptically at her words as you stand and return to her side. Your hand raises to her hair, but before you touch it, you pause and look at her with a questioning look, silently asking for permission.

Over the time you’ve known her, you’ve learned how much Natasha values her personal space. The first time you patted her back in a friendly gesture, she pushed you away so hard that you scraped your hands while catching yourself on the ground.

Natasha apologized profusely immediately afterward and supported you home where she helped to tend to your wounds.

That was the first time you saw the true warmth that Natasha was hiding underneath her cold exterior as she cared for you.

At that time, she explained to you how she was not used to such friendly gestures like that from her peers and had reacted instinctively.

Hearing this, you decide to always ask if she’s comfortable before you touch her.

With her nod of permission, your finger gently threads through her now light blue hair, brushing it in contemplation.

“Well, I guess it’s fine since it’s summer, but you’re going to have to change it back before school starts,” you remark.

Natasha shrugs, unconcerned, before flashing you one of her rare teasing grins.

“I’ll just have you dye it for me again. Maybe next time it might actually be the right color.”

You huff in disbelief at her, but before you can point out she also contributed to the mistake, the sound of the front door opening and the call from Natasha’s mom, Melina, causes both of your eyes to widen.

Within the next second, the two of you scramble to clean up the mess in the bathroom, laughing with each other the entire time.

You never did get a chance to change her hair color back to normal.

Natasha and her family vanished without a trace before the end of that summer.

There was no note. No warning.

She was just suddenly gone from your life.

And though many years pass, you’ve always held onto the hope that someday you can see her again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2018 (23 Years Later)

The peaceful ambiance of the late evening is pierced by the gentle chime of the bell hanging above the entrance to the hair salon, announcing the arrival of an unexpected visitor.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” you call out, your eyes still fixed on the task of sweeping the floor.

A familiar voice responds, breaking through your concentration.

“What about for an old friend?”

Instantly, you freeze in your movements and look up at the visitor, disbelief flooding your senses as you recognize the voice and then the face of the woman.

"Nat?" you utter in disbelief.

Natasha stands before you, a soft smile gracing her features as she greets you.

“Hey, Y/n.”

Abandoning everything in your hands, you rush towards her, only to stop short of barreling into her when you remember how she felt about her personal space.

To your surprise, Natasha pulls you into her arms for a tight hug, breaking the barrier herself.

Momentarily stunned, you quickly recover and return her warm embrace, tucking your head against her shoulder and letting out a breath of disbelief that she’s actually here in front of you.

The two of you stay in that position, reveling in your reunion with each other, before Natasha breaks the silence with a soft murmur against your shoulder.

“So, about that haircut?”

You chuckle, nodding in response to her request.

As Natasha settles into a chair, you move to secure the salon, locking the door and closing the blinds, shielding the two of you from prying eyes.

Despite the late hour and remote location, you’re not taking any chances.

Even though it has been years since you last saw Natasha in person, that doesn’t mean you didn’t eventually discover who she really was, recognizing her immediately through the news during the attack in New York and now with her current predicament.

But that’s her business.

You’re not going to bring it up unless she wants to talk about it.

Here in this moment, she's not a spy or the Black Widow. She’s simply Natasha, your friend.

And right now, she wants to change her hair.

Taking your position behind her, you place your hands on the back of the chair and meet her eyes in the mirror.

“So, what are we thinking?”

Natasha ponders for a moment before a teasing grin lights up her face, and she turns her head to look at you.

"We could attempt the platinum blonde again, maybe without the blue this time?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a laugh of disbelief at the memory of your past failed attempt at dyeing her hair.

Before you begin, you give her the same questioning look as when you were younger, silently asking for permission to touch her.

A small smile forms on her face at the familiar request, and Natasha nods to you before facing forward once again to give you access to her hair.

With her consent, your fingers gently thread through her hair, delicately brushing out the tangled areas as you go.

As you continue your actions, Natasha’s eyes flutter closed, and a relaxed expression crosses her face as the tension in her shoulder eases with every movement.

A happy smile tugs at your lips when you see this, so you continue your soothing actions as you inspect the condition of her hair.

“What did you do?” you ask in concern when you realize the state of her hair. “The ends are all burnt up. Did you light your hair on fire or something?”

