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bo0tleg · 2 days

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One thing I like about Top Gun (1986) is how believable the development with Ice and Mav's dynamic is.

I've seen a lot of the "Rivals suddenly become buddies after traumatic event together" in media, but I don't think I've seen it done better than in Top Gun. Mostly, I attribute it to how much build up it has.

Most of the time, the 'Rivals' hate each others guts throughout the entire movie/series and then they go through an extremely traumatic event that binds them for life and shifts their entire concept of each other. Ice and Mav never once changed how they saw each other, it just changed their understanding of it.

Ice saw Maverick as dangerous and Mav saw Iceman as stuck-up and commanding. And they weren't wrong, by any means.

From the beginning, they have tension between them because of how different they are. And it ends up in the audience seeing Ice as the 'Antagonist' because that's how Mav sees it, and we're seeing it from his perspective as the protagonist. But Ice was never inherently wrong, in fact he was right.

Other than his first scene, Iceman always has a point in what he's saying. He's criticizing Mav, not insulting him. Sure, he does it in a brash way because masculinity, but he's not trying to insult him, he's trying to knock him down a peg and wake him up to reality. All Ice wants is that he starts to act as a team player, start caring about everybody's safety AND his own, rather than being reckless for the sake of being reckless. But Mav sees it as an insult because he can't process criticism in a healthy way (due to how he grew up). The same thing happened with Charlie, for the record.

And so the strife between the two begins. What I like about it is how it bleeds out of them over time, becoming more settled as the movie goes on. In the locker room "You're dangerous" scene, the tension is palpable. It's obvious they're agitated by each other, and feel the need to prove they're the correct one.

If you pay attention, this whole... demand for superiority goes away as time progresses. They're fine with each other's presence, it's not like they're constantly at each others throat all the time. In the shower scene, Ice dropped all of the aggression and competitiveness from his tone and is instead just laying out what he thinks. He's not undermining Maverick, he's not lecturing him like a child. Iceman is just telling Maverick exactly how he sees the situation in hopes that it would make him realize what the fuck he's doing, but with little hope that it'll actually work.

That doesn't mean Ice is always correct either, he doesn't understand why Mav acts the way he does, thus fails to take into consideration the emotional trauma behind it. Which only causes even more strife.

The entire time, Iceman isn't being a dick for the sake of it, he just wants Mav to stop being stupid (by his standards). And Maverick doesn't understand it because all he gets from what Ice says is insults.

Maverick isn't good at understanding what people mean to say if it's implied, you need to say it to his face. This is the reason he stayed quiet in the shower scene, because Ice finally laid everything out in simple words that he can understand without making it sound like a dick-measuring contest.

Thing is, the tension mellows out. At the beginning, you could see the tension and cut it with a knife. By the middle you can see them getting used to each other without jumping to constantly trade jabs (namely: the volleyball scene, it's just a bunch of guys being dudes, and the scene where Charlie says that Mav flew recklessly in front of the whole class, Ice doesn't comment on it in any way). Over time, they've settled down into their tension without needing to address it all the time.

Then Goose dies.

And the tension between them is still there.

Just because Goose isn't there anymore, doesn't mean their whole dynamic vanishes all of a sudden. You can see their hesitation towards each other (especially Ice), and that's great! It demonstrates that Goose dying doesn't magically resolve their problems with each other in solidarity.

Ice tried to give his consolations to Mav, and is awfully awkward about it. You can see on his face that he wants to say more, but doesn't because he knows it's not his place given their history. And not much is said, but a lot it communicated. (Val Kilmer is a killer actor for this, OH MY FUCKING GOD BLESS THAT MAN)

Even in the graduation scene you can see how out of their depts they really are with each other. A stilted congratulations, that was it. But they're trying, and that's what matters.

A scene I think gets overlooked a lot is the scene right before the Layton, where Ice expressed his worries about Mav to Stinger, and Mav heard him. Because I feel like that was a shift that was more drastic than the Layton itself for them.

What Ice was doing in that scene wasn't doubting Maverick's flying abilities, it was his mental health. Sure, he passed the psych eval, but that means next to jack shit when in a real combat situation so close after his backseater dying. And Ice might be worried that he's gonna be left hanging, but with the way he was speaking I'm more inclined to believe he was more worried about Maverick's wellbeing than himself. Ice almost looked resigned. He knew it was gonna get dismissed because that's the military for you, but he still wanted to try to vouch for Mav to stay groundside, if only to keep his mind at bay.

But Maverick heard him, and as usual, he read it as an insult. He wasn't wrong to assume Ice didn't believe him capable of flying the mission, which wouldn't be a lie, but failed to realize that he had more than one reason to want Maverick on the ground rather than in the air. And for the first time, Maverick believes him.

Up until this point, Mav dismissed all of Ice's so called 'insults' because he was certain in and of himself. But now he isn't anymore.

And it affects his performance in the air. I'm not saying he was as shitty as he was at the start of that combat because of what he overheard, but I am saying that it certainly didn't help matters in the slightest.

So their weird 'stepping-on-eggshells' situation is all over the place by that point. Because they started to care about each other despite not being what one would call proper friends yet. It's establishing a potential friendship by implying that 1. Ice cares about Mav's wellbeing and 2. Mav cares about what Ice thinks.

On the ground, they have the wingman exchange, and their suddenly buddy buddy. Thing is, it wasn't sudden at all.

They've been setting this up the entire fucking movie.

Going back to what I said at the beginning: Ice thinks Mav is dangerous and Mav thinks Ice is stuck-up and controlling. After the Layton, they still think those things because they weren't wrong to begin with. What changed was that instead of seeing it as something that pitted them against each other, it was seen as something that simply was about the other, and that there was no changing it. It could be good.

Mav being dangerous could be good and Ice being stuck-up and controlling could be good, because those were just traits of who they were. By the end of the movie they didn't change how they saw each other, just how they interpreted each other.

And it was built up during the entire fucking movie.

There was a reason to why they acted the way they did with each other because of the stilted interpretation they had of each other. From rivalry to friendship (and perhaps more later down the line), it's glaringly obvious throughout that it wasn't a sudden shift, it was exponential.

That's why I think it was so well developed, because you could see it coming.

#I implied that Mav is autistic here and there because yes #i just love them your honor #this is what I call good writing folks #take notes #top gun #tg86 #icemav #iceman x maverick #top gun iceman #tom iceman kazansky #iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #top gun 1986

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ginnsbaker · 2 days

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (8/?)

Part summary: Leigh heads off to Palm Springs with Danny, while you grapple with what to do about your feelings for her.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 5.000+ | Warnings : Slight angst | Author's Note: No, I did not forget about Danny still not being honest with Leigh and R not tattling on Danny. Just let these loose ends dangle for a while. Anyway, enjoy! :)

The morning after you gave Leigh a puppy for her birthday, your phone is flooded with texts from her, filled with questions ranging from vaccine schedules to the best chew toys. She shares a story about how Rogue, their previous dog, had always been Matt’s, and how she often felt left out of his care. Now, with Logan, she feels a full sense of ownership and is eager to get everything right.

You still flinch slightly whenever she mentions her late husband. It’s as if she forgets that you and Matt had something significant too, as if you weren't once the secret he kept close. Sometimes, you wish you could just erase his presence, simplify everything about your relationship with Leigh.

But you recognize that it’s selfish to wish him away, because Matt was a significant part of Leigh’s life, a major influence on who she has become. And who she is today is a lovely person—someone you've come to admire very deeply.

[6:20 AM] Leigh: Logan’s an angel, slept through the night.

[6:35 AM] Leigh: So, house training... how do I make sure Logan doesn’t turn my bed into his personal bathroom like he did five seconds ago?

You grimace at the message, picturing the hassle of laundering the sheets and possibly needing to call a cleaning service for the mattress.

[6:54 AM] Leigh: And shots? Rogue was all up to date because Matt was on it, but I’m clueless. Where do I start?

As you work your espresso machine, a grin spreads across your face, the kind that makes you feel like a complete fool but in the best possible way.

[6:56 AM] You: Good morning! You’re lucky I don’t bill for text consultations 😆

You typically charge $18 for a twenty-minute chat with a client.

[6:58 AM] Leigh: Oh. How much do I owe you? I want to pay.

Your smile falters a little at her missing your joke.

[6:58 AM] You: I was just kidding. Your texts are more than welcome, Leigh.

Feeling bold, you follow that up with something you've been wanting to make clear since last night.

[6:59 AM] You: This is what friends are for, right?

Waiting for Leigh’s reply feels like an eternity, and you're about to send another text to walk back your hint at friendship when your phone vibrates.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: I’d feel better paying. Can I drop by the clinic later?

Reading her message, you're hit with a rush—excited at the thought of seeing her, yet downhearted she's talking about paying, as if that's what's between you. But then, those little typing dots appear. You're practically holding your breath.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: We’re friends, which is why I’m paying.

It's a good thing you don't have a roommate, or else you'd never get away with grinning like an idiot at your phone. It's a bit ridiculous, you think, how high school this all feels—waiting for a glimpse, a moment, anything.

[7:01 AM] You: Absolutely, come by anytime. Looking forward to it 🙂

You hit send and lean back, trying to act like you didn't just have a mini celebration over a text.

And then, spurred by Leigh texting you first thing in the morning, you decide to add her on your social media accounts. You spend an extra fifteen minutes getting ready that morning, simply because you lingered longer in the shower, listening to songs that remind you of Leigh and how this crush is dangerously close to becoming something uncontainable.

[10:13 AM] Notification: Leigh accepted your friend request.

As it turns out, Leigh is a serial texter.

It’s odd, really. For someone who might come across as reclusive and somewhat untouchable, she is surprisingly talkative over text. The messages start coming in more frequently after this morning's exchange, just moments after you've finally left home to drive to your clinic. What's even more interesting is that this time, they're not about Logan.

And they’re all unusually random and unrelated to one another: memes that make you laugh out loud, articles on topics ranging from the philosophical implications of artificial intelligence to the best way to juicing recipes. You find yourself waiting for these messages, eager to see what tangent Leigh's mind has wandered off to now. You get into it, dissecting the articles she sends over with the seriousness of a scholar. You type back your thoughts, trying to sound as insightful as possible, maybe even a bit witty, hoping to impress her. You imagine this might be her way of initiating deeper, intellectual conversations between you two.

So, when you send back a paragraph or two analyzing the latest article she's shared, maybe touching on its impacts on modern society or offering a counterpoint to the author's thesis, Leigh's responses aren’t what you expect. Instead of engaging with the discussion, she sends a simple thumbs-up emoji or, even more baffling, a random factoid about her day, like her opinion on the Kani salad from a sushi bar near the Beautiful Beast gym.

[12:15 PM] Leigh: [sent a photo] Just some store-bought crab sticks and diluted mayo. Don’t try it. Their saké though is 👌👌👌

You wonder why she’s having Japanese rice wine this early in the day.

[12:22 PM] You: Thanks for the heads up. I know a place for authentic Japanese food. You want to check it out with me some time?

Your text remains unseen for the rest of the afternoon.

You find yourself staring intently at the wall clock in your clinic, keenly aware of each minute slipping by, and with it, the dwindling chance of Leigh arriving before the doors lock for the day. As it nears 8 in the evening, Suzie is already wrapped up in her end-of-day tasks across the lobby. Leaning your cheek on your palm, you watch blankly as she meticulously arranges her desk, perfectly aligning each item, then moves on to gently pull the blinds closed on each window.

Suzie’s not blind. She throws you these knowing glances every time you let out one of your heavy sighs. Finally, after you've probably sighed loud enough to be heard next door, she stops what she's doing and plants herself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

You try to look puzzled. “Nothing. Why?”

Suzie rolls her eyes. “Please, you’ve been mooning over that clock and sighing like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders. What’s up?”

You crack a smile, partly at her description, partly from being caught moping like a lovesick teenager. “It’s just… I thought maybe Leigh would come by. She said she would,” you say, wincing at yourself when the last part comes out a bit whiny.

Without missing a beat, Suzie pivots from her closing duties and makes her way over to you.

She’s not delicate with you this time. “You’re doing that thing again. Waiting around for something that’s probably not gonna happen. It’s not doing you any good.”

You know she's hitting the nail on the head, but it's tough to swallow.

Suzie continues, “You're young, you're attractive, and it's honestly weird that you're pining over your ex's ex. At first, I thought it was kind of adorable, in a bizarre, romantic-comedy kind of way. But now, it's like you're always hung up and disappointed.”

“Thanks for saying I’m young when I’m five years older than you,” you say with a sheepish smile, hiding your disappointment that she isn’t saying the things you want to hear, such as the possibility that Leigh just got busy.

Suzie shakes her head in disapproval. She's fed up, and her next words aren't going to be sugar-coated. “Snap out of it!” she barks, the command hitting you like a cold splash of water, and you jerk back in your chair, wide-eyed. Seeing you shrink back, quivering, she softens a bit and shifts back to the harmless receptionist you’re used to.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Suzie says, ensuring she has your full attention. You manage to meet her gaze, even though your eyelids feel heavy. “It's not fair to Leigh, either. You're giving meaning to everything she does—or doesn't do. It's putting her in an impossible situation. And honestly, it's not fair to you. You're missing out on your own life, waiting for someone who... well, who might never show up the way you want her to.”

Suzie knows she’s being tough, but sometimes love means being the friend who won’t let you settle for anything less than you deserve.

“I hear you, okay? It’s just… it’s the way I’m wired. I latch onto a person like a leech, refusing to let go until I see it through,” you mutter, shielding your face with your hands, a bit ashamed to even say it out loud. You get so tunnel-visioned, missing out on maybe better things and experiences because you're stuck on one track. You fall hard for your choices, never by chance.

“Good. You know what’s wrong with you,” Suzie says softly.

You let out a weak chuckle, the sound tinged with a bit of self-mockery. You're half-hidden behind your hands, peeking out at Suzie as if she's got all the answers. Suzie pries your fingers away from your face and then pinches your cheek so hard, you start to whine a bit.

“Ow! What was that for?” you protest, rubbing your assaulted cheek.

“That's for being a pathetic little bitch.”

“Excuse me, I'm still the one signing your paychecks,” you shoot back, trying to sound offended but it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, boss,” she laughs, and you join in.

“Okay, so what do you suggest I do then?” you ask as the last of your chuckles die down.

“Go on a date,” comes her swift response. “All that stuff they say about love finding you when you're not looking? Biggest lie ever.”

You look at her curiously, assessing her physical features. “W-With you?”

“Dude, no! Not with me!” Suzie exclaims, laughing nervously. “I mean, sure, I'd take you out if you weren't my boss, but I don't see that happening anytime soon unless you fire me.”

“Got it, got it,” you say, still chuckling. Suzie realizes too late that you were just teasing her and huffs. “Not with you. But seriously, go on a date? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just meet someone.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“Because it is,” she says with a shrug. “Here. Give me your phone.”

