#I mean this is nowhere near over but at least things seem to be going on the right direction

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.

“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.

Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.

It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.

“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.

You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.

You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”

Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.

“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.

“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.

You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.

If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.

He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.

“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”

He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.

“Can you take me to my room?”

He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.

“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.

His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.

“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.

A break. You want a break.

The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.

Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.

Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.

“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.

“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost laugh.

“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.

You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.

Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.

‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.

While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.

This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.

Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.

Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?

Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.

You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.

“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.

“…What?”

“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.

“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-

Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.

You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.

And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.

…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.

Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.

You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.

Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.

The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.

You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?

You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.

The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.

This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.

Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.

There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.

This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.

The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.

Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.

Of all fucking… George.

You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.

Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.

He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.

You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.

‘You’: Why are you contacting me?

‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.

Stupidly, you reply:

‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’

You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.

No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.

You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.

You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.

You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.

You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.

‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?

Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.

You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.

“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”

There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.

Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.

And you can’t find your voice.

It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.

Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.

You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.

Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.

George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.

…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.

“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.

“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.

The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.

You included.

Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.

George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.

“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.

You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.

“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.

You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.

…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.

He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.

And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.

George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.

Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?

Well, of course, it started biting.

George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-

You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.

“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”

“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.

He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”

“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.

You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.

He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.

“I bought it. That’s mine.”

“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.

This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.

“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.

“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.

“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.

Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.

You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.

The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.

What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.

But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.

So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.

You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?

…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.

The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.

You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.

‘You’: I miss them.

‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.

You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.

You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.

And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.

What you settle on is simple.

‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.

‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[pearlfeline]

truth or dare

pairing: draco malfoy x female reader

word count: 1,228

summary: slytherins throw a party and play truth or dare. draco can't seem to play correctly when it comes to you, blaise becomes a wingman, and to pansy, you're a sleepy nerd.

a/n: ughhh i don't really like this because a party just seems so unrealistic to me lol. every time i see those scenarios it doesn't seem convincing to me at all. i didn't add copious amounts of drinks and partying to this because i truly think despite them being who they are, the most they would do is share a bottle together as a small group and not throw a party because they dislike mostly everyone. also, they're still kids. sorry if that ruins the entire thing and this sucks!!! although, i really liked the idea of draco not being able to bring himself to give you a mean dare like he would to the rest of his friends. enjoy.

Your nose was deep in a book when you heard a faint jingling.

“Mrrph..”

You look behind you and see your cat swatting at the window. Your owl was here.

“Oh, Pluto leave that poor bird alone.” You get up and take the parchment from your owl’s beak.

“Thank you, Buttons.”

Buttons blinks once before flying out swiftly.

Once you unravel the parchment, you recognize the handwriting instantly.

“Small party in the common room tomorrow night. Don’t tell the stupid Gryffindors and just come downstairs for once. P.S. Don’t sleep right after dinner like an old crone and attend. I’m tired of talking to the same buffoons every day.”

You roll your eyes. Of course, he sends a letter over something he could’ve told you in passing.

“Wanker.” You mumbled, tossing the letter on your bed.

Of course, you’ll attend but there’s no reason to act giddy about it. At least on the outside. How you feel on the inside is nobody’s business surely.

The next day, you expect to walk into the common room with a circle of a few people, but you were met with bottles scattered across the floor.

Draco’s platinum hair stands out immediately despite the lights being dimmed.

“So you took my advice and stayed awake until curfew! Must be a new record for the old miss.” Draco chuckles to himself.

“Quite the dramatic invitation.” You look around and see scared first years peering through the steps.

“Is this your idea of a small party?”

Draco shrugged. “It’s just Slytherins. Whoever chooses to come is invited.”

“Obviously they’re going to show. Everybody who’s here loves to kiss up to the famous Draco Malfoy.”

Draco smirked.

“Not everybody” Blaise comes out of nowhere, sipping whatever from his cup.

“Do you not see how bad of an idea this is? The first years are trying to sleep.”

Blaise nods. “I didn’t want it to be this big either… or this loud.”

Draco rolls his eyes, giving a firm slap to Blaise’s shoulder. “Lighten up Zabini. It’s just a little over thirty people. Not my fault that’s twice as many people you know.”

Blaise takes that as his cue to get another drink and shakes his head before breaking away.

“Pansy is whining about playing truth or dare. Are you coming or not?” Draco’s eyes flick to the dorms.

“You threw a party just so we could all go upstairs and ignore it?”

“Somebody had to bring the drinks.” Draco walks past you, ironically slipping a bit on the steps. The younger kids move out of the way, scurrying back to their own rooms, trying to avoid a lecture out of fear.

You reluctantly follow Draco to his dorm room. Pansy and everyone else were already comfortably lounging, laughing about someone’s misfortune if you had to guess. Blaise followed quickly behind you, shutting the door.

“What happened?” He sits down near Pansy, who was obviously tipsy already.

“Truth or dare Zabini..” She giggles.

Blaise sighs. “Truth.”

You settle down on the corner of Draco’s bed, admittedly excited about the outcome of Blaise’s choice.

Draco sits on the floor, not before putting his sweater where he wanted to sit.

“…Boring… But fine.” Pansy, previously laying on her stomach, sits up and ponders a good question before smiling mischievously.

“Who in this room would you most likely snog..?”

Blaise pauses for a brief moment. “Pansy if you wanted to you should’ve just asked me.”

Pansy face-plants into her hands, groaning. Though, you had a feeling she was smiling under there.

After a few turns, it was eventually Draco’s turn.

“Y/L/N. Pick one.”

“Dare.”

Draco smiles at your answer but it soon fades as he thinks of what to say next.

“You should..”

The circle exchanges looks with one another.

“I dare you to…” Draco’s eyes dart around the room.

“Chug your drink…” Draco muttered.

“I.. I never got a drink.” You replied.

Blaise gives Draco a sympathetic look, before handing you his cup. “Here.”

You hesitantly take the cup.

Goyle furrows his eyebrows. “Malfoy, you just made me sneak outside and bang on Gryffindor’s entryway, why is her dare so-“

“Shut up.” He snapped.

You start to sip an already half-drunken cup, grimacing at the taste.

You hold it all in your cheeks, shaking your head in pain.

“You’ve got to swallow it eventually love.” Blaise takes back the cup cautiously.

You could only manage a squeak in response before forcing it down in an excruciating gulp.

“Not a fan?” Pansy laughed.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be…”

Draco purses his lips to hide his smile, suddenly finding that looking down at his shoes and playing with the laces was worth occupying his time. Despite looking forward to this very scenario all day, he couldn’t bring himself to give you a humiliating dare.

“I don’t know how you all drink that stuff so often.” You smack your lips, still tasting the remnants of whatever drink it was.

“Was that your first drink?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Of course it was. I don’t have access to these… alcohols…” You shrink slightly at how inexperienced and awkward you sounded.

Draco only scoffs. “We’ll, no wonder you couldn’t even chug.”

You glare at him, shoving him lightly. “There wasn’t even enough for me to possibly do that.”

“You looked like a newborn deer trying to drink from its first puddle.” Pansy let out a cackle before covering her mouth.

You close your eyes before rolling back into the bed, grabbing a pillow to shove into your face. It took you a moment to realize you weren’t in your own bed.

Draco’s smell of shampoo seeps through the pillow and into your nose. You flinch slightly but keep the pillow there, wanting to still hide from everyone. Though the mixed smell of fresh laundry and rosewood was an added bonus.

Pansy slaps the foot hanging off Draco’s bed.

“Ow!” You muffle through the pillow.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already!”

Honestly, you were getting tiresome. You rarely stay up and sinking back into a bed didn’t help. You didn’t respond and just closed your eyes.

Blaise looks over at Draco, trying to basically have a telepathic conversation. They both somehow understood each other perfectly.

“Pansy I think we should go to your room and finish where we left off.” Blaise holds his cup with his teeth, one hand pulling her away and the other opening the door.

Draco’s other minions just stared blankly, completely oblivious to what he was implying.

“Get out.” Draco quietly hissed, making them jump and rush out, almost squeezing into Blaise and Pansy between the door frame. All mumble incoherently trying to push each other.

In between this time, you actually did doze off. Draco turns back around to hear your breathing slightly get heavier as if you were on the verge of snoring. He sighs, lifting the pillow off your face and placing it under your head.

“I bet Dumbledore sleeps later than you.” He mumbled.

Draco pulls the blanket from under you and tucks you in. He could’ve almost burst out laughing by how you sleep so easily, but he decides against waking you up after Blaise basically gave him two favors tonight. Draco slumps onto Blaise’s bed, staying up as long as he could, making sure you were able to sleep uninterruptedly throughout the night.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #fanfic #hp fandom #malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #slytherin #gryffindor #hufflepuff #hogwarts #ravenclaw #draco fic #draco malfoy x you #pearlfeline

[bloompompom]

rebounding; one-shot

“Don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”

✧ content: ~10.5k words. eren jaeger x female reader. modern/roommate au. reader is dumped by unnamed boyfriend for "plot" purposes (what plot?), lighthearted with slight hurt/comfort + angst, complicated feelings, pure filth, eren’s bad with emotions but so are you, rough sex, praise, dirty talk, 'pretty girl' as a pet name, mentions of masturbation, light overstimulation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only

It was little more than a passing thought when Eren realized he hadn’t seen you since he’d been home. It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, considering your boyfriend’s shoes strewn near the front door—Eren tripped over one earlier—but he thought you would have come out for a snack or a trip to the bathroom or something by now.

Perhaps it was best to give you two some privacy.

On his way out, he opted to text you instead of knocking on your door to check if you needed anything. He took his time gathering his wallet and keys, but even after a few minutes, you still hadn’t opened the message. He got the hint, loud and clear. 

The five-minute drive to the corner store didn’t eat up much time, and Eren spent the first half of the hour trying to figure out how to kill the next. He stalled for as long as he could, running down his mental checklist for household essentials and uselessly debating between soda brands. But after a while, he started to feel like a weirdo for stalking every aisle twice over. 

Eren didn’t like to be at the apartment when he was there, your boyfriend. It wasn’t anything personal—

Okay, maybe he could admit it was a little personal. Eren had told you before that he was a major douchebag, but hey, at least he was honest.

Anyway, it wasn’t like anyone wanted to be around when their roommate was getting laid, but Eren had nowhere else to go and a gas tank bordering on empty. He couldn’t even take the long way back home. 

Somewhere in his gut, Eren hoped you’d be there to greet him when he returned. Not for any special reason; he was just bored. What was the point of having a roommate if they were always locked away in their bedroom? 

Of course, you’d only been ‘locked away’ for a handful of hours, but that was like an eternity to Eren—always one for dramatics. For him, it was an ordinary Tuesday night, with nothing to see or do except wait until he was tired enough to sleep. He couldn’t even enjoy his show because you scolded him for putting on an episode while you were out. ‘I can’t believe you watched our show without me!’ He wasn’t sure when the ‘our show’ thing started because it didn’t even seem like you paid it any attention.

Unfortunately for him, when Eren stepped through the front door, you weren’t curled in your usual nook on the couch. Your boyfriend’s shoes were still annoyingly kicked to the side, and not a single thing had changed since he left. The apartment wasn’t that spacious, and it didn’t take long to learn the walls were about as thin as cardboard, which made the silence eerie as Eren slipped from his shoes. Even the metallic clang of his keys on the table felt out of place, like he was walking on eggshells in his own home. Something was off. 

Before he could put his finger on it—before he could even crack open his bottle of soda—he discerned the first sign of life from your room. Shouting, but Eren couldn’t pick out if it belonged to you or him.

Your bedroom door swung open. Eren didn’t see it but heard the swoosh of it, the rickety wood shrieking in its hinges. Your boyfriend stormed down the hallway, shoulders tensed and hands drawn into fists at his side. What did Eren say about him being a douchebag again?

Then, he shot Eren this glare. This downright nasty glare for no good reason, flagrantly huffing and puffing his way to snatch his jacket. He was rough with it, leaving the chair wobbling but still upright. 

Prickly, and merely seconds away from acting on it, Eren’s disgust curled at his lip to return the sneer. But the asshole was out the door—even made sure to slam it behind him—before Eren could ask what the hell his problem was.

The apartment went quiet again. The door stopped quavering and the room was still. Though your boyfriend was gone, the strangely thick, suffocating air lingered. Eren didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t move, firmly planted in the center of the living room like his feet had taken root. He didn’t want to know what just happened, lest he wished to get wrapped up in your relationship drama, but he had this dreaded feeling he was about to learn regardless. Especially once the sniffling began, faint, but spilling from your room and into the hall. 

The door to your bedroom was still open. Eren grazed his knuckles against it, carefully trying to catch your attention. You saw only his head at first, tentatively poked around the corner. After he decided the coast was clear, he made himself known, loosely leaning against the doorframe like he always did when he had something to tell you.

Your instinct was to hide your face—to quickly swat away the tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was your best attempt at collecting yourself, but it was worthless because Eren had already seen the puffy-eyed look on your face.

You straightened out, uncrumpling your legs and letting them hang from the edge of the bed. You started to fumble over snot-coated words. “God, sorry. I probably look like a mess.”

Eren couldn’t begin to guess why you were apologizing, and immediately, he felt a pang of sympathy. Despite how it struck him iron-hot in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with it. His body stiffened. 

Thinking (hoping) you’d laugh, or at the very least chuckle, he didn’t disagree with you. Instead, he pitched you a boyish yet well-meant, “What’s new?”

You pulled a face but otherwise ignored the comment, reaching toward the box of tissues on your nightstand. Eren was surprised there were any left, considering you were surrounded by what appeared to be a hundred of them. Balled up and scattered across your bed, the floor, and even one on your lap. He didn’t want to, but he took a cautious step into your room. He even took another, squeamishly watching you loudly blow your nose. 

He should say something, shouldn’t he?

“So,” Eren started, rocking back on his heels once. “What happened?”

You glanced over at him, still looking pretty awful. You had smeared the streaks of mascara across the crests of your cheeks, even to your temples, tinging them like soot. Eren’s stomach seized up as he fought off his primal urge to back away slowly and retreat to his bedroom. 

You sucked in a breath and answered, “We broke up.” Between the words, your bottom lip started to quiver. “He broke up with me.”

Say what you wanted about Eren—label him a cynic or accuse him of being heartless, perhaps both—but he didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with others’ emotions. To put it bluntly, they repulsed him, most especially the waterworks that accompanied them. 

Eren averted his eyes like you were some tragic spectacle. He hated seeing you like this. It was such a bummer, no different than spotting a kitten forgotten in a rainstorm. He wished he could console you, find an umbrella and run to your rescue, but that was much more complicated than it sounded. 

If he had known about the breakup earlier (if you had responded to his text message), he would have brought you something back from the store. Ice cream or red wine—the sort of stuff he’d seen in movies—he didn’t know. Ugh.

He remembered his bottle of soda, still sealed with its condensation cooling his hand. He extended it to you, offering, “Here. You can take this if you want.”

Face buried in your palms, you pried your gaze higher and, unexpectedly, grimaced.

“What? No, I don��t want that right now,” you grumbled. Eren could be such an idiot sometimes. 

Your voice was sour enough to sting, like he had purposefully salted your brand-new wound. His face said enough—a resounding yikes—but he didn’t stop there; he continued digging his own grave. 

Eren nodded his head in the general direction of the front door. “You know, he probably hasn’t gotten too far. I could go kick his—”

“I think I just want to be left alone.”

“Well, what if we—”

“Seriously, Eren,” you snapped. “Go away.”

Tears collected in the corners of your eyes again, welling up like dew. Then your bottom lip did that trembling thing again. It must have embarrassed you; that was why you rushed to slam the door in Eren’s face. At least, that was what he told himself, rather than admit you didn’t want his help, that he was only making things worse. That maybe he was the last person you wanted to see right then.

Honestly, that might have been the case. Not just in that fleeting moment but for the days to come.

It had been over a week since that night, a very strange eleven days in the little apartment you both called home. It wasn’t like you to keep to yourself. Even when Eren first moved in, when he was little more than a stranger to you, you liked his company. You told him as such. ‘I just like to have someone to talk to. That’s all.’ And you’d do just that, chatting to pass the time it’d take to wash the dishes or whatever menial task you were up to. Eren never minded, but it did make it harder to adjust to the quiet. He could even admit he missed your unnecessary commentary while he watched TV.

He supposed it was naive of him to think you’d bounce back from a breakup after only a week. But were you really that hung up on this guy?

No, Eren was sure you were giving him the cold shoulder for badgering you less than a minute after your boyfriend had stormed out. Not that it wasn’t deserved, but for the record, you never apologized for slamming the door in his face.

Neither of you wanted to lose this childish stand-off, nor were you above butting heads, no better than a couple of rams, if given the right provocation.

To outsiders, the two of you may seem like an unlikely pair. But the reality of it was you shared this apartment for well over a year now. Eren wasn’t your original roommate, that was your friend Mikasa. After a few months of living together, she was offered an internship a few hours south of here, out of commuting range, and took it on a whim. That internship turned into her dream job, and her friend Eren’s sublease turned into one of his own, for no other reason than it just worked; it was as simple as that. 

So one could imagine why Eren had trouble wrapping his head around it. By now, it was customary, borderline a requirement of living together, for you to annoy one another. You’d poke and poke and poke, as roommates tend to, and no matter what, the other would come around. Eren always did. You always did.

But this time, even Eren’s bribes didn’t work. Not even a latte from your favorite cafe—conveniently located on his walk home from the gym—softened you. That was when he knew it was bad, worse than when you discovered he’d been snitching from your expensive hair products in the shower. It was awkward and tense and, frankly, unbearable. 

It was Saturday night, probably creeping into Sunday morning. Eren’s eyes burned, a bit bloodshot when he last checked. He took it as his sign to shut off the computer. 

You still weren’t home. Eren didn’t know where you were; he told himself he didn’t care, but his rampant curiosity said otherwise. Throughout the night, he’d excuse himself from his video game, telling his friends he’d be back in a second, and on his way to ransack the kitchen for the umpteenth time, he’d check to see if your purse had returned to its rightful spot: draped over the back of the loveseat. For whatever reason, your absence irked him.

You knew there was a chance Eren would still be awake when you came home; you just didn’t expect to bump into him. 

You stood in your entryway, your coat only halfway down your arms and sagged around your elbows, when Eren emerged from the hallway. He had a hand shielded over his squinted eyes as they adjusted to the brash overhead light. 

His white tee held the wrinkles of his bedsheets. It was an old shirt, by the look of it, its collar drooped in the front and a hemline that appeared slightly thread-barren against his charcoal sweatpants. He must have fallen asleep with his hair tied back; stray strands framed his cheekbones and curtained his lidded eyes. He blinked them a few times, hard, then let his hand slump to his side. He studied you with a judgy once-over. 

“Did you just get home?” He sounded as groggy as he looked. 

“Yeah.” It was a rather redundant question, given your current state of toying with your strappy heels, bounding around on one foot as you tried to slip free of them.

Eren retrieved his phone from his pocket. “It’s almost three in the morning.” He showed you the screen as if you requested proof.

“So?”

“What were you doing out that late?”

You couldn’t decipher his tone, and for the life of you, you couldn’t read the expression on his face. For once, it was blank. Tired, but blank.

“It’s none of your business,” you snarked.

“It is when you wake me up.”

You had difficulty believing you had woken him up in the thirty seconds you’d been home. Regardless, you brushed him off with, “I was out with a friend.”

You were purposefully vague because it truly was none of his business. But you let your attitude seethe to the forefront, with it, an implication you didn’t intend. 

Eren gave you this look, stern and accusatory, but more than anything, he looked absolutely baffled with you. 

“You didn’t.”

He thought you went crawling back to your ex. 

You didn’t correct him in time to prevent his ranting and raving.

“You can’t be serious. After what he did?” He was referring to the nasty breakup. “After everything?” And that was referring to the rest. You were aware Eren had become an unlucky bystander to your relationship, frequently caught in the fallout of every nuclear fight. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping the sleep from the inner corners of his eyes as if it would clear his head. “You could be with anyone you want. Why go back to him?”

You were insulted he’d think so lowly of you, that you needed a fatherly lecture from him of all people. You were fixed on that, not reading between the lines when you barked, “So what if I did? Why do you even care so much?”

Eren didn’t care. What possibly gave you the impression he cared? You were a big girl, you could date whoever you pleased. You were certainly doing whatever you pleased; the only reason he was even talking to you—the only reason he was awake—was because of you, loudly stumbling through the front door in the middle of the night, unwilling to consider his perspective on the situation. 

A situation you created, by the way. Not just tonight but eleven days ago. It didn’t need to exist in the first place. The drama, the theatrics—all of it. You must have forgotten Eren wasn’t the one who dumped you. 

So in his mind, the better question was, “Why are you being like this?”

You defensively knotted your arms over your chest. “Like what?”

Eren opened his mouth, raring to sling some smart-ass comment your way, but he only stammered. He blamed it on the fact that he was torn out of his slumber and immediately thrown into the ring with you, but truthfully, he could have eight hours of sleep and a shot of espresso and still suck at this sort of thing. You know, emotions. 

Words failed him miserably. He gave up on them and waved a hand over you like you were supposed to know what he meant by it. “Weird and stuff.”

“Weird and stuff,” you mocked with a pointed scoff. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.” 

“You’re never here anymore,” he said in exasperation, “and when you are, you’re ignoring—no, you’re actively avoiding me.”

You wanted to do exactly that, to roll your eyes and stomp to your bedroom. Eren knew that. He was daring you to prove him right. 

In a way, ending a spat was much like defusing a bomb, wasn’t it? Both backed you into a corner, forcing you to make a decision on instinct alone. You’d clip a wire, red or blue, the choice was yours, and cross your fingers that it was over. You could deny, deny, deny, put it off for another day, just to see if it explodes. Or you could end it. 

You exhaled reluctantly. “I went out for drinks with Sasha. We went back to her place, got to talking, and I lost track of the time.” He matched your sigh, and you watched the sink in his shoulders. “The breakup was long overdue. I don’t think one night out would change anything between us.” 

You told Eren the truth not because it was any of his business but because guilt pitted your stomach. Yes, he was upset you woke him, you understood that. And undoubtedly, it was a part of the reason—at least why he was testier than normal, which was saying something—but hearing him now, you realized it ran much deeper than that. 

The tension in the room eased its grip on your throats. You sensed he was about to offer you some cliché, but if it would be anything like his last attempt at cheering you up, you weren’t interested. 

You beat him to it, confessing, “He dumped me because of you.”

The sentence fell to the floor with a blundering splat. You plopped this thing between you and expected him to know what to do with it. 

Eren’s eyes narrowed and flickered over you, head to toe. He took in your words, scrutinized and dissected them. Before he could draw his own hasty conclusions, you elaborated, “That’s the reason he broke up with me—why I’ve been avoiding you.”

He snorted derisively. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

“That’s what I said. But he told me I either had to move out—find a place of my own or live with him—or it was over.”

The mood shifted. Eren stared back at you apprehensively, waiting for you to go on as if you hadn’t made up your mind already—as if you were about to break your lease on the spot. He couldn’t fathom the obvious answer.

“And?” 

You exaggerated it when you extended your arms out at your sides. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You looked and looked at him, but for once, he didn’t say a thing. You disarmed him; he tucked his hands into his pockets in his own Eren-y way of surrendering. 

“It sounds stupid, but I like what we have. I like this,” you said genuinely, even if you weren’t quite sure what ‘this’ was—your living situation, your roommate-ship, your friendship with Eren. Whatever it was, it was comfortable, and maybe it was just some lame proverb, but you couldn’t help but think: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 

You shrugged. “And I’m definitely not about to ditch it for some jealous douchebag.”

He finally cracked. His lips bowed into a small smile. “At least you can finally admit it.”

Deep down—like way down in there—you recognized none of what happened was Eren’s fault, but that didn’t lessen the blow. It became easier to pretend as if he wasn’t there, just for a while. It was irrational, it was your gut reaction, and by the time you realized how petulant it was, you were too ashamed to fess up to it. All it took was a bit of cornering, you supposed.

You and Eren were too close, apparently. That was what your ex-boyfriend believed for however long he chose to keep it to himself. He stewed on it, a simmer at first, until it bubbled to a seething boil, splattering you when you removed the lid and asked, ‘Why have you been so distant lately?’

Once the argument ensued, it was like you no longer spoke the same language. Anything you said, any explanation you gave, wasn’t good enough. To him, you were irredeemable. He had already set his mind on that ultimatum—a rather expensive one at that. 

You weren’t oblivious to the fact that some may find it strange you were in a relationship with one man while living with another, but was it that bizarre a concept? It was how the cards fell, so you made the best of it, which wasn’t too difficult, actually. 

It became clear just how long it’d been bothering him when he began to list everything you’d done wrong over the months, even going as far as to count your crimes on his fingers. Looking back, you should have stopped him there; no one needed to be with that kind of person, anyway. 