Natasha chuckles lightly, her eyes still closed as she responds.

“Not exactly. I jumped off an exploding secret evil base that was floating in the sky.”

A brief pause follows as you process her words before you release a huff of disbelief at her casual explanation.

“Well, obviously one of us has chosen the more exciting career.”

You finish your assessment of the extent of damage to her hair before shaking your head with a resigned sigh.

“I don’t think these are salvageable. We might need to cut most of it off.”

“That’s fine,” Natasha answers calmly, unconcerned by the news.

“Seriously?” you ask, making sure she sees the length of how short her hair will be.

She meets your eyes in the mirror and gives you a reassuring nod.

“It’s not like I haven’t had that style before,” Natasha reasons before letting out a tired sigh. “Besides, a different look for me is probably better at the moment anyway.”

Understanding what she’s referring to, you don’t press further, replying with a soft, “Okay.”

You proceed with the transformation, draping a cape around Natasha’s shoulders before delicately combing through her hair.

With each snip of the scissors, you work meticulously with care, shaping Natasha’s hair into a style that would best complement her features.

Lost in your task, you can’t help but be captivated by her beauty, understanding how she came to be described as the spy who captures the hearts of all those who encounter her.

As you finish up with the haircut, the peaceful atmosphere of the moment is shattered by an alert from the tv, interrupting the currently airing program.

The late-night news anchor appears on the screen, delivering the all-too-familiar message that has become a nightly ritual.

“The search efforts are still ongoing for the fugitives Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, also known as Captain America and the Black Widow. The two are currently on the run for violation of the Sokovia Accords. Any information regarding their possible whereabouts should be reported to—”

With a frown, you swiftly reach for the remote and shut off the tv.

Turning back, your frown deepens when you find Natasha rising from the chair.

“What are you doing?” you question, puzzled by her sudden action.

Natasha shakes her head with a grave expression as she removes the cape from her shoulders.

“This was reckless. I shouldn’t be here,” she answers, her voice filled with regret. “I’m just putting you at risk.”

Realizing her intention to leave because of the possible dangers of her presence, you interject firmly when she strides past you toward the exit.

"I'm glad that you did."

Your unexpected words cause her to pause in her tracks, confusion flickering across her face as she turns to meet your gaze.

"I don't care about the risks, Nat," you say, your tone unwavering and softening with a small smile at her.

“I’m glad that I got a chance to see you again.”

Natasha’s eyes widen slightly at your words, but a hesitant look still remains on her face, so you offer another reassurance.

“If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve told you to go already.”

Her gaze focuses on you in contemplation, and you know she’s almost convinced, prompting you to continue, your hand turning the chair around to her in invitation.

“Besides, I’m not finished yet. I still have to dye your hair and show you that I can get the color right this time,” you tease lightly.

A small smile tugs at Natasha’s lips, and a hint of amusement appears in her eyes as they soften into a fond look at you.

With one final contemplative glance to the exit, Natasha comes to a decision and gives in, settling back into the seat again.

“Alright, show me what you got.”

With her permission granted, you proceed with the dyeing process, your fingers moving with practiced ease as you bleach and tone her hair, removing the remnants of her signature vibrant red locks, before applying the blonde dye.

Your brows furrowed in concentration as you carefully coat each strand of her hair to ensure an even color in the end.

Meanwhile, throughout the process, Natasha watches you intently through the mirror, a tiny admiring smile pulls at the corner of her lips when she sees how focused you are on your work.

Once all that’s left is to wait for the dye to set, you disappear into the back of the salon in search of some snacks and return triumphantly with a tub of ice cream.

Offering Natasha a spoon with a playful grin, you both indulge in the sweet treat, the casual banter flowing effortlessly between you as if the years apart had never existed.

“So do you still live in the same neighborhood?” Natasha asks between spoonfuls.

You shake your head, explaining, “My parents are still there, but I moved out here years ago after fixing up this building for myself. My place is actually next door, though sometimes it’s hard to tell these are two separate buildings. You have no idea how many packages I end up never receiving because the mailman can’t find my home.”

The two of you share a laugh and continue reminiscing about past adventures and mishaps and then about your current lives.

Throughout the entire time, your questions to her remain light-hearted, carefully avoiding any mention of her current situation or her mysterious past.