Leigh doesn’t know what to do with the fact that you may or may not have feelings for her.

So, she does what she does best: Pretend.

Leigh pretends you’re not EspressoEyes. In her mind, it could just be a coincidence, and you might not be the person who wrote to her advice column. Without any concrete evidence, she holds onto this notion, using it as a shield to fend off the uncertainties and doubts that would follow if she believed otherwise.

Leigh pretends because she needs your help to figure out how to care for Logan. Because maybe she wants to be friends. When you join her for a run, you don’t press for conversation, a rare companion who's not afraid of silence. Having you around feels like having Matt around, in a way that she's reminded of him when you talk about the same things you like, the same books you've read, and the same music you listen to.

Leigh pretends it doesn’t bother her in case you are EspressoEyes. She’s no stranger to turning heads as she walks down the street, accustomed to the attention. There's a certain power in being desired, and Leigh revels in it. But the idea of you liking her doesn't quite make sense to her; it's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It’s not because you’re a woman—she’s been with women before. What Leigh can't wrap her head around is that you, of all people, could actually be into her. After all, she hasn’t exactly been her most charming self since you two met. Even her best friend is keeping a cautious distance. She’s been wearing down the people closest to her, those who are supposed to like her the most.

And this bewilderment doesn't sit well with Leigh. She is someone who thrives on understanding, on knowing where she stands with people and why. So, when pretending isn’t enough, she does what she does second-best: Avoid.

She must have been waiting in her car outside your clinic for the better part of the evening, debating with herself about what to do next. She's parked just out of view, positioned so she can see the clinic entrance without being too conspicuous. She hasn't eaten dinner yet, her stomach growling, but she remains glued to her spot across from where she knows you're waiting for her.

Ever since you subtly asked her out through text, she’s been on edge, second-guessing her actions (texting and sharing posts on the internet with you all morning, what was she thinking?) and wondering what they might have meant to you. Leigh didn’t mean to leave you hanging—she did come to your clinic, sort of. She remembers typing out a response to you, something witty and non-committal, but her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button before pulling back. It felt like too much, too soon. She needed time to think, to figure out why the idea of checking out authentic Japanese food with you left her feeling so conflicted inside.

Leigh's guilt gnaws at her as she sits there, wrestling with how to extricate herself without causing further confusion—or worse, hurt. Eventually, it all comes to a head. She finally gives in, typing out a message to you on her phone with a shaky urgency.

[7:53 PM] Leigh: I'm so sorry, something came up. I can't make it to the clinic after all.

Your reply comes quickly, much to her astonishment, especially since she hadn't opened your message all afternoon.

[7:54 PM] You: It's fine, don't worry about it. I can have Logan's supplies delivered to your place if that works better for you.

Reading your text, Leigh bites her lip, another surge of guilt washing over her. Your kindness, your willingness to accommodate her, only complicates this predicament further.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: Yes, that would be great, thank you.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: How much do I owe you?

As she starts nibbling at her cuticle, Leigh is eager to resolve at least the financial aspect of her obligation. Though she knows she owes you so much more than just Logan’s supplies.

[7:56 PM] You: Like I said, it's on the house. But just this time ☺️

It’s still too generous. But Leigh knows better than to argue further, concerned that insisting might hurt your feelings.

[7:56 PM] Leigh: Thank you. I won’t forget this.

[7:57 PM] You: 😊😊😊

Leigh sighs, remembering her promise that you could visit Logan anytime. She hopes you won’t take her up on that offer too soon, at least not until she has a chance to sort herself out.

Danny isn’t too bad once you get to know him. That's what Leigh learns after more than two months of dating him.

Initially, Leigh wasn't sure what to make of Danny. Their shared wit and sarcasm often put them at odds, like two alphas vying for the upper hand, each one not willing to back down, always aiming for the last word. Yet, in their calmer moments, when the competitive edge fades and they're just enjoying each other's company, Leigh finds something unexpectedly comforting about being with him. He has this confidence about himself that Matt never had, knowing exactly what he wants—and that's her. His straightforward approach makes everything about being with him feel predictable. And lately, she's starting to see predictability as a good thing, a sign of stability. This is a welcome change from the uncertainty that often left her anxious about the future. Plus, all these traits spill over into the bedroom, making the sex between them feel effortless and satisfying in a way she’s never experienced before.

Despite all this, there are days when Leigh finds herself merely tolerating Danny's affections. A part of her remains tightly locked, still bruised from losing Matt, and she's not sure if those doors should—or even can—open again. To compensate, she often says yes when she can, whenever her mood permits her to be giving and amenable.

And it is exactly why she says yes when Danny asks her to go to Palm Springs with him this weekend.

The getaway feels like an extended lazy morning where the concept of time blurs into insignificance. They drift from one hotel restaurant to another, luxuriating in the art of doing absolutely nothing. This routine isn't new to them; it’s the same one they slip into whether they’re at Danny’s apartment or Leigh’s place—only now, the scenery is different, and the sheets they tangle in are expensively soft, boasting a thread count far beyond anything either of them owns at home.

They're lounging by the pool, sipping Margaritas—Leigh with a book in hand and Danny absorbed in his phone—when your name comes up in conversation.

“So, how are things between you and Y/N?” Danny asks, not looking up from his phone.

Leigh stiffens slightly. She carefully moderates her tone, her face schooled into an expression of indifference as she marks her page and looks over at him. “What about me and Y/N?”

“I don't know... are you guys friends now?”

If Leigh weren’t so preoccupied with her own personal concerns about you, she might have recognized the underlying worry his question poses. What he's actually trying to figure out is whether you've come clean to Leigh about his role in Matt’s secret affair with you.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” she says. To say otherwise would be a lie, because you’ve been nothing but good to her. Danny seems satisfied with this answer, nodding before returning his attention to his phone.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbles. He's back to mindless scrolling, but Leigh can sense the tension from two feet away.

“No, tell me,” Leigh insists, placing her book on the side table between them with a definitive thud. Danny mirrors her actions, setting his phone face down and turning to her with a seriousness that clashes with their otherwise relaxed afternoon.

“I just don't get why you'd be friends with Matt's mistress,” he blurts out suddenly.

Leigh is taken aback. They've never fully discussed what transpired between you and Matt, so she hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to her interactions with you. Believing that he wasn't privy to all the details, she quickly jumps to your defense.

“Y/N didn’t even know Matt was married to me,” she explains, trying to clarify the misunderstanding and protect your integrity.

“Yeah? And you just took her word for it?” Danny doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism, and it irks Leigh more than usual. She doesn't understand why every conversation with Danny has to turn into a challenge or an argument.

“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise,” Leigh replies, her voice tightening as she struggles to keep her frustration in check. “I mean, I even went through your phone to see what Matt had been saying to you, and there was nothing there indicating that Y/N knew he was married.”

Danny feels a lump form in his throat. Fortunately for him, Matt hadn't mentioned anything in their texts about Danny being Nick either. He has been debating whether to disclose his role in everything to Leigh. But things between them have gotten serious, and Danny's not so sure he should come clean. Part of him wants to delay—perhaps until they are married with kids, when he's more certain that Leigh won't leave him over a past mistake.

“Look, I'm not saying don’t trust her, but... she used to be in love with Matt, right? You don't think there's a chance she resents you even a little?”

Leigh stops for a second, Danny's words prompting her to consider aspects she hadn't really thought about before. Wrapped up in her own insecurities, jealousy, and pain when she discovered the truth about you, she had never stopped to consider your perspective—how you might have felt learning that the man you had feelings for was married. Did you feel just as fooled and stung as she did? The thought bounces around her head for a moment. From what she can recall, nothing in your behavior has ever suggested that you're a bitter ex. But then, what if you're just exceptionally good at masking your feelings?

Do you really like her, or is it all an act—a scheme?

But then, she remembers the night you gave her Logan, how your smile was nothing but warm, your eyes bright with something that, looking back, Leigh realizes might have been admiration. Not even Danny looks at her like that, whose gaze is always bridling yearning and a desire to possess. Leigh shakes her head, almost laughing at the thought of Danny being right about you.

“Danny, honestly,” Leigh finally says, trying to put an end to the discussion, “if what you're saying is true, I can handle it myself.” It seems the quickest way to close this topic, knowing that debating it could easily consume their entire afternoon and completely derail the purpose of their vacation.

“But doesn't it hurt, having her around? Like a reminder that Matt went for someone else?” He's playing on a different fear now, not questioning your integrity, but poking at the scars Leigh's tried so hard to heal.

Leigh wants to admit the pain never went away. She’s merely learned to co-exist with it. It's like the weather for her: on some days, her mind is a landscape of clear skies, but when the storm hits, it's relentless. For now, she chooses to keep this pain private, unwilling to give anyone the leverage to use it against her or even attempt to fix her. It's her burden to bear, and hers alone.

“No,” Leigh answers, reaching for her book again. “I don’t see it that way anymore.”

Leigh ends her nearly year-long social media hiatus by posting a series of photos from her Palm Springs vacation with Danny. Sharing such personal moments publicly is uncharacteristic for her, especially given her minimal online presence over the past months. Maybe it felt like sending a message to everyone that she’s doing okay. That they can go back to seeing her as just Leigh again—a single, actively dating woman in her early thirties—not as the young widow she was in her late twenties.

Danny's friends are the first to swarm the comments. They tag Danny, peppering the feed with teasing remarks, their comments ranging from jokes about the desert heat to compliments on the couple's sun-drenched physique. It's all typical, light-hearted friend banter, until one comment sharply disrupts the mood:

“Yo, isn't that your brother's wife?”

Leigh deletes the comment within seconds of seeing it.

A few hours later, you ‘like’ her post. Leigh's eyes fix unblinkingly on the notification. She's been idly wondering if you'd seen the post, and now, you’ve confirmed it yourself. But what does that ‘like’ mean?

Is it a nod of approval, a silent indication that you're happy for her? Regardless of what it means, Leigh discovers she was sending another message—one that’s exclusively for you. It tells you that whether you're EspressoEyes, whether you harbor any feelings for her or not, it no longer matters.

She's with Danny now.

Returning from Palm Springs, Leigh feels different—like she’s turned a corner or something. She feels refreshed, and she wants to take on something, such as Drew’s grievances about her advice column. She picks one to start with, something about anniversary ideas, and she's got the perfect story for this.

It was one of those anniversaries with Matt, the kind that stands out from the rest of his surprises because it's so quintessentially him—albeit a little nerdy. He took her away from the city's glare to a secluded spot where the sky was a blanket of stars, untainted by artificial light. After laying out a rug for them to both settle on, he began the painstaking process of setting up a rather complex telescope. It took him nearly an hour, but the wait just made the moment even more special. With the telescope finally ready, Matt pulled out this old, crinkly constellation map and started hunting for one specific star. It was one of the last times Leigh remembered them being truly happy—deeply in love, free from the shadows of Matt’s depression, Leigh’s instinct to fix things, and the small lies that slowly eroded their relationship.

When he finally located it, he excitedly guided her to peer through the telescope. There it is—a tiny speck of light, but it's theirs. Matt turned to her with a bashful smile and revealed that he had 'bought' that star for her.

Leigh shares this story with her reader, emphasizing that it's about understanding what truly moves your partner. For her, it was that star—simple, unexpected, and insanely romantic. She tells her reader to find that one-of-a-kind thing, that personal touch that says “I love you” in a way that can only come from them. Just like Matt did with a star and a starry night.

It's only after she closes her laptop that Leigh realizes tears have been streaming down her face.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It takes a moment to recognize who you've just bumped into. This encounter isn't as jarring as the last; it’s merely a brush of shoulders as you both maneuver to avoid incoming traffic. That ‘incoming traffic’ turns out to be none other than Leigh Shaw.

She's beaming up at you, and it looks genuine despite the sparse interactions since she last canceled on you. You’re still catching your breath, your heart racing from the speed of your run and something else entirely.

“At least I didn’t make you crash on the pavement this time. I'd say that’s significant progress,” you quip, drawing a soft laugh from Leigh. Last week, you made the firm decision to compartmentalize your feelings for Leigh, resolving to see her strictly as a friend. Yet, when faced with reality, such resolutions seem trivial, particularly when that reality includes Leigh smiling at you with her effortlessly charming grin—a smile that, despite your best efforts, still sends a familiar flutter through your stomach and makes your knees feel like they're made of something much less solid than bone.

“Speaking of progress, Logan’s due for his vaccines this week, right?” You remember the schedule clearly, not just because you’re good with dates, but because Logan has become somewhat of a shared responsibility between the two of you—or at least that’s how you still see it.

“Oh, right. I promise I'll swing by. No bailing this time,” she says, chuckling, but there’s a serious undertone that tells you she’s committed to making good on her word this time.

“You better not,” you tease, “Can’t have Logan missing his shots. He’s still very young, and it’s critical we build up his protection against—”

“I won’t, Doctor,” Leigh cuts in, giving you a playful salute that makes you blush. “So, where are you off to after this? I was actually about to grab some donuts for breakfast—”

Leigh pauses mid-sentence as a woman appears at your side. She’s stunning—slightly taller than Leigh, clad in a sports bra and tight yoga pants, with sneakers on her feet. An absolute goddess; even Leigh can’t resist a quick, appreciative glance.

“Who's this?” the woman asks with a British accent, adding the perfect touch to her 5-foot-7 frame.

“This is Leigh,” you introduce quickly, noting the surprise in Leigh's expression. ��Leigh, this is Sara.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Sara says warmly, extending her hand. Leigh shakes it, though her movements are somewhat mechanical. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Leigh’s smile is strained. “Nice to meet you, too.”

You quickly steer the topic back to Leigh's breakfast plan, asking where the donut place is. “It's just down that street,” Leigh points vaguely, but then stops short. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Actually, I just remembered I've got to pick up something from the laundromat.”

You frown, thrown by her sudden change of tune. “Are you sure? We could grab a bite after the run.”

“No, really, I should get going. Maybe next time!” Leigh replies hastily, already stepping back, her exit swift and decisive. As she hurries away, you're left there, watching her leave, trying to figure out what flipped her mood from happy to wanting to escape so quickly.

“Shall we?” Sara nudges you gently, already jogging in place.

You give Sara a nod, but as you start running, you can't help but sneak one last look back. Leigh is quick to put distance between herself and the park. With a sigh, you turn your full attention back to Sara, who’s already picking up the pace, chatting about a new trail she wants to try next weekend.

“Let's go,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, as you push your legs to match her pace.

Meanwhile, Leigh walks briskly to a different restaurant, forsaking her initial craving for donuts. She can’t quite explain why she fabricated an errand; all she knows is that she needed to get away from you and Sara. Earlier, she couldn't help but notice how close Sara was standing to you, assessing you with a look that seemed a bit too interested. Leigh keeps turning over Sara's words in her mind, puzzling over what she meant by saying she'd heard a lot about her from you.