Firstly, and what appeared to be your greatest sin, was that he hated when you borrowed Eren’s hoodies; it really didn’t happen often. Eren left them thrown about the apartment, so you’d only wear them to empty the trash when it was raining or when you went grab a coffee down the street on a chilly day. According to him, he was always finding them in your room.

You could appreciate his perspective on that one, but he should have mentioned it sooner. His second reason—and this was where they started to become silly—was that he ‘always’ (he used that word a lot) heard Eren in the background when he’d call. You told him it was farfetched to think Eren’s naturally loud demeanor was somehow your fault.

Then he became more upset, ridiculing you for, in his words, being all ‘Eren this, Eren that’ about everything—another exaggeration. In your defense, if you turned to Eren, it was only a matter of convenience because he was literally across the hall. You never explained this; he didn’t give you the chance, so you tuned out his other reasons, more focused on trying to make sense of this tailspin. 

It hit you then, not like a smack across the face; it was stealthier than that. It prowled from behind in a low rumble, creeping down your spine before pouncing, taking you captive in one go. 

“Eren?” 

The mildness in your voice surprised you. You spoke his name in a quiet request, the same way you would if you needed something from him (you did). He was immediately suspicious. Still, he met your eye, acknowledging you with knitted brows. 

Whenever you needed something, you turned to Eren.

You had to choose your words carefully, but there was no careful way to go about this. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, unwittingly wetting it. “Would you kiss me?”

What you needed now was to forget. To lose yourself in his body, just for one night.

The softness in his voice contended with your own. “Why?”

He didn’t say no. His face certainly didn’t say no, either. And he didn’t draw back when you neared him. 

Sasha spent the evening encouraging you to find a hookup, telling you the only way to get over someone was to get under another. But meeting someone new was hard.

“I don’t know,” you slowly said. “Just want to.” 

Eren flinched, only slightly, when you laid the tips of your fingers on the back of his wrist. You grazed them higher up his arm, noting how the hairs stood up as you went.

“Don’t you,” you started, in an almost temptatious way, “don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”

He sucked in a breath and his lip went with it, pinched between his teeth. He shut his eyes because he was pretty sure he was about to kiss you. It didn’t help that the sight of you was incredibly distracting, either. He still had to decide what to do, and all the while, his thoughts juggled around in his head; he couldn’t hold onto one without losing another. 

It was a terrible idea. Downright awful. Even so, it didn’t feel so bad when he felt your hand on his chest, even if it made his heartbeat hammer.

Eren opened his eyes to your face, nothing else. He took you in, from the top of your head to the very tip of your chin. Your hair was a bit out of place, expected for three in the morning, but your eyes were as bright as if it were the middle of the afternoon. Something about them was alluring, though he couldn’t pin it. They grew, bigger and bigger, until they were out of focus. Closing in, your noses brushed, and Eren’s ‘yes’ died on his lips as he placed them to yours—an answer to one or both of your questions, he wasn’t sure. 

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you, losing his words between your lips as he asked, “Should we be doing this?”

You inched back, still extremely close, enough that your breath warmed him. “Why not?”

Eren knew you didn’t need him to break it down for you. You were Mikasa’s friend, his roommate. Someone he wanted to keep the peace with, even if you were making it difficult.

“Won’t it make things weird?”

“I thought I already made things weird. And stuff,” you teased. He shot you the unamused look you anticipated. “Whatever. You already pop a boner when you see me after the shower. Do you really think this is what will make things weird?”

Heat scorched the tips of Eren’s ears. It had only happened twice! And there was no way you knew about that. Unless you were looking for it, he supposed, but thinking about that made him more nervous.

It was that damn robe of yours. The one you only wore from time to time, the telltale sign laundry day was near. Eren had only seen it a few times, incidentally of course, just if you’d pass one another. Still, he could picture it then. It hardly counted as a robe, so frail that he was surprised anyone would spend money on it. It bordered on see-through, clinging to your body as you’d leave the steamy bathroom, into the cool hallway—

You lightly smacked his arm. “I’m just messing with you.”

He deflated in relief, but the feeling didn’t last long because you were still between his hands, sitting dangerously low on your waist. In that moment, his sense drizzled from him much like a leaky faucet: drop by drop at first, then a burst pipe. Now, he wasn’t sure there was even an ounce left. 

You batted your lashes at him. “C’mon, you’re really going to make me get off myself?”

Okay. Now he was absolutely certain any and all sense had drained from him. 

Eren swallowed hard. “Will this help you get over him? Because I’d really like to never see him again.”

Yeah, that worked. That was how he’d justify it: he was merely helping you out. Nothing more. Then things would be fixed, and everything would go back to normal. Better, even, because now he wouldn’t have to deal with your ex-boyfriend anymore. 

“Mhm,” you murmured, but desire had been lowly buzzing between your legs for the better half of the evening, leaving you fuzzy enough to agree to anything he said. Anything to keep the fire in you alive and burning. But right then, you weren’t sure if there was anything—no body of water great enough—that could douse it. You didn’t mind; you found pleasure in it because at least you weren’t burning alone. 

You went to kiss him again, but Eren dodged it with a small tick of his head.

“You just told me you liked this,” he said. “But now you’re willing to risk it? What if this is a mistake?”

He was still struggling to understand you. He always struggled to understand you, even after living with you for over a year, but this was next level. You had him dumbstruck.

Let there be no misunderstanding: Eren wanted this. He was just another twenty-something-year-old guy, of course he wanted this. It was just that he was also very aware of the consequences.  

You touched his mouth with the tips of your fingers. His lips were wet with your spit—a combination of yours and his. You pressed down, ever so lightly, to shush him. You didn’t want words; you wanted incoherency. Purposeless and meaningless sounds and syllables, groans pulled from the back of your throats. 

“If it’s a mistake, then let’s make it together.”

You invited him with a peck at first, a taste, then he pulled you back in to devour you whole.

Eren kissed the same way he lived: passionately, intensely, maddeningly. He was better at it than your ex, which you didn’t expect. The thought of what else he could do better made your stomach flip. 

His palm warmed your cheek as slender fingers wrapped around the back of your head. Like an anchor, it kept your lightheaded self tethered to him. He smelled of sleep, and he smelled like him. The heady scent coiled around you. You inhaled as you kissed him, and when his mouth dipped to the delicate skin behind your ear, you buried your nose in his hair. You imagined your face shoved in his sheets, how they’d smell the same. You’d inhale it then, too, through gasps and an agape mouth. 

You smoothed your hands higher on his chest, over his shoulders. Your nails gently scratched at Eren’s back, and even through his T-shirt, it set his nerves ablaze. 

The part of his brain demanding he pump the breaks finally shut down, his entire body thrilled by it. It was all physical, fueled by carnal desire. He acted solely on what he wanted, and that was for your lips to stay exactly where they were. To stop you now would feel like abandoning a hearth in the winter. Instead of taking his hands against your shoulders, pushing you away to create some distance, he molded them around your hips. 

You clasped your hands around his larger ones and placed them on your ass. You squeezed down on them, encouraging him to fondle you—to feel you—and he took to it as if he’d already thought about everywhere he’d like to grab. 

Mistake or not, Eren knew if he ended it now, the palms of his hands would feel hollow the second you’d left them. 

You didn’t bother debating between bedrooms and made the decision easy by heading for the couch. If you were being honest, you’d thought about fucking on this couch before—not with Eren obviously. The cushions were deep-set and roomier than most. It was evident you and Mikasa didn’t spend a fortune on it, but at least it was firm and wouldn’t give too much beneath you. You felt like it was made for fucking but respected your roommates enough not to give it a spin. But with Eren, everything was shared. Everything belonged to you and him. You could do it wherever you wished. 

Eren laid you back on the couch and positioned himself above you. You wriggled below him, attempting to make any space for him to fit between your legs. It was nearly impossible in such restricting denim. You mumbled a ‘hold on’ into his mouth as you darted your hands down for the button. He was eager to assist. Once your jeans were undone, he pulled them past your knees, freeing one leg so you could kick them off the other. 

Settled between your legs, Eren kissed you again, and you tasted the desire on each other’s tongues. His sweats did little to hide how hard, and heavy, he was against your leg. You imagined if you slipped a hand below his waistband you would find he wasn’t wearing boxers. 

You bunched his shirt in your fist. You tugged at the hem of it, lifting it out of your way so you could greedily glide your hand beneath. Tracing between the divots of his abs, you felt the way they tensed as you trailed higher up his chest. Once it was established that it wasn’t needed, Eren sat back on his calves to peel it over his head, and it was on the floor a second later. Yours was next, but it was a bit more complicated than his cotton tee. 

“What the fuck,” he muttered once he realized it wasn’t coming off. He fiddled with the strings tied around your neck, more frantic to get under the fabric with his fingers and tongue than he was concerned with being romantic. “How did you even get this thing on?”

“Sasha helped,” you relied matter-of-factly, though a bit breathless. 

Did she have to knot it this many times? 

You arched your back as Eren slipped his hands beneath you, blindly reaching for any of the ties. The straps had been digging into your shoulders all night, marking your skin with soft indentations. With every slackened string there was a sense of relief until, eventually, Eren had the shirt bunched around your midsection, your tits out. That was what mattered to him; he could figure out the rest later. 

He cupped your breast in his hand and brought his mouth to it. Your skin was supple and smooth under his impatient lips, balmy and warm from pressing your bodies together. With a pointed tongue, he flicked over your nipple. When it was perked, he sucked lightly until your breathing began to flutter. He pulled off you with a pop, thumbing over your nipple as he turned to gift his attention to the other. 

Eren’s touch was resolute, weighed down by hunger as his hand mapped its way down your side. It both unnerved and ignited you—the titillating vulnerability that came with being with someone new; how he caressed you for the purpose of exploring, seeing for himself what you liked best. 

Heat pooled in your stomach. Lapped at you like the tides, though far less tranquil. Summery waters lured you in, kept you still and contented beneath Eren, kissing him, letting him kiss you, everywhere. From your neck and the dip in the center of your collarbone, focusing the most on your breasts. Then at your hipbones next, where it tickled the most. He must have liked the sound you made, reminiscent of an airy giggle, because he grazed his teeth there, pulling the noise from you again. 

But as was certain, the tides would ebb; tepid waves turned to sea swells. Deep in your stomach, that dull yet glowy ache begged you to do something about it, your hips kneading into him, inviting him to tear off your underwear and fuck you already. 

Eren leaned back when his fingers met your underwear. He hooked the band of them with his index finger, toyingly sliding it along your stomach. On instinct, you twitched, feeling frustratingly helpless to him. You bit back a strangled murmur along with a hiss urging him to get on with it. 

Though your panties separated you and him, his eyes were still transfixed on where you wanted him most. And he knew how badly you wanted him there by the telling damp spot on the fabric.

Eren pressed the pad of his thumb to it, his other fingers rested atop your pelvis. He made soft circles against you, slow and testing. He observed every flick and flinch in your expression, his mouth slightly slacked in a smile that widened with your whimpers. 

When he finally started to remove your underwear, it revealed just how wet you were for him—for your roommate. The back of your neck fevered when you noticed the lewd string connecting you to the soaked fabric. Eren snapped it with his thumb, and your humiliation only worsened when you watched him bring it to his mouth.

He didn’t anticipate going down on you. You only wanted to get off, and so did he, and a quick fuck would more than achieve that. But as he played with your clit, your tiny moans had him craving to hear how you sounded when you were wrecked, sobbing out for more. And with the way you were spread and dripping below him—well, he wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste. Not with how sweet you tasted. 

So without hesitation, Eren dove between your thighs, gripping your hips and pulling you against the heat of his mouth. 

Immediately, you throw your head back. It bumped the armrest with a thud loud enough to catch Eren’s attention. He glanced up to check on you, and right then, you found the sight of him inexplicitly striking. You didn’t know why, but it was as if his piercing eyes had pinned you to the spot for him, like he had control despite being down between your legs. You went blind to anything but him and his eyes, dazzlingly green against the flush tinting his cheeks. 

Once he realized you were all right—it didn’t faze you one bit—Eren pressed a kiss against your clit before swiping his tongue through you. You shivered as he licked you with broad, lazy strokes of his tongue, savoring you, the button tip of his nose nudging your clit. 

“Oh, God,” you breathed sharply, chin tucked to your chest, following it with a series of heavenly moans that were anything but holy.

Eren parted you with two fingers. He added more pressure with his tongue and swirled it around your clit. You screwed your lips together rather than allowing another cry to spill from you. It bubbled in your throat, and you swallowed thickly to keep it at bay before the neighbors could learn how debauched you sounded when Eren made you come. But when he closed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, you had no choice but to bite your knuckle instead. 

Admittedly, you had wondered if he was actually talented at this or if the girls on the other side of his bedroom walls were only trying to boost his ego. He answered your inexplicit question by delving his tongue inside you, fucking you with it. 

“Don’t stop,” you rushed to choke out, your back curving up from the cushions. “I’m almost there.” 

Closer. You needed him closer.

You clung your hand to his head, raked your fingers through his hair. The useless tie slipped from it as you disheveled his bed head further. You pushed back the pieces that hid him from you, tugging as you angled him to the spot that made your thighs quiver. 

“Do that again,” Eren breathed, fanning the command over you. 

You did. He groaned, and you felt the couch shift as he rutted into it. 

Your stomach contracted, that last gasp hitching in your lungs. Whatever glorious thing he was doing with his tongue felt like fire licking up your spine. He brought you to the very brink of becoming undone until you were writhing as you teetered it. 

It was slick between your legs, you and the cushion beneath you drenched in your arousal and saliva. Eren’s mouth slipped around the more you wiggled. It didn’t matter where he held you, how deep his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, he couldn’t keep you still. At this rate, you’d fall off the couch, undoubtedly taking him with you. 

Eren wrapped his hands around the backs of your knees, pinning them to your chest in a reminder to hold them out of his way. You replaced his hands with your own, whining when you felt his fingers at your slit. He glided them between you, coating them until they slipped right inside. He dragged them in and out of you, increasing his speed until he discovered the tempo that made you pulse around him. Then he curled them, just right, aiding his tongue in driving you to your release. 

“I’m coming—fuck, I’m coming,” you whispered, ragged and hardly audible at the end.

Eren sounded equally muffled, groaning as you started rolling your hips over his mouth. You heard him mumbling, but it was distant and overshadowed by your heart thrumming in your ears. You couldn’t make out what he was saying—something about how fucking hot it was—but you felt his raspy timbre vibrating against you as you shattered. 

Your legs dropped to your sides, quivering as you rode out the final pulses of your orgasm. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything but finding your breath.

Eren planted a long kiss against you, easing you down with wet, open-mouthed kisses, trailed from your inner thighs to below your navel. Each sent another shock through you. He continued until you were face-to-face again. 

“How was that?” Eren asked. He was cheeky with it, grinning and everything, so you responded by flicking his bicep. 

He was still smug about it as he tilted to kiss beneath your jaw, intermittently nibbling at your earlobe. You lolled your head back, offering the expanse of your neck to him. But when you saw him reach for the band of his sweatpants, you rested a hand against his arm.

It took him a second, but when it clicked, he said, “Condom. Right,” and pushed himself off the couch.

Your shirt was still gathered around your midsection, clammy and sticking to your skin. You wriggled free of it, shimmying it over your head before you flung it to the opposite side of the room. It felt wrong to lay on the couch like this, bare and fully exposed. You thought to cover up with a blanket but reminded yourself there was no point; it’d be on the floor, just like everything else, in a matter of minutes. 

You were still lying there, fidgety and a bit limp, when Eren returned. He was rustling with the condom wrapper as he joined you on the couch. Calmly as ever, like he’d done it a million times before, he lifted your legs to make room, setting them over his lap as he sat beside you. He smirked to himself when he noticed you were shaky in his grasp. 

Eren leaned in as you rose to meet him. One of his hands supported your lower back while his other trailed up your inner thigh. His fingertips ghosted over the spots he had tasted not long ago until he was back between your legs, almost like he had never left. You melted into him with a dreamy sigh the instant he began to rub gently, placing his lips to yours as he did. 

You looped your arms around his neck. His hand left your back, and you heard the familiar crinkling as he reached for the condom.

Eren reveled in every flimsy little breath you let spill into his mouth. He tightened his circles, expertly attuned to your clit. He gauged your reaction, noticing when your lips began to stutter against his own. He felt them curve into a small ‘o’ as he picked up where you couldn’t—kissing you, sucking your tongue, skimming his teeth along it, until your angelic sounds turned depraved.

The intensity at which Eren wanted this—wanted you—surprised him. You had barely spoken in eleven days, and he spent the better of the night grumbling and bitter about it, positive you’d never want to see him again. Now, it was as if you never wanted to leave his lap, and he wasn’t sure he’d let you. He could play with your perfect pussy all night; so perfect that he had no choice but to give you a taste; how warm and wet and soft you were around his fingers; how you’d feel even better around his cock. 

Just thinking about it had him rutting into your leg, just once, in a helpless search for friction. 

Eren caught your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted you away from his lips as he spoke against the side of your face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your face was puckered, squishing your languid and needy, “Yes.”

He angled your jaw further. “Then tell me how you want it.”

You felt his lips tickle over your pulse point. Kissing it, sucking it, nipping at it.

“Fuck,” you cursed on an agonizingly long hiss. 

“Well obviously.” Eren gave a breathy laugh. The vibrato of it echoed through you. “Look at me.” You did, as much as you could; he was still cupping your face. “How do you want me to fuck you.”

You shook his hand off, panting, “I want it rough.” Grabbing him by the shoulder, you pulled him down until he collapsed over you. You smoothed his hair back before taking his face between your hands. You wanted to see the reaction in his eyes when you told him, “Let me feel it.”

You said it as if you’d thought about it before. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if your ex did, in fact, have a reason to worry. He told himself it was a problem for tomorrow and didn’t question it again. Tonight, his only obstacle was that he was still in his sweatpants, but it was swiftly resolved when you both reached for them. 

Once they were gone, Eren sloppily licked his palm. You’d almost call it crass if it didn’t shamefully turn you on, watching him wrap his hand around his cock. His eyelashes fluttered at the small bit of release. He fisted himself a few times, unbothered by your blatant staring, before rolling the condom on. 

He had you on your back, your head laid on the armrest again. One of your legs was hitched around his waist, and your other dangled from the couch, creating enough space for him to nestle in between.

You felt him—how hard he was for you—pressed in the crease of your thigh. With a hand around his base, he lined himself up with you. The tip of his cock threatened to push inside you, but he only glided it between your folds in one slow, encompassing stroke. And just as slowly, an overwhelming warmth tingled down your spine. 

Eren continued toying with your clit. The condom’s lube and your wetness made it easy for the head of his cock to slip between you, to dip inside and tease you. But it wasn’t long before he was only teasing himself. Teeming with anticipation, you were already clenching around him so nicely, and he hadn’t even put more than the tip in. 

It wasn’t like he was any better. When Eren felt your heel dig into his lower back, wordlessly pleading with him to fuck you, he succumbed. Not with a tilt of his hips but with one plunging thrust.

Your mouth hinged open, but nothing came out. Your wilted gasp was lost somewhere in the depths of your throat. You swallowed it down before you could choke.

Caged between his arms, you were close enough to catch the slight tremble in his biceps, only once he had filled you, entirely, his body flush against your own. Above you, Eren’s eyes squeezed shut. His lips parted in a shaky, dare you say it, beautiful sigh. Thrilled, your muscles naturally spasmed around the thick of him.

Eren stilled to adjust to you; your sensitive, needy pussy wasn’t making it easy on him. Of course, you felt fucking amazing. Just as good as he imagined, but so much tighter when he split you on his cock, not with his fingers. 

He took his sweet time pulling out of you, losing himself a little more as he went, ensuring you felt every inch of him, just to bury inside you generously again. 

Eren fucked you with smooth rolls of his hips. And God, it was effortless how he slid into you, over and over, thanks to how wet you were. You scraped at the cushion as if it were a bed sheet, as if you could twist the taut fabric between your fingers to ground yourself. 

Once Eren discovered a pace that had you both breathing harder, his head dropped. You took it as an opportunity to muffle your moans, mouthing over his neck, right where it met his shoulder. You kissed him there, flattening your hands against his back to hold him to your mouth like you wanted him to smother you. 

His skin tasted salty against your tongue. If he kissed you now, you were sure you’d taste the same, the heat between you growing feverish the more you ground against each other in a sticky lust.

When the blunt of your teeth dragged over his skin, you’d argue the groan he gave tapered into a low whimper. So you did it again, harsher this time. You bit down on him, the lean muscle giving easily, and it kept you quiet enough. It did pull another sound from Eren, though. He muttered some incoherent curses you couldn’t make out, and you would have thought you hurt him if not for the way his steady thrusts sped into pounding. 

The couch was a tricky place to have sex, but you knew that already. You made it more complicated than it needed to be, forgoing the two bedrooms you had at your disposal, full-sized beds and all, and cramped yourselves onto this sofa because you couldn’t keep your greedy hands to yourselves long enough to think ahead. 

Already, this position wasn’t going to work. Half of you had slipped from the couch, even more with each of Eren’s thrusts. He’d hoist you back into place only for you—the pathetic, squirmy thing you were—to falter over the edge again. Only your ass at first, then it was your whole leg. Then the process would repeat. 

Eren sat back slightly. He closed his hands around your waist and yanked you to him, further down onto his cock.

With a yelp, your head fell from the armrest and lightly bounced against the cushion. He replaced it with your hands, pinning them high above your head with a sturdy grasp on your wrist. Your knees threatened to clamp around him, and he used his other hand to hold you open for him, gripping the fat of your inner thigh. 

“Keep ‘em spread for me,” Eren growled. “Wider.”

You liked how his voice sounded right then, almost like gravel. You’d never heard it like that, all raspy and weighed down by his lust. That and the subtle pinch in his brow gave away just how turned on he was. 

You fucked like that for… You weren’t sure how long exactly. Time was irrelevant after three a.m. anyway, wasn’t it? One particularly good thrust—his hips sputtering and grinding against you as if he could go any deeper—had his elbow buckling. Unable to hold himself up and continue his ruthless pace, he chose neither and flipped you onto your stomach.

Eren tossed you onto the armrest. You planted your forearms into it, propping yourself up. You felt his hand at the center of your back, forcing a nice bend in it for him. He smoothed it down lower, taking a handful of your ass and indulgently spreading you just to watch him disappear inside. 

Too weak to hold your head up, you let it drop between your shoulders, gritting a wakened, “Fuck—you’re deep.”

When he sank into you fully, bottoming out, the head of his cock brushed the spot that had you briefly seeing stars. 

Eren slowed at your dubious remark, unsure what to make of it. The moment he did, you made it clear, demanding, “Keep going.”

He began ramming into you, his hand still searing into your spine. You were too far gone, too focused on coming again, to hold back any longer. The noises that poured from you were pornographic. Short and breathy bleats of ‘right there, right there’ as his cock set sparks between your legs. 

Your fingers flexed and relaxed around nothing, nails piercing the meat of your palms fiercely enough to leave them tender. You didn’t know if you needed him harder or faster, and through a few choked gasps, you could only wail a pleading, “Fuck me.” 

You emphasized it by rocking back into him, smushing the back of your thighs against the front of his. It said enough.

Eren’s hands found your hips and settled into the crease where they met your stomach. 

“Let me know if it’s too much.” 

He was so casual that it almost irritated you. Whatever snippy comment you wanted to make, you kept it to yourself for the sake of getting off again. And you were glad you did because you would have eaten your words not a second later.

Eren fucked you with one foot planted into the floor, and his opposite on the couch cushion. His first thrust stole your breath; the second knocked it back into you. He took you from behind, sealing every rut of his hips by jerking you back on his cock. In the tangled spot where ‘too much’ became ‘yes, yes, yes!’ you were lost in messy throes of pleasure. 

The sound of smacking skin was more severe than even your loudest of cries. Between, you could hear Eren’s grunts and huffs through his nose, restrained, but telling of just how riled up he was to be ravaging you like this. You closed your eyes and tuned into how good you were making him feel. 

Your eyes shot open when you felt your upper body slipping over the armrest, your body lurching forward with the brutal snapping of his hips. You extended a hand to the floor, the wood cool under your clammy palm, to brace yourself. And bent over that armrest, your ass perched in the air for him, you let him have you. 

Eren didn’t let you hang there long, just long enough for the blood to rush to your head a bit. You were blinking and dizzy as he gracelessly swung you upright, maneuvering you so you were straddling his lap. You went with him, willingly and submissively. 

You lifted to your knees before Eren seized you by the waist to impale you on his cock. You gripped his biceps as a wispy moan left you—something like an ‘ah–hah’ as a loose smile tickled at the corners of your ajar lips. Once you’d finished pulsing around him, he took care of the rest, working you up and down over his length. 

He looked you squarely in the face, jaw tight and eyelids heavy with a determined look of lust. You wanted to clear the hair from his face, but before you could, you were kissing again, roughly and carelessly, with him humming as you licked into his open mouth. 