Despite the happy atmosphere, your consideration for her only makes the sense of guilt within Natasha grow with each passing moment, reminding her of what she put you through.

Eventually, the room falls into a comfortable quiet as you clean up the empty containers and move to throw them away.

When you return, Natasha decides to address her mistakes and the role she played in the fracture of your friendship.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

You look at her with a perplexed look, tilting your head in confusion.

“For what?” you ask.

“For not telling you who I was…for leaving without any warning,” she confesses, her eyes closing briefly with remorse. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You lean back against the counter, arms crossed, your gaze dropping to the floor as you contemplate her words. Your thoughts and feelings about her apology remain inscrutable on your face.

After a brief pause, you finally meet her gaze again with a serious expression.

“Was it real?” you ask.

At your question, Natasha furrows her brows in confusion, causing you to elaborate.

“Our friendship,” you clarify, gesturing between the two of you. “All the times we spent together…was it real?”

Natasha pauses as she thinks back to her time undercover. The mission was to pose as a normal family to infiltrate and gather intel from a research lab nearby.

That didn’t necessarily mean she needed to form such a close relationship with you at the time.

So was her friendship with you genuinely her choice?

As Natasha contemplates her answer, you take a step closer to her, causing her focus to return back to you.

“The way I remember it, I wanted to be your friend,” you admit before giving her a knowing look. “And I’m guessing you didn’t have to be mine, at least based on all your brooding and glares that you gave me in the beginning.”

Natasha grimaces sadly at the memory of how distant and cold she was initially before giving you a curious look.

“So why did you try to become friends with me?”

You shrug, a nostalgic expression appearing on your face. You recall the first time you spotted the lone girl curled up into herself underneath the shelter of the branches of the trees.

“When I first saw you, you just…looked like you needed somebody on your side for once,” you admit softly before tilting your head at her. “And I thought… maybe I could be that person for you.”

Natasha’s mouth parts slightly in surprise at your answer. Before she can respond, her stunned silence is abruptly broken by the sound of the timer.

With a gentle shake of your head, you return your focus to her hair, positioning yourself behind her.

“You don't have to apologize, Natasha,” you assure her, your voice steady and comforting, as you delicately begin to unwrap her hair.

“Odds are I would’ve still chosen to be your friend whether I knew if you were a spy or not. And as for leaving…”

You recline her chair, her head now hovering above the washing station, as you let out a soft sad sigh and begin washing her hair.

“People come and go throughout our lives all of the time. And most of the time, we can’t stop it from happening.”

Your voice wavers slightly, the memories of the devastation you felt when you found out Natasha had left come flooding back.

Even though she wants to, Natasha can’t see what kind of expression you have on your face, your hand covering her eyes to shield the water from her face.

Shaking off the sad memory, you dry her hair and reposition Natasha upright. Your fingers glide through her newly shortened locks, combing them as you continue with a lighter and more upbeat tone.

“But the one thing we can do is hope that the people who truly mean something to us are the ones we’ll get to see again.”

Satisfied with the results of Natasha’s new hairstyle, your hands settle on the back of the chair, turning it so she faces the mirror.

Bending down, your head hovers beside hers as you meet her eyes in the reflection.

“And look, I got to see you again, didn’t I?” you say with a happy grin.

Natasha is stunned, her heart warmed by your words. She gazes at her reflection, admiring her new look, but her eyes keep returning to you, your words still echoing in her mind.

Oblivious to her awed stares at you, you return your focus to brushing her hair and examining it proudly.

“Do you like it?” you ask eagerly with anticipation when you finally look up back at her.

“Yeah,” Natasha responds honestly, her gaze fixed on you. “I do.”

You give her a beaming smile at her answer, causing the corners of Natasha’s lip to quirk up fondly at the sight.

After you do your finishing touches and declare that she’s done, Natasha stands from the chair and reaches into her pockets for the remaining money she still has on hand.

“How much do I owe?”

You wave your hand in refusal, shaking your head.

“Nothing, consider it a gift from a friend,” you insist, giving her a resolute expression, daring her to argue.

Huffing lightly under her breath at your determination, Natasha gives you a small smile as she relents with a soft, “Thank you.”

Her eyes glance at the darkness outside, seeing how late into the night it is, and she turns back to you, tilting her head in question.