Why were you talking about her with Sara? Who exactly is Sara to you? Just a friend, or something more?

And what Leigh finds even more perplexing is why she's so troubled by needing to know the answers.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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emphistic · 10 hours

Text

𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝐀/𝐍: thank you all for more than 505 followers (see what i did there with the song?) have this as a token of my gratitude (this is superr long overdue, mb you guys)

𝐖/𝐂: around 2500

“Why? Why, Sukuna? Why the hell did you not pull away?” You failed to keep your voice down.

“Baby, please. Trust me, she flung herself on me. I–”

“So you didn't push her off?”

Sukuna raked his fingers through his hair, clearly exasperated and struggling to find the words to answer you. “Look — the last time I did that I almost got arrested for assault. And guess what? You yelled at me for that, too. You said, ‘Why would you do that? You couldn't have just told her to get off?’ So really, what did you want me to do this time?”

You covered your mouth to stifle your sobs, at this point, your mascara was completely ruined, running down your cheeks. “Okay, okay, I get it. I'm wrong, you're right.”

But I crumble completely when you cry

Sukuna turned away from you, scratching his neck. Your mascara was smudged along your cheeks, your tears dampening your eyelashes. He couldn't bear seeing you like this, not when he was the cause. Was it cruel of him to say, to believe, to think, that you were most beautiful this way?

“That wasn't my point, and you know that. You know that damn well, sweetheart.” Sukuna said — after a moment of silence — and turned back to face you, albeit he hesitated before meeting your glossy eyes.

“Then what was it? What was it, Sukuna? Tell me. Enlighten me.” You frantically wiped away your tears as they fell, and though desperate as you were, you were still too slow.

“. . .” Sukuna stared down at you with a stoic expression painted on his face. His gaze remained unwavering, though yours flickered throughout the room, seemingly unable to face him properly. If he knew better, he would realize it was only because you would start bawling immediately after meeting his crimson eyes.

It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye

“Fine!” You threw your arms up, utterly defeated. You had no time for Sukuna's games. “Be that way; go have fun with all your other girls!” You stomped away, but decided — in the moment — to turn around for a second just to flip the pink-haired man off. “Burn in Hell, Sukuna, for all I care. I don't want to see your stupid, stupid face ever again.”

Sukuna sighed, his eyes burned holes into the back of your dress as you left him standing there. Standing there with nothing but his thoughts, dreams, and regrets. Standing there in the club alleyway. The same club alleyway that you pulled him away to so you could yell at him.

But it didn't feel like the same club alleyway, because Something was missing. Something very dear to him — but he was no better than a man.

I'm always just about to go and spoil the surprise

He was no better than a man. He didn't have the courage. He didn't have the brains. He didn't have the wit. He didn't have the assets. He didn't have anything that he had had with you. Not anymore, at least.

Take my hands off of your eyes too soon

He didn't have anything, because you were his everything. You were his light. His match. His flame. He didn't know what his point was. He didn't know. He didn't know. Because alas, he was no better than just a man. A man helplessly in love — with you.

So what would a man — helplessly in love with you — do? Perhaps he would visit your favorite jewelry brand and buy you an exquisite necklace. Maybe he would stop by a florist's shop and get you flowers. Or he could get you a baked good from the local bakery you like so much. And so, Sukuna — possibly being the most indecisive man alive — did all three of those things.

He purchased you a glimmering diamond necklace, a bouquet made up of your favorite flowers, and a cake of your favorite flavor.

Now, Sukuna was never a nervous nor self-doubting man, that was until he met you. He gets butterflies at the thought of you, though he'd never admit that. What could he say? He loved your laugh, the way your eyes crinkle as you do, your smile, your habit of tucking your hair behind your ear, your meticulousness when choosing earrings to match your outfit, your eyes — especially when they appeared to almost be glittering, he loved everything about you. But most importantly. . . He loved you. And that is why he sits in the driver's seat of his car, with his head in his hands and his back hunched over in thought.

He messed up. He messed up bad. And now he had to clean up the mess.

Fifteen minutes prior, his younger twin brother — Yuuji — had given him a pep talk, hyping him up. Yuuji knew how much you had helped Sukuna. He remembered the way Sukuna appeared happier, as if 100 pounds had been lifted off his shoulders — not that he would have any trouble carrying that weight — when Sukuna came home from your first date together. Yuuji saw the difference in Sukuna from that day on. Yuuji saw, Yuuji heard, and Yuuji felt the difference.

Albeit the younger twin could be a bit . . . dull, at times, Yuuji knew that you were what Sukuna needed most. If you had affected Sukuna so greatly when you came into his life, just think about the effects that would take place if you two separated. Yuuji got chills just thinking of that, which was why he was so desperate for his older brother to just rip off the bandaid, set his ego aside, and make amends.

I'm going back to 505

Sukuna was going back. He was going back to you . . . even if it was the last thing he would do. He finally raised his head from his hands and started the car. He was going to see you, apologize and explain how stupid he was being, and he was going to give you all the gifts he purchased. If his words couldn't satisfy you, he was going to spend the rest of his life proving himself to you with his credit card.

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

The drive to your apartment from his penthouse was only 3/4s of an hour, though it felt much longer as his dread grew and grew. It didn't matter how long, how far, how dangerous, the journey — he would always go back to his girl.

His girl.

That's what you were. That's what you are. That's what you will be — for as long as Sukuna lives. He would make sure of that.

The knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

But it didn't feel that way, certainly not when you opened the door with a frown on your face that only deepened as you immediately moved to close the door upon seeing the pink spikes of Sukuna’s hair. But he was already two steps ahead of you. He — already expecting that reaction — had quickly blocked you from closing the door by sticking his foot out between the door.

Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark

“Sukuna. Didn't I tell you to never—!”

“Baby, please. Hear me out — for just a second.” Sukuna's lips were dry, his throat parched.

“Fine.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, he would've missed it if he was not as desperate as he was now.

Three days. It had been three days since you two had last spoken, in that damned alleyway. Three days of plain torture. Three days of sleepless nights. Three days without you. Three days of Hell.

God, he was so glad to hear your voice again; it was like music to his ears.

The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start

You slowly pulled the door back and took a step backward, silently giving Sukuna your consent for him to enter. However, he didn't feel deserving of it, so he stayed in his position.

“Look, this is probably a waste of your time—”

“It is.”

He shoved the gifts into your hands.

“Oh? What's this?” You raised a brow, digging your hand through the bags to investigate, but Sukuna cleared his throat and you met his eyes.

“I want to apologize, for what I said and for how I acted. I'm really, really sorry. You know I'm not the best with these kinds of things, but, I really am. Believe me. And . . . I wasn't in the right state of mind, I was already a few drinks in — y’know that — and I know that's not an excuse but, I just. . . I'm sorry, okay? I haven't slept a wink since you left. And I was a fucking coward: I should've done this earlier but I didn't. So—please, forgive me.”

You didn't say anything, averting your gaze to the ground at your feet, and still processing his words. You mulled over what he had said in your head.

“Say something. Anything. Please.” Sukuna was so close to getting on his hands and knees that it was almost embarrassing.

“Sukuna, I don't know what to tell you. I believe you're sorry but I. . . I'm not ready to forgive you, not yet. It's just a lot, y’know? I mean, if you were in my shoes right now, you would feel the same way—”

“That's why I'm apologizing.” Sukuna cut you off, his desperation quickly turning into agitation.

“Yes, I get that, but . . . I'm just not ready to forgive you yet. I'm not ready to just push this aside and move on. I'm not . . . ready — for any of that.” Your eyes softened, as did your tone.

Despite his desperate pleads, you couldn't bring yourself to just forget the whole ordeal and why he was apologizing in the first place. But Sukuna was no better than a man. He had no clue why you felt this way. The only thing he's known in life was to move on. That's what he does and will do. That's why he is the way he is. That's why.

“Do you even want this relationship to last? Can't you see I'm trying to fix this problem?”

“I do, Sukuna. I really do. Couples fight and have arguments. It's normal. It's what we're doing right now. But just because it's normal doesn't mean I'm going to brush it aside as if it didn't happen.”

“Are you out of your—!? Do you have any idea how many girls would like to be in your spot right now? Do you have ANY idea?” By now, Sukuna had completely lost it. He was frustrated, so frustrated. He didn't understand what more you wanted from him.

“I—Sukuna, what?”

“Have you any idea? Any idea at all?”

You would be lying if you said you weren't scared, utterly afraid of the man standing before you right now. For you could see nothing past his eyes, no love, no care, nothing. Only the deep, rich crimson color that you once loved and held so dear to your heart.

“You know what? Good for you. Good for you that you have so many other better options but you chose me. Good. For. You. I guess you don't need me anymore. Goodbye, Sukuna.”

You slammed the door [shut] in Sukuna's face, falling with your back against it seconds later and bringing your knees to your chest. The waterworks started soon after and Sukuna could hear your quiet sobs from beyond the door.

He was dumbfounded, absolutely appalled. Did he really just say that to you? Sukuna knew he was not the brightest, but, damn, he's really done it this time.

Sukuna ran his fingers through his hair, now sitting in his car. He definitely did not mean to say what he said. In fact, he didn't even know how it slipped out. One second he was basically on his knees for you and the next, he . . . wasn't. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? He thought. He continued to sit there, reflecting on his actions and words. But he still couldn't believe it. What the fuck just happened?

He came to your apartment hoping to salvage the remnants of your guys' relationship, but he ended up ruining it — forever. Sukuna was 100% sure this was the worst fuckup in the history of mankind.

But he couldn't just leave it like this. He could still fix this, right? Alas, Sukuna had lost all hope; he lost his mind; and he lost the love of his life.

“Shit,” Sukuna muttered. He had really lost it, he thought, as he walked back to your apartment door. He had really lost it, he thought, when he spared a glance at your apartment number.

I'm going back to 505

That was the whole point of this, right? He was going back — no matter what, right?

When you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect?

He had really lost it, he thought, when he saw your glossy — yet still absolutely mesmerizing eyes after reluctantly answering the door, waiting for Sukuna to say something, anything. Anything at all. But he didn't. He didn't say anything at all. He had really lost it, he thought, when he pulled you in for the most zealous kiss he had ever experienced that left you gasping for air. His lips slotted against yours, moving fervently simultaneously. Albeit, he pulled away rather quickly — afraid of what he had just done.

I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

Mere seconds after Sukuna pulled back, you moved your hand so quickly — that Sukuna didn't even notice at first — and slapped him. Hard. You slapped him hard as fuck. But then you did something that surprised the pink-haired man even more. You embraced him in a hug, and a tight one at that.

“Hug me back, dumbass.” You quipped.

Or I did last time I checked

“You just slapped me.” He hugged you back, nevertheless, wrapping his arms around your figure. Because, he had to admit, it was kinda hot [getting slapped].

“Duh. ‘Cause you're such a loser.”

A pause of silence occured, before Sukuna spoke up.

“I didn't mean what I said,” Sukuna murmured against your hair. He had longed for this moment. God, you made him so soft sometimes.

“I know.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I know.”

“I missed you.”

“You never stop talking, do you.”

“To you? Never.”

I'm going back to 505

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side

With your hands between your thighs and a smile

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #with a happy ending #sukuna #first time writing angst #pls dont flop

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grugruel · 17 hours

Text

His Little Killer

Pairings: Cooper howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: in reluctant companionship with a ghoul, which turns out to be exactly as dreadful as you'd thought. You find yourself in a shoot-out where–post battle–one of your usual fights end way more pleasurable than usual.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: (violence, blood, death, in typical fallout manners), enemies to lovers, choking, pinv sex, rough sex, fingering, creampie, pet names (darlin', honey, killer, sweetheart), praise, a pinch of degradation.

AN: not yet proofread! Hope yall enjoy! (Yes, I'm unwell.'

Wood shattering, explosions booming–and charging footsteps heading straight for me. 'At my right!' I shout, gesturing in the direction of the steps. My voice barely registering above the racket of the fight.

Nonetheless, he heard me, I knew he did. Because bullets suddenly whizz past my makeshift cover in every direction except to my right.

The ammunition creating sick squelching noises as they collided with their targets, bloodsplatter painting the walls a deep red. Meanwhile, the heavy footsteps were left wide open and plough through the old wooden barrels that I was hiding behind, tackling me to the floor. 'Holy shii- fucking asshole.' I groaned through clenched teeth while wrestling my attacker, our quarreling bodies kicking up a cloud of dust that swirled around us.

Another splatter, this time it's his blood–the second man's, and its sprayed all over me.

The man was big and foul-smelling, maybe it would've been better refered to as an it, considering the animalistic growls, snapping teeth, and fraying lips that bit and lunged at my face. He attempted to pin my arms to the ground while aiming its teeth at my jugular, but I was quicker. My knee smashing into his balls before he had a single thought of defending himself. He cried out in pain and I took my chance to roll him over, pinning him down with my weight instead, and I began throwing a wave of punches to his face, over and over again. 'I said MY right!' I shouted over my shoulder, weeks of fury and frustration bubbling up inside me as it fueled me into beating the ugly mut unrecognizable–when a second force all of a sudden slammed into my back, knocking me onto the ground once again. Another man, now climbing on top of me, his dirty fingers slithering around my throat and-

'Finally. . .' I exhale heavily, thudding back against the floor and splaying out in relief.

'Were really polishin' up on our teamwork.' A gruff voice announced, words coming out slow and steady with that self-satisfied tone which never failed to get on my nerves.

I heaved myself up on my forearms, angling my body so what remained of the man slumped off of me, and the source of the voice appeared like a specter from the body's shadow. 'You're a real pretty sight when ridin' a man like that.' He said, nodding to the guy with a bashed face.

I rolled my eyes, unbelievable. 'You mean while beating the shit out of him?' I ask, my voice pitching higher as I couldnt quite fathom the nerve of that man, despite forcing myself to get used to it over the past few weeks.

He hummed. 'Mhm, really got me goin' for a sec.'

My face scrunched up in disgust. 'Fucking cowboys.' I spat, renouncing the idea loudly. But, quietly, inside my mind, the thought had my core purring unwillingly.

'I shot right, just like you asked.' He shrugged, stalking closer, the drawl in his voice washing through the barren and now battered bar.

'The hell you did!' I hissed. He stopped at my feet, looming over me with his tall frame, frayed coat swaying around his chins, and that stupid cowboy hat covering half his face just like always.

We'd been forced travelling companions for a while now, and I could say a lot of nasty things about him, but it was hard to deny- he was a fucking apocalypse cowboy. Pretty cool if you cut his personality out of the picture.

'I said "my" right, what the fuck else do you think I ment with "my"?' I kick the lifeless body with my boot, emphasising my point.

'Well. . .' He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. '. . .my, right.' He smirked.

I shook my head, shooting him daggers. 'Not even you are moronic enough to get that wrong, ghoul.'