When you pulled away, you were panting. Saliva connected his lips to yours. Eren’s eyes flitted down, briefly distracted by your tits, before returning to your face.

“You look good like this,” Eren told you, his voice a bit strained. He snapped the spitty string with a flick of his chin. 

“Like what?” you tried to sass, but it came out warbled as he bounced you on his cock. “Getting fucked by you?”

“Exactly,” he panted through a smug half-grin. “Gonna think about this—you taking my cock so fucking good—every time I jerk off.”

That mental image did things to you.

“Mm, fuck,” you groaned, long and sweet, your teeth bearing down on your bottom lip. You shoved a hand between your legs. “I’m close—keep talking.”

If your head wasn’t tossed back, you would have wanted to slap the sick smile off Eren’s face. He would have never suspected you’d be into dirty talk. 

“Oh, yeah? Gonna come again?” You nodded dumbly. “Playing with yourself—whining on top of me but can’t get there on your own, huh? Need me to tell you to come, don’t you, pretty girl?”

The words were heavy on his breath and settled in the depths of your chest.

“Yes,” you breathed, rubbing at yourself desperately.

You sensed Eren was enjoying this—uttering filth to you—as much as you did, perhaps even more. His hips sputtered as they bucked into yours, as if he wasn’t already rashly pulling you against him, stuffed to the hilt. You could already see the reddened, blotchy marks this would leave on his thighs, an unavoidable consequence of fucking like animals. 

“I wanna hear you say it.”

You started rolling your hips. “I need you to make me come—please make me come.”

His cock jolted inside you, but he didn’t relent. He wanted to play with you a bit longer.

“Tell me how pretty—ah—how pretty you’re gonna look coming on my cock.”

You were right fucking there. So close that you’d do just anything—say anything. It’d spill out of you like a babbly, drooly mess of course, but you’d say it. 

“So pretty—” Your shiver reverberated through your whimper, your insides ignited. “I’ll look so pretty for you when I come.”

“Fuck yeah, you are.” He punctuated it with a firm slap on your ass. You didn’t feel it because you were coming, deliriously hard.

You sounded pitchy and whiny and you just knew Eren would tease you for it in the future. You wished you could cover your mouth, but you were too overwhelmed to do anything but hold on tighter. It hit you in ripples, and you rode out every one of them, carving your nails into Eren’s arms like you could wring out the last drops of your orgasm. 

“God damn,” Eren remarked, voice tight, “You needed that one, didn’t you?”

He was right, but you wouldn’t have answered even if you could.

When your shaky comedown finally subsided, it left you in a haze. You fell into him, hooking your chin on his shoulder. Soft, happy hums escaped you while you stayed there, contented, as Eren worked toward his own high. 

He could have come two positions ago, but he finally allowed it to well up in the deepest part of his gut. His hands abandoned your hips only for him to lock his arms around you, holding you there to fuck up into. 

Eren’s breathing began to pick up, his chest heaving against you. His thrusting turned erratic until he pumped into you one last time, deep, and kept you flush to him. It was your name on his tongue, the word he buried into your neck as he groaned from the back of his throat. 

You felt him throbbing inside you as he emptied into the condom. Gradually, he moved you over his length a few times to ease himself down. After, he started to lift you off his lap. His oversensitive cock slipped from you, tearing a tiny hiss from him. When he let you go, you crumpled to the couch.  

You stayed like that for a minute, staring at the ceiling, hand folded over your chest as you timed your racing heart. By the time it evened, Eren patted your leg and stood up.

He went to the bathroom; you knew it because you saw the fluorescent light seep into the hallway. You listened to the faucet turn on, then searched for your underwear and a blanket. 

You’d already wrapped yourself in a fleece and snuggled into the couch by the time Eren returned. Your eyes lazily followed him as he pulled on his sweatpants and double-checked that you locked the door when you came home. 

He flicked the light off, but when he realized you weren’t following him to your respective bedrooms, he turned back to ask, “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

You didn’t want to get up yet, whether it was because you were too sleepy, or because your body felt too doughy to walk, or because the thought of tomorrow now felt like a threat. 

“No,” you told him. You tugged the blanket to your nose and nuzzled into it. “Not yet.”

“Okay.”

You figured that was that, but then you saw him head to the other side of the couch. It shuddered beneath his weight as he slumped into its cushions. When you sat up to look at him, he answered your question before you could open your mouth. 

“I’ll stay here then, too,” he said cooly.

“Why?”

Eren thought on it, and though he didn’t decide on an answer, he was just as content with, “I don’t know. Just want to.”

Everything was silver in the moonlight, barely sneaking in through the cracks in the blind. All the color had been smudged away like ink, except for Eren’s eyes. You made out the glint in them as he wittily quoted you from earlier. 

You smiled. “But I thought you were mad at me for waking you up.”

“I got over it,” he said with a leisurely shrug. “Besides, for some odd reason, I’m not so tired anymore.”

You laughed lightly through your nose, and Eren tossed you a small smile in return. 

He was still shirtless—not that you minded, there was no point in modesty now—with an arm sprawled along the back of the couch. His breaths were no longer heavy, neither of yours were, but you could tell he was still cooling off from your pornstar sex because he was quick to tie his hair up again. Neater this time, with every strand up and off the nape of his neck. 

His neck.

Eren noticed the way your eyes widened. It freaked him out. “What?”

You stifled a cackle. “That’s a nasty hickey you got there, Eren.” 

He frowned. “Shit.” He started pawing at his neck, looking down as if he could possibly see it. “Is it that bad?”

“A little.” You leaned in to poke it, but he swatted you away. It only made you giggle harder as you said, “Hey, can you put on our show? The one I like.”

“You don’t even know the name of it! How can you say you like it?”

“I know it! I just—can’t remember it right now,” you said both confidently and sheepishly, if that was even possible.

He raised his eyebrow at you; you didn’t like it. “So I was just that good, huh?”

You snatched one of the pillows and launched it at his head. “I thought we said we weren’t going to make this weird!”

As you said it, Eren broke out into the sort of laughter you only heard from someone occasionally, one that made it feel like you could get back to the way things were—before everything. 

And they would, just as Eren hoped. Except now, he had a pretty good solution for the next time he pissed you off.

thank you for reading ♡

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Yuus Food Truck

In which Azul loses his mind over a grilled cheese.

Content stuff: short, one sided enemies to lovers, Azul being a loser, general cringe.

Posting Reqs like this for a bit until Tumblr lets us edit asks. I had a request for Enemies to Lovers with Azul, so I came up with this.

That goddamned Prefect was the bane of Azul's existence. For the past few weeks, he has been gripping his leg in absolute rage within his office as he stares at his weekly reports. Practically frothing at the mouth at the mere mention of you.

Recently, the little Ramshackle prefect has begun a new business venture. A simple food truck on campus selling only grilled cheeses for a singular madol. That's it. He found the idea a bit funny, he'll admit, but he was far from worried.

Surely after a month it would shut down, or at the very least get so few customers it wouldn't impact his business. I mean come on, how much money are you really making from selling grilled cheeses for one dollar? You must be taking a loss!

He was wrong. So so wrong.

Not only have you somehow been profiting from your little side project, but you have taken all of his customers. He is looking over his lounge, nowhere near as full as it usually is. He grits his teeth and heads back into the VIP room. The twins should be here any minute now. 

On cue, the door creaks open, and in come those rowdy twins both with their usual smirks. Azul jerks up, staring up at Jade from his desk. His hand shook ever slightly as he gripped the feather in his hand.

“Well? Did you get it?” The mer asks, gaze steely. Floyd speaks for the both of them through mouthfuls of grilled cheese.

“Mmmhmm yeah, we got you a cheese, here you go. Mmmm.” Floyd took another bite of his as he tossed the wrapped-up grilled cheese onto the desk. 

“Hey watch the merchandise– Are you eating their food?" Azul stared at both of them. Floyd stuffing his face with the one in his hand and Jade elegantly nibbling on his own. He was shocked, betrayed by his own staff. “You guys gave them more money— ugh. I would have expected this of Floyd but you too Jade?”

“The prefect saw me ordering and put some mushrooms into mine that pair well with the cheese. Free of charge as well. How thoughtful of them. I must commend their customer service.” Jade wore a shit-eating smirk on his face as he took another bite, making a show out of it. He seemed to relish in Azul's misery.

“Free of charge?” Azul was flabbergasted. Not only were their prices ridiculously low but they were adding things for free? They might as well be handing their money away at that point.

“Right? I say they should have charged Jade for all he's worth for putting those damn things on. Yuck…” Floyd wrinkled his nose as he side eyed Jade, who just continued to eat blissfully. 

He needed to figure out just what was so good about the damn things. Gloved hands carefully lifted up the wrapped delicacy with such fragility as if it would break from a gust of wind. The wrapping was done well, nice and neat as he peeled it off to reveal what was inside.

Crisped and perfectly brown buttered white bread. It glistened in the light with its heavenly beauty. The cheese was ooey and gooey and so thick that it ran down the sides. So far the presentation was beautiful, but it was pretty damn difficult to fucked up a grilled cheese. He tried to hold back this drool from the smell alone.

Carefully, he took a bite and closed his eyes. His mouth was blasted with flavor. As he savored that magical bite, a gust of wind swept through the room, causing the curtains to dance dramatically. The cheesy aroma lingered, creating an ambiance fit for a culinary masterpiece. This grilled cheese has unlocked secrets of the universe with how much it expanded his mind. This mere sandwich has him on the brink of tears

Azul has to hold his expression. He's not gonna be impressed by some measly sandwich. He's better than that. Though he thought that maybe by tasting it he could be able to figure out what your secret ingredient was, it's clear that isn't the case… This is a simple grilled cheese. He would have to go undercover to discover your cooking secrets.

***

“Heyyy Prefect!” A wry voice hums near the truck, belonging to no other than Ruggie. He knocked on the side of the window and Yuu poked out their head.

Azul watched from the distance, narrowing his eyes as he hyper-focused on the conversation. He admits the front of the Ramshackle dorms was a great location. Close to the botanical garden, close to the main building, not as far as Octavinelle either, and had most of the foot traffic. It's why he had his eye on it for a second location.

“Well if it isn't my number one customer, what can I get ya, let me guess a grilled cheese?” Of course, Ruggie would be their number one customer, which makes sense given his financial state. Figures. Maybe if he introduced a dollar menu…

“You know what Ruggie, you're cool. For you, it's 50 cents. Two for one if you will.” Ruggie pauses for a moment before smiling again. “Awe really? Sweet, can't up a deal like that shyehehehe!” The hyena cackles and you get to work. The window for the truck is fully open, allowing Azul to see in.

You aren't even hiding your cooking technique?! You're just giving all your secrets away like that?! Ohh you foolish fool… This would be easier than he thought.

He must get closer, to see what sort of fuckery is at play here. However, walking up and just watching you cook work is suspicious. As much as he hates to fund this little project… sacrifices must be made… He will have to order a grilled cheese…

Ruggie slinks off, tail wagging happily as he munches on his food. This was the perfect opportunity to approach. He stood up even straighter and approached with determination hidden poorly behind his attempt at a straight face. His scowl dared to seep through but he managed to smooth it out into his sickenly sweet facade.

“Hello, dear prefect!” He watched Yuu perk up through the window as they wiped down their workspace. They glanced over at Azul, completely unaware of his evil plot. “Heya Zuzu what can I get ya?”

Zuzu? That's awfully bold… whatever eyes on the prize… 

“I'd like one grilled cheese please if I may…” Hell yes. Smooth operator. He's so good at this.

“Mkay, coming right up.” Azul leans in closer as you get to work, memorizing everything you do… You just make a grilled cheese… Nothing special. It's just simple bread and cheese you cook in butter. How the hell? Was it the oven perhaps? Did you somehow know of his intentions and we're trying to conceal it?? Ugh, whatever maybe he can sucker you into another deal.

“... You know Prefect, if you just raised the price a bit you'd be bringing in more profits.” 

You shrugged as you pressed down your creation with your spatula to make it sizzle more. “Yeah, I know how money works.” Azul paused and blinked.

“So why don't you do it?” You shrug again. “It's funny.” Azul was perplexed, bamboozled, perhaps even smeckledorfed perchance. You were doing this for fun?! Starting a business for fun. Not for profit which would be beneficial given your situation, but for fun.

“Fun? Really? But prefect– wouldn't you– shouldn't you consider raising the prices even slightly? I mean after all Crowley hasn't been paying you well and if anything—”

“I should shoot you for the mere suggestion of raising the grilled cheese prices. The price is firm. It's never going up even by a cent. Hell, I'm so offended I may lower it.” You pulled the cheese off the grill and started to pack it up, swaddling it with such delicacy and love reserved for newborns.

Azul's mouth hung open for a bit before closing it. “Are you serious? Prefect— Yuu at this point I'm not even mad about the competition I'm– hrk!”  

“You need to relax a little Azul, for your own sake.” You shoved the grilled cheese out the window a bit more forcefully than you intended, making the unwrapped part hit Azul's glasses. The melty butter left grease marks on them, and through the blurriness, he could see your expression. His heart skipped a beat and sucked in a breath. Oh no.

He was in love.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #crack #food truck yuu #this is so cringe

[sanguineterrain]

hiii! can i request reader being a vigilante and also jason’s ex? they’re on the same mission/have to work together and reader gets injured or smn?

thank you so much! I love your writing!

thanks for requesting! this turned into a whole ass one shot 😭 hope you like ❤️

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: fighting, exes, physical violence, reader is captured but they're fine, jason is NOT over you (and he doesn't want to be), making up, fluffy ending. 2k words (lol)

****

The Cave is exactly how you remember. Foolishly, you thought maybe it would've rotted after you broke up with Jason.

That's certainly how you felt.

But no. It's the same, and the other Bats are the same. Dick and Tim are there, probably because you're the most familiar with them... after your ex, of course... and Barbara already pushed the envelope by contacting you.

Still, Gotham is your city too. And if the Bats need an extra set of hands to protect the city, then so be it.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Dick says warmly.

At times, you envy how easygoing he can be. Even though he can have a temper, Dick Grayson, for the most part, shakes hands like a politician. He doesn't burn bridges. He doesn't hold grudges, at least not publicly.

You, on the other hand, are perhaps too much like his younger brother: you absolutely hold grudges, and you don't let go easily.

"Hi, guys," you say, trying to be civil. "What's up?"

"So—"

The roar of a motorcycle pulling into the Cave cuts Tim off. Quick anger soars through you as Red Hood dismounts the bike. He takes off his helmet.

You haven't seen Jason in a year. Judging by his physique, the breakup did not take a toll on him. If anything, he seems bigger than you remember. Asshole.

You can pinpoint the moment that he finally sees you, and he stops in his tracks.

"Oh, boy," you hear Tim mumble.

Jason is silent. You cross your arms, keeping your face neutral.

"I didn't know you worked with the Bats, Hood. Thought you flew solo."

Jason is quiet for another moment. Then he speaks.

"Things change."

"Clearly."

"Anyway!" Dick says, clapping his hands. "Pretty straightforward mission. Drugs, warehouse, bad guys, et cetera. We have to clear out these shipments tomorrow night, or they'll hit the streets, and we'll be too late. Robin and I will take Gotham Heights. Signal, Black Bat, and Red Robin will take downtown. And, um, you two can clear out the Bowery."

"Hood can handle the Bowery himself," you say. "Gimme another section."

Jason scoffs. You glance at him.

"Something funny?" you ask, teeth grit.

"Once again, you're biting off more than you can chew," he says, hands on his waist. "It's stupid and you're gonna get yourself into trouble. Just clear out the Bowery with me. Plenty of room for both of us."

"I don't know if you know this, but I actually do pretty okay on my own. Just because you're one of Batman's special little prodigies doesn't mean the rest of us can't get by."

You glance at the others. "No offense."

"None taken," Tim says. "You're far better adjusted than us, no contest."

Jason rolls his eyes. "C'mon. You don't have anything to prove to us. We know you're capable, but these guys are rough. We team up for safety."

"Oh, now you care about being a part of a team?" you snap. "You didn't give a shit when it was me asking—no, begging you and Roy to help me with the League mission in Sydney."

Jason's jaw tenses. "That was different."

"Guys, I think we should—"

"Why? Because you only get your hands dirty locally?" you ask, shaking with anger.

"Because if I had gotten involved, it would've put a target on your back," Jason says icily. "You would've been killed. You were nowhere near ready to take on the League. I wouldn't have been able to protect you and fight them."

"You know, right there, you sounded just like Bruce. Did you take tips from him?"

Silence. Jason's boiling with anger, you can tell.

"Bruce wouldn't have had the sense to stop you from going," he finally says, tone even. "He's not too good at that."

"Bruce would've cared enough to back me up. And he wouldn't have driven a wedge between me and my team."

It's just words; there's no way to know whether Batman would've actually backed you up. Probably not, considering his history. But it hurts Jason, and you take the moment to whirl around to look at Dick and Tim, who are wildly uncomfortable. Dick looks sad.

"It's better to team up," Dick says gently.

You bristle. "Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow."

You stalk out of the Cave.

Stupid fucking exes. Stupid fucking vigilantes.

****

"Okay, just to make things clear..."

"In and out. Report at the Cave," you say, tightening your equipment. "I got it, Nightwing. Over and out."

You silence your comm before he can respond. You're tired of their voices.

Thankfully, Jason has taken the hint and is on the opposite end of the Bowery. Which means you can slip away in peace.

You did this as a favor for Barbara, but now you're seriously rethinking getting reinvolved with the Bats. It never ends well.

The warehouses on the East End of Old Gotham are no problem. You clear out five within an hour. You check the comm briefly. It's pretty much silent, so you turn it off and keep going.

The West End, however, is a little harder.

Because you're only one person, someone figures out your pattern. You're clobbered over the head before you can drop in through the roof.

This is the last time you do a favor for anybody in Gotham.

****

You wake up tied to a chair. Your head pounds, and your lip is bloody. Not good.

"—way the Bat will show. They're a nobody vigilante."

"Tony, you're a fuckin' idiot if you think Batman doesn't know exactly what the fuck goes on in this city. Swear to God, I shoulda left you with Mom in Boise. Nothing but cotton in your head."

"Oh, fuck off, Al, you'd still be droolin' on your couch crying over Marie if I hadn't come back to Jersey."

"You little—"

"Very sorry to interrupt this family spat," you say. "But I'm on a tight schedule here, so if you could just speed things up..."

"Smartass, huh?" Al asks, waving a gun. "I wouldn't be so bold tied to a chair, toots."

"Toots? Are you a hundred years old?"

Tony snickers. Al glares at him and stalks over to you. He doesn't hesitate before whacking you upside the head with his gun. Your ears ring, and you hunch forward.

"Watch your mouth," he growls, and you're in too much pain to come up with a response to that.

Presently, you realize that your earbud is out of your ear. Probably destroyed. You have no other way of sending a distress signal. By the time you miss the report at the Cave, it'll be too late.

You were a failure then, and you're a failure now. Even your ex-boyfriend took pity on you.

Jason. God, look at how you'd left things. How his face had fallen when you'd called him Bruce. He used to love Bruce, and you know exactly what happened that changed that. And you used it against him.

Now you're facing the consequences. This is your own damn fault.

"Load everything into the truck," Al says into a walkie. "Then move out. Tell the others the same."

There's a crackled reply. Then shouting. Then silence.

You look up in surprise. Al curses and points at you.

"Stay here and watch them," he orders Tony.

"But Al, what if Batman comes here?"

"That's what guns are for, you freakin' idiot!"

You snort. As if guns could stop any of them, much less Batman.

But whatever. These guys probably didn't go into selling drugs because of their big IQs.

Tony and five other men stay to guard you. You work on trying to slip out of the handcuffs and rope.

Bang!

The first gunshot hits one goon in the leg. A second gets hit in the shoulder. Hip. Foot. Opposite leg.

Red Hood steps out of the shadows, then. Tony immediately looks sick.

"H-Hood? This ain't your territory, what're you—"

"You've got something of mine, Lewis," Jason says, voice smooth and dangerous.

Tony decides that, fuck his brother, he's getting out of here alive, and runs. Jason doesn't pay him any mind, instead walking to you.

He cuts the ropes first, then picks the handcuffs. Jason roughly rubs your wrists and ankles, pushing blood back into your extremities.

"What're you doing?" you ask. "Go get him. He's meeting his brother downtown."

You can't see Jason's expression through the helmet, but if looks could kill...

"Hood—"

"What. The hell. Is wrong with you."

You scowl. "I didn't come here for a fucking lecture."

"Well, you're gonna get one. This wasn't the plan. And you turned off your comm? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You have a death wish or something?"

"It didn't make sense to put both of us in the Bowery—"

"You could've died tonight!" Jason yells.

"And wouldn't you have liked that!" you snap back. "Proves the fact that I'm a failure quite nicely."

Jason tears off his helmet. His eyes are wide with anger and... guilt. Helplessness.

He's afraid.

"Don't you fucking say that," he says lowly. "I'd rather die again than find your body."

"What the fuck do you care?" you snarl. "I'm not your responsibility, remember? What does it matter if I dropped off the face of the earth?"

"Because I still love you!"

All of your anger drains.

Your body buzzes like it wants to feel him again. Traitor.

"That would kill me," Jason finishes quietly. "And I wouldn't come back from that death."

Your mouth feels like you swallowed chalk. And bees.

"You love me?" you whisper.

"You're hard to get over," he says. "Still haven't managed it."

"But... you said our breakup was for the best."

Jason sighs. His anger fades. "It was. I was a jackass. I let my shit with Bruce and the Pit and everything get in the way of what was important. Which is you."

"You were good to me, Jay," you say. "And we were okay. Till... till Sydney."

Jason winces. "I should've handled it better. And I should've treated you better."

"You're a good man, Jason. I don't regret my relationship with you. I regret it ending."

He looks at you. His face is twisted in pain.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he says. "And you're not a failure. Not even close."

You scoff, your eyes wet. "Aren't I? Couldn't even handle a simple drug bust."

"No, you're not. Nothing about what we do is simple, even if we're gaslit into thinking so. In this life, you need someone to watch your back. Even B doesn't work alone."

You try to stand, suddenly feeling like a raw nerve. You stand up too fast, though, and blood rushes to your head. You might also be mildly concussed.

Jason immediately slips an arm around your waist as you teeter forward and puts you upright.

"Easy, sweetheart," he says, and doesn't let go until you're steady.

You raise a brow. Jason grimaces.

"Sorry. Force a' habit."

You scoff, suddenly shy. "Habit, huh? Still think of me as your sweetheart?"

"Never stopped."

You roll your eyes, but it's fond now. "Anybody ever tell you you don't know how to move on?"

"Mm. I've heard it once or twice."

Your lips tingle. You've missed kissing him.

"I'm sorry I compared you to Bruce," you say. "You're nothing like him."

Jason shrugs. "Some of me is exactly like him. The fact that I didn't put a bullet in anybody's brain even though they kidnapped you isn't me at all. But I forgive you. And I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't know the Sydney mission had festered so much."

"It's okay, Jay. You're right, I wasn't ready to take down the League or kill anybody. I'm grateful you stopped me."

Jason takes a careful step forward, eyes darting to your lips. You smirk.

"Hot for communication, are we?" you ask.

"Oh," he says, suddenly reticent. "Sorry. Too forward. Shit. I've... I've just missed you so much. I thought maybe you—that there was a vibe—but if there isn't, then—"

You take the last step and kiss him, and your lips buzz in satisfaction. Jason kisses back just as eagerly, hands flying to your waist and squeezing. But his hands roam, holding and cupping like he's been starved for the last year.

"I missed you too, Jaybird," you say between kisses.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #one shot #inbox #blurb

[ciitroner]

Rough Day

Ghoap x kidnapped!reader

Wc: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), afab!reader, noncon/dubcon-ish???, not proofread, kidnapping, oral sex (fem receiving), cunnilingus, reader is kinda touch starved, dark fic, mentions of creampie, Simon and Johnny are mean :(, Simon calls Johnny “pup” (once), voyeurism, one-time-mention of pee (not piss kink), reader is restrained and threatened (kinda), Soap acts like a wild animal sorry that’s how it goes 🤷‍♀️, also reader refuses to call them by their names lol, tell me if I missed any!

The sounds of clinks and jingles can be heard as the numerous locks unlock on the door, “Fuuuck. Hate this fuckin’ job sometimes.” You hear a deep, frustrated voice groan, paralleling the whistling creak of the wooden rectangle. Some hefty objects, perhaps a few bags, are thrown on the ground, and another voice replies curtly, “Manners, Johnny.”