“Can I at least walk you home then?” she offers.

You raise an amused brow at her, probably because your home most likely only takes less than a couple minutes walk from here.

Still, you agree to her request with a nod, unable to resist the opportunity to prolong this time together with her.

“Alright. Let me just close up.”

After you lock the shop, the two of you walk side by side along the sidewalk to your home before you suddenly stop and point to the lone motorcycle parked across the street.

“Is that yours?” you ask curiously.

“Yes, it is,” Natasha says proudly.

“It’s nice,” you compliment before you shoot her a teasing smirk. “It’s definitely cooler than that bicycle you used to ride.”

Natasha lets out a playful offended scoff in disbelief.

“Hey, you’ve always loved it when I let you ride on the back of that bike with me,” she points out.

You chuckle at her exclamation in defense of her precious bicycle, but you don’t deny her accusation.

Your heart warms at the memory of wrapping your arms around her waist, clinging to her from behind as Natasha rides her bicycle down the neighborhood streets.

Your eyes linger on her hand at her side, wanting to feel that warmth again, but you resist the urge to reach for her. Instead, you tuck your hands behind your back as the two of you continue your path.

Once you reach your front door, you turn back around to face Natasha, a somber expression settling over you.

“Will you ever come to visit again?” you ask with a tinge of hope in your tone.

Natasha hesitates, wanting to tell you ‘yes,’ but she knows better than to make promises that she can’t keep, especially with her current situation.

“I don’t know,” Natasha answers honestly in a soft whisper.

You dip your head slightly, a sad smile on your lip.

Natasha swallows her own desires in her heart and gestures awkwardly behind her.

“I should…probably get going before someone sees me,” she says with a small grimace.

You nod at her in understanding, moving to unlock and open your door.

“Stay safe, Natasha,” you tell her, your voice thick with longing. “If anything, I do hope I’ll get the chance to see you again one day.”

When you enter your home and close the door with a dull thud of finality, Natasha's hand rests gently against the solid barrier separating you.

Leaning her forehead against the cool wood, she whispers sadly, "Me too,” before finally turning away.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2018 (2 Months Later)

It was late one evening again when the bell above the door chimed just as you were cleaning up for the day. Looking up, a surprised and excited expression forms on your face when you see who it is.

“Can you take one more?” Natasha asks, a small smile also appearing on her face when she sees you.

With a light chuckle, you approach her, your hands clasped behind your back.

“For you, always,” you reply warmly, stopping in front of her with a fond tilt of your head.

Natasha bites her lips lightly to keep her grin from widening at your words. Just as she’s about to step closer, a gentle knock on the door behind her reminds her of her original reason for coming to see you.

“Actually, it’s not for me though,” Natasha explains before opening the door again and waving someone in.

A brown-haired girl cautiously steps into the salon at Natasha’s invitation. Her eyes look around, examining the room before falling on you with a wary gaze.

“This is Wanda,” Natasha introduces.

The girl gives you a timid wave in greeting from her crossed arm, but she subtly retreats to a position slightly behind Natasha.

Her expression is pinched with apprehension as if she’s anticipating some sort of reaction from you.

You recognize Wanda quickly from the nightly tv alerts, her picture now featured alongside Natasha’s after the news broke about a high-security prison break a month ago.

Before you can offer her some reassurance, another familiar face walks in.

“The perimeter is secure,” the man announces before focusing on you and extending his hand in a greeting. “Hello, I’m Steve.”

Reacting instinctively to his polite greeting, you shake his hand and introduce yourself.

“Hi, my name’s Y/n. I’m Natasha’s friend.”

Steve raises a brow at that and gives you a skeptical look.

“Just a friend? With the way Nat talks about you, I thought she was going to pull the same move as Barton and introduce us to her secret family.”

That draws a curious look from you as you ask him.

“What did she say?”

“Well—”

A loud cough from Natasha interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention before he can continue further.

Natasha’s subtle glare silences Steve, her arms crossed in disapproval, as she grits out to him, “Didn’t you say you wanted to see if you could find a place to resupply?”