'Well, you're right.' He admitted, shocking me for a second. But then, my problem with him inescapable, and always the same–he never shut his mouth when he ought to–and continued, 'You need to work om your phrasin', honey.'

I shut my eyes, screwing them together so tight I began wishing I could've simply disintegrated from annoyance and seeped through the floorboards as the rest of the dust around me. But no, I was stuck with him and had to lay there, listening to his idiocy. 'How–?' I sighed a heavy, exasperated sigh. '–is it possible for a man to be so full of himself, yet- never talk about himself?'

'Tricks of the trade, sweetheart.' He winked, extending his hand toward me as if it was no big deal.

And exhausted as I was, accepting his help up seemed sorely twmpting to my tired body. After a moments hesitation, I decided, once, wouldn't harm my morals. So, I grabbed his hand reluctantly and let him pull me to my feet. 'I could've died, I hope you realise.'

'Yes. . . But you didn't.' His lips pulling into a grin.

'You're a real bastard, y'know that?' the words left my lips with an unintentional drawl, damn that man.

The ghoul cocked an inexistent eyebrow.

'If I didnt know any better, I'd say im rubbin' of on you, honey.'

Another scoff from me. 'The only thing you're rubbing–is me the wrong way.' I spat, this time making a point of speaking as plainly as possible.

His eyes lit up suspiciously, filling with mischief as his widening smile creased them. 'Well, tell me how you like it then and I'll do it the right way.' He smirked, his voice gravely as it scraped along my spine with a shiver. He always did this, He'd call me nicknames, flirt with me. All cause he knew I hated it. But now he's just bordering on harassment. It did however, not, stop the heat from rising to my cheeks, for a blush to seep through my skin. He'd staggered me, I truly didn't know how to react. What happened next was purely instinctively driven–

The palm of my hand made contact with his cheek, a crisp slap sounding out through the room. I even confused myself for a moment, almost as I was the one who'd been hit. But I would've been furious, how he reacted, well. . .

'There you are. . .' He purred, his tone lethal. '. . .my little killer.' A grin spreading across his face as he took a step closer.

He was pure poison, somehow both hot and cold as he ran through my veins. 'I ain't yours.' Somehow he could get on every nerve I possessed, lighting it ablaze with frustration.

'No. . .? You ain't?' He chuckled, 'You're sure startin' to sound like it though, sweetheart. I see the way you look at me, the way you blush when I call you pretty little names.' He nodded toward my eyes, his hat tipping with the movement as he took another step, gainging on the precious distance between us. I feared he was right too, my cheeks burned in a way I'd never noticed before, had I always reacted like this? And before I knew it–I'd flung my palm for his face once more-

Only this time, he caught my wrist. 'Tsk tsk tsk, you can do better than that, sweetheart.' He let go off me, forcefully shoving my arm back to my side with a scoff.

But now, I'm the one stepping closer, pushing him away by the chest simultaneously. 'I hate you.' I spit, taking another step and push again, but this time he doesn't budge, and I was left standing mere inches away from him, my hands pressed firmly against his chest as my own heaved with frustrated breaths, strands of hair hanging over my face from the ordeal.

'Good. . .' He whispered, brushing wild strands of hair from my face. 'Now, show me how much you hate me, darlin'.'

I could've slapped him again, pushed him again, done anything else than what I actually did. But my body acted on instinct, again-

I crashed into him, my hands grabbing his face as our lips met in a battle for control. He released a breathy moan, his trigger ready hands finding my waist impossibly quick to pull me flush against him, our bodies clashing together in a thud. He hummed. 'That's right, killer. Show me.' He whispered in the air-swallowing gasps between our kisses.

I put pressure behind my hands, walking him backward while my fingers found the buttons of his vest. Undoing them along with the shirt, then slid his coat and vest down his shoulders in one go, right before his back collided with the bar top. My hands found themselves making their beneath his shirt, feeling the dents of his scarred chest as I sucked his lip between my teeth, and bit down. A sharp hiss escaped him, quickly being replaced by a wide grin. 'Naughty girl.' He breathed.

Smiling, I pushed myself off of him. 'You bring it out of me.' I panted, pulling my shirt over my head and unhooking my bra, letting it fall to the floor.

He leaned back against the bar, bracing himself on his elbows as his eyes roamed over my bare chest and flushed face. 'Those are the prettiest fuckin' tit's I've ever seen. . .' He spoke in a low voice, too filled with lust to allow him anything else. 'Now, would you mind.' His hand gestured below my waist, his index finger sliding through the air as he traced the buttons of my pants from a distance.

And an idea struck me, suddenly feeling like I wanted to indulge myself in a little torture. Turning around, I did as he told me and began unbuttoning them, slowly. Terribly, terribly slowly. Sliding them over my hips and down my thighs, bucking my knees and bending over slightly as I pulled my panties down along with them. Just as I stepped out if them and looked over my shoulder to give him a coy little look, perhaps revel in the feeling of his pained expression–I was in for a surprise.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I came fave to face with him, but he wasn't just standing there- no. He collided with my back, his arms already wrapped around ny front to catch me. His shirt bow nowhere to be seen. 'Enough.' He growled, one strong arm wrapping around my breasts as the other wrapped around my waist. He raised me off the floor, held tightly against his chest. I squeeked, giggling as I pulled my legs up. Completley overcome with the anticipation of what was about to befall me–then I all of a sudden found myself pushed over the bar top, chest against the smooth luke warm surface. The quality off it telling me it hadn't been bought when fitted into this weathered building.

Then, the clanging of metal, leather groaning, friction, and his belt hit the floor. Gruff hands ran over the swell of my ass and down the arch of my back, taking his time to feel all of me. 'Been thinkin' 'bout this, how you'd feel falling apart beneath me, on top of me–' he leaned over me, hand wrapping around my neck as he pulled me flush against him only to whisper in my ear. '–around me. . .' He breathed, dragging the words out. '. . . All wet 'n messy with my cum fillin' you up.'

A moan left my lips. 'Show me.' Was all I could get out, a silent pleading to make all those thoughts a reality–and so he did.

Before I knew it, a hand had disappeared to line himself up with my entrance, pushing inside me without as much as a warning.

'Fuck!' I cried out, my voice breaking as my breath left me. It felt never ending, he was huge. But oh, he felt so good.

He groaned, finally stopping as he'd sunken all the way into my core. 'So wet for me already.' His hand slid over my back and shoulder, molding itself to my throat as the other grabbed my hip. Already flush with my back, he inclined his head, leaving trail of kisses along my spine and neck.

'Fuck me, please Coop-' it was the first time I'd called him by his name, and I realised it the second it left my lips.

His lips curled against my skin, a smile-

He thrusted into me, again and again. My back arching into an angled I had no idea it was capable of, helping him hit my core at every rut of his hips–not that he needed it. The 200+ years of experience really showed, and they were definitely felt.

The bar was dead silent, no noise except for our joint breaths of pleasure and the sound of slapping skin. It was lewd and brutal, and It made me absolutely delerious. His low, pained grunting in my ear did nothing to ease the matter. He'd created an aching so strong within me I wasn't sure It'd ever be able to be tamed.

'Harder, harder, please.' I stuttered, the words barely coming out between my heavy pants. Fuck, he made me feral. Without even trying, that's just what he was capable of. It annoyed me, he managed to annoy me while fucking me senseless. Oh, how I wish I could hate him, but there was no going back now.

Coop left little love bites all along my shoulder, and up the side of my throat, nipping and kissing in equal meassure as his breathing warmed my skin deliciously. Doing it all with such precision I couldnt understand, his thrust were rocking my emtire body, his chest rubbing againdt my back, yet he could be so delicate. I side ive never seen before. 'Little killer ain't so tough no more, is she?' He whispered, placing a kiss behind my ear before biting the lobe, tugging in it gently.

'. . . Mmh- 'm not, I'm not.' I got out. I was whatever he said I was while he delivered this type of pleasure on a silver platter. I didn't care, my morals had been thrown out the window the second his lips touched mine.

'Well, look at that. Admittin' defeat already?' I could feel his stupid grin again, his pace slowing- still ruthless, but it did enough for that feeling of building pressure to wain inside me.

I shook my head, shutting my eyes hard as I tried to focus on his member moving inside me, desperate not to lose that red string that'd lead me to climax.

'Words, sweetheart. Use em'. .'

'Dont fucking care.' I cried. 'J- just- Fuck. Me. Harder.' I ground out, my teeth clenching real hard from a mix of desperation and frustration for the pressure to start rebuilding.

'That'll do.' He groaned, squeezing my throat. All the while his other hand slid down to my cunt, starting condensed circling around my clit. And just like that, he'd made me into a whimpering mess for him to steady, falling apart beneath him just like he'd thought. Then he simply took up right where he left off, without missing a beat he thrusted so ferociously I was sure I'd be bruising on every single part of my body from the vibrations that rumbled through my muscles alone.

The darkness of my lips were specking with white, a wall of pressure building brick by brick in my abdomen. 'Close, so fucking close.' I whimpered.

'Good- Good job sweetheart. Doin' so good for me.' He burried his face in my hair, nuzzling his nose into its scent, inhaling it as he too approached climax. And there it was, that sudden softness. It was almost unsteadying my senses more than his touch, more than his thrusts, but only almost. 'You sound so sweet for me, honey. Let me hear ya'. . .' He moaned, exhaling warmth against the nape of my neck.

I obliged, of course I did. 'Feels so good, Coop- so close. . .' I panted, tears burning my eyes as they began rolling down my cheeks.

He slid his hand upward, keeping it between me jaw and throat, still choking me as he angled my face over my shoulder, enabling him to kiss me properly. And I've never been more thankful because I was about to cry myself dry as the wall broke. Pleasure flooding through my body in tidal waves, my knees bucking beneath me. 'Good girl.' He praised, voice muffled against my lips. Fingers stopping to instead cup my aching cunt. 'My good fuckin' girl, my little killer.' He moaned softly, my lips vibrating from the roughness in his voice as he caught me, delivering a final few ruts of his hips before he too came. Doing just as he promised, filling me up with his cum.

He loosed his grip around my throat and slit, letting me depend on the counter for support while he held me. 'Still hate me?'

'Yes.' I didn't, but it'd be a long time before I admitted that to him.

'Good.' And then there was silence, our lungs catching up with our breaths. 'Still wanna see those pretty hips ride me.' He murmured as he hugged me from behind, his hand sliding lower, pinching my hipbone.

'Ow! Asshole.' I yelped, and he kissed my shoulder to make up for it. But the thought was alluring nonetheless. I wriggled in his embrace, looking around at the destruction we'd caused, at the- dead bodies. And a pang of guilt hit me. 'Fine, but not here.' I agreed, actually wanting nothing more than to get out of there and sit in his lap, maybe ride his thighs too.

We redress, and share a kiss before leaving. 'Can't wait to taste that cunt of yours, killer.' He murmured suddenly. Leaving me staggered once again.

Ugh, I'm done for.

#fallout #fallout smut #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul #the ghoul smut #fallout imagine #fallout fanfic

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gremlingottoosilly · 2 days

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Mafia Price mayhaps?

Pretty please :)

Price didn't get into business because he wanted money or because he liked power. He had enough for a small farm and a buffer period of figuring out whatever the fuck was happening in his life, even after the dishonorable discharge over a fuck up he had to cover for the higher-ups. He didn't go into illegal gun trading and organized crime for the love of the game. He had money when he was booted out of the military. It's just that his boys didn't. No money, no purpose, only a dishonorable discharge and feeling of betrayal on their backs - and yes, he understands it's a pitiful fucking excuse for starting to support the very same system he sometimes had to fight, but he does what he has to do. Ghost, Gaz and Soap needed a new goal in their lives - and something as far from being a merc as possible. Besides, after years of service to her Majesty, Price deserves a luxurious leather chair to sit on and good imported cigars to smoke. He also deserves you, a pretty little thing who is way too nice for him. You're out of his world, completely - a nice girl, a good girl. In the past, when he was still Captain Price, he might have considered picking you up with some cheesy one-liner, buying you a drink or something nice to wear, and then ghost you for forever because his job is too dangerous to allow himself connections. He would have prided himself in thinking he is keeping you safe while jerking off to some vaguely similar porn star. Well, Price is done being a selfless servant of his community. He deserves the girl, even if that means moving a bit too fast and having Ghost choke her just enough so she would fall right into John's arms and in his bed. If you're a smart girl, you would know better than to try and resist the most dangerous guy in the whole country and his henchmen. If you're a good girl, you would know just how much he is willing to give you - as long as you don't try to force him away.

#cod #cod x reader #yandere cod #mafia!cod #mafia!price #john price x you #price x reader #yandere price

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diorcities · 2 days

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⠀ ⠀ ── ㅤ୧⠀ׂ ★‌ nct dream having a bossy gf !

nct dream sfw headcanon. library.

said by the dreamies themselves, jisung can't live alone, which to me translates to having someone tell him what to do. plus, he actually likes it, he thinks it's tender that you care about him, he feels loved when you ask him if he has eaten and in the negative when you tell him to do so. or when you constantly remind him to wear a coat and take breaks. while to others it would look a bit bossy, jisung knows that you do it because you worry too much about his well-being, and for him, that just goes to show that the love you feel for him is the same love he feels for you.

haechan is the typical boyfriend who would stop whatever he was doing to do what you say... and also the type to ignore you to the point where you lose your composure because he likes to see you upset; he finds it cute. but, seriously, he'd be attracted to bossy girls because then he can romp around and make out. don't expect too much from him, you never know. i think he likes the teasing but eventually, he'd do what you want, pretending to take orders from his superior commander type of thing.

jeno, being the man he is, would do anything you want. he likes to keep you happy, and he is also very indecisive when making decisions, he would leave them in your hands, and he would just follow whatever you choose. it's not that you control everything he does, jeno knows that sometimes it's better to listen to you because you know better. the type of boyfriend who says you're always right and therefore does what you tell him, but not because you're bossy, god forbid; he would never think and/or say that... in front of you.

there are no times when you can be bossy with renjun. there is no bone of contention. usually what he does is the most seated. you're probably feeling anxious because you really want to be bossy with him, but it's almost impossible: the boy knows what he's doing, not a single thought of yours that hasn't already crossed his mind. with him, it would be 50/50. he loves you so much that he'd pretend to do what you say even when it's what he was going to do just to see you happy and because it looks like you'll have a meltdown if he doesn't.

mark finds it hot when you boss him around. yes, tell him what else you want him to do, and he'll do it. you know better than he does what is best for him, he trusts you completely, although sometimes he may try to convince you of something that has entered his head. he'll make you see that it's a good idea even if you're not too sure; you feel guilty because it's like you're in control of everything, but seriously, he likes it when you do, because most of the time, you're right.

don't tell chenle what to do. period. there's no way it's going to happen unless he's already thought about doing it. once an idea has entered his head, there's no way you're going to get it out of it. he won't give in, forget it, unless it ends badly, then he might beg for your opinion after you swore never to tell him anything again. sometimes he may spoil you and do what you say, but don't get used to it because usually he just does what he wants. finds you cute, tho, for trying.

jaemin follows what you say most of the time because it's the sensible thing to do and because he's not very confrontational; not that going against you would end in a fight, but jaemin prefers to avoid divisions or taking sides on things. he's alright and compliant with you most of the time, but when he doesn't, he thinks that the solution to everything is communication, and talking you through the reason behind why he has decided not to do what you wanted.