Their heavy footsteps slowly move around the house, which is located in the middle of pretty much nowhere. Your breath hitches when the steps move closer to the dark room you’re locked in, chained to the headboard of their shared bed. They don’t come in yet, though, acting as if you don’t even exist. Acting as if they didn’t take you away from your life, locking you up in a house for them to play dolly with you. “Eh? Dinnae act like yer not agreein’ with me, Lt” the muffled voice rumbles from the other side of your door, coming closer and closer, until a ray of light peeks through the doorcrack that keeps getting bigger. He swiftly moves into the room and turns on the ceiling light, a poor little lightbulb hanging by an old cord. The sudden shift in brightness makes you blink a few times until your eyes adjust. You’re sure they have way more money than they’re letting on; yet they keep their pretty prisoner in a humble house - which could only be described as something from a cliché horror film. “Hey, lassie.”

His eyes meet yours, and you writhe against the headboard, trying to break free - albeit for naught. Your wrists hurt from the previous numerous attempts, and you quickly give up and settle down when he moves into the room, sighing. He sheds his clothes, only leaving him in his boxers, before he lies down on the bed next to you, lifting your tank top slightly and circling his cold finger on your stomach - dipping it down to the hem of your sweatpants from time to time. You shiver slightly and let out an audible gasp, trying to squirm free from his touch. “Had a rough day, lovie. Dinnae test me, aye?” He kisses your tummy before squeezing your waist with one hand and holding up his head with the other whilst lying on his side. Ghost moves into the room, and your eyes shift to his figure in the doorway. Soap notices your absent eyes and looks behind him, “Simon, need’ta fuck her.” In which the masked man only shrugs, “Go on then, pup.” Before chucking off his clothes as well, changing into a pair of sweatpants, and sitting down on the bed beside you.

The creaking bed dips down to one side, and you look over at Ghost, his muscles left on display. He’s big, and that’s accentuated by the phone he pulls out. It’s small in his hands, and you bet that he’s pressed the wrong letter on the keyboard one too many times because of his big fingers - which are twice as large as one of your own. Without the mask, now replaced with a balaclava, you can much easier see his brown eyes, and the fluttering blonde eyelashes every time he blinks. He starts mindlessly scrolling somewhere, furrowing his brows sporadically, but your attention is quickly shifted back to the man now between your legs.

“C’mon, lift yer hips.” His hands find the hem of your pants, but you refuse to budge. As grateful you are for the two to be back, as human contact is near impossible in your… new life, you hate when they touch you. Ghost appears to understand your situation slightly, or at least he seems to pretend-empathize with the ill-fated girl lying on their bed, “Easy, Johnny. Poor thing looks like she’s about to wet herself.” He snorts, sharing a laugh with the man forcefully tugging your bottoms off. The panic in your eyes is clear as day, when he carelessly throws them somewhere behind him, letting them scatter on the slightly dusty wooden floor. His fingers find your clit, and he slowly circles it, playing with it like a toy while he converses with Ghost for a bit. You don’t listen in, but try to focus on not getting wet, though his skilled fingers and the shackles aren't giving you much freedom.

After a while of kicking his legs back and forth like a teenage girl talking to her crush whilst lying on her stomach, Soap turns his head to you - giving you a toothy grin. He positions himself on his knees, dick throbbing against his boxers. He grips your thighs and pulls you closer to him before removing his fingers from your clit and moving his head down to kiss it, darting out his tongue and licking down to your hole. “Fuck, hen, yer pussy n’ yer attitude are givin’ me two whole different signals.” He inhales loudly, and you let out a quiet whine. You’ve learned that they either like it when you talk back to them or hate it - which leads to you getting gagged; and not trying to test the waters - you bite your lips instead. “Only if ye were a wee bit better actor, maybe I’d believe yer complaints, bonnie.” And with that, he starts eating you out like a starving man. He leaves no place untouched, bites your inner thighs and grins when you close them on his head - trapping him between them.

His wet tongue glides over your glistening pussy, pushing it into you before travelling upwards. You choke back a sob of pleasure when two of his fingers start dancing around your hole while he sucks on your clit - biting it occasionally for the pleasure of hearing a moan leave your mouth. It’s downright filthy, and he keeps mumbling incoherent things to your pussy, before plunging his fingers into you. A loud whine leaves your mouth, followed by sweet little ah’s, which prompts him to groan against you. “Yeah, good girl, moanin’ like a bitch in heat.” Your head flies back and your toes curl at the third finger he crams into you. Pouting, you look to the side, not being able to bear the sight of Soap hunched over your bottom half like a wild man. Your eyes meet Ghost’s for a short second, before they travel down to the bulge between his pants, clearly aroused by the action going on beside him. His eyes are half-lidded, and you can tell he’s smiling at you before palming his clothed dick and looking down at Soap fingering you to oblivion.

Soap scissors his fingers and licks his name onto your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly, a loud mewl can be heard from you when you finally cum. Your eyes are closed shut, and only open when Ghost lightly slaps your cheeks, “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Come on.” You almost let out a scream when you’re met face to face with Soap. His jaw is wet, and his mouth is drooling. His leaking cock’s hard against your stomach and twitches slightly when he pulls you in for a deep kiss. “mmph taste so fuckin’ good” he moans against your mouth, biting your lower lip. One hand leaves your hips to guide his cock to your wet cunt, and you sigh because apparently, the concept of condoms doesn’t exist in the scot’s head. You feel like you need a break though, so when he tries to push in, you attempt to stop him with a weak, “W-wait I-”

His other hand leaves your hip and squishes your cheeks together until your lips form a cute little pout, which he can’t help but kiss. “Haud yer wheesht” he hisses, and pushes his cock into you faster than you’d like. Ghost pets your hair and softly speaks, “Don’t be greedy, let him cum and spread you out for me, hm?” Your lips quiver and they both laugh at you, “be a good girl, and you’ll get treated like a princess afterwards, love.”

#need them so bad #first fic rahh I hope I didn’t fuck it up😭 #kidnap!au #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #cod smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghoap #ghoap x reader #ghoap smut #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #ghost mw2 #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #John soap mctavish smut #dark fic #drabble #ghost cod

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine being a new member of the Red Hair pirates eleven years before the main plot

Benn: This is Hongo, the ship's doctor

Hongo: And who is this ravishing creature?

Benn: down boy, this is the rookie that Shanks dragged home.

Hongo: Oh you poor thing.

You: Shanks picked me for my combat abilities

Hongo: you must be strong then.

You: admittedly my strength is nowhere near the boss's level, but I can go toe to toe with a rear admiral in a fight.

Hongo: I see

Uta: don't sell yourself short, I watched you spar with papa, and he was getting winded. *Makes those grabbie hands that signal she wants you to pick her up*

You: thank you, and who are you if I might ask. *Picks her up*

Shanks: that is Uta, my adorable daughter.

Uta: I'm papa's favorite, and don't you forget it, I'm also the ship's musician.

You: really, what instrument do you play?

Uta: *gestures to her throat* my voice box, I'm a singer.

You: I eagerly await your next performance then.

Uta: wait no longer, places everyone! *Claps her hands*

Hongo, Yassop, and Lucky Roux: *scamper around to clear a spot and set up a stage for her*

You: (ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ) ???

Benn: *scoops Uta out of your arms and carries her to the stage*

Uta: (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ a song for the newbie *starts to sing*

Yassop: *puts a chair under you and gently pushes you into it*

Shanks: *moves his chair next to yours and leans in* isn't she so cute?

You: yes, she has such a beautiful voice. Do you and your men usually allow yourselves to be controlled by the whims of a child?

Benn: ... Yes, but only because we want to

After the song

Uta: *chilling in your lap* what'd you think?

You: you're an exceptionally talented singer, you must put a lot of work into it.

Uta: of course, practice makes perfect.

You: and you seem to have everyone here wrapped around your little finger. They must love you very much.

Uta: yes... I think they feel guilty, since my parents are dead.

Shanks: it's not that

Yassop: at least not entirely

You: I figured you were adopted.

Uta: what do you mean?

Shanks: how could you tell?

You: because she's talented,

The crew: (⁠(⁠(⁠;⁠ꏿ⁠_⁠ꏿ⁠;⁠)⁠)⁠) ....

You: *quickly adds* at something besides fighting and debauchery.

The crew: *laughs*

Shanks: wow, already making cheap shots at your captain on your first day aboard. It's true, she's talented, she gets it from her mother. We do our best to make sure she's provided for, but there are still some areas we are lacking in.

Uta: yeah, like shopping

Benn: we take you shopping, literally every time we make port.

Uta: Yeah! But it is always to sleazy back alley joints where everything is second hand and not the designer shops that have cute new clothes. All because of papa's ugly mug has a bounty on it. Plus none of you have any sense of style, and can give me useful feedback on my outfits.

Shanks: well that's true, hey! You shouldn't call people, especially your poor father, ugly!

Benn: I have always wanted to take her to those shops too, our little girl would look so cute in those nice clothes.

You: I can take you, I don't have a bounty, and I know a little about fashion.

Uta: *looks over your outfit* your fashion sense, outwardly, appears to be less offensive to the eyes than papa's.

You: uh, thank you.

Shanks: Offensive? What about my outfit is offensive?

Uta: your shirt is wrinkly and stained, and your pants!... Don't even get me started on your pants.

Benn: allow me, they look like you made them out of someone's grandmother's couch.

Shanks: alright, thank you I get it.

You: *grumbles* Sandals are a little worse for wear as well.

Uta: *giggles*

Shanks: y'all are teaming up on me

Benn: yeah guys, he's only got one arm, it's downright unsporting.

List of Up-and-coming works

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #red haired shanks #red hair pirates #benn beckman #uta #lucky roux #yassop #hongo #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #8/27/23 #no beta we die like men

[euaphoric]

“i can give you all the exact same things he can, but a million times better.”

## pairing — haechan x f!reader / strangers to lovers ? ft. other nct members!

## warnings — smut, light angst, fluff, drinking/scenes involving alcohol, a whole lotta nasty stuff, approximately 3.3k words. did i base some of the conflict on real life events? possiblyyy.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

per usual, it was another weekend filled with back to back partying and going out. jaemin (your new boytoy for now) invited you out tonight so you pull up to the function wearing your sexiest little black dress, making all the heads turn soon as you walk in the club. even jaemin’s friends were eyeing you, they were all pretty hot too which didn’t make the situation any easier. it was your first time meeting all of them properly, you only really spoke to them through quick interactions between you coming and going out of jaemin’s room. they all knew you had a thing going on so they did their best to try and respect that.

“hey, you must be y/n right? i’m taeyong, i don’t think we’ve formally introduced ourselves. it’s nice finally talking to you!” a blonde man comes up to you, reaching his hand out for you to take. you happily accept and shook his hand, “yes, it’s so nice meeting you too!” all of the guys seemed really friendly, especially mark, he can get pretty handsy when there’s a bit of alcohol in his system. “oh so this is the girl i’ve been hearing all about?” mark stumbles his way over to you, already feeling drunk off a couple shots. “nice to meet ya, i’m mark!” you try and go for a handshake like you did previously with taeyong but that wasn’t his style. “pfftt, don’t try that with me, we hug around here!” he pulls you into a giant bear hug, almost embracing you like a longtime friend he’s known for years. you gave him a questionable look, wondering what kinds of things jaemin says about you to his friends. hopefully it was nothing too detailed or invasive, in which that case you’d be heated if he spilled all the tea about your sex lives.

“care to elaborate on what you heard about me…?” you ask skeptically, wondering if it’s something actually worth your time. “i mean.. nah, i probably shouldn’t— it’s like against bro code to disclose top secret info like that!” he recants, not wanting to be the main source of why you might get angry with jaemin. sigh, as much as you wanted to keep prying mark with more questions your vision gets blocked by jaemin who quite literally comes out of nowhere with another shot. “mark hyung i think that’s enough chitchatting for now, just keep drinking and dancing!” he proceeds to hand mark the glass filled with mystery liquid, mark gulped it down instantly and even asked for another. this was definitely gonna be a night full of catastrophic fun. well hopefully. you didn’t drink much so it felt nice being one of the only semi-sober people of the bunch, the club was pretty packed but you were on the upstairs level and near the outdoor patio which had a gorgeous view of the skyline. the DJ tonight was pretty decent too, he played most songs you knew and liked which was rare nowadays. you didn’t need lots of alcohol to let loose and have fun so you make your way to the dance floor with jaemin but not even 5 mins later he runs into a familiar face. “jaemin is that really you?!” a brunette woman comes up to him with the cheesiest smile on her face. “no way, giselle? long time no see!” he hugs her but that hug seems to be lasting way longer than it should.

it’s almost as if you completely didn’t exist anymore to jaemin. he told you he’d be “right back” but it’s been a good 15-20 minutes and he’s still over at the bar with giselle. he could’ve at least tried to hide the fact that he was flirtatious but he wasn’t even subtle when his eyes were glued to her massive rack the whole time she spoke. you know you aren’t dating this man but the disrespect of him to do that so blatantly in front of your face was crazy to you. he’s crossed the big no-no line for you and it’s only fair you give him a taste of his own medicine. you scan the room to look for a hot guy that would make the perfect candidate, settling your eyes on a very, ridiculously handsome man standing a few meters away from you. he seemed to be alone, his facial expression looking almost bored. you never thought white pants looked good on anyone, but on him? he was exquisite. he gave off 90’s skater vibes and looks like type that listens to cigarettes after sex. it intrigued you why such a good looking guy was here out by himself, just didn’t seem right.

you confidently walk up to him, tapping his shoulder to strike up a conversation. the blaring music would drown out your soft voice easily so you get closer to his ear, “hey, i’m just gonna put it out there right now, i think you’re hot and wanna dance with you!” you were bold for sure tonight. the man looks caught by surprise but doesn’t seem opposed by your advance. he whispers back in your ear “the feelings mutual, i’d love to!” within seconds, an array of ring clad fingers wrap around your waist to bring you to the center of the dance floor. you knew you had the full package but weren’t expecting to get this far so quickly, your backside was facing his front, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. a slow r&b song comes on so he rests his chin on your shoulder, “you look amazing in this dress might i add.” the unnamed man says in a raspy tone. “this definitely feels like fate ‘cause i’ve been eyeing you since i came in here.” you met this guy not even half an hour ago and you’re already ready to drop to your knees for him. “i didn’t try anything since i saw you with a guy earlier, that wasn’t your boyfriend right?” you laugh, scoffing at the idea of you ever dating jaemin. you’ll probably never want to see him again after this stunt he pulled. “no, not at all! he’s just some guy i was seeing, but he’s old news now!” “ah, i see. so then i’m allowed to claim you for the rest of the night?” “i’m all yours for the taking.”

the dance floor became a fuzzy obscure entity around you as your bodies collided. the way he danced so gracefully yet so sensual, his hands traveled down your body, admiring your curvy figure. it felt like a steamy movie scene where two hot strangers try and solve the thick tension between them. but your moment would soon be ruined by the constant vibrating of your phone. you tried ignoring it but it wouldn’t stop so you take it out your crossbody purse and look to see who’s been blowing it up. of course, the person who’s been trying to contact you was none other than jaemin. “sorry, s’cuse me i gotta look at this for a sec!” you break away momentarily to check the texts.

5 new notifications from- jaemin (sneaky link 💦)

[1:00 am]: wow..

[1:03 am]: i leave and come back for only a couple mins just to see you with other guys?? you should feel shameful

[1:04 am]: can’t believe you’d do me like that fr

[1:10 am]: funny cause i was starting to have genuine feelings for you too but i guess you girls are all just the same so idc it’s your loss 🤷🏻‍♂️

[1:18 am]: wtv

the audacity of this man was astonishing. you cannot believe him of all people is actually getting mad at you for doing this. you know you’ll probably regret this tomorrow but you tell him off, it’s only right since he wants to pull the victim card now.

[1:25 am]: don’t make me laugh jae, you’re so self entitled that you can’t even see what YOU did wrong. i’m not going to explain myself and idgaf what you think of me after this, i’m thru with your sorry ass anyways. go have fun with your new bae giselle since you wanna mooch it up with her all night which was way more than “a couple mins” btw… you practically threw yourself at her like the manwhore you are and left me to fend for myself! you are the only one who should feel shameful here not me. so kindly go fuck yourself and have a nice day :)

it felt good to let it all out after sending that, you gave zero fucks at this point. you put your phone on do not disturb, put it back in your purse and bring your attention back to the man with groovy dance moves. “why don’t we get out of here?” your ask sounds more like a demand as you pull his arm away to leave the floor, making your way through the sea of people. you reach outside and you were finally able to talk normally, not having to scream over the music in order to understand each other. “my cars parked in that lot over there, we can go back to my place if you want.” he proposes, waiting for you to give him the approval.

usually you aren’t this lenient with just hooking with someone from the club but this guy was on another level, you had to see what he’s all about. “sure, but before i get into the car with a complete stranger, can we at least know our names? i’m y/n.” you finally introduce yourself properly. “yeah that would make sense, my name’s haechan. it’s an honor to have you accompany me tonight!” he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a wet kiss to it. even the most minimal touch leaves you starstruck by him.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

once you got to haechan’s place, it started off with some wholesome fun. just talking and getting to know more about each other, haechan asked about jaemin again to make sure you were okay but you shrug it off saying you were fine. “trust me haechan, i’m not shedding a single tear over him so no need to keep asking. i’ll be fine, he was just someone i used as a booty call to be honest.” he nods to your response, “good, now i won’t feel like an asshole for saying what i was thinking.” “what were you thinking?” you wonder, raising your brow. “that i can give you all the exact same things he can, but a million times better.” his voice was laced with seduction as he spoke, “i don’t even mean to sound cocky but i’ll make it my personal goal to be the most memorable fuck you’ve ever had.” he presses his chest up against yours, “i’ll make sure you’ll never think about another man but me after i’m through with you princess.”

you nervously gulp, feeling yourself grow wetter by the minute. you’ve never had a man talk to you in such a way that could make you this easily aroused. “that’s a pretty bold claim you said there, you think you’ll be able to live up to it?” you tease, hoping he won’t take it too seriously. “oh i don’t think, i know. it’s 100% satisfaction guaranteed or your money back love— which will never happen.” he chuckles, snaking his hand to cup your chin and bringing it close to his lips. he stayed like that for what seemed like forever, staring at your petal lips, lightly squishing your cheeks together to turn them into a pout.

“so pretty…” he coos, inching closer to your lips now. he presents you with a deep kiss, sensing the raw passion through him as his hands tease the inners of your thighs. you get a fistful of his messy hair while sinking further down into the memory foam mattress, bringing him with you. he nibbles at your lower lip for entry and you immediately let him slide his tongue in, deliciously exploring each other, making you purr as he tastes the sweetness of you. you softly moan into the kiss, grinding your hips below him, bucking up pathetically to feel some action down there.

“god you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, after breaking away from the kiss. “i’m gonna fuck you ‘til it’s morning baby.” that sounded more like a threat than a promise. “you gonna rail me so hard that i scream and call you daddy all night?” you playfully remark, something ignited in him once you called him that, the desire for you only becoming more irrational. “oh my beloved, you have no idea.” his breaths were heavy against your skin, pressing kisses to your jawline then trailing down to your neck to gently suck. he found a hypersensitive area to make you gasp, sending goosebumps all over your body. you feel a hand on your breast, cupping it tenderly whilst littering your neck with pretty purple and red hickeys. your legs squirm underneath from him rubbing your nipple through your dress, feeling it stiffen as he pinched and flicked at them. you were so horny for him at this point, your panties were a soaked up mess. you continued bucking into him for any bit of stimulation, whining to feel something. it’s been a while since you’ve been needy like this for a man… “if you want something darling just ask.” he props his head up to give you a shit eating smirk, wanting to hear you talk just as dirty as he was. “gimme cock, please! i’m so painfully wet right now i can’t take it anymore.. just need you to fill me up” you weakly surrender. drool peaked out from the corner of your mouth and haechan noticed so he licks it up, “that’s what i’ve been planning to do for hours sweetheart.”

haechan gives you a couple more small, fleeting kisses while lifting your dress up, caressing your plump thighs, running his index finger from your inner thigh to your damp clothed clit. “goddamn you weren’t lying, you’re crazy wet.” you blush at how embarrassingly wet he’s made you for someone you haven’t even known a full 24 hours yet. “i’m just gonna prep you bit with my fingers m’kay babe?” he pushes your panties to the side, sliding his digits along your folds to gather your slick. he entered two fingers in you while circling and stimulating your clit with his thumb, your moans echoed throughout the room just for him. he curls them inside you and your walls cinch around needily, arching your back and moaning with pleasure.

you were seemingly going to come undone just from haechan fingering you, all the wetness dripping onto his wrist only making him want you to cream on his fingers more. your legs feel unstable and you twitch as you feel yourself cumming for the first time of the night, your liquids pour out into his digits, coating them with the creamiest mess. your mouth is locked open as you reach your high, another harsh swipe to your clit was the last string that pulled you. feeling breathless at this point, he gave a twisted smile before taking his fingers out and placing them in your mouth to suck one by one, tasting your lovely essence. he rushed to take off his clothes; quickly removing his pants and boxers to reveal his freshly trimmed, hardened cock. your eyes widen at his length, he’s much bigger than you thought, you were figuring out how he’d be able to fit it all inside. he’ll make it fit one way or another.

there will be many more orgasms to come as the night progresses, you’ve lost count at this point as the duvet is now soaked with your juices. he was pounding you into the ground with his cock, producing hefty back shots to your ass while his hands rest on both sides of your waist. he hasn’t gotten tired of fucking your tight pussy since he’s started. “who’s pussy does this belong to?” he pants, hitting your walls precisely, “it’s all mine right? my cock’s better than jaemin’s right??” he growls, already showing his possessive side within just a few hours. a loud slap to your ass comes with full force, barely giving you any time to react. “r-right!! all yours, this pussy belongs to only you haechan!” you internally struggled to speak, feeling faint off of how many times he’s made you cum. you scream and yelp from pleasure that his dick is the best and how good he’s making you feel. he’s fucked your overstimulated cunt so many times but you still subconsciously tighten around him as he draws out and pumps back in. as soon as he’s close to cumming he finishes on your back, spreading his white seed onto you like the filthy cockwhore you were for him.

he had you like putty in his hands, arching into his touch as he digs his nails into your plush hips. you squirt like it was nothing with him, but with jaemin you could never do that. you couldn’t let this just be a one night stand, you have to get this guy’s number before you leave to do the walk of shame in the morning. speaking of morning; you can see a faint sliver of light through the curtains and you realize now that haechan kept his word from earlier. you never kept track of time though, only thing on your mind is hyuck’s cock filling you up repeatedly. his pace would get sloppier as he’s close to his ten thousandth orgasm, hearing a loud guttural groan escape his mouth. he pulls out again but this time he turns you over while manhandling you, pinning your arms to each side while he cums all on your folds, watching it slowly leak down your swollen pussy. he drags his fingers to your cunt to spread your lips open, biting his lip at the sight — he made such a beautiful mess.

with your clit already being overstimulated and sensitive, he flicks his tongue back to it while tightly holding onto your thigh. your whole body trembles as you cry out to him, pulling his hair as he brings you to tears. you don’t know how you’re still breathing right now, waves of ecstasy washing your brain from constant stimulus, you were in utopia and heaven combined. you weren’t sure how much more you’ll be able to endure, “haechan! haechan!” you’d scream at the top of your lungs, body growing weaker and weaker. he was tearing down every part of you like his life depends on it. he forms saliva with his mouth and spits on your already dripping, throbbing cunt; he’ll never get tired of doing this. “i make you feel the best don’t i?” he grunts, slapping your pussy “no one makes you feel as good as i do right baby girl?” “yes…” you whimper from the twinge of pain. eyes roll to the back of your head, that devilish gaze he had could snatch your soul in an instant.

he was completely right when he said no one’s ever made you feel this good, he was most definitely going to be the most memorable lay you’ve had in your life. jaemin didn’t even come close to haechan. you feel crazy for wanting to stay with him and ask him how he likes his eggs in the morning, his cock rewired your whole brain to think only of him, to be of service to his every want and need. he drove you truly, madly, deeply insane. “looks like the suns fully rising now,” he says looking over at the acute sunlight emitting from the window “my work here is done.” “can i just stay like this for a while? i can’t feel my legs..” you croak, unable to even build minimum strength to prop your head up. “of course you can” he murmurs, “i would never kick you out like that. i was gonna ask if you wanted to sleep here and cuddle, hm?” pressing slow, lazy kisses to your shaky thighs, tracing patterns into them. he was a force to be reckoned with earlier but has now turned into a ray of sunshine right after. “yes please, i’d love that. hold me in your arms forever and ever.”

#nct #nct smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan fanfic #nct x reader #haechan x f reader #nct x female reader #nct hard hours #lee donghyuck smut #lee donghyuk x reader

[spacecowboyhotch]

Over a Ledge

summary: just the taste of his name on your lips can be too much— until you taste him.

pairing: santiago ‘pope’ garcia x fem!reader

warnings: symptoms of ptsd, water/swimming, friends to lovers, perceived unrequited feelings, kissing, cuddling

wc: 1.9k

an: wanted to write the one-bed trope with santi in a non-violent setting and birthed this lol

oscar characters masterlist | requests are open

He’s on vacation with his closest friends, a rest and reset that you’ve all practically forced him into, and the pool has a waterfall.