Hearing this and wanting to offer some help, you raise your hand to get their attention and interject, “Most places around here are closed at this time, but…”

You pause as you go to the back and retrieve your keys and offer them to Steve, explaining, “...there is a convenience store around the corner that belongs to my ex’s grandparents. They gave me a spare key for if I ever need something. Just write down what you take and leave the money behind the counter. Oh, and the security cameras don’t actually work, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Steve takes the keys from you with a grateful nod.

“Thank you, this’ll help us out a lot.”

He then turns to Natasha and Wanda.

“I'll meet up with you two when you finish up here then,” he says, heading towards the door.

“I can come help you,” Wanda offers, moving to follow Steve, but Natasha blocks her path with a knowing expression.

“You said you wanted to change your look since we’ll be going into hiding,” she reminds Wanda who twists her lips in disappointment when she realizes she failed to escape.

“I didn’t think that meant we would be forcing someone to do it for me,” Wanda says, still glancing at you with apprehension.

You wave your hand in reassurance, interjecting quickly, “Oh, I don’t mind. Natasha’s not forcing me to do this. I’m happy to help.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Steve declares with an acknowledging nod to you. “Thanks again, Y/n.”

After a pointed gesture from Natasha, Wanda settles into one of the chairs with a small sigh.

Natasha leans against the counter facing you and Wanda as you move to your position behind the chair.

“So, what color did you want to dye your hair?” you ask her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wanda replies with a resigned tone, her eyes downcasted and focused on her hands in her lap.

You frown slightly in concern at her defeated attitude, and you look at Natasha, giving her a meaningful look.

“What do you think, Natasha? I believe I got some new colors recently. Maybe purple or green would fit her,” you ponder out loud as if actually considering those options.

Wanda’s head shoots up in shock as she sputters incredulously, “Green?”

Natasha grins, catching on to your intentions, as she shrugs casually at your suggestions, adding, “You could never go wrong with blue.”

You laugh at her comment, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Wanda says quickly, a hint of exasperation in her voice. She points seriously at the two of you. “No to all those. I don’t want it to be that big of a change.”

Her voice lowers to a sad but determined tone.

“I don’t want it to be as if they succeeded in forcing me to change who I am,” Wanda admits as she stares down at her hands where a red ball of mist flows between her fingers in a gentle pattern.

“Well, the great thing about changing your hair is that ultimately whatever you decide, it’s your choice to make,” you say, your gaze meeting Natasha’s slightly widened eyes, before continuing firmly, “No one can take that decision from you.”

Wanda contemplates your words for a moment and then nods at you decisively.

“Can you lighten my hair into an auburn color?” she asks.

You give her a gentle smile and nod, replying, “Alright then. Auburn it is.”

Before you touch her hair, you give her a questioning look and ask, “Are you comfortable for me to touch your hair and start?”

Wanda blinks at you in surprise, and her tense posture relaxes slightly when she realizes you’re asking for her permission.

With a nod, she responds softly, “Go ahead.”

As you work on Wanda’s hair, Natasha watches you intently with a fond look in her eyes, lost in her thoughts at the sight of you and glad that she had this opportunity to see you again.

Before she knows it, you’re already finishing up applying the last coatings of the dye on Wanda’s hair when you suddenly speak up.

“You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for redheads,” you state casually before meeting Natasha’s eyes with a teasing smile.

“Are you trying to say that you don’t have a soft spot for me now that I’m blonde?” Natasha asks with an amused raise of a brow.

You shrug nonchalantly and hum in thought as if having to contemplate the answer.

Natasha huffs in disbelief and rolls her eyes slightly at you.

However, your words remind her of what you mentioned earlier to Steve, and Natasha can’t help but ask curiously.

“Was your ex also a redhead?” she asks, her tone seemingly casual.

“Impressive, your deduction skills as a spy must be really good,” you tease, chuckling lightly, as you return your focus to Wanda’s hair.

“The two of you must’ve been pretty serious for their grandparents to still trust you like that,” Natasha says, unable to hide the slight bitterness of the thought slipping into her tone.

You laugh and shake your head quickly in denial.

“No, definitely not. She moved away years ago, and our relationship didn’t really end on good terms. My close relationship with her grandparents is kind of like my revenge on her. Plus, they’re actually a sweet old couple.”

“Oh,” Natasha says, a small breath of relief releasing from her.

“I’m not really seeing anyone at the moment,” you admit softly.