#nct dream fluff #nct dream reaction #nct dream imagines #nct dream headcanons #haechan reaction #mark reactions #jeno reaction #jisung reaction #jaemin reaction #renjun reaction #chenle reaction #♡dream

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lymtw · 2 days

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Toji loves taking you out to bars because he knows you can't hold your alcohol like he can. You're messy, and you gain an attitude that he almost never sees, but more importantly, you rely on him more than ever.

Toji laughs at the irritated expression you have on your face. "What are you looking at?" you ask, rolling your eyes as you look away from him. He doesn't take it to heart, instead smirking at the returning attitude in your tone. You've gone over your drinking limit, and he knows you wouldn't ever say that to him in your sober state. At least not like that.

"Your pretty ass, dummy," he responds. He watches you reach for your glass again, quickly intercepting your hand before you're able to grab it. He sees the confusion in your eyes as he moves the glass away from your reach. "That's enough for tonight, babe. Gotta get you home before you pass out on me."

You can barely hold yourself up. You lean most of your weight onto Toji as he walks both of you out of the bar. He knows this is no way to leave you alone tonight, so he decides to keep you at his apartment for the night. You're well acquainted with it, anyway. A surprise sleepover won't kill you.

"Where are we going, Toji?" You slur, watching him buckle you into the passenger seat.

"You'll recognize it when you see it," Toji says, flashing a smile before shutting your door.

He quickly makes his way to the other side, sitting in the driver's seat. He watches you rummage through his glove compartment, then the compartment between your seats. He has nothing to hide, so he doesn't stop you for a minute or so, but he knows you won't find anything in this state so he has to intervene. "Tell me what you're looking for."

His voice grabs your attention, making you stop. "Water. My mouth is dry, and I don't like the taste on my tongue," you mumble.

He reaches back into the pocket behind his seat and grabs a flask filled less than halfway with water. He twists the lid off and offers it to you. "Drink the rest."

"Mm-mm," you protest. "That's too much." You tip your head back and let the cool liquid soothe your throat. You thought you had drank more, but the water barely entered your mouth before you brought the flask back down in your lap.

"It's gonna make you feel better, ma. Just do it."

Your eyes roll every time your heavy eyes blink, but you genuinely mean the attitude behind your eye roll when you turn away from Toji and lean against the car door. The effects of the alcohol have you thinking he trying to boss you around, and you're not having it.

Toji scoffs, putting the lid in the cup holder. He reverses the car out of the parking spot, glancing at you once more before putting the car in drive. Your forehead is pressed against the window, and your arms hold the flask of water tight. You don't even notice when you doze off.

You woke up a couple times for a few seconds, turning towards Toji with wide, red eyes. He cracked up each time, but calmly told you to go back to sleep. One of the times, you took his hand and put it on your thigh before turning towards the car door again. His hand was warm, and rough, just... Toji. He didn't pull it away unless he had to put his blinker on, but it would go back to its place immediately after.

Twenty minutes later, you arrived near Toji's apartment. He pulled into his assigned parking spot, a bold 723 on the curb, the same as his apartment number. He turns the car off and unbuckles himself. He exits the car and makes his way to the passenger side. You weren't leaning on the door anymore, so Toji opened it.

"Baby, we're here." He nudges your shoulder, gently. Your eyes open, heavy as you look around. Your hand comes up to rub your eye and the flask of water tips over, spilling onto the bottom of your shirt and the crotch area of your pants. You gasp, watching Toji grab the flask before all the water spills out. "It's all good, mama. It's just water," he says, noticing the shift to worry in your tired face.

"I'm sorry... I didn't..." you slur, feeling a lump in your throat. "Toji, I'm sorry. It's not pee, I swear."

He suppresses the smile fighting to show on his lips. He can't bring himself to laugh when you have the saddest eyes he's ever seen. They have a glint when he looks into them, so he knows you're holding back tears.

"I know, doll. I believe you. Let's get you into some dry clothes, yeah?"

"Okay," you say, to yourself. You sigh. "So hard to move," you mumble. You use all the strength you have to get your legs out of the car and onto the ground. It was an almost impossible task when you felt like the world was moving so fast. Every movement you made feel like you were dragging yourself in that direction more than necessary. You felt so heavy. "I won't make it," you say, looking up at Toji with watery eyes.

"Wanna hop on my back?"

"You're older than me. Don't wanna break your back." You wipe away a single fleeing tear.

Now that made Toji chuckle. He would have to remind you of it in the daytime.

"Don't worry about it. You're featherlight, baby." He turns around and crouches in front of you. You give in since he's already in position. Again, you put in all your effort to push yourself forward. Your chest lands on his back, your arms lazily draped over his shoulders.

"Hold on tight, or you'll slip." He helps you by pulling your thighs around his waist, a strong grip to hold you in place. Your arms apply a little more pressure around his neck. He genuinely lifted you like you were featherlight, not even groaning as he pushed himself up and out of the crouched position. He leaves the flask on the seat, not covered, trusting that it won't fall over. The door is shut and the car is locked before he carries you to his apartment.

He can hear your breaths against his ear, finding that you dozed off again. He unlocks the door, and leads you inside his home. The door is locked behind him, and he flicks on the living room light. He takes you to his bed, setting you down so he can grab some clothes for you.

He goes into his drawers and fishes out one of his shirts. His clothes don't fit you, but you're in no position to reject them.

"Sit up, ma," he says, walking towards you with one of his black shirts. The bed sinks with his added weight. "Don't have any bottoms for you, but you can still take your pants off if you want to let them dry."

You nod, not wanting to think for yourself anymore. Toji is sober, he knows best for now.

"Arms up," he instructs, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you. "You wanna keep the bra on?"

You shake your head. Sleeping with a cold chest doesn't sound comfortable at all, so you let him unclip your bra and take it off. You quickly cover your exposed breasts. Regardless of how many times Toji has seen you naked, he doesn't protest your choice to cover yourself. Instead, he puts the shirt over your head and pulls it down your body. You release your breasts and put your arms through the armholes. You unbutton your jeans and kick them off, pulling the shirt down after to cover your upper thighs.

"Better?" He asks when your movements still. He receives a closed-eyed nod for a response. "'Kay, i'll be right back. Don't get out of bed." He squeezes your arm and rises off the bed.

He's gone for less than a minute, returning with a couple pills and a glass of water in hand. You'll wake up wanting these things, badly, so he'll save you the painful morning.

He dresses down and prepares himself for bed. He comes back to find that you're on his side of the bed. It would be a struggle to get you to move, so he'll accomodate for you, this time. He pulls you onto your side, facing him. If you blow chunks, you won't choke and die because of your position. Some might make it onto him, but that's a risk he's willing to take if it means you'll be fine.

You look cute in his enormous shirt. You don't normally wear it in circumstances like these where you're defenseless, but it suits you either way.

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creative-caramel-coffee · 2 days

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The Spiders Sister - Chapter 3

Summary: Reader meets the team.

Tw: mentions of sickness, teasing

Words: 2.8K

A/n: Thanks for all the support this series has been getting :) If anyone has any suggestions for things that could happen in this series lemme know and I’ll see what I think. No smut though I don’t write that here.

The next day you woke to knocking on the bedroom door. Sitting up in bed you quietly called for whoever it was to enter.

A moment later Wanda poked her head through the door. Seeing you awake or at least semi-awake she slipped through the small space she had created.

“Good morning.” She smiled coming to sit beside you on the bed. “Did you sleep well?” She asked pressed her hand to your forehead.

“Mmm.” You hummed still half asleep.

“You don’t feel warm anymore.” She smiled at this achievement as if she was proud of you. “How are you feeling today?” She asked moving her hands to rest in her lap again.

“Tired, but that’s probably because I just woke up.” You smiled.

“Nat sent me to wake you up. She wanted to know if your well enough to meet the others today.” Wanda explained looking slightly guilty.

“I mean, I’m game if you are. Where’s Nat?” You asked coving a yawn.

“Nat’s training with steve. And not so fast, I want to know more about how you're feeling. No more headache? Cough? Wheezing? Give me something.” She grinned.

“My headaches gone, no more cough, maybe a slight wheeze I’m not too sure.” You begun and Wanda’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of your wheezing. “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure my fever is gone, and I feel pretty good all things aside.” You finished.

“That’s good. Maybe keep your inhaler on you today just in case. And after the meeting I’ll see if I can get Bruce to give us a few spares, just in case.” Wanda said softly.

“You really don’t have to.” You said shyly toying with a loose thread on the sheets.

“Its no problem. I would make me feel better. Breathing is important.” Wanda teased easing your concerns.

“So, when’s the meeting?” You asked.

“Well, I think Nat wanted to do it as soon as possible. Like straight after training and then I’m going to make you some pancakes for brunch.” Wanda said poking your side. “But for now, hop up, get dressed and I’ll be back soon to show you where the meeting room is.” Wanda said, standing up and heading for the door.

Once wanda had left, probably to go and find Nat to call the meeting, you crawled out of bed. Rifling through your backpack you changed out your sleepshirt and shorts for a pair of black track pants and a pale-yellow t-shirt. Throwing on some goofy socks and lacing up your black converse high tops you braided your hair sat in front of the mirror and threw on some deodorant.

Once you were ready and had been to the bathroom to wash your face and go through your morning routine, you sat at peters desk.

Picking up your backpack you went through it until finding what you were looking for.

Pulling out the black sketchbook you opened it to a fresh page and began mindlessly doodling things you could see around peters room and the cityscape beyond the open curtains.

Just as you were getting into the details of the New York skyline you heard a knock on the door.

Lowering your pencil, you sat a little straighter.

“Come in.” You called your voice sounding better than it had in days. And surprisingly good for someone who had spent hours coughing and wheezing for days on end.

Wanda opened the door and smiled seeing you up and about for the first time.

“You look much better.” She commented coming to stand by your shoulder. “Wow, you’re an amazing artist.” She smiled looking at your drawings.

“Oh, um … thanks.” You smiled still a little awkward when it came to compliments. “So, what’s the news?” You asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Wanda said looking up from where she had been inspecting your sketchbook. “Nat called Fury. He’s kinda the boss. He’s given the go ahead if steve and tony sign off on it. Nat then called a meeting and I’m going to bring you to the room where you're going to meet the team.” She explained.

“I have two questions.” You said.

“Shoot.” Wanda said pulling you up and gesturing to follow her out the door.

“One, is peter going to be at this meeting?” You asked as Wanda lead you down some seemingly endless corridors.

“Yes.” Wanda nodded, pressing the button to call the lift.

“And two, this Fury guy said yes? Just like that?” You asked sounding slightly confused.

“Yes and no.” Wanda begun, stepping onto the lift with you beside her. “Nat asked Jarvis, Tony’s AI assistant to pull up all CCTV footage of spider-man and separate footage based on bio-signatures. So, she could differentiate between when it was peter and when it was you in the suit. She sent Fury the files and after he reviewed them, he approved you a place on the team. If you want it and the others agree.” Wanda explained.

“Okay.” You said slowly. “Seems like a good plan.” You smiled.

And the lift dinged softly as it slowed to a stop.

“This is us.” Wanda said and you followed her out of the open doors. Walking beside her down a hallway she stopped in front of a door and paused to look at you. “You ready?” She asked, her hand on the door handle.

“Yep.” You nodded swollowing down your nerves. “Ready as I’ll even be.”

“You’ll be great. Just be yourself and they’ll love you.” Wanda said and pushed the door open.

Nat was stood at the head of the table, a screen behind her queued up with spider-man videos. She smiled at you and wanda as the rest of the people turned to face you.

Seeing the people you had only ever seen on Tv in real life was a little overwhelming at first but wanda squeezed your hand and lead you into the room to stand at the front with her and Nat.

Peter smiled at you from where he was sat beside Tony. Looking proud of you just for standing in front of the avengers.

You stood there silent for a second simply making eye contact with your shoes before Natasha spoke up.

“This is Y/n.” Nat begun, and you gave a small half wave with an awkward smile. Tony was staring you down with an unreadable expression. He looked like he was analysing your face mentally. Most likely already having connected you to Peter.

“Hi I’m Y/n Parker.” You said lifting your eyes to meet a few smiling faces around the room a fair few of them sporting shocked looks.

“Parker?” Tony echoed sounding smaller than you had ever heard from his times on Tv.

“Y/n Parker is Peters sister.” Wanda explained.

“Kid?” Tony looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me there were two of you?” He asked looking sad.

Peter looked slightly sick at the open disappointment his mentor was showing right now and so you stepped in before peter had a panic attack.

“Mr Stark, Sir, it was my decision to keep myself out of the spotlight. And to do that I needed to maintain a low profile. Which is harder to do when the avengers know of your existence. No offence.” You explained. And the team exchanged a few glances as they noted how you had come to Peter’s aid almost immediately.

“That’s alright, I’m sure Pete will open up now you’re here.” Tony said with a grin as he ruffled Peters hair, “Won’t-cha kiddo?” He asked with his usual charismatic charm and Peter gave a small nod and smile while he ducked his head not liking the attention.

“So, anyone have anymore questions?” You asked drawing the attention off of Peter once more much to your brothers' relief.

Looking away from the small smile he sent you as thanks you laughed, seeing every hand in the room up with a question for you, bar Nat, Peter and Wanda of course.

You looked to your left and nodded to Steve.

“Hi, nice to meet you kid.” Steve said. “I have a question though, if Peter’s identity is secret, why did you need to stay away from us?” He asked looking confused, and his statement drew a few nods around the room.

“If Tony scares you honey, I can assure you that the man would forget his own shoes without me.” Someone you recognised as Pepper Potts said with a smile causing Tony to grumble to himself. How Nat had managed to wrangle the CEO of Stark industries into this meeting you didn’t know.

Little did you know that all it took was ‘There’s something you should know, it has to do with Peter’ and she was on her way.

“Actually,” Wanda said drawing the gaze of the room to her, “This should explain it. Jarvis play the video.” She said and the lights dimmed as the Tv showed a compilation of some of your best moves in the spider-suit.

When the video ended the lights retuned to their normal brightness and everyone still looked confused.

“How exactly does a compilation of Peter doing tricks explain that?” Bruce asked.

“Um…” You said looking slightly nervous. “That was me.” You said in a small voice and the room was silent for a second.