The sound is tolerable during the day, in the bright warmth of the sun, in the comforting cocoon of being with all of you. His brain can tune it out, make it soothing background noise, a simple distraction easily pushed into the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

It’s later now. Yes, the pool has a waterfall and his window is nearest to it. In the quiet of the night its cadence rings loudly in his head. There is no escape, nowhere to run. The window is shut tightly, a pillow over his head, and still, it plagues him.

All he can think about is the rain they froze in. The weight of the water, how the raindrops fell so hard they seemed like they were the size of baseballs. How at least then, even as they sat on the brink of hypothermia, soaked to the bone, there were 5 of them, that he’d have lived the rest of his life there if it meant that Tom lived.

It’s the middle of the night and he goes to find the switch. There is no way he can spend a week in the house like this.

He pokes around, walking circles around the waterfall in hopes to find a switch. When he has no luck, he looks at the filtering system for the pool. Still nothing. Maybe it’s in the pool. He knows it’s a long shot but he’s out here, he might as well try. He’s in his boxers already, so he strips off his shirt, before jumping into the deep in near the waterfall.

With the chill of the night, the water is colder than usual, and goosebumps ripple across his skin. It feels as if every strand of hair on his body is up, standing at attention. He paddles through the water, dipping under the surface as he searches for a switch of some sort.

“What’re you doing?” You call from behind him.

He whirls around in the water, sending a wave to wet your feet. He glares at you, crossing his arms, “Fucking Christ, announce yourself would you?”

You glare back at him with a feigned offense, “I was here first, actually, Santiago.”

“And you just sat in the shadows like a fucking creep?”

“Maybe. What’re you doing?” You repeat your question, but this time you get up, coming to the edge of the pool.

“Trying to turn this goddamn thing off,” He gestures to the waterfall, water splashing.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

Santi is quiet for a moment. So much is wrong. There’s not enough time to explain all the things that are wrong with him, some of them so old and faded he’s not even sure they count anymore. There’s always been something wrong, some empty feeling has sat in his chest since he was too young to name it. His service didn’t help, the gorge had just grown bigger and deeper. New wounds accompany it.

“It’s uh, just keeping me up,” He finally offers, his gaze faltering.

You can tell by his tone that there’s more to it. But, you've never been privy to meaningful information from Santi, never been deemed important enough.

“I’ll switch with you.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t, I offered. I mean, you could sleep with me if you’re really worried about kicking me out. It’s a king-sized bed.”

You’re skating on the thin ice that’s between you and your feelings for Santi. When Frankie offered to introduce you to his friends, you hadn’t given it much thought. You take care of his daughter while he and Vanessa work, he’s like family— it made sense to get to know him better through his friends. And so you’d said yes, not realizing that you were going to meet Santi.

Santiago.

Just the taste of his name on your lips can be too much. But, he’s never shown any interest in you— and if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s flirting. You’ve seen him in action, seen him charm many women in various places, from bars to grocery stores to the concession stand at one of Benny’s fights. But, he’s never tried to charm you, and that’s enough for you to keep your mouth shut. Keeping him at a distance? Well, that’s harder than it should be knowing what you do.

“Sleep with you,” He repeats clumsily, as if he is speaking some language he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, so you won’t hear the waterfall, I won’t have to move all my things. You wake up early anyway, you could head back to your room before anyone else is awake, y’know so no one thinks—”

“They won’t think anything.”

“Right, of course not,” You say sharply, and Santi immediately notices your tone.

“Wait a minute—”

“There’s a towel I brought down just in case I decided to swim, take it,” You point back at where you were sitting. “Just knock on the door once you’re good to go.”

Before Santi can explain what he meant you turn on your heel and head back into the house. He doesn’t get to say that none of them think anything because they know he couldn’t risk losing you. Since Frankie had introduced you two, all of the guys noticed a change in him. Santi is tender with you, even if you don’t realize it. You are delicate, as delicate as a flower just as it blooms, and he’s known for destroying anything he touches. The last thing he could bear is destroying you.

He wades to the stairs, slowly climbing from the pool and drying himself with the towel you spoke about. Once back inside the house, he dresses in some sweatpants and an old army tee that’s much too thin for him to be holding onto. He hesitates when he makes it to your door, standing with his fist raised for several moments before he knocks gently. There is no answer and so he knocks again. And again, a bit harder this time.

He’s about to head back to his room when you finally open the door, out of breath.

“Sorry.”

He frowns, reaching out for your arm, “Are you okay?”

You fight off the urge to shiver, moving with the opening door so that his hand falls away, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. C’mon.”

The two of you do this song and dance, awkwardly asking about which side to take. Staring at each other and looking away as you make it to your respective sides of the bed. Quickly sliding in and turning over, as if the sight of the other amongst the sheets is some sacred ritual for worthy eyes only.

You’ve never seen him like this before and the only thing you can contribute to is him having to spend the night with a woman he doesn’t want. With you.

You turn that thought over and over in your head, the start of a spiral you’re sure will keep you up all night when he speaks.

“What I said earlier, about them not thinking…I didn’t mean it in the way you thought I did.”

“There’s one interpretation of what you said, Santiago. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“What were you doing when I got to your door?”

“What?”

“When I knocked, you answered out of breath. What were you doing?”

“Pacing.”

He turns over to face your back, hoping that you’ll turn over so he can read your face. “Pacing?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you—“

You refuse to go through this back and forth with him. You’ll face it hea-on, get it all out in the open so that you both can look it in the face once and never again. Maybe this way, you can still keep in your life with minimal awkwardness. If you’re honest with yourself, you’d bear any amount of awkwardness if it meant you got to keep him in your life.

Turning over with a frustrated huff, you say, “Because you’re you, and I’m me and this is just…not in the cards for us, Santi. Okay? Do we have to talk about it? Is it not glaringly obvious enough?”

Santi blinks rapidly at you before his face softens, “Not for the reason you think.”

Now it’s your turn to blink, confused by his words, his tone, his soft eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s too much here,” He gestures to himself, to his heart. “I can’t let you see it. I won’t. I won’t do that to you.”

For a handful of moments, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. All of the pieces fall into place. He’d held back for you. He’d ignored this for you. He’d been resigned to holding onto his feelings and doing nothing about them for you. To hide you from his pain. To protect you from whatever overwhelming mixture of emotions bubbled inside of him.

“I’m not afraid of what’s inside of you, Santiago, it’s all you. That’s what love is, it’s witnessing every part of someone and staying.”

“Love?” He repeats cautiously.

“Love,” You say again, reaching out slowly to run your thumb over the swell of his cheek. It feels like had always imagined it— a contrast of smooth and prickly from his stubble.

He leans into your touch eagerly before he grasps you by the nape of your neck, every piece of his resolve crumbling under the weight of you. The weight of your love and care for him. The gasp you let out dies when his mouth presses against yours. It is not gentle, not slow, or steady. Santi is starved for you, his kiss firm, tongue licking into your mouth like he’s finally found all he’s been searching for. He’s so frenzied that the kiss turns sloppily, loud, and wet and exploring as he holds you tightly in place. You groan, trying to match his fervor, his passion, but there is no matching Santi— there is only succumbing to him.

“Love,” He whispers affirmatively, his eyes cloudy with it.

Your smile is bright, giddy like a kid who’s won some sort of contest and gets to pick out their prize. But you've already gotten yours. You hug him, latching to him tightly before you pull away to look at his face again.

This is all real. Santi is yours. All yours. Will he let you in now?

“Tell me about the waterfall?” You ask delicately.

There’s no holding back once he sees the sincerity in your eyes. You want to know, to be there for him and he trusts you in a way that he trusts no one else. Sure he trusts the guys, but there's something different about the vulnerability he’s sharing here with you tonight.

So he tells you all of it. Every single detail. He lets you gather in his arms, holding him close to your chest as he spills, not only words but tears. You wipe his eyes, listening intently and when he’s done, you know there’s nothing you can say to make things better. But you aren’t trying to be his savior, just his support, a shoulder that he knows will always be there and unbiased by his work, a sliver of peace. Eventually, he goes slack in your arms, the tears melting to snores.

You grin, holding back your giggle as his snores grow louder and louder. You had told him what love is, that it means witnessing it all. But, you had never promised you wouldn’t tease him about some of it—not when he currently sounds like a freight train.

santi taglist: @hotchaways, @honeybrowne, @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @awesomemikaus, @tanzthompson, @siezethenights, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @roseqzpd, @rosecentaur1916, @mccn-bcys, @hotchs-bitch, @missdictatorme

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santi garcia x reader #santiago garcia x fem!reader #santi garcia x fem!reader #santiago garcia fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #arson writes randos

[llamagoddessofficial]

A commission with Nightmare, Cross and a wonderful OC, for the lovely @sansarae (who for some reason Tumblr won't let me properly @ >:/)

I hope the wait wasn't too annoying- thank you for your patience, I really appreciate it!

---

“Oh. Hello again.” You smiled at the monster before you, with a touch more genuineness than your usual go-to customer service grin. “What can I get for you?”

... The skeleton looked up. His eyelights were a sharp, startling red, bloody and intense in a manner that didn’t seem to fit his otherwise pleasantly monochromatic clothing at all. At your comment, his sockets slightly narrowed.

“You... remember me?” he said, slowly.

Your smile immediately twitched with nervousness. What? You couldn’t pick up on his tone. He was staring at you with an unreadable, near-blank expression. Did you say something wrong? What had you done?

“Of... of course I do,” you replied, voice nearly quivering as your usual awkwardness took over. Why did that give him pause? Did you offend him?

...

You couldn’t make sense of his face. He was just staring at you, like that; did he really look accusatory, or were you just seeing things because you were scared? Your lip wobbled- idiot. This is what you get for attempting anything more than you were comfortable with, anything more than customer service politeness. This exact scenario was why you found people so exhausting... why you were so introverted. 

“I mean,” you rushed for proverbial cover. “I work at a cafe. It’s my job to remember people, y’know?”

His face didn’t shift. His voice was monotone.

“... I see.”

...

... Well. That was that, then. You felt sick. 

“Erm... so what can I get for you?”

Why was he surprised, anyway? How could you not remember him? He had stumbled into the building, a few days ago, a little before closing. It had just been you left in the cafe. He had looked a mess, as if he’d just escaped a natural disaster- dressed in torn clothing, he approached the counter with faraway empty eyelights and the expression of a man who had seen far too much to care anymore. With a calm voice, he asked for ‘anything that would make him feel awake’.

You’d been too stunned (and intimidated) to try conversation. You had served him a large black coffee, which he’d taken, leaving behind a generous tip. He had seated himself in the far corner of the cafe with his back to a wall... and he drank the whole thing in silence, staring nowhere but at the table.

... Then he left without a word.

You’d had a lot of strange customers come through, in your time behind the counter. That was just part of running a business. You still vaguely remembered the best of them... the woman who had insisted you redo her coffee because the one you’d given her was ‘looking at her’, the man who had been otherwise friendly but always smelled so strongly of cinnamon it almost made you feel sick, the guy who yelled at you for making his strawberry milkshake too pink. 

But him? The skeleton? You didn’t know why, but out of everyone, it was him who stuck the most firmly in your mind.

... Eventually, he spoke. You didn’t know if he genuinely looked upset or if you were just so embarrassed by his reaction that you were seeing unpleasantness and irritation in his every move.

“... I’ll get a chamomile tea. Please.”

At least he was polite. Tea- nothing at all like his last order. “Sure. Your name?”

... He hadn’t given it last time. Understandably, considering he had been the only person in the entire cafe. But you had other customers this time and ‘skeleton’ probably wouldn’t go down well when you called it out.

He looked at you.

...

“... Cross.” He said, softly. 

You smiled at him. “Thank you, Cross. Cash or card?”

Saying his name seemed to have a weird effect on him. A strange look passed over his face, shaking his silent suspicious air for a second.

... He finally blinked. 

“... Cash.”

“Gold or dollars?”

“G.”

The register beeped. 

“That’s 12G, please.”

... He handed you the money.

...

His mouth opened, then closed again. You waited politely. But... he said nothing. He just quietly took his tea, and made his way to the same far table he’d sat at earlier.

Though he sat in silence, it didn't escape your notice that every now and then, you'd catch him looking your way.

... You opted to just keep yourself busy with your work. Though you had to admit- for some reason, when the thought of 'What an odd guy' passed through your mind...

... It wasn't entirely negative.

///---///

'Cross' came nearly every day.

You were surprised how much of your thoughts revolved around this stranger. He occupied your mind, as you set our equipment, wiping cups and plates... I wonder how he’s doing.

He was very punctual. You liked that. He rarely arrived outside of certain hourly windows, and there was always a pattern to his arrivals. On a good day, he would come in the early morning- depending on the crowds he may even be one of the very first people into the cafe. He'd seem aware, and like he wanted to say something to you... he'd order a tea, and through your shift you'd constantly be glancing up and catching him (sheepishly?) looking at you.

... On a bad day, though... he’d come late. Like the first time you saw him. His eyelights would be distant, his tone brittle, words clipped, someone checked out of their own body. He would just stare at his table like something was playing out in front of his view. Those were the days when he would order a large coffee. 

... Today looked like it was shaping out to be one of his ‘bad’ days. It was almost four when he came into the cafe, the last of your usual patrons already shuffling out the door.

Quickly, you started up the coffee machine, and made him his coffee. He had only been standing at the counter for a few moments, when you turned around and placed the drink in front of him.

...

He blinked. His eyelights fractionally widened, growing a little brighter.

“... You knew my order?”

Despite his softer tone, not wanting a repeat of last time, with his strange reaction to you recalling his name... you just nodded.

Another pause, as he just stared at the coffee.

“Nobody else remembers anything about me.”

... Huh. That was a pretty heavy sentence. You tried to keep your tone light, in comparison.

“... Well,” you tapped the coffee lid, “it definitely helps that you only order the same two things. Right?”

...

... His gaze flickered up to you. 

... He finally actually smiled at you. His shoulders gently bobbed, like he was briefly restraining a chuckle- the smile looked nice on him, it was handsome and suited his features. And though it quickly fell away to his usual not-quite-a-frown, you were startled by how different he had looked for that brief moment... how pleasant, how warm. Like there was a happier person lurking just beneath the surface.

“Heh... yeah. I guess so.” 

His phalanges tapped on the top of the coffee. Over top of where yours had been, moments ago.

Your customer service voice was slowly slipping away. His proximity was... nice. “Do you need anything else?”

"I like your braids."

"... Thank you." One of your hands immediately came up to fiddle with the hair. Was the warmth in your cheeks showing on your face? You really hoped not. "It's easier to work when it's out of the way."

"I wouldn't know."

...

Both of you broke into quiet laughter. Yours, a warm giggle, his a low rusty chuckle.

“... What’s your name?” He asked.

You usually hated when customers asked for your name, pushing the boundary of customer and server. But... not this time, not at all. You couldn't have been happier. “Rin.”

“... Do you mind if I just... sit here?” He motioned to the seat nearest to the counter.

You nearly beamed. 

“Sure. Go ahead.”

... You thought you saw something flicker across his cheekbones. Some kind of colour. But it was gone again, as soon as it appeared; perhaps just a trick of the light. Or your eyes finally showing the strain of so many hours of work. Either way, he took his coffee, and settled into the chair at the table right beside the counter.

... It was silent again, in the cafe. But it was a much different silence. You, wiping down the machines and packing away for the day... Cross, taking his time with his drink.

It really felt, to you, like he just needed to sit near to someone.

... You could live with that person being you.

///---///

Cross was good at keeping his cool. After what he’d been through, what he’d done... his nerves of steel had been forged under unimaginable pressure. He didn’t like that it had become genuinely hard for anything to shake him anymore; it was endless proof of his sins, living in his chest and smothering the person he had once been.

That was why, when Nightmare’s terrifying eye turned to him and pinned him under all of its icy power and rage, cold blue flickering against the castle’s glassy obsidian walls... he didn’t flinch.

“you.” Nightmare’s voice, despite having a light intonation, was not happy. “a word.”

... Cross didn’t react to Killer’s cruel snickering. He didn’t even look the other skeletons’ way- he knew Killer would be grinning like a cat, Axe would be cleaning his weapon with his characteristic disinterest, and Dust would be silently enjoying the beginnings of what may eventually become a slow, painful downfall for Cross.  

These people were not his friends. They were deeply unpleasant coworkers, at best.

... Cross followed Nightmare, as his ‘employer’ moved into a separate room. The door closed behind them, cutting off Killer’s laughter. 

Blue candlelight warped and flashed in the dark.

...

A tentacle lashed out, faster than Cross could react, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him into the wall. He let out a startled gasp as the appendage held him there, tightly, the pressure increasing until it felt like his spine was inches away from fracturing.

Nightmare’s glare pierced straight into Cross’ Soul. 

“you think i’m an idiot?”

Cross couldn’t reply, the pressure on his spine too great. But he reckoned Nightmare wasn’t looking for a response.  

“you’re getting soft. you’re hesitating.” Nightmare’s head cocked. “did you think i wouldn’t notice?” 

Nightmare’s grip fractionally increased, and he clearly spent a few seconds savouring watching Cross struggle in vain. The twitch in his smile, the bend to his claws, he looked to be taking out as much rage as he could in those short moments. 

But apparently, he wasn’t yet willing to kill- despite clearly desiring to press until the spine shattered, Nightmare instead clenched his jaw and let go. 

Cross nearly collapsed onto his knees. The quick display of Nightmare’s overwhelming power had staggered him. But he still managed to catch himself, at the last moment, and remain standing.

Perhaps it would’ve been better to fall. The silent defiance in that move seemed to aggravate Nightmare even more.

“you aren’t subtle.” Nightmare hissed. “you move through the multiverse with the grace of a dog in wet concrete. i know you like to slink off to other places. what are you doing? crawling away to go build a new family?”

Cross kept his line of sight down. Nightmare had the powers of a God, but he had the temper of a petulant child, and in these kinds of moods the smallest slips from his minions could push him into a fit of violent rage that sent all of them scurrying for cover. 

“No.” Cross responded, as simply as possible, voice strained from the attack to his neck. Now wasn’t the time for flowery words; Nightmare still wasn’t looking for a real reply.

A cruel snicker. “trying to escape? settle down somewhere i can’t find you?”

Your face flickered in Cross’ mind’s eye.

Not right now.

“No.”

“... i like to think you have forgotten i taste lies. because i resent the thought that one of my underlings is so stupid as to know that, but still lie to me.”

Cross steeled himself. “I have nothing to hide.”

“not even that little human woman?”

...

... It took all of his mental control. Every ounce. Another skeleton would’ve cried aloud, perhaps, or frozen as the terror spread through them. Someone they cared about had been noticed by Nightmare... singled out, almost by name.

... You had no idea how much you meant to Cross. No idea that you were often the only thing that could soothe his disturbed Soul when it all felt too much. Your warmth, your kind eyes, how you remembered little details about him... and said his name so gently. 

Hearing someone say his name with kindness had been like, for just a moment, being home again.

You didn't know how protective he was of you. What he’d do to keep you safe. And he couldn’t, at any cost, allow Nightmare to think you were someone to him.

He kept his gaze on the glassy black floor. He kept his emotions still.

... He had stifled truly monumental loss and terror, before. This was nothing new.

"... She's a barista." Cross said.

"so that's it?” an incredulous scoff. “you're hopping multiverses to go drink coffee at the same shitty coffee shop in the middle of nowhere?"

"Yes, sir."

"you could go anywhere for your coffee. you could go to italy. indonesia. brazil. anywhere at all- and you go there?"

"Yes." Because you’re there.

...

... Nightmare seemed to be quietly fuming. Though whether it was because he couldn't pin any particular 'crime' onto Cross, or because his snobbery with coffee was coming through, he had no idea.

They both knew that Cross was too valuable of a pawn to die for no solid reason.

... Eventually, Nightmare's rage eased enough for him to speak again. 

"i don’t care what games you play in your free time, worm.” His voice was significantly lower. “but you know what will happen, if you don’t do your fucking job. hesitate again, and i certainly won't."

“... It won’t happen again.” Cross replied, not yet allowing himself to feel relief.

The cyan eye flashed. “it won’t happen again, what.”

“... It won’t happen again, sir.” 

...

"fine. you may go."

Cross rose to his feet, but kept his eyelights down. He exited the room as swiftly as he could, without appearing desperate to leave.

Don’t feel yet.

Killer was there, of course, waiting just outside the door. Grin as smug and cruel as ever.

"oh, so you're still alive?" The murderer crooned. "for how long, though...?"

Cross gave Killer a witheringly unimpressed look. He had no need to engage in one of his games- he just needed to get as far away from Nightmare as possible, so he could allow himself to process the fears that were itching at the corners of his Soul, threatening to give everything he was hiding away.

He wordlessly walked past Killer. As always, the only thing that seemed to make Killer's constant grin drop was Cross refusing to engage.

///---///

Moving between universes was second nature, by this point in Nightmare’s existence. So much so that he wasn’t at all exaggerating when he said he could see how Cross had moved from one place to the other. The fabric between realities looked disturbed and jagged, in the wake of someone moving clumsily; a rippled pond surface, traces of the offender’s Soul saturating the threads.

It wasn’t difficult to track down where his subordinate had been going. And who he’d been going to.

...

... You turned over, in your bed. There was a soft kind of pain written across your face, something happening within your dream. pathetic. Nightmare tilted his head, as he observed... even if you had been awake, he was indistinguishable from the shadows at the foot of your bed.

Cross' scent was all over you- embarrassing, mushy soft feelings that the 'soldier' clearly couldn't help, they had spilled out of his Soul and stained all over you like a foul hotel blanket under a blacklight. Nightmare almost couldn't stand to be near it.

And yet. Under it all- in your chest, he could see a glittering, jewel-like purple Soul.

Nightmare’s gaze zeroed in. she’s a perseverance mage.

... His smile curled. A little more interesting. Did Cross know? Did you know? There was a significant degree of power, flowing through those veins, magic just waiting to be harnessed. Even Nightmare couldn’t deny it was pretty to observe- he was always partial to royal purple.

... You made a sound, in your sleep. A crease formed between your brows.

...

Well. He was curious, now. And he hadn’t tormented a human in a long time.

He slipped, completely undetected by your Soul and mind, into your dream. Before he began to terrify you it was probably a good idea to observe your thoughts, get a sense of any treachery Cross may have committed... any details his underling may have spilled, that could justify erasing another human pest from the multiverse.

... A myriad of pleasant tastes. Melancholy, loss, a hint of misplaced and directionless anger. Overall, a delicate combination of flavours, but sweet nonetheless.

He could see the dream’s scene, emerging before him. how delightful.

... Dreams were, by no means, easy places to be. Though Nightmare was powerful he was also an interloper and there was a real danger that a strong human Soul like yours could cast him out. The dreams of mages were often like rocking boats on a great ocean- until he took the reins, the residual waves made him feel sick, tossed about. It was important to get his bearings.

The backdrop was a sea of blurry images, nearly-forgotten places melting together in your mind. A park, a bedroom, a dark street. And... there was two of you.

...

... No. He could smell the emotions rolling off of you, as you stared at this mirror image of yourself. The mirror image... she wore different clothes. Frilly and sweet ones. The adult features of her face were exaggerated, imagined- unlike your messily self-braided locks, her hair was sweetly ringlet curled, as if done lovingly by another's skilled hands.

And her eyes, though so similar to yours, were someone else’s eyes.

Melancholy. Regret. Anger. 

... 

Nightmare suddenly... felt his chest tighten.

that's... her sister.

a twin.

... His thoughts were getting quieter and quieter. Static, faintly ringing in his skull... he couldn't taste the emotions anymore.

“... I wonder if you would’ve cared.” You said, quietly, to the blank and silent sister before you. “I guess I’ll never know.”

The reflection didn't smile.

His brother's face flickered in his mind's eye.

...

Nightmare drew in a sharp breath- suddenly staggered, he immediately withdrew from the dream. He moved back from the bed like a live snake was laying within it. 

He gripped his shirt. His chest... it was so heavy. Why did it feel so heavy? He took another step away.

i didn't think anyone could comprehend how i felt.

let alone...

... He didn't like how, when he looked at you, for a moment he didn't immediately see prey.

Just a sleeping person.

...

In an instant, he was back in his room. Back in his castle, where he was safe, and alone.

...

Nightmare let out a slow, dark breath. And though he hadn't yet fully re-centred himself, his grin regardless began to return.

As much as he was aggravated by Cross... he almost had to thank him.

His ‘soldier’ had bought such a fascinating creature to his full attention, after all.

#commissions #its a total accident that i post a commission abt cross after he wins the sexyman contest #ig the universe had to will it

[runningfrom2am]

all i think about is karma

summary: you and rafe take on a mainland bush party where he knows no one, and you know too many people for his liking.

this can be read as a stand-alone but it's technically a part four to getaway car, big reputation, and this is why we can’t have nice things.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

tags/warnings: jealous!rafe, highschool au, (some) nondescript nudity, cursing, mean kook!reader, underage drinking, (i think that’s it??)

a/n: hey y’all!! sorry i haven’t posted anything in a little while, i’ve been busy but now im back home and on my usual schedule so there shouldn’t be any serious interruptions for a little while. i missed y’all and i hope you like this! this is what won my getaway car poll quite some time ago so im so happy to finally get it out!