“Natasha’s single too,” Wanda chimes in, her focus originally on the sitcom playing on the tv but now looking between the two of you with interest.

“That’s a surprise,” you say with a laugh as you go into the back to retrieve some things.

Natasha chuckles lightly as you leave before giving Wanda the same warning glare that she gave Steve. Unfazed, Wanda just gestures with her head encouragingly in your direction.

However, Natasha shakes her head resolutely in a silent reply to her, and before Wanda can attempt to convince her further, you come back and begin doing the last steps on Wanda’s hair.

With one final brush of Wanda’s newly red hair, you declare happily, “All finished.”

“Thanks, Y/n,” Wanda says as she stands from the chair and goes to examine her hair in the mirror.

You watch as a small smile appears on her face, and you let out a breath of relief, glad to finally see Wanda in a moment of happiness.

Natasha comes up next to you and holds out some money in an offer.

“Thank you for doing this,” Natasha says.

You shake your head in refusal, your hands folded behind you as you face her.

“I’m sure you all need this more than I do,” you say resolutely.

Natasha chuckles lightly and huffs in disbelief.

“You know, you can’t always give me free passes like this every time. You should be paid for your work,” Natasha points out.

You hum in thought before tilting your head at her with a questioning look.

“How about dinner?” you suggest.

A surprised expression appears on Natasha’s face, but she hesitates to answer, facing the same situation again of wanting to accept your offer, but a beep at her side along with the message that comes with it reminds her why she can’t.

“Steve’s on his way back. I have to take Wanda back to the safe house and then we’re moving right after,” she explains sadly with regret. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Nat. I know,” you say gently in understanding, taking a small step back from her and changing your tone into one lighter.

“But if you’re ever in the area again, you’re always welcome here.”

You turn to look at Wanda, adding, “All of you.”

“Can I walk you back home at least?” Natasha asks.

Before you can respond, the sound of a car pulling up outside catches your attention, and based on Natasha’s disappointed expression, you know that’s probably Steve.

“It’s okay, Natasha. You can go,” you reassure her, offering a comforting smile.

Wanda gives you a small wave goodbye as she exits, but Natasha lingers at the door, her gaze fixed on you.

“About before…” she starts before hesitating and trailing off into silence as she presses her lips together in contemplation.

When her shoulder drops slightly in defeat and disappointment, you know she’s decided against whatever she’s about to say.

“You can just tell me later,” you suggest. “You know, whenever I get to see you again.”

Though you both know that you don’t know when that’ll be.

“Right,” Natasha agrees, her smile tinged with sadness as she gives you one last glance and moving to leave. “I’ll see you next time, Y/n.”

After closing up, you head home, the events of the evening replaying in your mind.

Though the goodbye was bittersweet, you’re still happy you got a chance to see Natasha again so soon and even meet the other important people in her life.

As you step out of your bathroom, just finished with a shower, a knock on your door interrupts your thoughts.

You check who it is before quickly unlocking and opening the door for them.

“Hey…” Natasha’s voice trails off, her gaze taking in your appearance.

Remnants of water from the shower still remain on your exposed skin since you decided to wear some light clothing to counter the warm temperature outside.

Leaning against the doorway, you greet her with a curious tilt of your head at her sudden silence.

“Hey,” you reply in greeting.

Natasha shakes her head lightly as if coming out of a daze and gestures in a direction behind her.

“So, uh, Steve said that he can take Wanda back to the safe house. She really loves her hair by the way. Um, she also told me that I should..uh..I should see you again before we leave…”

Your lips twitch in amusement at Natasha’s endearing ramble, your gaze softening as you continue to listen.

“…but it looks like you’re probably about to go to sleep, so I should just go,” Natasha concludes, turning to leave.

“Wait,” you call out, your hand instinctively reaching towards her, but you stop yourself before you touch her, your hand retracting back to your side, a mixture of hesitation and longing in your movements.

Natasha pauses at your request, and when she sees your hesitating action, her features soften in understanding.

Stepping back closer to you, she extends her hand in invitation.

“You can touch me, Y/n,” Natasha reassures you. “I never have a problem if it’s you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, touched by her trust.

Tentatively, you reach out, your hand finding hers, before checking for any signs of discomfort but end up seeing none from her.