“Sick moves kid. Peter your sister’s awesome.” Sam said and a few people laughed at his perfect comedic timing.

“Prove it.” Tony said and you paled slightly.

“Tony.” Pepper said placing her hand on his arm and shooting him a look.

“No, its ok pepper.” Nat said. “Jarvis?” Nat called to the ceiling. “Was that peter in the suit for those videos?” She asked.

“The height and weight as well as body stature and proportions do not match Master Parker.” Jarvis said.

“Ok,” Nat continued, “Who do those body descriptors match in this room?” She asked.

“The person in the suit does match the body of Miss Parker.” Jarvis said and Tony frowned.

“Do the sticky thing.” Bucky called drawing a few smiles. You rolled your eyes and put a hand up, splaying your fingers before jumping in the air and touching the ceiling where you stayed stuck.

“Crawl around.” Sam said and you glared at his heckling.

“No.” You said and you saw Peter doing his puppy eyes at you. “Fine.” You sighed.

Jumping up you did a flip and stuck your legs out, now standing on the ceiling upside down and making eye contact with Sam before looking to Bucky.

“Better?” You asked sarcastically.

“Much.” Sam grinned and you rolled your eyes again.

“Ok. Get down Y/n.” Nat said sounding part annoyed part amused at the display.

“Yes ma’am.” You said before detaching from the roof and doing a flip to landing back where you were before.

“Show off.” Peter murmured under his breath and you huffed a small laugh as his ears went red, not having expected you to hear him. Dumb super-hearing.

“Well, now we’re done with the party tricks. What are we thinking?” You asked brushing off invisible dirt from your clothes.

“Well…” Tony said. “I think its time you got your own suit.” He grinned and you smiled back. “What colours do you want kiddo?” He asked.

“Um… maybe something like purple, white and red?” You said and he nodded already sketching down ideas on a pad of paper pepper had brought with her from a meeting.

“You’re also getting an AI.” Tony added and you looked a peter who simply smiled proudly of you.

“Well, if that’s everything Y/n’s also gonna need a room.” Wanda said and Tony nodded.

“There’s a spare room on Natasha and Wanda’s floor if you want to move in with the girls. Do I need to send some movers to grab your things?” Tony asked and you looked at your shoes and shook your head.

“Not much to move.” You mumbled.

“Y/n’s apartment was taken out in the last battle. She’s been hiding out in Peter’s room for now. That’s how we met actually.” Natasha said shooting you a reassuring smile.

“Well, it sounds like I’m going to be funding yet another shopping trip.” Tony sighed and Wanda grinned at you mischievously.

“We’ll make it a girl's day.” Wanda said shooting a look at pepper.

“I’d love to.” Pepper agreed and Nat clapped her hands together.

“Alright then.” The assassin said. “I should probably tell Fury we have another spider on the team.” Nat grinned and you smiled at her.

“Great, now we have three spiders.” Tony said rolling his eyes and ducking as Pepper aimed a pretty good swing to the back of his head.

“Knock it off Tony, don’t act like you're not secretly overjoyed to have another Parker around.” Pepper said.

“Just wondering,” Bruce said looking mildly nervous as the room turned to look at him.

“Yes?” You prompted him to continue.

“Are you…” He begun before pausing, “I guess theres no real nice way to put it.” Bruce said and Tony jumped in.

“I think Brucie-bear wants to know if you come with the Parker Brain Package.” Tony said and Pepper glared at him.

“Tony.” She warned, glaring at him while you cleared your throat.

“If you’re asking about how smart I am, let’s just say I designed the original prototype for the web-shooters and chemical makeup of the fluid.” You said and Tony nodded seemingly satisfied with that small tidbit of information for now.

“Well, if nobody had anything else to say, Wanda and I are going to take Y/n for a tour of the compound.” Nat said before turning to look at Clint. “And you, have to make dinner. You lost our bet.” Nat said and then dragged you and Wanda out of the room by your sleeves.

After a very long and very comprehensive tour by Natasha and Wanda, you were shown back to the communal kitchen where most of the team ate together when they weren’t on missions.

You walked into the dining room attached to the kitchen to be hit with the smell of burnt food pungent in the air.

You looked at Nat confused, and she grinned as she heard cursing coming from the kitchen. Wanda looked like she was itching to go help but sad she pulled away Nat grabbed her sleeve at the very last second to hold her back.

“Can someone explain whats going on for me?” You asked.

“Well, Clint and Natasha can’t cook if their lives depended on it.” Wanda begun, only to shush Nat when she went to speak up. “So naturally they made a bet, loser had to cook the team dinner, naturally Clint lost so Nat is enjoying his public humiliation. And I normally cook if we aren’t getting takeout so it's causing me pain to hear whats going on in there.”

“Oh, calm down. Clints not blowing anything up.” Nat said rolling her eyes as Wanda shot her a look. “Ok that was one time.” Nat amended.

Not twenty minutes later you were sat at a table with the avengers with a plate of very burnt stake and watery mash potatoes.

“What is it?” Tony asked poking his steak.

Clint grinned. “A masterpiece.” He said.

“More like a mistake.” Nat muttered judging her steak while poking it with her knife as if she was expecting it to start moving of its own accord.

“I say we have newbie try it.” Tony posed and you rolled your eyes.

Cutting off a piece of the very tough steak with your knife you raised it to your lips and put it in your mouth.

It was tough and kind of disgusting. But you smiled anyway.

Finding the meat tougher than you had been expecting, you made the switch as you called you fangs up. Your canines sharpened as you chewed managing to decimate the meat. Swallowing you looked at Clint.

“Not the worst thing I’ve every eaten.” You said with a smirk and Tony who had been watching you closely squeaked.

“Jeez kid you didn’t tell me your sister was a vampire.” Tony said turning to Peter.

By this point most of they eyes were on you, so you hid your teeth and retracted the fangs out of embarrassment.

“She’s not. It’s a spider thing she got.” Peter said coming yo your defence.

“Either way her new name is fangs.” Tony said with a grin.

This time you glared at him.

“For the record i think they’re awesome.” Wanda said sensing your embarrassment.

“Seconded.” Nat said her spy training honing in on your body language to see you were insecure about it.

“I gotta admit it’s a cool trick doll.” Bucky said.

“Pretty neat.” Steve agreed with a smile.

“Badass.” Sam nodded flicking a still frozen pea at Bucky. “Alright, now that y/n probably has food poisoning, who wants pizza?” Nat asked with a grin. Cheers came from all sides of the table as Clint slumped dejectedly in his seat.

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gglitch1dd · 3 days

Note

Hello! Could you please do a prohero!husband!deku x reader after an argument and deku is apologizing for blowing up at his wife after a long day? BTW I love your works!!

It's been a Long Day.

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Izuku walked through the door with a heavy sigh. He used his foot to close the door as he entered your shared apartment. His shoulders dropped at the fact that he was back home. He honestly was only looking forward to coming back here. He trudged past the entranceway, slipping off his shoes and putting on his slippers.

He started walking when he heard your voice.

"Izuku!" You let out, your head peaking out of the kitchen with a smile. He mustered a gentle smile for you despite not being in the mood. "You're back."

"I am." He answered back as he shuffled into the kitchen where you were busy.

"That's great! Because Mrs Hinata called and she wanted to know about the opening about the Little Heroes school and how we wanted to set up the dorm rooms." You started talking as he watched you just about finish lunch. He had gone to work at some unholy hour of night (or morning) and was only coming back now from a 18 hour shift. "I was thinking we can have two children in one room or do you think separate rooms are better?"

Izuku blinked, still not up to speed with what you were talking about. "Uh.."

"Do you think yellow is a good enough colour?"

"Well..."

"Who am I kidding, green is fine. Green, white, gold and black. Our colours should be fine. We can keep the girls rooms predominantly gold and white, and the boys rooms black and gold. Fine with you?"

"I guess-"

"Also Mr Fujita called about Angelica-Nina's vet bills."

Suddenly Izuku felt a headache. He bit back a groan as he put his a hand to his temple. It had been bothering him all morning and Lord knows he could use a nap. Normally he got headaches when he was drained or tired. "Hey sweetheart..." He started with his eyebrows furrowed. "Can we talk la-"

"He said that he sent you the bill but the pet insurance should cover at least sixty percent of that." You told him what you were told from the vet about your pet rabbit. You set out the dumplings, checking if they were ready.

Izuku scratched the back of his head. "I saw his email."

"Great! Your mother also called, she wanted to know whether or whether not we're coming over tomorrow? She's hosting the Bakugous remember?"

"The Bakugous? Then why is she asking us to come?" He asked as he moved to drop his bag on the table. He leaned back against the counter.

You paused for a moment before turning to look at him. You tilted your head confused. "Because she wants to? What's wrong with the Bakugous?"

Izuku let out a soft cynical chuckle as he kept his eyes closed. "What's wrong with the Bakugous? Well, nothing other than the fact that they are your ex's parents."

You paused as you grabbed a cloth, wiping your hands clean. "Yah, but they're good people they're very nice."

Izuku felt another pang of a headache hit him. He frowned. "No, Masaru is a good person, Mitsuki still wishes that you were with Katsuki."

You thought for a second. "No she doesn't."

"Yes she does."

"No, she doesn't."

"Y/N-"

"Izuku, the Bakugous and I are good friends. They designed our outfits for one of the galas we went to this year. I don't see what's the problem."

He sighed. "I-"

"Also you promised me that you'd make sure that you would fix the drawer upstairs." Another pang hit his head making him suck in a breath. He needs to lay down. He bit back a groan, everything feeling so loud. "I thought you'd get it done. And what about the rooms, you still haven't answered me on that. The opening is in two months and-"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, Y/N, COULD YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING FOR LIKE 5 SECONDS PLEASE!" He shouted putting a hand to his head as he turned away from you for a moment.

He closed his eyes as he took a moment to let his headache subside. He took a deep breath before exhaling. It took him a moment before he finally felt like he could function again. He let out a sigh as he opened his eyes.

However you weren't there anymore. You were gone, out of the kitchen, leaving him alone. "Y/N?" He asked confused as he looked around. He didn't hear your voice answering him. He looked around for a moment. He paused when he realised he had blown up at you. He closed his eyes with a sigh. "Y/N! Y/N come back! I'm sorry." He apologised as he moved around to try and find you.

He didn't hear your steps going up the stairs so he knew you were still downstairs. He looked around, looking through open doors until he finally found you sitting in the rabbits' room, holding Valentino-Nino in your lap. The brown rabbit sat safely there allowing you to pet him.

Izuku stood at the doorway. "Y/N. I'm sorry." He apologised. You didn't respond. "I didn't mean it. Can you please not ignore me."

"I thought you wanted me to stop talking." You let out lowly.

Izuku turned around to put his back against the doorframe. He took a moment as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his head. "I'm sorry. I just had a long day and I've had this throbbing headache for the past few hours. I didn't mean to lash out at you like that." He said truthfully. You could hear how drained he was in his voice and you knew it was unlike Izuku to lash out at you even when he disagreed with you or was angry.

You looked down at your pet rabbit who had moved his head so that you would scratch under his chin. You sighed. "I'm sorry about your headache." You said softly as you looked down away from him. "I know you work so hard and I wasn't being considerate. I was just so excited to have you back home. I'm sorry."

Izuku's shoulders dropped as he looked down at you. He shook his head. "No sweetheart, no I'm sorry." He said seriously as he crouched down to sit down in front of you. He put a hand on your knee and you looked up to him. "You don't have to apologise. I love it when you're excited to see me and want to talk to me. Truly I do. You're the one easy thing in my day, my love." He gave you a genuine smile. "I just... it's been a long day."

You gave him a gentle smile. You pat his leg. "You should go freshen up and eat something so you can nap. I'm sure your headache is just because you're tired. They're just the body's way of saying we need rest or something's wrong" Your advice made Izuku sigh with a nod.

"That would be great."

You reached forward and placed a kiss on his face. "Okay."

-Glitch1d

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha x y/n #mha izuku #deku x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya x reader #midoriya x y/n #izuku x you #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader angst #deku x y/n #deku x you

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uravitypng · 3 days

Note

Hi! I love your Bully!Tsukishima posts <3 I was wondering what would happen if his princess arrived to class with a bruise that he didn’t make? She’d deny everything at first, using an excuse style “I tripped” “fell on the shower”…but he wouldn’t believe that crap, not one bit!

I kinda want to see more of protective Tsukishima >_<

🍓:3

i'm glad you like my bully!tsukki posts!! this idea took awhile to flesh out and hopefully you like the way this turned out. this is slightly different from the regular protective tsukishima as this bruise was accidental <33

tsukishima remembers every little thing about you, remembers every fact, every mannerism, every freckle, scar and curve of your body so of course he clocked immediately when you walked into class with a bruise just peaking out of the top of your blouse. it's barely visible as the blouse covers most of it and he thinks you may have tried to cover some of it with make up but with it right above your cleavage it's obvious to him.

the entire time all he can think about is you, which isn't uncommon in the slightest, but this time it's all focused on the bruise and how you got it.

he knows for a fact it isn't one of his, plus if for some reason he had forgotten about it you would remember and know better than to ever try and cover it up.

after class you leave quickly, purposefully avoiding making eye contact with tsukishima. you have a feeling he's spotted the bruise that has started forming on your soft skin, as you walked in you spotted him and saw his eyes harden as his eyes looked to where your bruise is. it was just a coincidence you looked over towards him though... it's not like whenever you turn up late and he's there before you you look to see if he's in his regular seat... it's not like you were checking to see if he's here yet or anything...

you turned up late today because you were trying to find clothes that would cover the bruise, all the clothes that would cover it are clothes you're currently washing or are dirty and need to be washed. because of that you spent longer than you wanted to finding something that you felt comfortable wearing and covered as much as possible but you had a feeling after you left your dorm that maybe you should of spent longer finding something because tsukishima might notice, even if it was only a sliver of it visible, and you were right. he did notice.

you were a little too slow leaving the class though because tsukki was able to catch up to you. he looks at your bruise and his eyebrows furrow, loosely clasping onto your wrist and taking you somewhere quiet, neither of you speak yet. you're getting use to this routine of him stealing you away.

he turns to you and crosses his own arms, "talk." you nibble your lip and try to shift your eyes away from him, looking down.

"i... uh... tripped," you say nervously.

"liar."

you pause for a second running through excuses in your head but the whole time tsukishima's waiting patiently, ready to hear if you're going to lie again.

you take a deep breath and look up at him. you can tell him. he won't believe any of your excuses anyway.

"um.. someone accidentally flicked me with a ruler and well..."

there's a pause and you continue looking up at him. "no."

"what... what do you mean no?" you say baffled, you're honestly being truthful right now.