"No, Y/N/N, I'll be fine. I don't want to dampen your week, you'll have so much fun!" Bella insists, adjusting where her phone is laying in her lap while she lays in bed, surrounded by tissues and snack wrappers. She came down with the flu at the worst possible time: right before you were meant to go on your spring break trip.

"It won't be the same without you! I should just stay home, I can come over and we can have a movie marathon or something. That'll be just as fun." You reply, watching her through the facetime camera while you sit at your vanity.

"No. Absolutely not. You're going- and you'll get to hangout with Rafe! It's worth it for me to get all the juicy details after." Bella giggles, sniffling and quickly wiping her nose.

You roll your eyes, rubbing your forehead. "Okay, yeah, but nothings gonna happen- you know I swore that off."

"Yeah, whatever. The two of you, alone, drunk and sharing a tent? Whatever you say." Your friend teases you. "It's actually worth it for me to stay home so you can come back with tea."

"Okay, fine," You agree, not admitting that the idea is very tempting. "But I'm not sleeping with him again."

"No! Of course not." Bella laughs, shaking her head. "But if you did, at least be safe this time. We don't need a repeat of what happened last time-"

"Okay! Okay! Bye, Bella I'll call you later!" You quickly cut her off, hanging up the phone.

Several long hours after texting Rafe the update that Bella wasn't going to make it, you found yourself in his truck on the mainland, driving into what seems to be the middle of nowhere for a bush party you caught word of from some friends you met playing soccer on a local team. You were excited to see them, and meet some new people, but you're honestly so glad Rafe still wanted to go. You'd rather not go alone if you didn't have to.

Judging by the large space in front of you full of various groups of kids your age putting tents together or starting fires around makeshift campsites at the edge of the water, you assume you're in the right place and get to work setting up your own tent off near the edge of the lake.

It wasn't long before the sun started to set over the abandoned gravel pit, and you just finish up when you crack open your first drink from the cooler. "So like... are we actually going to talk to anyone or just hide over here and be weird all night?" Rafe asks as you bring the can to your lips.

You roll your eyes a little and nod. "Well, duh. My friends are coming. I don't know what your plans are." Rafe looks around at that, seeing if there's anyone he might be able to talk to, but he was counting on hanging out with you.

"Wow, you're ditching me?" He asks, reaching into the cooler as well and grabbing a beer. "Cold."

You go to reply with a matching, somewhat snarky attitude the two of you almost always share when you recognize the purple jeep that's pulling in. "That's them! Good luck making friends!" You call back, jogging over to where they parked.

Rafe flips you off as you turn your full attention to your friends, sighing a little to himself as he lays eyes on a group of local boys who look enough like his friends that he's comfortable talking to them.

By the time that the area is lit only by the orange glow coming from the several cooking fires and the large bonfire everyone is centered around, you're already stumbling over your feet with a half-drank bottle of some liquor you didn't bring, and you're not even sure where you got it.

Rafe has been trying to keep an eye on you from a distance, but now he's lost you. He's drunk himself, so he's not overly concerned, but he would just at least like to know where you were. He looks around frantically, trying to keep his cool as the boys around him are laughing about something he didn't care to pay attention to. His eyes land on some figures out in the lake, and he squints to see if he can make out the shape of your hair in the dark. He takes a few steps away to get a closer look, hearing you laughing and shouting over the music coming from an on shore speaker. He walks down to the shore with a smug look on his face, polishing off his beer when he looks down and notices piles of clothes on the shore. Are you naked?

"Hey, Y/N!" Rafe shouts, waving to you in an attempt to grab your attention.

"Rafe!" You shout back, smile never fading as you push your wet hair out of your face. With the liquor warming you, the water feels amazing and so soft on your skin. "Come out here! Come join us!"

Rafe sighs as he finds your stuff, relieved to find only your shirt, shorts, and bra. At least you weren't fully naked in front of all these strangers. He strips of everything but his boxers and grabs your bra, wading out into the cool lake water to you and your friends as they cheer and laugh.

"Rafe! Where have you been?" You giggle, throwing your arms over his shoulders once he gets close enough for you to reach.

"I've been around- apparently I should have been babysitting you ladies." He chuckles, trying to hide any frustration in his tone as he avoids looking at your friends who are just as well clothed as you are. "Put this on, at least." He adds, pulling away from you and handing you the article of clothing, crossing his arms to watch you put it on despite his better judgement.

"Hey! Girls! Come on in, we're going to play chandelier!" One of the guys Rafe had the pleasure of talking to for the last couple hours shouts, and quickly everyone makes their way in to shore.

"Y/N, hey, we don't want you to get sick. Come warm up." Rafe turns his head as he gets his shirt back on, watching as one of the other guys, Jesse, is quickly wrapping you in a small blanket and guiding you up to the bonfire with a hand on your lower back. He scowls at the two of you behind your back, following as he urges you up the small hill and towards the large fire pit ahead.

You walk side by side with the boy, until you can feel the warmth of the flames on your skin where you stop and stand to dry off both your skin and what little clothing you have on. You don't know you're shivering until Jesse is tugging on the blanket around your shoulders. "Here, let me help you warm up.." He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you from behind and draping the blanket over both of you.

"Oh, thanks, Jesse." You say, teeth chattering from the soft breeze. You lean back into him, swaying from the alcohol still in your system and he steadies you.

"Anytime, sweetheart." He mumbles, pressing his lips to the back of your head.

You are well aware of his hands wandering, fiddling with the waistband of your underwear as you have your arms crossed tightly over your chest. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you gaze across the fire and your eyes land on Rafe, who's staring at you intently.

You smile and wave at him, but he just rolls his eyes in response and looks away. Is he upset with you for ditching him? In hindsight it wasn't very nice, even if that is the kind of relationship you normally have. If it was you you'd be upset- he didn't know anyone, and he was left to fend for himself, granted; he was clearly fine.

"Hey, Ashley?" You find yourself calling over to your other friend, but she doesn't hear you as your eyes well up with tears. Why do you feel so bad right now? Does Rafe being upset with you really bother you that much? You've hardly felt like this before.

"Ashley?" You ask again, but she hardly glances at you as she's got another boy draped over her shoulder- one who is definitely not the girls boyfriend.

"You okay?" Jesse asks, leaning his head over your shoulder to get a better look at you.

"Uhm, yeah, I just have to go to the bathroom and I was hoping she would come with me." You explain, watching Rafe again as he buries himself in conversation with the two girls standing next to him.

"I'll take you." Jesse offers. "Come on, I won't watch. Swear." He says, already guiding you away and tossing the blanket back to his friend.

You glance back at Rafe over your shoulder as Jesse walks you off into the dark. Just as you look forward again to try and watch your step, Jesse's hand is smacking your butt playfully, making you jump. You laugh it off and give him a shove, but he's grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of his truck.

The swing of Jesse's arm to where his hand hit your exposed skin drew Rafe's attention again fully, and he furrows his brow as he watches you stumble away. You were sharing a tent with him and you were really about to hook up with that mainland loser? He quickly downs the rest of his beer and storms after you, fists clenched at his sides after discarding the bottle on a nearby pong table.

"Hey!" Rafe shouts, making the two of you turn just as Jesse backs you up against the side of his truck and starts kissing down your neck. You're confused, but not one to turn down an opportunity like this- especially when you never have to see him again. As soon as Jesse turns his head, though, it's snapped back again with the contact of Rafe's fist into his nose.

He groans and quickly brings his hands up to his face, tipping his head back as blood pours from between his fingers. You gasp, reaching out for him but hesitating, not sure what to do.

"You think you can hook up with any girl who accepts a blanket from you when she's cold? She came here with me." Rafe spits, and you feel your features pull into an expression of anger as you quickly step towards him and shove him back. "What?"

"Come on." You mutter, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the now bleeding boy. "What the fuck was that about?" You ask, storming back to where your shared tent was in the corner. "Do you think you have some stupid claim over me just because you drove me here?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, stopping with you next to the tent as you drop his arm and turn to face him. "He was taking advantage of you!"

You scoff, shaking your head and crossing your arms. "No, Rafe. He wasn't. Did you ever consider that maybe I wanted that?"

"Whatever, Y/N- don't act like you weren't eyeing me up for the whole drive here."

"Oh. My. God." You find yourself laughing suddenly, realizing what this is about. "You were jealous."

"What? No I wasn't." Rafe replies defensively.

You smile at him cockily, tilting your head and waiting for him to spiral on it.

"I wasn't! I tried to help. That's what I get, I guess!" Rafe throws his hands up.

"And here I was thinking you were mad at me for ditching you. Turns out you were just horny." You smirk, knowing you were just pushing his buttons this time for fun.

"Oh, fuck off, Y/N, you're just trying to piss me off now for fun."

"You're not denying it." You shrug, looking back over to the fire for a moment, seeing Jesse sitting there with paper towel pressed to his nose and a few girls surrounding him.

"You're making it difficult not to be when you’re walking around like that.” He replies, smirking as he looks you up and down.

“Don’t be gross, Rafe.” You smile, dropping your arms from they were crossed over your chest.

He takes a step closer at that, delicately placing his hands on your hips. “You love it, Y/N/N, you know you do.”

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie , @whore-4-drewstarkey , @slut4drudy , @winterrrnight , @totalswag , @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron , @urfaveluvr , @chenslucy , @hxnnah-397 , @s-we-e-t-t-ea , @tahliac11 , @ragingsammie , @ietss, @dee127

#obx fanfic #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe fic #outer banks #rafe fanfiction #obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe angst #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe headcanons

[jpmarvel90]

All for the mission

Masterlist Nat Masterlist

Relationship: Sister Nat, Sister Yelena x Sister Reader. Wanda x Reader

Summary: Growing up in the Red Room with Natasha and Yelena, Y/n was hurt when she woke up one morning to find them gone. Her life is forever changed by this moment and their reunion doesn't look like it'll bring any chance to fixing things.

Word Count: 12364

Y/n's POV:

I grew up in the red room. It was hell, but the one shining light was my sisters. Natasha and Yelena. I was the youngest, but we looked out for each other, doing what we could to make the others lives easier. We used to whisper to each other at night about our plans to leave. We had hopes for a better life. And that happened, for Yelena and Nat at least.

Early one morning I was dragged in front of Dreykov and was told about how my sisters had escaped together, left in the middle of the night. I was just 15 at the time but that didn't stop the brutality that was to follow. Although we had talked many times about escaping, I knew nothing about their attempt that night. Not that Dreykov or his dogs believed me. As they had lost their two greatest assets, I was to pay the price.

For a whole month, I was locked away in a cell where bright lights were never turned off and loud music played. The only release I would get was the brief walk to the "Interrogation room." But then a new hell would be inflicted on me as I was beaten and tortured. Initially for any information they could get. When they realised, I did in fact know nothing, they did it to punish me. I had a cup or water and two slices of mouldy bread a day. Barely enough to keep me alive. My body is now covered in scars from that brutal month. A reminder that I was expendable to my sisters. Not even worth a second thought as they escaped to start their new lives.

After that month, I was put back into the training programme. I worked my ass off. Not because I wanted to do well for the red room, but because I wanted to be as strong as possible and trusted to go out on missions. I had to escape, and I knew that was my only option.

It took four years before I got my opportunity. A part of me wanted to run as soon as I got my first solo mission, but I had to plan it all perfectly. It couldn't be a mission in the middle of nowhere, I had to have a means to not just escape but find a place to hide. Over those four years, I learnt every way in which they monitored the widows that went on missions. I then worked a way to make sure I could stop all of it to give me the best chance of getting away.

I was meticulous in my planning and finally the perfect opportunity came up. The mission was in the middle of Rome. I would have plenty of opportunity to escape. I just needed to make sure I got rid of all means of tracking me. I was so nervous as they dropped me in. I had to spend a week in Rome first to stakeout my target. This worked perfectly for me as it meant that I had money. I could buy clothes that I knew were clean of any tracking devices. I stuck to the shops near the target to not arouse suspicion. To the red room, I was just keeping up appearances. Blending in.

I ate as little as possible that week, knowing I would need the money to ensure my escape. Once I made my move, I had to be quick, and I wouldn't have time to be begging for help. It was the day I had to take out the target. I had found the most advantageous spot to carry out the assassination. It wasn't practical to their mission, but it was to mine. It provided me with an easy escape to the metro.

So as the time came, I set up my position before starting my daring escape. I was on the metro before they even noticed that I had left my position. Seems it was to my advantage that they had an idiot on comms that day! I got off when I knew they had noticed and found a bathroom to change. I then had the hardest part, cutting out the tracked from the back of my neck. It hurt and bled like a bitch, but I didn't have time to worry about that. I patched it up and jumped back on the metro to my next stop.

I had found a hair salon near Roma Termini. If I had this right, I would have time to cut and dye my hair before getting on the first train out of Rome. Every time I moved, I was careful to keep my face hidden, either wearing a cap or keeping the hood of my jacket up. It all seemed too easy and before I knew it, I was in France. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it didn't. It just was that easy. My four years of planning had paid off and I was finally free.

I spent the next year moving around mainland Europe, keeping a low profile. But by my 22nd birthday, I was settled in London. I had a job in a bar and a small crappy apartment. To most people, it wouldn't have been great. But to me it was everything. I was free.

I had no desire to follow in my sister's footsteps in become a superhero. I wanted a normal life. Yes, the horrible things I had done still haunt me, but I couldn't risk being caught. If I was, I knew that it would not end well, and I would either be tortured and killed or tortured and back to being a widow. My ledger would only grow.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. I was happily walking home one evening and it felt like someone was watching me. I took the long way home, turning at the last minute or dipping down alleyways. The presence felt closer than ever, and I knew it was time to fight. Before the hand could even reach my shoulder, I had grabbed it and flipped the shadow over my shoulder, avoiding their attempts to fight me off. I had them pinned under me and I saw a familiar smirk. "You've grown mladshaya sestra. (Little sister)"

Anger rages within me and the next thing I know, my fist is connecting with her nose. "Fuck! Ok, I deserve that." Nat says, grabbing at her nose as I stepped off her. I don't want to see her or have anything to do with her. She left me and I'm going to do the same now. I turn and walk away. "Y/n, wait!" Nat calls after me but I ignore her, taking a short cut through the park to my apartment. "Please!" She shouts. "Deep breaths Y/n. Just keep walking and she'll go." I tell myself. "I'm sorry!" She shouts in a desperate attempt to get me to stop.

It works and I stop in my tracks. I turn around to face her, a fire inside of me. "You're sorry?!" I shout at her as she reaches me. She flinches at my voice. "You left me in that hell hole. That was bad enough, but did you even consider that there might be consequences for those that you left behind?!" I yell at her. She doesn't answer me. "Of course, you didn't. We talked about escaping for years and when it finally came to it, you left me." I say in a much quieter tone, the hurt winning out.

"You were just a kid Y/n. You were safer there than if you came with us." She tries to convince me, but I just scoff. "You have no idea what happened to me when they found you gone. But I'll tell you one thing, I certainly wasn't safer." I turn to walk away again, wanting this conversation to end. "We were planning to come back for you!" She calls after me. It makes me stop again as I let out a loud laugh. "Really?! I was there for over 4 years. No sign of you." I chuckle sadly. "But I guess you had other priorities right. Like being an Avenger, keeping up your reputation." I seethe.

"I was coming back for you now. It's how I found out that you had escaped. We want to help you." Nat tries to reach out to take my hand, but I snatch it away. "I got out of that hell hole all on my own and I certainly don't need any help now. Especially from you!" I fumed. "Please pauchok. (Baby spider.)" She pleads with me. "Don't call me that. I don't need you and I don't ever want to see you again!" The pain in her eyes doesn't go unnoticed. But I really don't care. She hasn't been my sister in years.

Turns out, I would have to see her again. Every evening in fact. She found out where I worked, and she would come into the bar every day. The only interaction we would have, was me serving her drink. She would try to start conversations, but I ignored her. I wasn't going to let her in.

One night, to my surprise, she brought Yelena with her. Her body collided with mine as she pulled me into a hug. "I missed you pauchok." I peeled her off me and pushed her away. She frowns at my actions as I don't say a word to her. "Y/n?" She questions, as I return behind the bar. "What can I get you?" I ask her without making eye contact. I notice Yelena look to Nat with sad eyes. "Vodka." She replies taking her seat next to her sister. I place the glass in front of her and pour. Then turning my attention to other customers.

This goes on for weeks. Neither of them getting the picture that I don't want to talk to or see them. After a month, a new face is with them. I don't recognise her, but she is beautiful. It takes me a moment to compose myself before I take their order. "Y/n, this is Wanda. Wanda, this is Y/n our little sister." Nat introduces us. "We're not sisters. We just grew up together." I correct Nat, a wave of hurt flashes across her face. "But it's nice to meet you Wanda what can I get you?" I ask. "Uh, just a pinot please." She speaks quietly, but her accent is familiar. "Sokovian?" I question as I place the glass down in front of her, to which she nods. "Ah. Sorry about what happened there." I say and she shrugs. Getting the sense, she doesn't want to talk anymore, I go back to my job, and more importantly ignoring my sisters.

Wanda started to come in more with Nat and Yelena. I knew what they were trying to do. It was my weakest area. I'm a sucker for love and Wanda was exactly my type. I was always pleasant and nice to Wanda, whilst my "sisters" still got the cold shoulder treatment. She became more comfortable around me, and we hit it off.

She started to come in on her own and then one day asked if I would go on a walk with her. I happily agreed and we went around Hyde Park, getting to know each other. She was so easy to talk to and I felt safe around her. "I know that you're only here because of my sisters." I tell her as we take a seat on the bench. She looks up at me and her mouth opens and shuts a couple of times before she finds her words.

"I'm not actually. They were always talking about this amazing sister they had and showed me pictures. When Nat found you, she showed me a photo she had and there was something about you that I was drawn to. I had to get to know you. So, I asked Nat if I could come with her to meet you one time. She reluctantly agreed and here we are. This is all me Y/n." She reassures me, taking my hand in hers.

And that's how things went for the next month. We spent every day together and I was quickly falling for her. "You know, you really should talk to your sisters. They just want to make sure you're safe and help to get you back on your feet." Wanda says as we snuggle in my apartment. "But I am on my feet. I was never happier until they came back in my life. I've never felt freer." I defend. She adjusts herself so she can look at me better. "They really are sorry. Is there really no way you can forgive them?" She asks with her puppy dog eyes.

I sigh and roll out from underneath her, sitting on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. "It's not that simple Wanda. They just left. One day they were there and the next they were gone. And as their sister. I was the one who had to pay for it. I went through hell, and it was directly caused by their actions." I say, my voice muffled by my hands.

I feel my hands slowly being pulled away as my eyes land on the red head on her knees in front of me. "Tell me what they did to you." She whispers. "You don't want to hear it." I tell her, not wanting to burden her with any of it. "Please?" She asks, cupping my face. Her eyes bore into me, and I knew I was done for. So, I told her. I shared with her what I faced in the month after they left. The different ways they caused me pain and the way they used me as their own toy. Her eyes were red the whole time I spoke. Her anger no longer able to be supressed.

"Show me." She whispers when I finish baring my soul. "What?" I question. "Show me your scars. I want to see all of you." Her words are soft and full of love. I slowly undid the buttons of my shirt and let her push it off my shoulders. She gasps when she sees my torso littered with scars. Her hands slowly running over each one. I can't look at her. Ashamed of the monster they made me. "I'll kill them." She says quietly but there is a venom to her voice.

When she's finished taking in my form, she puts her finger under my chin and lifts my head so I'm looking at her. Her eyes are glossy and full of pain. "These are proof of the strong woman that you are. They show the fight you had to come through to get to where you are today. Never, be ashamed of them." She tells me firmly. I nod slowly, fighting my own tears. She leans in and captures my lips in a soft kiss. We've kissed before, but this one felt different. Like she was showing me that I was accepted and loved. It was the kiss that made me realise I would do anything to stay with her.

That was a decision that came sooner than I thought. The next week she came into the bar, her face showing that she had been crying. She told me how she had to go back to New York. She begged me to go with her, that I could live with her in the compound. I wasn't sure at first. I still wasn't on talking terms with my sisters, but my heart was breaking knowing that if I didn't go with her, I didn't know when I'd see Wanda again.

So, I agreed. I packed up what little I had in my apartment and followed her to New York. I was given my own room in the compound and shown all the facilities that I could use. Turns out they were expecting me. Apparently, Natasha and Yelena had talked to both Tony and Fury about me moving in way back when they found out that I had escaped. They wanted to keep me safe there. I must admit, I could feel the anger towards them starting to thaw, but I knew it would be a long time before I could truly forgive them.

Not wanting to just live off the Avengers, I got myself a job in a local bar and I really was having such a great time. Wanda and I were stronger than ever. Slowly, I was engaging more with my sisters. I had even started to train again. It was nice to have an outlet for my anger. Though it did become a bit of a showcase as I was one of the few that could take down Nat. Which was a surprise to a lot of them.

I formed a quick bond with Tony. I loved being in his lab and I helped him as much as I could. Most days I was with him, he was trying to convince me to join them. But it wasn't for me. Not now at least. But I promised him I would never completely rule out the offer.

Which for him worked out, because he was persistent. I guess you could say I became a part time Avenger. I still wanted to do my job in the bar. It gave me a normality I had craved all those years in the red room. But I also I found a newfound enjoyment in helping out on missions. It was a good balance.

I had been living at the compound for about 8 months now. I was meant to be at work today, but one of the pipes burst so they had to close up and they sent us all home. I was excited to get home as it meant more time with Wanda. She had only just gotten back from a mission at the weekend, so it was a blessing to get some unexpected time together.

When I got to the compound, I heard shouting coming from the common room. I made my way in that direction when I heard my name. Being the nosy person I am, I stayed back, not making my presence known. "I can't do it anymore. It's not fair. It's been 9 months of lying and doing something that I never wanted to do in the first place." Wanda complained. What is she on about? "Maximoff, you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be part of the mission. You knew that you would have to keep up the rouse with Y/n until we knew for sure that she wasn't under the red room influence."

What the fuck?! Was I just a mission to her? "Wanda he's right. We're so close to the end. You just need to hang in there." The voice of my sister feels like a burning knife to my chest. Was this all just a mission. Did they even want to come and find me? I knew I should have stuck to my instinct and not trust them.

"Maximoff, you will continue on with this mission for one more month. That's all I ask. Romanoff, Belova. Keep up what you're doing. We're not far from defeating the red room now." Fury's order ring around the room as my heart completely shatters. I decide now is the best time to make my presence known. I step out into view, and I see all of their faces drop. "I'm glad to know that I'm just a mission." I say as they all stand speechless. "But at least now I know, you don't to keep up the façade anymore Wanda." I say turning my back to leave.

"Y/n! Wait!" Wanda calls after me, grabbing my arm. "Let go of me." I growl, but she doesn't listen. "It's not what it looks like. Please, don't go." She begs but I shake my head. "In the park, when you said this wasn't my sisters doing. I guess you didn't lie. I just got the wrong person. It was Fury. God, I'm so stupid. I can't believe I actually fell for it and even fell in love with you!" I ranted. "No, no. Please." Wanda pleads again. "Answer me one question and I'll consider staying." I say to her, and she nods frantically. "When you came into the bar that first night. Were you there because you truly did want to meet me, or was it part of the mission?" Her head instantly drops, and her gaze is fixated on the floor. "I guess that gives me my answer." I slowly peel her hand from around my arm and walk away. Only this time to be stopped by my sister.

"Y/n." Nat says, moving in front of me, blocking my exit. Yelena by her side. "No. You know, I thought that leaving me in that hell was bad enough. But this. This hurts more than any pain I've been through." I trembled, trying to fight the tears threatening to fall. "You spent all that time trying to get me to forgive you, but it was all lies!" I cry out. "Tell me. Was it all a mission for you too? Were you actually trying to find me?" I can read the answer across their faces, but I want to hear it from them. "ANSWER ME!" I yell, causing both of them to flinch. "We weren't looking for you. Fury had learnt about you and when he found out you were our sister, he gave us the information to find you and to see if you were working for the red room. But we were so happy...." I hold my hand up stopping her straight away.

"You don't trust me. You have spent all this time trying to get me to forgive and trust you, but it was all a lie, because you don't even trust me. After you left, I was tortured and raped all because you were my sisters and had managed to escape their clutches. For four years, I had to fight to stay alive and keep my sanity so I could get out myself. Which I did! I had a normal fucking life. Something I had never thought I would get. But no! I'm the one that can't be trusted! Fuck you!" I scream at them.