Your hand then trails up lightly to her shoulder and then to the back of her neck, your fingers play with the strands of her short hair as you watch her carefully.

Natasha closes her eyes at your touch, the same serene expression appearing on her face as before.

Seeing this, you bring your other hand to cup her cheek as you urge gently.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me earlier?”

Natasha opens her eyes and meets your gaze with an affectionate look, her hand moving up to hold the back of yours as she responds.

“That it was real,” she confesses softly.

You furrow your brows lightly in confusion, prompting Natasha to clarify.

“Your question from before,” she explains. “It was real for me too.”

Natasha lets out a shaky breath as she continues, “I loved that I had you on my side back then, and the truth is…I’d love to have you by my side now.”

Surprised by her admission, you search her eyes but only find genuine warmth and sincerity in her gaze.

Natasha’s smile softens, and you find yourself drawn to her at the action, unconsciously leaning in closer.

Even though Natasha gave you permission earlier to touch her, this desire that you have is different, so you give her the same questioning look that you always have before and ask hesitantly in a breathless whisper.

“Can I kiss you?”

Natasha chuckles lightly under her breath at your question, resting her forehead against yours.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

With a gentle pull, you close the small distance between the two of you, sharing a tender kiss with her. Her lips are soft against yours, fitting perfectly and enveloping you with the same warmth that you've always felt from her.

When you finally pull away, your breath still mingling with hers, Natasha gives you a teasing grin.

“So, about that dinner?”

Laughing, you roll your eyes fondly and wrap your arms around her to pull her into your home.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2018 (2 Years Later)

The soft rustling of movement reaches your ears, pulling you from your sleep. You glance at the clock on the nightstand, its dim glow showing the late hour, before turning your gaze to the familiar figure standing beside the bed, quietly slipping her shirt over her frame with practiced ease.

“Nat?”

At the sound of your voice, Natasha turns back to you, her expression reassuring as she moves to sit beside you. Her hand rests gently on your shoulder, stopping you when she sees that you’re about to sit up.

“Go back to sleep, moya lyubov,” Natasha whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Wanda and Vision missed their check-in, so Steve and I are just going to check up on them real quick.”

A flicker of unease flares within you at the news, coupled with the realization that Natasha intends to go straight toward potential unknown dangers.

Your hand reaches out and grips her arms, a surge of unsettling fear tightening in your chest.

“Natasha, don’t…”

Don’t go

The words are trapped in your throat as you stare at her.

Holding your gaze, Natasha’s eyes reflect both love and determination.

Love for you…and for her makeshift family.

And as much as you wish for her safety, you know you can’t keep her from her loyalty and duty to them.

With a bittersweet smile, you cradle her face in your hands, suppressing the selfish urge to ask her to stay.

“Don’t take too long to come back,” you manage, a hint of teasing in your voice as you catch a strand of her blonde hair in your hand. “We wouldn’t want your hair to be two different colors by the time you return.”

Natasha chuckles lightly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

“It’s going to be a quick trip. I’ll be back soon,” she promises.

You pull her close, giving her another lingering kiss, before wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug and tucking your head against her shoulder.

“And I’ll be here when you do,” you whisper against her in a promise in return.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2023 (5 Years Later)

In the quiet solitude of the salon, Natasha stands alone, the weight of the five years after the snap hangs heavy in the air.

A mixture of exhaustion and sorrow is etched on her face as she examines the space.

With a weary sigh, she rubs at her eyes, wiping away the stray tears at the memories of you. She remembers vividly her last moments with you, your unspoken words to her.

The truth is she knew, deep down, what you were about to say to her at that time. And she understood why you stopped yourself.

Because if you had asked her not to go, she would’ve chosen to stay with you without any hesitation.

Seating herself in one of the chairs, Natasha meets her reflection in the mirror with unwavering determination.

Her hair has grown out to its former length over the past five years. Yet, traces of the dyed parts you did for her still linger at the tips.

Those strands of blonde color are her lifeline — a connection to the part of her life that she holds dear.

They serve as a constant reminder to keep going.

To keep fighting for a way to bring everyone back.

To bring you back.

Because amidst all the uncertainties of the world and the future, one thing remains steadfast in Natasha’s heart — she would do anything to see you again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n : Thank you for reading!

Part 2

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