"i promise that's what happened. a friend of a friend was messing and joking around. he had this stupid ruler in his hand and was waving it about and then he playfully flicked me with it. he didn't think it would bruise or even hurt and it didn't hurt! ... that much. it was stupid and an accident." you explain further, wanting him to believe you.

"who was it?" he straightens his back and asks without displaying any emotion in his face or tone.

"we're not doing this again tsukki. it was an accident, just an accident. i'm not giving you any name." you think back to the bully incident.

tsukishima's lip twitches in annoyance. "tell me." you say no again. "i'm sure one of your friends will tell me."

your eyes go wide at the subtle threat, you have a gut feeling that he would be able to get one of your friends to tell him who it was. it really was an accident though.

"one last chance princess."

you hold onto his arm, almost startling him at the sudden contact. "please kei, don't. i promise it was an accident. they were really sorry afterwards and felt really bad about it. they even offered to pay for the drink i had to say sorry."

tsukishima's expression softened momentarily at the use of his given name before going back to normal. maybe he could leave it alone and not do anything about it but you said it hurt, even if it was only a bit. "you told me he hurt you," he starts to pull away from you to leave but you don't let him and hold onto him tighter.

"please kei. it was a mistake. it will fade in a couple days anyway, it's only a light mark. come on, tsukishima." you plead, still holding yourself against his arm to keep him from leaving.

his resolve weakens the more he feels your soft warm body press against him and the idea that the bruise is only light is making him think about how he can cover it with his own bruise, giving you a huge hickey so for now he relents, something he never thought he'd do. the only reason he isn't really chasing after who did it right now was because you asked him not to. you basically begged him not to. you called him kei. if it ever happens again they'll regret it, it doesn't matter if it was an accident.

"i want you to know that if anything else happens i won't stop until i find out their name."

you hum in response, confirming your understanding, and give a small smile knowing that you were able to stop him and he listened to you. you're aware that if it happens again you won't be able to stop him though.

tsukishima gives you a look that says 'why aren't you verbally telling me you understand.' "okay tsukki," you respond quieter than you have been talking all this time, "and thank you," you add on even quieter, almost silently.

he hears but chooses not to respond. "i think i've figured out a solution to the bruise situation." you don't really know if this is a situation but you keep listening. "i'll just have to give you a bigger bruise on top of it." his hand reaches behind you to your skirt and lifts up your skirt slightly before pinching your ass, you let out a yelp, and he smirks. "i think you need another hickey. i think all the others have faded by now and you need a new one."

he knows of every single friend you have but the following day he watches you even closer to see if anyone acts different. he found them. just like you said, a friend of a friend in a study group. it's kind of weird how bokuto owed him a favour and that weekend at a party your friend's girlfriend kissed bokuto, weird right? they broke up obviously.

bully tsukishima masterlist

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elsaellaelys · 2 days

Note

Reader is insecure about Kie cuz JJ used to like her but he's determined to show her he's obsessed with her. Like making her cum and squirt so many times until she knows how in love with her he is

Reassure

Summary: requested.

WARNINGS: 18+ content

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!gf!reader

a/n: It's being sooo long, right? Loved your request anon, gave me something to think about for sure. Any more requests? I'm baack.

--★--

It was no secret JJ liked Kiara and she dumped him. Y/N was there when it happened, she stood beside him all the time, before and through it, always so sweet and caring, so patient even with JJ's reckless choices. Slowly he started to realize what was right in front of him, her pretty shine eyes and hair, the soft way her hands lie in his arms. One day he just kissed her, out of the blue, the thought felt so right in his head, more when he did it. Her soft lips felt so hot and heavenly against his. And she melted on his arms. Y/N remembered this now and wondered if JJ didn't committed a mistake out of confusion, cause he's being too attentive towards Kiara, helping her get into the boat, handing her beers, smiling so... Urgh! Her insecurity had her overthinking if he didn't stopped liking Kie, if he used her just to keep himself busy, if she was enough compared to Kie...

"Y/N? Babe? You're coming?" JJ's voice brought her back from her thoughts as he hold the Twinkie's back door waiting for her to come out.

"Yeah." She followed him to The Wreck, practically Kiara's restaurant, the pogues all sitted to eat like the old times and Y/N remembered of when she used to secretly worship JJ and he only had eyes to Kiara, she couldn't help, but look at him holping that he would catch it and praise her out of her mind. He was laughing with the Pogues though and she felt weak on the heart, she got up and mumbled about going to the bathroom. In that second JJ knew something was up, didn't waited a second before following her, entering the bathroom right behind her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shrugged, wetting her face in the sink. He hugged her from her back, snugging his face on her neck.

"Come ooon, princess. Tell me, I'll make it better." JJ reasured her, peppering kisses on her skin, Y/N closed her eyes, sighing at the feeling of his lips. She trusted JJ's words more than everything.

He'll make it better...

"I just... Do you think I'm good for you?" She turned around to face him, paying close attention to his expressions, he looked confused, perplexed even.

"What? Of course you are. You're perfect. What type of question is that?"

She shrugged again, avoiding his gaze, hands playing with the collar of his shirt, too ashamed to admit being jealous of his ex, of their best friend. "Look at me, pretty thing." He smirked.

"You're so good. You're a good girl for me right?"

Y/N nodded, pleasing eyes up at him.

"Then sit on the sink." She furrowed her eyebrows, but his hands pulled her up by thighs.

"Wha-"

"Shh... You really want them to hear you? I bet you do, uhm?" He smirked, unbuttoning her jeans, easily sliding them down along with her panties. "Want them to know how fucking hot I think you are, how I'm so crazy for you I had to take you right here at the restaurant?"

Y/N was speechless, the way JJ was looking at her while spreading her legs and lowing his face to between them made her mouth dry.

"You wanna feel better?" He asked, kissing her inner thighs, she could only nod, opening her legs to give him more space. JJ grinned widely. "Good girl." He praised, straight liking her pussy.

She immediately opened her mouth in a silent moan, toes curling and finger gripping the edge of the sink and a handful of his hair, beautiful blonde hair, way too long, and she remembered of when he said he was going let it grown because she liked it longer. How could she even consider the idea that this guy wasn't fully in love with her? He sucked, licked and twirled his tongue, her head was tilting back and her body arched as she tried to keep her legs spread for him. JJ looked up to her, hands going up to massage her breasts over her shirt, he pulled away.

"Be a nice girl, princess." His fingers found their way to her aching cunt, two of them entering and teasing her sweet spot. "Cum for me, really good like only you know how to."

He forced his hand up and down in a rhythm that made Y/N bite her tongue, her lips shuting in a thin line to suppress her cries cause she was squirting and cumming all over her boyfriend's arm.

"That's it... fuuuck." He brush his cock against her thights through his jeans. When Y/N came down she was trembling, but JJ didn't seem to plan on stopping, his palm kept brushing on her clit and she couldn't take more.

"Please, please, wait-" She begged.

JJ chuckle and pouted mockinly "Wait? Wait what, princess?" He kissed her to keep her moans low when she cummed again, he feeling a wet spot on his boxers after moments of rubbing his tip. He groaned against her mouth, stopping his movements, both of them could burst in flames, the thrill of the rush growing too hot.

She laughed softly and he followed, realizing how teenage like all that felt.

"God... I love you so fucking much." He whispered against her mouth.

"I know." She said, feeling her words truly. "I love you too."

They left the bathroom not much later, leaving behind a discreet mess, sitting back with their friends, Pope squinted his eyes, a disgusted look on his face, but JJ brushed it off, handing Y/N a white milkshake, arm thrown over her shoulder as he kept his conversation normally. Y/N's lips wrapped around the straw with a shy smile, not admitting to herself how good it felt that all their friends knew what they did. JJ leaned to sweet talk in her ear.

"I'm taking you with me tonight. You have to do that again, princess, all over my face."

#jj maybank #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #outer banks

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sanguineterrain · 14 hours

Note

Your writing is so damn good, you execute every request perfectly 😭

Could you maybe write something where Dick's insecure partner wants to break up with him because their self-image is getting worse cause they feel they can't catch up to the Golden Boy reputation, superheroes, billionaires and so on?

hi, thanks for the request! I hope I did it justice :) a brief interlude from jaytodd before we return to our regularly scheduled program lol

dick grayson x gn!reader. low self esteem, an almost breakup, reader feeling insecure, threatened, sad. happy ending! 2.1k words

****

You've been tugging at your outfit for ten minutes. At this rate, you'll have to concede that this is as good as it's going to get.

"My love, you almost ready?"

You sigh and watch your reflection fold its arms.

"Yeah," you say softly. "'M ready."

The door opens. Your heart swoops.

Dick is beautiful, as usual. Your boyfriend can do a lot, including fill a suit. Both your and his outfits were tailor-made because that's one of the perks of being the son of a billionaire.

Over and over, you'd insisted you could wear off-the-rack, and over and over, Dick had said that was silly, that Bruce wouldn't mind.

And it's true that what you're wearing flatters you better than anything from Macy's or Marshall's would've. But you know it won't help tonight. Not in a room full of Gotham's elite.

"Just as I suspected," Dick says, immediately draping his arms over your hips. "You're gonna steal the show tonight."

He's lying.

That voice in your head has gotten louder recently, and you don't know how to turn it off.

You kiss him instead of responding. Dick enthusiastically reciprocates, always delighted when you touch him. You used to think it would be enough.

But ever since you found out that not only are you dating a billionaire philanthropist with a face that makes angels weep, but that said guy is also arguably the most beloved hero in Gotham, maybe second only to the Batman (who's his freaking dad?!), you've begun to have doubts.

You pull back. Dick's tie perfectly sets off his eyes. They're bright as they look at you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Uh-huh," you say, trying to smile. "Just nervous."

“Hey, it's alright. I'll be by your side all night. I'll save you from any and all small talk, promise." He winks. "And we can duck out early, get hot chocolate from that place you like. They won't care."

Dick's always doing that. Always catering to you. You're just some nobody who happened to stumble into the best relationship you’ve ever had with a golden god.

Dick never reminds you of that. That he could do better. He doesn't have to—you know it all on your own.

You swallow. “Okay. If you're sure. I... I would like to leave early, Gray."

“‘Course, baby,” Dick says, attaching his cuff links. "Anything you want."

You turn back to the mirror, wondering if you can reinvent your personality before you go and remind everyone what a mistake Dick Grayson has made in choosing you.

****

The party is tasteful, though a little stuffy. You're only here because Dick is going to give a speech, and he asked you to come support him. And while you know it's better for him to go without you so you won't dull his shine, it seems Dick hasn't quite figured that out.

You hold onto Dick’s arm as he makes his usual rounds. Dick doesn't enjoy these events, you know that, but he's fluid in his interactions. There is no doubt he’s Bruce Wayne’s prodigy. With his suit, his hair, his easy posture, Dick is almost unrecognizable from when you woke up with him this morning.

He's in his element. All you can do is peer in and watch.

Dick leans in and slips a hand around your waist after the fourth interaction with a donor. A donor who, again, acted like Dick may as well have been dragging around a coat rack with how intently they ignored you. Not that you give a shit about what the one percent have to say about you, except sometimes they say a lot of mean things, things you're pretty sure they don't let Dick overhear, and sometimes you start wondering if Dick is the only person who can't see truth in what they say, and sometimes—

“Hey.” Dick leans in to talk in your ear. He's warm and solid. You wish that was a comfort. “You okay?”

You're exhausted.

“Uh-hmm.”

He is going to wake up one of these days and realize he can have it so much better.

Dick moves like he's about to say more, pull you closer and permeate your senses with his gold.

“Dickie!”

Sweet, tinkling laughter echoes across the room. The crowd parts for this new woman, an obvious socialite, dressed to the nines and gorgeous.

Her dress matches Dick's tie. You feel sick.

When she reaches you two, she wastes no time grabbing Dick and kissing his cheek. He extricates himself from her, like he's done a million times before with everyone else who thinks they're entitled to a piece of Dick Grayson. He shoots you an apologetic look. You look away.

“My God, it’s been what, ten years?” she says. Then she sees you. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Caroline Banesbury, Duchess of Middlesworth. I heard the Dickie Grayson was going to be here, and I had to come.”

“Been a while,” Dick says, smiling blandly. “How are you, Caroline?”

“Spectacular! Father just bought another castle. You should come and see it sometime.” She plucks a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and smiles behind the rim of the glass.

“Dick and I go way back,” she says, gaze roving over him. “I hear you're transforming Blüdhaven. Taking a page out of Bruce's book, hm? You always had a big heart, Dickie.”

She grabs his arm and links it with hers. You sigh and take a sip of your own drink. You half-wish Poison Ivy would come in and gas the room or something.

Dick clears his throat and maneuvers out of her grip once more, letting go of her with a light pat. He returns to you, snugly holding your shoulders.

"This is my partner," he says about you.

Caroline hums, looking over you. "I see. Pleasure."

You nod. She turns back to Dick.

“If I can be of any help to your project, you let me know,” she adds, glancing down at where her empty arm now hangs at her side. “Anything.”

“That's generous of you, Carrie.”

Dick and I go way back.

Oh. Right. You're stupid. They've dated.

“We should have dinner,” she continues. “Catch up. I'm dying to know what Gotham's darling has been up to.”

“I feel sick,” you announce.

Dick and Caroline turn to you. Caroline looks perplexed, like you've just said you like to chew concrete.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she says, hardly sparing you a glance. "Perhaps you ought to lie down."

You feel Dick's eyes on you. If you don't leave soon, he'll know you're lying. Possibly the worst part about dating Batman's protégé.

Suddenly, leaving this hall is the most important thing you've ever had to do. You feel like you'll die if you don't.

Your feet start moving.

"Baby—"

Anyway, this is Caroline's chance. She can swoop in with her trust fund and while you think Dick can do way better than her—he can always do better—anyone is better than you. For Dick Grayson, who has been a master acrobat since he was a child, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, indubitably intelligent, capable, beautiful, the best goddamn guy you'll ever know—

You've lost your way. You're out of the gala, away from duchesses and doom. And you meant to get your coat but this hall that Bruce rented is enormous. You've no idea where you are. But you're alone.

Bruce must've known too, how unfit you are for his son. And why wouldn't he tell Dick? Unless Dick ignored him, because Dick, for all his smarts, is stupidly in love with you, thinks you're where he should put his heart, is certain you won't fumble and drop it.

Warm, callused fingers catch your wrist and you remember, suddenly, Dick telling you once, after you'd nearly stumbled into the street, that he'd never let you fall.

You meet his eyes. Why does he look at you like that? Who gave him the right to look at you like-like you—as if you could ever deserve—

"Hey," he says, squeezes your hand. "Hey, hey. What's going on?"

Dick Grayson is not a trusting man but he trusts you and good God, you're about to break him.

"I need to break up with you," you blurt.

"What?" he breathes. "What—why would you say that?"

You wish he'd give you the slip he gave everyone in that room, gently separate your arm from his hand. You never learned how to evade Dick's touch.