I push past them and run to my room before anyone can come after me. "FRIDAY, don't anyone in." I instruct the AI. "Of course, Miss Y/l/n." I start throwing as much as I can in a rucksack. Luckily, I had saved as much money as I could, so I didn't need to worry about that. After a few minutes there is banging at my door. "Y/n, please! Let us just talk." Yelena begs from behind the locked door. I ignore everything they say until Wanda's voice pipes up. "Y/n, baby. Please open the door. It wasn't just a mission. I-I love you!" She cries. "STOP LYING TO ME!" I shout, I can't take listening to it anymore. "FRIDAY open the door please." Nat as, but the AI declines. "Miss Y/l/n has requested the door remains locked. Only Mr Stark can override it." I can hear her sigh. "Yelena, go and get Tony." Nat instructs our sister.

I know that I don't have long to get out of here before Tony gets here. I also don't know who else in the compound was in on this mission. But I'm not sticking around to find out. I leave the promise ring that Wanda had given me on the bedside table. Yanking it off my finger as it felt like it was burning my skin. Knowing the door is a no go, I make my way to the window and take a look down. Luckily, I'm only two stories up. It'll hurt a bit, but if I land it properly, I should be able to get away uninjured.

I push my bag out first and then I'm quick to follow it, just as I hear Tony's voice in the corridor. I sprint as fast as I can to the edge of the compound, not wanting to be seen. I can't believe this is my life again. On the run, but this time, I've got to watch my back from both sides, as it seems I can't even trust my own family.

Nat's POV:

Well, we have royally screwed up. When we finally get Tony to override FRIDAY to let us into Y/n's room, she's already gone. Her window open and my little sister fled. I go to the window in the hopes to see her, but there's nothing but darkness. I'm so stupid to have agreed to this. I'm so scared of the red room beating us that I couldn't even trust my own sister.

We made the worst decision when we decided to leave Y/n behind. We thought she was too young and would be a burden to us as we tried to escape. We did always plan on going back to her, but we go so caught up in proving our loyalty to SHIELD, that it kind of fell to the wayside. Once our loyalty was proven, we spent so much time on missions, we didn't have the chance to think about getting our sister back. It is and will forever be my greatest regret. Well, this moment may come a close second.

When Fury came to Yelena and me to say that he had information on our sister, I couldn't believe it. We hadn't long heard rumours about Y/n being killed in the red room. We mourned her, even though we knew that the rumours were unlikely true. But seeing the picture of her behind a bar, it was clearly her. I may not have seen her since she was 15, but she's not changed, she just looked older and more jaded.

We had no info on when she actually managed to escape. It was part of the reason why Fury was suspicious of her. Instead of trusting my gut and Y/n, we played along with him. Wanting to make sure there was no way that Y/n was under the influence of the red room.

It hurt Yelena and I when she ignored us. She was hurt and I can't blame her. But her words were as sharp as knives and each one hurt. It was so obvious we had let her down and although this was a mission. I was determined to make sure that she was safe, and I could do that best from New York. It was Fury's idea to bring in Wanda.

I had questioned it at first, I knew that Y/n falls hard. It was one thing to do what we were doing, but this felt like it was crossing a line. Wanda was happy to do it and Fury's mind was set. So, I watched as my sister fell in love with one of my closest friends. Knowing if she ever found out, it would break her heart. What took me by complete surprise, was the fact that it was obvious that Wanda felt the same. She too was falling for Y/n. That is how we came to be in an argument with Fury.

Wanda wanted to stop and tell Y/n the truth. She knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Y/n and she couldn't do that on a foundation of lies. But we still couldn't confirm Y/n wasn't working for the red room. Had I not let my desire to clear my ledger and the fear of what the red room could do, I would have seen how Y/n was just living her best life. She was free, something she had always dreamt of. Of course, she would have had no loyalty to the red room. Instead, I make her believe that I have no trust in her and that I never wanted her back in the first place. Which is a complete lie.

Once she moved into the compound, Yelena and I worked so hard to show her how sorry we were and how much we wanted her in our lives. Slowly but surely, she was coming around to us and we started to have a positive relationship. It was the happiest I had been since the red room. Being back with both of my sisters safe. I naively thought that if we could just take down the red room, Y/n would never need to know about the betrayal. Everything would have worked out. But that damn pipe at her work screwed everything up for us. Ok, that's a lie. We screwed everything up.

Seeing the hurt on Y/n's face caused me physical pain. I hated that once again I had let her down. But what hurt the most. What felt like I had just had my heart ripped out, was hearing that she was tortured and raped as a punishment for us escaping. We genuinely thought she would be safe. She was better than both of us and we knew she was an asset to them. We never thought they would go that far with her. But we completely got that wrong and I'll never forgive myself. She's my little sister, my pauchok and it's my fault that she is hurting.

Y/n had been gone for a week and we had no luck in tracing her. Tony and the others were not happy when they found out what we had been doing. They were non the wiser and had been fed the same line as Y/n. She was moving here to be safe from the red room. The only thing now is I think we've made the target on her back even bigger. She was helping us on mission, and it will have just put her back on their radar. Maybe we should have left her in London, she was safe there. I should never have listened to Fury.

Wanda was a mess. She shut herself away. When she saw the promise ring on Y/n's table, it broke her. Yelena and I would spend time with her but she'd just cry and plead for us to find Y/n so she could apologise. I don't think she thought she would fall for Y/n when this started and I'm sure she only agreed to do it because she feels like she still has to prove herself after everything that happened with Ultron. But here we are, the three of us completely broken and it's all our fault.

I spend my nights awake, wondering if we'll ever find her, and if we do, if she could ever forgive us. I wouldn't blame her. We don't deserve it. But I pray to a God that I don't believe in, that she would give us a slither of a chance and we'll do the rest.

I'm still spending every minute away from missions, looking for Y/n. I think I've found her in Reykjavik. But I don't want to go and risk losing her. I need to be 100% sure before I go in. So, I monitor the situation as best I can whilst following up on other leads. But that all stops with the receipt of a video. A video that makes my world completely stop.

I call the whole team into the briefing room, too scared to the play the video on my own. If this is what I think it is, I'm going to need the teams help. When I press play, I instantly hear a choked-up sob come from Wanda as a beaten and bloodied Y/n appears on the screen. Her hands are tied up and attached to a butcher's hook above her head. She's just in a sports bra and shorts, exposing all of the wounds that they have inflicted on her, both old and new.

I look to Yelena, and she has a look of horror on her face, which probably matches my own. That's our little sister and once again, she's being tortured at the hands of Dreykov because of us! "Hello Natalia and Yelena. We found your little sister here. We've been monitoring her since she started fighting on the wrong side. It was a surprise to us when we found her, she must have gotten too comfortable in her western ways!" The face of the man I loathed filled the screen and I wish I could reach through and strangle him, inflict all the pain that he was causing to Y/n.

"Wake her up!" He snaps, to one of his little guards. He grabs a taser and it jolts Y/n awake. "Welcome back Y/l/n." He sneers. Y/n's one eye, that isn't swollen shut, looks up at the camera. "Oh goody! A camera, who knew you were kinky!" She jokes. God, she's going to get herself killed! With her words, a swift punch is landed on Y/n's face. But she just spits out the blood and laughs. It seems to irritate Dreykov and he starts his interrogation. "Tell us, what is Fury's grand plan?" He snarls in Y/n's face. "Urgh, someone needs a breath mint!" Y/n scrunches up her face in disgust. That comment earns another swift punch to her gut, making us all finch at the cracking sound of a rib.

Dreykov carries on in asking her lots of question which he gets a sarcastic comment in return to. Which inevitably follows by some form of pain infliction. Each time, I flinch as Y/n tries so hard to not show the pain. Considering that we betrayed her, she's not giving anything away. She could easily answer all the questions she is being asked, but she doesn't. Once again just proving how wrong we got this. How wrong I go it!

I feel a hand clamp on to mine. I look to the source only to see Yelena, teary eyes fixed on the screen as our little sister gets a knife gash across her shoulder. I squeeze her hand back, trying to give her some form of reassurance, but I don't have much belief myself.

Wanda is sobbing as she watches her love being tortured in front of her, completely helpless to do anything. "Tony, can we do anything to trace this?" I ask, pleading in my head we can. "FRIDAY's working on it. Seems like they're not so smart and left a gateway through the telnet port. Hopefully through that we'll be able to triangulate a rough location." He explains. That seems to give me a sense of hope. Maybe we can find her.

After what seems like hours, Dreykov stops his attack and turns to the camera. "Natalia, you can see what we can do. If you want to save your sister, you know what you have to do." He threatens. Y/n's laugh breaks through the tension. This causes Dreykov's head to snap around to face her. "And what are you laughing at pauchok?" The use of the pet name has me fuming, the anger I thought was already at it's limit still growing.

"They're not there. They don't care." She sadly chuckles. The confusion on Dreykov's face doesn't go unnoticed. "You took a dead end. Wasted your time." She adds on, lifting her head to make direct eye contact with him. "You still don't get it do you. I wasn't lying all those years ago when you hung me to this same hook. I knew nothing about their escape. They didn't want a kid like me following them around." She explains and I can see as the realisation hits Dreykov. "But you fought with them. Lived with them." He questions back.

Once again, she laughs, but I can see the pain in her eyes as she speaks. "They may help the ordinary person, but they're no better than you, using people for their own gains. They just give you a comfy room whilst they do it." My head drops at her words. She's right, how can we preach about being the good guys when we've treated her like this. "My own sisters didn't trust me. Believed I was still working for you. I just wanted a NORMAL FUCKING LIFE!" She shouts, tears now falling down her bloodied cheeks.

"I was safe and happy. But they manipulated that. Used my weaknesses against me. I always used to think you'd never beat me because I still loved with everything I had. But now I see it, you're right. Love really is just for children. It gets you nothing but heartache and makes you weak and vulnerable." I look over to Wanda at this point and, if it's possible, I think I just saw her heart break even more.

That was something Yelena and I always admired about Y/n. Through all of the hell we went through, she still loved and cared for people. She never let them break that. The irony that her very family were the ones to actually make her give up.

"Tony, please say you have something. We don't have much time." I beg, knowing that Y/n's life is very much on the line right now. "I'm dispensable. No one really knows who I am. There is no one who will mourn me. But you've shown your hand. I'll die today but you won't win." I can't bare to hear her talk like she is. I'd mourn her. All those years we were apart, I felt like a part of me was missing. Then when we got her back, even when she was giving us the cold shoulder, I felt like I was whole again.

My eyes don't leave the screen as I see Dreykov step towards Y/n. "You always disappointed me. Always in the shadows of your sisters, never quite able to match their ability. And here you are, still disappointing me. You know what I do with lose ends?" He growls. "Cut them." And with those words he plunges a knife into Y/n's torso and twists it. "NO!" Yelena and I both shoot up from our seats. "You'll never win." Y/n whispers with a smirk, bloody starting to drip from her mouth.

"I've got a location! They're in Mexico. Suit up and in the Quinjet now!" Tony shouts, but I'm still staring at the screen. "She's no use to us now. She's not got long. Do as you please with her then leave." Dreykov coldly speaks as he wipes the blood from his hand. Forgetting the video, it carries on playing as his goons take turns in hitting Y/n like a punch bag. "Natasha, come on. We have to go now if we've got any chance of saving our mladshaya sestra." Yelena's voice pulls me back to the room, and I instantly run out to change and get ready to kill the son of a bitch.

The flight on the quinjet thankfully didn't take too long. Which was good as every minute counts. Who knows what they're doing to her right now. I just pray that she's still alive, clinging one. But I could see it, she had given up, accepted her fate of dying. "We need a plan for when we get there." Steve says looking to me. "Yelena, Wanda and I will go to Y/n. The rest of you, clear the building and get Dreykov. Then leave him for us." I order. Nice and simple.

Everyone agrees and as soon as the jet touches the floor, we are running out and heading in. There weren't many guards, clearly this was just a holding place. That works to our benefit. I pushed down every feeling I had to focus on getting to Y/n. I couldn't let my fear of losing her overpower me right now or I'd be no help to anyone. "Over here Natasha!" I hear Yelena shout. With one swift kick, I take out the last guard and rush over to her, Wanda not far behind. "It's locked, but I can hear those assholes in there!" She says as I grab the handle and try it for myself. "I'll deal with it." Wanda states, pushing us back out of the way.

Red whisps come from her hands and within seconds the door is off it's hinges. I gasp as I see Y/n's bloodied form. She's almost unrecognisable. The pool of blood under her body shows that she doesn't have much time. The guards in the room have a smug look on their faces as they turn to see us. "The boss will be so happy when we turn up will all three of them!" One of them sneers. With one swift movement the same red whisps wrap around his body and that smirk is soon replaced with fear.

"I saw you in the video. You enjoyed this the most." Wanda growls, her eyes completely red now as she stalks towards him. "I'll be sure to enjoy this, and with those words she snaps his neck, his body falling to the floor. Yelena and I fight off the three remaining men. As soon as the last body hits the floor I rush over to Y/n.

"Oh my God. What have they done to you?" I whisper. "Yelena, help me get her down." I order. We carefully lift her, but the movement jolts her awake and has her crying out in pain. "Y/n, it's Nat. We're here to take you home." I speak softly, slowly moving some of her hair out of her face. Yelena has taken off her jacket and is using it to try and stop the bleeding from the stab wound that Dreykov inflicted. "I don't have a home." Y/n struggles to say as her eyes flutter close. "No! Keep those eyes open pauchok. Yell at me, tell me you hate me, just don't go to sleep." I beg. Hearing how much she hates me would be better than this silence as she falls into unconsciousness.

"Let's get her to Bruce." I say, slipping my arms under her and lifting her into me. "We have Y/n. Bruce we're on our way to you." I shout into the comms before rushing out as quickly as we can. Yelena doesn't let up on the pressure to Y/n's stomach and Wanda's eyes only leave Y/n to open a door or take out the last few guards. "We have Dreykov." Tony announces through the comms. But right now, it's the last thing on my mind. I just want Y/n to be ok.

Bruce is waiting for us in the medical area on the jet. I gently place Y/n's body down onto the table and step back allowing Bruce and his team to get to work. My arms reach out to grasp around Yelena. I need her close to me and I know she does too. I notice Wanda looking lost, so I hold my hand out to her, which she easily takes. The three of us watch as Bruce fights to save Y/n. Minutes slowly ticking by.

"She's crashing! I need more blood, adrenaline and atropine." Bruce shouts his orders and the team react instantly. It feels like my own heart has stopped as we watch Bruce start compressions. With each jolt of electricity that is used to try to restart her heart, we collectively flinch. Tears are streaming down my eyes as I watch our sister slowly fade away and it's all our fault.

Bruce looks over to us and I see the pain in his own eyes. The short time Y/n had been with us, she had made close friends. Everyone loved her. I'm waiting for him to tell us that he's done all he can. That Y/n, my sister who I was meant to protect, is dead. He goes to open his mouth but it's like he second guesses what he wants to say. He simply turns on the spot and returns to working on Y/n.

He refuses to give up and I couldn't be more grateful when the heart monitor starts to beep. We all let out a collective sigh of relief. But it doesn't last long. "Aw, your pauchok is still alive. I guess I'll have to try harder to squish her next time!" I storm over to Dreykov who has his arms handcuffed behind his back. My fist connects with his smug face, knocking his body to the floor. Yelena is quickly by my side delivering a swift kick to his stomach.

"I'll get out. A prison won't hold me. I have friends in high places." He taunts from the floor. "That won't be a problem if we kill you." I snarl back to him. "You're not a killer anymore Natalia. You've done soft. The Avengers have tainted you." He's so sure of his words. Looking up I see the Avengers, my friends, my family, looking at me. Steve gives me a nod and turns his back, walking towards the jet. It's his silent way of telling me to do what I have to do. The others soon fall in line and it's just Yelena, Wanda and I left.

"You know. I hated my life in the red room. I've spent my whole time trying to make up for the horrible things I did whilst I was under your control. I lost sight of the fact that I gained two of the most important things to me whilst in that hell. My sisters." I tell him, connecting my boot to his face. "She'll never forgive you." He smirks through bloodied teeth. "You're right. I don't think she will. But I won't make the same mistake twice in not protecting her." I tell him, crouching down in front of him. "You two can go. You don't need to be a part of this." I say to Yelena and Wanda. But neither of them move.

"I want to watch this man die after everything he's done." Yelena hisses. "And I want to see him pay for the hurt he's caused to Y/n." Wanda adds on. "You're no different than us if you kill me." He speaks from the floor. I can see he's panicking now. "The only difference is, as much as I want to drag this out and cause you as much pain as possible. I won't. I'll make this quick." I stand up and take my gun from my holster, pointing it to his head. "Wait! No please..." I don't give him a chance before I pull the trigger. The bullet lodging in his skull.

Without giving him another look, I walk away, Yelena and Wanda following behind. When we get to the jet, we all go straight to Y/n. "She's stable for now, but she'll need surgery as soon as we're back at the compound. I've called Cho and she'll be waiting for us." Bruce informs us. "Thank you for saving her Bruce." Yelena says, taking Y/n's hand in her own. "She's not out of the woods yet. But she's strong." He replies, placing his hand on Yelena's shoulder.

The journey back to the compound is much calmer than when we left. The three of us never leave Y/n's side as we make the journey home. Just as Bruce said, Cho and her team are waiting for us and take Y/n straight to the medical wing. "You three should go and clean up. Y/n will be in surgery for a while. I promise I'll update you if anything changes before you get back." Tony tells us. None of us have the energy to fight and I can't bare to have Y/n's blood on my hands for much longer.

After Y/n's surgery, she falls into a coma. Her body had extensive injuries and it's a miracle that she is even alive. But we have no idea if or when she might wake up. Even if she does, she'll have a lot of recovery to go through. Between Yelena, Wanda and I, one of us is always with her. A lot of the time all three of us just sit with her, telling her how sorry we are, begging her to wake up. But nothing changes.

3 weeks. That's how long she's been led in this bed unconscious. Each day I'm losing hope that she'll ever wake up. But I won't give up on her. I have to be there for her as much as I can. Even if she has no clue that we're here. It's a Tuesday lunch time and the three of us are eating our salad around Y/n's bed. Filling her in on the latest stupid thing Tony did. Wanda suddenly grabs at her head in pain. "Are you ok Wands?" I ask, placing my hand on her back. "It's not me." She groans. I instantly turn my head to see Y/n's eyes flicking. "Y/n. pauchok? Can you hear us?" I say, gently running my hand through her hair.

I turn to tell Yelena to get Bruce but she's already out of the door calling for him. When her eyes eventually open, they dart around the room, trying to identify where she is. "You're ok Y/n. You're at the compound you're safe. Bruce is on his way." I try to reassure her. Having her awake, all I want to do is tell her how sorry I am and beg her for forgiveness. But I can't.

Wanda is by her side, her hand interlocked with Y/n's. But we all step back when Bruce enters the room and let him do his thing. She's not very responsive but Bruce looks somewhat happy. "She'll probably be in and out of consciousness for a while, but she seems to be doing ok. I'll do more test when she's more with it and I'll have a better idea at what we're dealing with." He explains before leaving us to it.

Over the next few hours, she goes in and out of consciousness, but we never leave her side. She becomes move communicative as she does, giving us the bare minimum to show she's awake. "Why are you here?" She asks when she's more with it. "I know you have no reason to believe or trust us, but we wanted to be here for you." She looks around the room at all of us but doesn't offer a response.

"Good to see you're awake. Would you mind giving us the room so I can run some tests?" Bruce asks us, taking Y/n's chart. We slip out of the room and stand by the window observing as Bruce carries out his checks. "Do you think she'll ever forgive us?" Yelena asks, the sadness evident in her voice. I sigh knowing I can't really give her the answer she wants. "I'm not sure she will. It was so hard to get her forgiveness when she came back in our lives. As much as that was real to us, it was based off of lies." I reply, giving no reassurance at all. But it doesn't pay to live off false hope.

Wanda stands there quietly, lost in her thoughts. "Are you ok?" I ask her, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I love her so much. I know it started as a mission, but I fell for her, hard. I can't bare to think that I've lost her. I know it's all on me, but I have to at least fight for her. You should do the same." She says before walking out and leaving us.

Over the next week, Y/n was starting to heal. Bruce had warned us that she would have to go through extensive physio to even have a chance at a full recovery. The beating gave her a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) and there is damage to her spin, which at the moment has resulted in paralysis from her waist down. Something Bruce is hopefully will be temporary with the help of physio.

Much to Y/n's dismay, we all stuck around. After what happened, Fury agreed to allow us all an extended leave of absence, only to be called upon for world saving missions. It meant that we could dedicate our time to helping Y/n recover. We are determined to show her that we're being completely honest and want to be there for her. I just don't know if she'll accept it.

Y/n's POV:

Well, that whole experience was hell. I thought I was going to die after Dreykov stabbed me. I had come to terms and accepted my fate. In my mind, I genuinely thought that I was alone. After everything that had happened with my sisters and Wanda, there was not one part of me that thought they would come for me. Especially as it risked opening them up to the risk of being capture by the red room again.

I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm so unbelievably hurt by it all, but they were there for me when I thought I was alone. But that doesn't make up for everything they did does it? It makes it harder to know what I'm feeling when they're around me all day being sickly sweet. When I heard they had all taken a leave of absence, I was shocked. Nat has always been so focused on making up for her wrongs, missions have become her life.

Seeing Wanda is the hardest. I still love her. That isn't going away any time soon, especially when I wake up to her, my hand clenched in hers, her beautiful red hair splayed over my legs. The pining looks she gives me don't help either. I know exactly how I feel, but I don't have a clue what is real and what is fake anymore. My trust radar is completely out of whack so I've gone completely on the defensive and built up my walls as high as I can.

On top of all this emotional stress, my body is broken. I'm stuck in a hospital bed having to rely on other people to help me do basic things. What makes it worse, is it's the people that I don't want to be around that are doing them. They've managed to scare off every nurse that Tony and Bruce have brought in to help and it's getting frustrating. Everything is just getting too much. I know even if I make ground in rehab, I'm not ever going to be back to where I was. I'll be no use to them for missions, so it won't be long until I'm back on my own anyway. I have sisters I can't trust and who don't seem to trust me and I woman I'm madly in love with but so incredibly hurt by. I just don't know what to do.

Sensing my frustration, Tony was able to convince the others to let him take me to my physio appointment. I was trying to get the use of my legs back. I can stand but walking is proving difficult. It was a relief to not have apologetic and pitying eyes on me the whole session. "Come on Y/n, you've got this. Just one step that's all." The physio, Mark, encourages. I frown as I have failed at every attempt to do this today.

I have a sheen of sweat on my forehead as I hold my body weight up on the two support poles beside me. If Dreykov could see me now, he'd laugh at what he had turned me into. I shake my head, trying to fight off the intrusive thoughts. I manage to get my leg to move forward in an awkward step, but I smile as it's the furthest I've got so far. "Amazing work Y/n!" Tony encourages me from the side. I place my foot down but I get the weight wrong and I'm tumbling to the floor, Tony's arms just catching my head before it could bounce off the padded base.

"You did great today Y/n. Let's get you up and try again." Mark says in an annoyingly enthusiastic voice. "I think she needs a rest." Tony suggests, already seeing my anger. "But she's so close, just one more try...." "No." I growl lowly. "No?" He questions me. "I can't do this anymore! I'm just useless! Leave me alone! Just get out!" I yell, tears forming in my eyes. Mark doesn't need telling twice as she scurries out of the room. But Tony doesn't listen to me. He just sits there holding me as I'm still in a heap on the floor.

My chest is heaving as I breathe heavily from the anger and effort I had put into today. "Talk to me." Tony says softly. "I look between his eyes, my own full of tears. I don't see pity. I just see care. "I'm scared." I admit quietly, afraid of my own voice. Tony doesn't respond, he just lets me reach the words I need in my own time. "I know I'll never be back to how I was. Which means when I leave here, I can't guarantee my safety. Before when I was on my own, I knew I could fight out of most situations. But now I'll be hindered. Dreykov may be dead, but there will be others in his place and my head will still have a bounty on it." I express.

He frowns as I talk but lets me finish. "Why would you leave here?" He questions a little surprised. "I can't bring anything to the team. I know the only reason that you let me stay before was because you were trying to work out if you could trust me enough to be in this team. As soon as my recovery is done, I'll have to leave." I reply but he just scoffs. "You have value without your fighting skills. Do you know how much work you help me do in the last 8 months? You'd be such an asset for me in my lab. But even if you didn't want to do that and just work in a bar. I pay for this place, and I'll decide who lives here and you're one of them. You're not going anywhere unless it's because you want to." He tells me firmly.

I smile at him, appreciating his support. "But I know that's only half the issue Y/n. The other three have refused to leave your side these last few weeks. I sigh, knowing ultimately the main reason for this conflict in my head. "I learnt to trust and forgive them again after everything they did when they left the red room. I can't be angry at them for leaving for a better life." I admit and he nods. "But I feel betrayed that everything was a mission to them these last few months. Did they actually want me to be back in their lives? Was I still an inconvenience to them? Then there's the whole Wanda situation. I don't even know if what she felt for me was real. And that terrifies me. Because I gave everything to her, I was vulnerable, and my walls were completely down. But now? Now I feel like that love was just used and abused all for SHIELD's benefit."

Saying this all out loud is actually helping. I feel a weight lifting off my chest sharing with someone, that I do actually trust, how I'm really feeling. "Y/n. I know what they did was inexcusable. But I can tell you now that Nat and Yelena were so excited for you to come to New York. I've never seen Nat like it before. She was soft. When we were waiting for your arrival, they couldn't sit still. They had spent time trying to make sure you had everything you'd need in your room. It wasn't just obligation." I think over his words, still unsure how it makes me feel.

"And Wanda. That girl has never been able to hide her feelings. The amount of times I would catch her just staring at you with eyes full of love, a smile on her face. You could be doing the simplest of things and she would be there watching you as if you were hanging the moon and the stars." He smirks at me as he remembers. "But she, all of them, hurt me." I state and he nods. "I know. I'm not saying forgive them. I just wanted you to know, that yes, maybe this was all a mission, but I truly believe that they care and love you. Maybe it'll help you get the closure you'll need."

I instantly pull Tony into a hug, even in our awkward position on the floor. He hugs back within a heartbeat and chuckles. "You're already getting your strength back I see." He says, pretending to choke. "Sorry." I say, letting go of my death grip. He helps me up off the floor and takes me back into the hospital room.

I get about 20 minutes of peace before two assassins darken my doorway. "Can we come in?" They ask. "You've never asked permission before." I snap back to them. "We realise that we've been a bit over the top these last few days and weeks." Nat admits shyly. It's very unusual to see her like this, the confidence drained from her. I nod and they both enter, taking a seat to the side of my bed. "How was physio?" Yelena asks when an awkward silence fills the room. "Ok. I took a step..." "That's great!" Nat interrupted but I shook my head. "Then fell on my ass." I add on and see them both frown.

"I told you I didn't like that, Mark. He's a fraud." Yelena huffs to Nat. "He's a physio Yelena, he's just trying to help." Nat defends. "Then why did our sister end up on the floor?!" Yelena shoots right back. I find it quite amusing seeing their little back and forth. It used to entertain me greatly back in the red room. It was some of the only humour I got.

After their bickering ends, Nat has been able to convince Yelena to not kick Mark's ass. "Did you just come in here to argue or was there something else you wanted?" I say when they finally stop their fight. The two of them look between each other and sit up straighter. "We would like to talk. But we'd also appreciate if you would let us finish before you say anything." Nat answers. I sigh but wave my hand for them to continue.

"I'm, we're both so sorry. I know that's not enough. We have let you down and betrayed you twice now. There are no excuses for how we acted this time around. But please know that we are both so happy that you are back in our lives. When Fury told us that he found you, we were so happy. We had heard rumours you were dead and that broke us because we thought we missed our chance to make things right. But when we got the chance to do that, we royally fucked up." Nat starts, Yelena nodding along the whole time.

"We have always trusted you. Although it may not seem like it. We were scared we'd lose you and wanted to do everything in our power to keep you safe and with us. So, we listened to Fury and agreed to this stupid mission. But it back fired and you ended up getting more hurt than either of us thought possible." Yelena now takes her turn to speak. I've never seen her talk with such sincerity before. No sarcasm or snarky comments.

"You died. We watch you die and then watched as Bruce fought so hard to bring you back to us. It was all our fault, if we had just been honest from the start, you'd be fine now. Not having to learn to walk and do basic things all over again." Nat takes a breath before looking at Yelena, who gives her a sad nod. "We know that you probably won't be able to forgive us and, as much as it hurts, we're ok with that. We just wanted you to know, that it was real to us. All of it." She finished her little speech and I let the words sink in.

They both give me a smile and stand up to leave. I watch as they get closer to the door. I'm sure they're walking slowly, hoping I call after them. "Oh, I'm going to regret this." I mumble to myself. "Wait!" I call after them. They both spin around to face me again. Expectant looks on their faces. "You're right. I'm not sure if I can forgive you. Not easily anyway." Their faces drop at my words, and I notice Yelena reach out to Nat's hand, seeking comfort. "You know, I worshipped the ground you walked on when we were in the red room. I would go to bed every night and dream of what we'd be like when we would finally escape and be free. This is far from that dream." I share and they both nod.

"I'm willing to try to, you know, maybe work things out." I say almost at a whisper. Both eyes suddenly lock on to me, but I can't meet theirs. "But there can't be anymore lies and you need to be patient with me. I don't think we can fall back to how we were." I explain, finally lifting my head to see my two sisters, who's eyes have tears brimming in them. "Really?" Nat whispers and I nod. "oh pauchok. I promise, we'll do everything you ask. We won't fuck this up this time." She replies through a cry.

"Can we hug you?" Yelena asks timidly. I nod hesitantly, but the moment both of them wrap their arms around me, I feel safe again. There is a part of me that hates that I feel like that so easily. I still want to be mad and angry at them. But I'll take this moment, this feeling. It's a long way, but I hope maybe we can get some resemblance of the relationship we used to have.

The next few days are like the others, though the tension with my sisters is a little less. I thought that after our talk they would be back to working and backing off a little. But they don't, they promised me there were here until I was fully recovered, and they were sticking by it but promised to respect my boundaries. I really appreciated it.

I had noticed that Wanda had been around less. I thought it wouldn't bother me, but I guess I found comfort in her presence. But I can't blame her, I haven't been the nicest person to anyone recently, and regardless of what happened between us, it's no excuse for me to be a dick.

Today I was having a rough day. Physio was hard, although I'm getting a couple of steps at a time now, the frustration that it's not progressing quicker really hindered me today. I fell, a lot, and I'm hurting. My mood is low and I'm really just not in the mood to see anyone. But tonight, my sisters decided they didn't want to respect my boundaries.

"Come on! Up in the chair, you're getting out of this room and getting some fresh air." Nat orders with a big smile on her face whilst Yelena is fighting with me to put a coat on. "I'm quite comfortable in here. Please just take your cheeriness away from my dark cloud today!" I complain. Both of them just laugh at me. "Oh, mladshaya sestra. Let us help to cheer you up." Nat cooed. I reluctantly agree, knowing that it'll be easier than fighting. Besides, I've barely been outside since I ended up in the medical wing.

They help me up into my chair and roll me to the small lake in the grounds of the compound. As I get closer, I see a familiar red head, standing awkwardly, picking at the skin around her finger nails. It's then I notice the picnic blanket and food dotted around. "Well, have a nice evening." Yelena says, letting go of my chair, which carries on rolling as it's on a slope. "Hey, what?! Wait!" I call after them. "You didn't need to push her." Nat scolds as they run off. "What, the witch will catch her." I hear Yelena defend.

And she's right. As I turn around to stop the chair, Wanda is already there, her hands on the arm rest to stop me going any further. "Hi." She squeaks when our eyes meet. "What's this?" I ask, pointing towards the little set up. She rolls me closer and offers to help me out of the chair, still not offering an explanation. I raise my eyebrow at her not letting her help until I get some idea of why we're here. "Can you please just sit with me, and I'll explain?" She pleads. Against my better judgement I agree.

She helps to lift me out of the chair and onto the blanket. She is then quickly throwing another over my lap to keep me warm. My eyes are firmly on the ground, embarrassed that I still need help to even get in and out of this damn chair. "You shouldn't be ashamed of it." Wanda's voice breaks through my thoughts. "It's not weak to need help." She adds on. I sigh and look at her. "I'm sure you didn't bring me here to talk about my wheelchair." I say, a hint of frustration in my voice.

She quickly shakes her head. "I love you." She blurts out and it takes me by surprise. I can tell by her body language there is no lies, but I still find it hard to believe. "Yes, it started as a mission, but it very quickly stopped being one for me. All the feelings I had, have, for you are real. I never should have agreed to the mission in the first place, but I was desperate to prove myself to Fury. I didn't even stop to think about feelings through it all. But once I started to fall for you, it was all I could think about."

She rambles on as all her feelings come tumbling out. "I hated lying to you. I should have ignored Fury and just told you the truth. I know that you still probably would have left me, but at least I could have explained it all to you. I'm so sorry Y/n. I really am, I'll regret what I did for the rest of my life." She's crying as she speaks "I wouldn't have left you." I say quietly. "What?" She questions. "If you had told me. I would have been really mad, but I wouldn't have left you." I tell her but that seems to make things worse. I guess it just reiterated for her that she made the wrong decision.

"But you have to understand how hard it is to trust what you're saying right now." I say with more confidence. "I do. But let me show you. Let me show you that everything I felt was real. You can do with it as you please, but at least you'll know the truth." She suggests. I think for a moment before nodding. She raises her hand to my head and red whisps appear before my vision is clouded. I see flashes of all the times that we're together and how she was feeling. It's almost overwhelming how much love she feels towards me. She also shows me the sorrow and pain she felt when I was gone. As my vision starts to return, she's looking at me with tears falling down her face.

"You don't have to forgive me or take me back. I just had to let you know that it was all true. I couldn't bare you thinking that I manipulated it in anyway." I really appreciate her doing that. It helps to bring me the closure that I need. "I'm not sure what to do with this." I admit and she scootches forward a little and rests her hand on mine. "You don't have to do anything. But if you don't push me away, I'd like to try and make things up to you. Maybe we can get back to being friends at least. Maybe one day you might find it in you to forgive me." She replies. "But for now. Just sit and enjoy this picnic with me?" She says but it comes out as a question. I nod and reach out for the plate on the blanket. It's a nice evening and there is no pressure.

It takes time, but I can feel the relationships between my sisters and Wanda starting to mend. They stick by my side through my recovery, along with Tony, and I didn't realise how much I needed that. All of their actions went to show how much they care for me.

A year after the kidnapping, I'm finally up and walking, with the help of walking sticks, but I'm not reliant on the wheelchair anymore. I'm helping Tony out in his lab, as he suggested, and I'm really enjoying it. Problem solving and building tech that helps people is really rewarding to me.

Nat and Yelena are slowly starting to go back on missions but are around a lot more. It took me a while, but I think I'm finally there in trusting and forgiving them. I feel like I have my sisters back. Along with it I gained a family with the Avengers. Something I never thought that I would get.

And Wanda you ask? Well, our friendship really started to flourish and became really important to me. But tonight, I think that friendship could be ruined. But in all the best possible ways as we're going out on our first official date.

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff Fanfiction #Wanda Maximoff #Wanda Maximoff x Reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

[tgammsideblog]

Let's talk about Jinx vs The Human World

Jinx vs The Human World is... certainly an episode. It hasn't been talked much in comparison to The End because it has been greatly overshadowed by the later.

One thing that i think many of us can agree about Jinx vs The Human World is that it has super chaotic pacing. It doesn't give you room to breathe because it is already jumping to the next plot point and you can't digest well what you are watching. This hurts the emotional impact crucial character scenes have, because again, they aren't allowed to flow well, not letting the characters to react properly.

It's an episode that should have been around 44 minutes long since it covers multiple plot threads. With that ammount of time some things could have been better paced and given a proper conclusion.

As for the plot threads, i already talked about how i like Jinx as antagonist in this episode. She is fun, her song sequence is pretty good. She ends up capturing Molly and using her as away to power up her sobgoblins.

I really enjoy seeing Scratch finally having to deal with the consequences of not being a good leader. The reason the events of this episode happen are because of his own irresponsibilty, letting Jinx steal the Chairman robe and take over the Ghost World. He realizes that he has been messing up a lot and someone else should be in charge instead. He lets the chairman robe go and chose a more appropiate candidate to be the new chairman.

My biggest issue would be the Chens plot part. I do like the part of Ollie and June standing up to Ruben and Esther and trying to persuade them into helping them to stop Jinx. It's a scene that serves more or less well as a conclusion for their arc, even if Necro-Comicon and The Grand Gesture have this purpose, (more for Ollie's character)

The reveal that Geoff was the ghost that scared Ruben was nice too. It has been a thing that was foreshadowed back on ¨Book Marks The Sprite¨

What i'm not so fond of is how it was Geoff sneezing at him when he was a kid. I think it could been more interesting if it had been Geoff hurting Ruben by accident or scaring too much. That way Geoff apologizes to Ruben, showing to him that he didn't mean to hurt him that way.

Ruben also feels like he lacks proper scenes to show his change of mind. Sure, he realizes that Geoff wasn't evil as he thought he was, making him question things. But there isn't much else. I think there could have been a scene of Geoff saving Ruben from the sobgoblins and Ruben realizes how a ghost saved him, making him reconsider his views.

His change of mind is like it comes a bit out of nowhere. Another problem is how he seems to be super friendly around ghosts near the end which it is very weird. I think it could have been better if he had some expressions and lines that indicates that he is still trying to get used to not seeing ghosts as evil.

In addition to this, the Chens don't get to do much in this episode outside of trapping Jinx inside the phantom canister. I wished that they could have set up traps to catch the sobgoblins and contain them temporary at least, that would have given them a bigger role in the plot.

I do like some moments that June has, like her interations with Darryl and giving some funny moments. She is pretty enjoyable in this episode and she shines almost scene she is in.

In some other problems, i find the whole wraith transformation of ghost friends unnecessary, it doesn't have any funtion in the story aside from seeing how they look as wraiths (which is cool!) but the plot could have played out the same if it had been just Scratch and Molly going to the Ghost World.

The Ghost Council saying nice things about Scratch and that he wasn't so bad to give Molly joy fits well their character arcs this season, but, Sir Alister saying they are Scratch's ¨friends¨ doesn't add up since Scratch doesn't want anything to do with them and he has interacted with them because he was forced to be the Chairman in first place. I would change that line of dialogue and leave it as them thinking that Scratch is not so bad instead.

In all, i think what really hurt Jinx vs The Human World is that it needed to be a way longer episode (around 40-50 minutes) to allow things to be spaced out better. A good chunk of the issues from this episode seem to come from that. With more time to explore the events and changing some things, this episode could have been more presentable in quality as a whole.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #tgamm season 2 #Tgamm jinx vs the human world #Jinx tgamm #scratch mcgee #ruben chen #ollie chen #june chen #tgamm geoff

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for yelling at my mom because of incense?💭

( emoji so I can recognise my submission and this is a hella long post so be warned)

So I (16F) really hate smoke. And I mean beyond the regular hate, I mean like the moment I smell smoke I instantly become very, very angry. I'm not sure why exactly, I suspect it might be because I'm on the autism spectrum but I haven't been officially diagnosed so take this with a grain of salt. Also just to clarify, I have no lung issues which would cause me to be extra effected by smoke, it's almost entirely psychological.

My mom (50F) got into this whole spiritual circle stuff about a year ago and does meditation thingies. Involves a lot of rituals, crystals and incense. Not entirely sure the exact reason why but the important thing is this means she is lighting incense almost everyday. As a result, on most days the house smells like smoke. I have told her quite a few times to ventilate properly if she's going to use it but I feel like every time I enter the main room of the house it smells like smoke. However I can manage this by simply shutting my door to avoid getting a lungful of smoke. No, the thing that pisses me off are her "cleansing sessions." This is where she goes through the house waving an incense stick everywhere to "purify the bad spirits." This means I have absolutely nowhere in the house to escape from the smoke and often get forced outside to escape. I have tolerated these "cleansing sessions" a few times but on the most recent one, it happened to be raining extremely heavily. This meant that I was stuck. In a house FILLED with the smell of smoke.

I tried to keep myself calm for a while by ventilating the smoke from under a blanket but even then I could still smell it and it made me raging mad. So I then proceeded to stomp up to my mom and yelled at her. I said some very nasty things which I'm not proud of saying. They were very personal insults mostly pertaining to how her beliefs were bullshit and about her insecurities. We had a shouting match over it which ended in her telling me to go back to my room.

Why I think I could be the asshole here is because:

A. I could have more clearly stated beforehand that I wanted her to stop cleansing my room or at the very least she needs to turn the aircon on when she burns incense.

B. She didn't really deserve the things I said to her. She's a sensitive person and I know it probably deeply hurt her even if she didn't act like it in the moment.

C. I didn't mention it earlier but I have a brother (17M) who has athsma. He has never had any problem breathing or any complaints about my mom burning incense. If anyone would be affected by this the most it would be him and yet he doesn't care. So I feel like I just really overreacted.

Why I think I might not be the asshole here is because:

A. I have asked her before that she ventilate the house properly when she does her meditations and yet every time I can smell it. Sometimes she wont even open the windows so I have to do it myself.

B. She knows how much I dislike the smell of smoke. I have said multiple times how I hate it and every time I have smelt it in the house I've been very obviously annoyed. There was even once incident where our neighbours were having a bonfire and I literally could not sleep in my room because I could smell smoke and had to sleep on the couch. Every time she's done one of these "spiritual cleansings" I have also made it abundantly clear how much I hate this but she doesn't seem to care because it usually forces me outside.

C. As before mentioned, my brother has athsma. While it may not seem like it bothers him I don't know what the long term consequences may be for his lungs. And for my lungs too! Like, I'm not an expert but I don't think regularly breathing in smoke is very good for you. She argues it's "real natural smoke" so it's fine and I told her she should try breathing near a wildfire to see how she liked "real natural smoke."

Anyways, with all these facts considered, random strangers on the internet, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[odocoiileus]

bo Sinclair x gn! reader blurb??👀

pairings: bo sinclair x gn! reader

warnings: illusions to murder + blood/gore, illusions to nsfw actions but none explicitly described, light angst, Bo and reader aren't in the healthiest of relationships, cursing

a/n: here you go anon!! sorry for such a delay in reqs, been very busy lately. this ended up a little longer than I expected. also, I made an AO3 account under the same username, feel free to follow me on there! I will be posting stuff soon

it's unbearably hot today – though that's commonplace for Louisiana. the air is sticky and damp, foreshadowing an incoming storm. you're not entirely sure when the storm will roll by, but you're thinking it won't be today. the sun shines brightly, hot as a flame. your clothes feel as though they're glued to you from how much you're sweating. from the spot where your perched, on the rickety old house's porch steps, you can see the dancing forms of heat waves. it warps your view of the rest of the town.

you let yourself fall back, splaying yourself across the porch. you close your eyes, lifting a hand to wipe some sweat from your forehead. it does little to help. you wish the storm would hurry and come, help lessen the heat. you can see it now – dancing in the cool rain. a blessing.

in the distance, you can hear the loud and familiar rumbling of Bo's shitty truck. there's a pop occasionally, the sound of the engine becoming louder, signaling that he was nearing the house. you let out a heavy sigh. maybe if I lay here like this, he'll think I'm dead, you think. at this point, you feel as though that would be the best thing to ever happen.

Bo had been in an exceptionally sour mood the last few days, you were growing sick of it. at first, you had simply thought it was because of a few wanderers that had entered the town of Ambrose. news flash – it wasn't. you'd done everything to try and cheer the sour man up; a piece of your body at one point. he was ungrateful.

even Vincent and Lester hadn't been in such sour moods. Vincent was always lurking in the basement, sculpting away and Lester — well, he was everywhere and nowhere at once. still, they'd at least treated you with kindness. now you know why neither of them got along with Bo very much, especially Vincent. he's a dick.

lost in your thoughts, you only open your eyes once you feel a boot nudging your rib. you let out a wince. did he not have a gentle bone in his body? you chew at the inside of your cheek.

"the hell you doin', layin' on the porch? y'look dead." Bo's voice rings out, thick southern accent drawing you in. you can vividly remember why you fell for him the first place. he was a southern sweetheart, once. your gaze travels from his dirty, dusty boots, traveling up his pants – landing on his face. his brows are furrowed in what seems confusion or frustration (you can't really tell).

"thinking." you answer flatly. your eyes drift from the Sinclair to the bright sky, hand raised to wipe more sweat away. Bo fails to provide any shade as he looms over you. "what exactly could you be thinkin' 'bout?" he asks, gruff. how does one explain that they're thinking about how much they despise the person they're dating? ..are you two even dating? it's a blurred line. you squint your eyes at the southern charm standing above you. you change the subject.

"any more tourists?" you ask, voice crackling with thirst and void of any actual curiosity. Bo narrows his eyes at you, placing his hands on his hips. he briefly lifts his head, looking off into the distance before he shakes his head. "no, and thank God for that. I don't need no more damn trouble. I'm already worn out havin' ta' deal with Vincent and Lester. you, too." he grumble, gaze falling back on you. you can't tell if he means it in a lighthearted way.

you roll onto your side, face twisting into at the feeling of sweat making your shirt stick to your back. you push yourself up. "Vincent don't cause any trouble, he stays to himself." you protest. Lester on the other hand, well, his hyperactivity can get a little tiresome. he's still kind though, means well..as someone that leads people to their death could be. Bo just rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively.

"come on, now. inside." he says, you almost feel like a dog being beckoned by its owner. perhaps you are one, with the way you stand up, dusting yourself off. with the way you follow him into the rickety house that you hate so much yet love.

god, you really despise him.

#odocoiileus #odofics #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #horror #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #house of wax #house of wax x reader

[casdeans-pie]

Falling (In Love)

Destiel Fanfiction 2,065 words Rated G

Tags: Aftermath Of A Case (we don't see the case, but we see what Situation Dean and Cas have ended up in because of it), Castiel Is A Fallen Angel, Dean Sees Cas's Wings, Near Death Experience, First Kiss.

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures even if those measures are jumping out of the window on the seventieth floor with nothing but hope and mangled fallen angel wings to keep you in the air. Probably not the best time for a kiss... or is it?

------Read on AO3------

---------

In terms of ‘situations where escape seems impossible’ Dean would probably rank this at a solid two. He’s not entirely sure what keeps it from being number one, since there are currently a group of eight witches blocking the only doored exit to the room, and the only other way out would be through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him – seventy stories up from the ground. Dean lost his gun a few floors back, and Cas’s angel blade was stolen by the witches, so they’re also weapon-less. But he figures that while the spell book that he and Cas just stole is still in his hands the witches won’t risk damaging it, so at least they can stall for time while he thinks of some way to get them both out with the book. He’s escaped with impossible odds against him all the time.

It just feels a little more impossible than usual.

Dean glances over at Cas, hoping to see some kind of glint in his eyes that means he’s got a plan. But he’s not looking at Dean. His eyebrows are drawn together in indecision and worry and he’s staring straight ahead with a vacant expression that means he’s deep in his thoughts.

Hope flares in Dean’s chest.

He’s learned enough from Cas’s expressions over the years to know that he’s got something up his sleeve. Something risky, but hell, Dean’s not picky about that right now.

The witches all take a pace forwards as a unit and Cas tugs on Dean’s shirt sleeve to pull him back further towards the window, to keep their distance. Nothing but a desk separates them now.

The huge glass window is pressing cold and solid against their backs in a cruel reminder that freedom is a pane of glass away, but they’d never survive the fall.

“Just give us the book Winchester,” one of the witches snaps.

“Give us the book and we’ll let you both live,” another adds in a low, persuasive tone.

“Like hell you will,” Dean retorts with a snort, “you think I’m gonna trust a single damn thing that comes out of a witch’s mouth?”

A witch taller than the others takes another step closer to them both, her chin held high, and she examines her long, blood red nails as if bored by the whole situation. “Boys, boys, boys,” she says, with a shake of her head, “I grow tired of this. You’ve stolen my book, and I want it back. There is clearly nowhere for you to go, so I suggest that you hand it over, or I will regretfully have to kill you both and hope that my book survives.”

“This book contains angelic spells, and it belonged to the angels before it belonged to you. You’re the ones who stole it in the first place. You have no more claim to it than we do,” Cas says suddenly, his voice firm and full of defiance.

“Yeah, except Cas is an angel, so really, yknow, if it belongs to anyone it belongs to him,” Dean adds, tapping the front cover of the old book with his knuckles and scoping out the room again while he stalls for time, hoping to find any way out of this. Preferably without him and Cas becoming spell-practice for witches or bloody smears on the sidewalk below them.

The bold witch at the front laughs in a throaty cackle.

Dean smiles. “Wow, nice laugh you got there, Wicked Witch of the West, you about to tell me you’re gonna get me and my little dog too?”

“Mm, you are pretty I’ll give you that. But no, I’m just amused that you can call that an angel. I’ve been using those spells a long time, so I can see something of this… abomination’s true form, and trust me, Winchester, if you could see what I see you wouldn’t call it an angel.”

------Read the rest on AO3------

#this was fun to write all in one go !! #destiel #destiel fanfiction #winged castiel #deancas #spn fanfiction #pie's projects #castiel's angel powers #not my most polished fanfiction ever but it's a lot of fun not to put too much pressure on myself to make it 'perfect' #it's a looser more casual style that's fun to write and relax with #I may be tempted to write a part 2 ?? let me know if you'd want that!! #also let me know if you'd like to be included on a tag list for my fanfiction in general!