"Because it's true. Dick, please understand—"

"No, I'm trying to understand. Because yesterday—no, tonight, you were fine—"

"No, Dick, I wasn't fine! I haven't been fine in months!"

You wrench your arm away. He looks like you slapped him.

"You know anybody I talk to in there means nothing, right? You know that, honey." He's pleading.

You curl your fist into your eye. "It's more than that, Gray."

"Then tell me what the problem is," he says desperately. "Tell me and we'll fix it. I promise we can fix it."

"You can't!" you say, voice cracking. "You can't fix me."

Dick shakes his head. "I don't—"

"Why can't you let me break up with you with a little bit of dignity?" you ask. "Do you have to be better at this too?"

"I don't want to break up," he says, tugging at a handful of his hair. "This doesn't make sense. We're happy. You're happy, aren't you? Don't I make you happy?"

"Of course," you choke out. "Of course you make me happy. But you don't see I'm bad for you. You're wonderful and perfect and golden, Dick. And I'm a stain. I need to be scrubbed away."

"Wh—that's not true!"

"Everywhere we go, people see me with you and are immediately confused. I'm not a superhero, I'm not royalty, I'm not a socialite, and yet somehow I've managed to snag Gotham's darling. This is a mistake. I'm trying to do you a favor and wake you up!"

Dick's face is hard with anger. How could you have thought this would be easy?

"I don't need to be woken up! What is it that makes you think I have no agency over the people I choose to spend time with? Everyone I meet thinks they're entitled to touch me, demand me. Everyone but you. You, the person I chose to love, who I love everyday. Do you think you pulled the wool over my eyes and you're snapping me out of it? Is that what you really think?"

And isn't this the most puzzling thing? That he's not sad or gently accepting; Dick is mad.

"I just—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell, but really, I can't bear it if you see me as some god on a pedestal, unattainable and inhuman, like everyone else sees me. I love you on purpose."

"You're so accomplished, though," you say weakly. "You're..." You wave your hand over him. "You're fucking Nightwing, D. You were Robin, you have superheroes for friends, Batman for a parent, you're beloved by, like, all of Jersey—"

"My love, you know those are just parts of me. You see all of me. You know me. And that's not a one-way privilege, okay? I'm so damn lucky to know you, to love you, to be with you, to fight with you. To fight for you. Knowing you isn't something I take for granted."

"But I'm boring," you say, tears spilling over. "Jesus Christ, Dick, I'm plain and untalented, barely a dime to my name, so painfully ordinary that—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking your face in his hands. "Flying around or shooting lasers out of your eyes, sure, it's cool, and it's helpful for taking down an alien dictator. But I don't need you to do any of that, honey. I don't need nor want you to be anyone but you. I wasn't tricked or swindled into loving you. We caught each other halfway, just like we were meant to."

You let him pull you into his arms, let him press your tear stains to his silk pocket square, let his hair fall around you.

His embrace is solid, firm, but when he inhales, his shoulders shake.

"Do you—" He swallows, throat against yours. "Do you still want to break up?"

His heart beats against your cheek.

"I'm just afraid you'll get tired of me," you whisper. "Bored. Annoyed."

"I won't," he whispers. "You're the least boring person ever. It's never boring to be loved."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dick's warmth encloses you.

"No, I don't want to break up. I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter, and you realize you never had to match Dick's tie. Not when you've got his heart.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #richard grayson x reader #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing fanfiction #dick Grayson fanfiction #dick Grayson imagine #Nightwing imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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orangelala · 2 days

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ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: you both started off as friends, becoming even closer, and now that chris has finally gotten over his commitment issues with the impact you've made on his life he's sure he wants no one else. what happens when the feeling isn't mutual, or is it?

warnings: angst, some fluff? swearing, pet names (love,ma)

a/n: we are locked in on series time. part two will be out soon!

word count: 1.9k words

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

"i've seen the way he looks at you." she ran the brush through my hair. "it's not in a friend way either."

she was wrong, but it didn't stop my pulse from spiking with anticipation. "how does he look at me?"

fiona smiled. "like he never wants to look away."

"what is that supposed to mean?" "it means he loves you, its so obvious. how could you be so blind?" "if you mean in a friend way, then yes, yes he does" fiona sigh turning me around in the chair. "how long have we been friends?" "since kindergarten" "exactly. i know you better than anyone. preferably better than you know yourself. which means i know you feel the same"

fiona smiles once more before turning me around and grabbing the brush to help do my hair now. as if the discussion was over but was she right? was he really looking at me in a special way? did he actually loved me more than a friend?

she finally finishes up my hair and i put on my outfit for the day. as i walk to my car and get in to drive to the triplets house, i couldn't help but think about what she said. "like he never wants to look away" "like he never wants to look away" what the hell did that even mean? as much as i trust my bestfriend, i feel like she could be wrong about this.

as i reach their house, i gather my purse and some other things stepping out and walking up to the house. knocking on the door, im immediately greeted by nick pulling me into a hug. "hey girl, how are you doing?" "im good nick, and you?" "im great, chris is downstairs, by the way" "how are you sure im not here to see you?" i say catching up to him as he walked to the kitchen.

"so you're here to see me?"nick says putting his hand on his hip giving me a confused look. "yes, ive missed you" bringing him into a hug. "well ive missed you too kid" he says hugging me back. "how was your morning?" "it was okay but nick, you wouldn't believe what fiona had said-" "hey kid, why didn't you tell me you were here?" chris says cutting me off.

"well i was talking to nick, im not just bestfriends with you" i say sarcastically stepping back towards nick. "yeah chris, she's best friends with all of us, if she wants to hang with us because she's tired of you, she can" i couldn't help but burst into laughing from nicks comment. making nick chime in, as i catch my breath i look up and notice chris rolling his eyes.

"well if she's not 'too tired of me' i'd like to steal her for a moment, if that's okay with you" he says looking at nick for what looks like an approval. "go ahead. i'll be right here girl if you need me" nick says pointing at me as well walk away. "i'll keep that in mind, thank you bae!"

"you're not really tired of me are you?" he says opening the door to his bedroom. "of course not, nick was just saying to mess with you. i never get tired of you" i say bringing him into a hug. i felt him smile against me as he hugged me back tight.

"chris?" "yes love?" he says pulling away. "i don't want to interfere in your personal business-" "your my bestfriend, you never interfere. i tell you everything" he smiles, as he reassures me as he could tell the uncomfortableness on my face.

"do you like anyone?" i say startling myself, i didn't mean to say it so quickly. i watch chris's facial expression change. "i was with fiona, and fiona had said" "what did she say?" "well she said you looked at me um in a certain way"

i look away towards the door as i try to comprehend what was going on, was i really about to do this right now? i was taken out of my thoughts as chris takes his hand and moves my head to look at him.

"what type of way is that? he smirks. "in a way that uh, you like me?" "and?" "and well chris is it truth?" i say looking down at my hands. "if it is?"

"chris" i whispered. "your my best friend." "i know what i am," he says against my skin. "what would that, what would that even look like?" "what would what look like?" "oh my god chris, us. fuck. you know us" "so you like me back?" "i never said that, i asked a question"

"what would it be like? what would 'us' even look like? i whisper into again him. "i can show you exactly what it would be like."

i felt him fisting the fabric of my shirt, as if he was stopping himself from doing more. then releasing it and placing his palm to my waist.

"if you were really mine, i'd do this all the time." his long fingers draped around my hip and pushed me against him from the waist down. hot. he felt so hot and hard, branding my skin, even with layers of fabric separating us.

"if you were mine, you'd crave this." he then closed the rest of the distance that separated us very slowly. bringing our bodies flush together with such softness and at such a painful pace that i praised and cursed him at the same time. "you would want it."

but wasn't i doing that?

before i could delve into that, chris's large body shifted, and my back was against a hard surface. he looked at me quite intensely as if he was trying to read me. read my facial expressions but my mind went blank, making my whole body go blank. most importantly my heart.

what am i doing? what was i doing was all that was going through my head. he leans into me, running his hand over my cheek before pulling me into him, closing the space between us completely. i wanted to move. i needed to get out of here, but why was i feeling so safe. why did i feel happy under his touch?

chris places his other hand around my waist before fully bringing his face near mine. his lips were just centimeters away from mine. pulling me in with his hand. our lips had barely grazed. "im sorry, but i can't. im sorry" i say pulling away and grabbing my things.

"wait- what? don't go." "im so sorry, chris," i say choked as tears begin to run down my face. he had looked at me in confusion. it was only seconds later to a minute was how quickly i got out of there.

sprinting in the direction of my car as i walk out the house. i sit for a minute to catch my breath before placing the key in the ignition and starting up the car. it felt as if i could hear his voice around me, i could still see that expression. it was killing. the look he gave me. that look that was pastured on his face when i walked out.

i had finally reach my apartment making me sigh in relief. quickly getting out of car and walking up to my apartment, i couldn't get myself to put the key in the door and step in. i wasn't expecting to come home tonight. let alone be alone.

i stand there, placing a hand on the door before taking a deep breath and turning the key to let myself in. i was the one who did it. he didn't walk out on me, i walked out on him but yet why does it hurt so much.

placing my stuff on the table, i walk in the direction of my room. grabbing some fresh clothing. i couldn't be in his clothes anymore, running my fingers along the end of the shirt and almost staring at it as it reminded me of time he gave it to me. i quickly stopped the flashback that was about to occur as quickly pull it over my head and toss it to the side, along with my shorts.

i walk into the connecting bathroom to turn on the shower, stepping away and looking in the mirror to run my fingers over my cheek, where he ran his fingers over and moved down to my waist. running my hand over the spot repeatedly as if i was still trying to feel his touch.

i felt desperate, needy. craving his touch again. but i know getting out of there was something i needed to do to protect myself. why did it have to be from him? i had no idea but now catching myself in train of thought, i turn around and fully strip my underwear and bra and walk in.

i didn't really remember getting out of the shower and laying down. it had been about an hour later, as i have fidgeted through my sheets. tossing and turning but nothing had seemed to work. there was one thing and one thing only that ran through my mind. that almost kiss and him.

my phone screen lit up my dark room, making me roll over and hesitantly grab the phone. there were multiple missed calls and messages from him.

about to play the first message, i exit out the app and throw the phone on the floor. standing up to catch my breath and placing in my room i hear the door. what seemed like a faint knock only for it to be a bit louder. wiping my eyes, i walk out of my room and towards the front door.

"who is it?" i say clearing my throat as i start to unlock and open the door. "yes? how can i help you- chris?" i say in a very hushed tone. "what are you doing here?" "i wanted to see you, why did you leave? was it something i did?"

"chris, you shouldn't be here" "i know but i want to know why you left, did i make you uncomfortable?" i shoved my hands in my pajama pockets as i take a step back making chris step towards me. "chris please" i beg, as i feel everything inside me tear apart.

"just answer my question please and i'll go. i promise, i just need to know" he said in an almost whisper that rang around my head.

my hands stayed in my pockets; his were at his sides. we weren't touching, not really. i had the sudden, sharp memory of the way his fingers had brushed against mine a few hours before. he bent his face down to my shoulder, his breath slipping through three layers of cloth to warm the skin there.

one of his fingers hooked at the strings of my pajamas and inched me just that tiny bit closer. his nose skimmed up my throat, along my cheek, and i saw none of it. i squeezed my eyes shut as his forehead finally came to rest against mine.

"look at me."

"don't do this," i whispered.

"i don't know what's wrong with me," he breathed out. "i feel like, i feel like i'm losing my damn mind, like your face has been carved into my heart, and i don't remember when, and i don't understand why, but the scar is there, and i can't get it to heal. it won't go. i can't make it fade. and you won't even look at me."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

tags: @nicksmainbitch @sturniolossss @sturnlova @its-jennarose @freshsturns @luverboychris @canthelpit0 @ghostlypineappl @sturnzsblog @sluttformatt @urfavstromboli @junnniiieee07 @drpepperworshipper @ksturniolo7 @samandcolbyfan22 @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @h3arts4harry @patscorner @iluvmattyb @mattslovelygf @blahbel668 @mattscoquette @wh0resstuff @crack240

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #chrissturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #orangelala

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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You Make Me Wanna 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You duck your head just before you can glance off the metal. Walter shoves you into the passenger seat gruffly as you drunkenly gold against his strength. You dizzy pull your feet inside as he grips the door and barely get them out of the way before he slams it. You shake your head, try to break free of the haze. Ugh, too much vodka.

The car jostles as he rips open the driver's door and the axel dips beneath his weight. He growls as he snaps the door shut and ram the keys into the ignition. He lets the engine idle as he shifts in his seat. He slips his phone out and taps with his thumb. He could crack the screen. You grasp your own cell and check for messages.

He huffs and drops his phone in the cupholder. He pulls the seatbelt across his burly figure and clicks it into place. He glares over at you as he slaps a hand around the ridge steering wheel, "buckle up."

You obey. The nightstand taken a rotten twist and the sooner it's over the better. You just need to find Faye. You do up your belt and grab your phone again. You key in a message without a care for typos. Where is she? You suspect she might be too distracted to answer.

He reverses out sharply and you lean into the door. You look up, the streetlights glaring in your vision, then another light draws your attention. His phone is still bright. You squint at the map on the screen and the dot pulsing a couple blocks away.

"What the hell?" You bend to see clearer and he resches over to shove you back against the seat. "You're tracking her?"

"None of your business, " he sneers. "That's fucked up," you say. "You got a nasty mouth. Now I know where she got that from."

"I didn't raise her," you scoff. "Why the hell am I here if you got GPS on her--"

"Because for once you're gonna face consequences for your actions," he growls as he turns the corner without slowing down.

"Stop the car," you demand.

"Shut up."

"Stop!" You pull on the door handle futilely, "let me out."

"Don't do that," he barks as he keeps his foot on the gas.

"Let me out!" You raise your voice, "let me the fuck out, Walter."

"Mr. Marshall," he retorts meanly. "Stop fucking around."

"I said. Let. Me. Out." You hit his shoulder with your fist and the wheels swerve. He slams on the brakes and you lurch back in your seat.

"Hey!" He roars and reaches over to grab your wrist. He twists and you whine. "You're gonna get us fucking killed."

"No, you are."

"You ever shut that mouth," he sneers as you try to free your arm, only further stressing the tendon. You whimper and bring your other hand up to try to peel away his fingers.

"Let me go." He huffs and releases you.

You recoil and rub your wrist as you pout. You're quiet as you evaluate the throbbing in your muscles.

"You know, I don't think you'd want someone treating Faye like this," you murmur.

"Shut up," he mutters as he eases onto the gas.

"No, stop, I'm getting out."

"You're not going anywhere," he quickly builds speed again. "And you're not going to talk about my daughter again."

"Well... you put your hands on me. What kind of man--"

"I'd hate to think of the boys you call men," he spits.

You reel at his inference. Is he calling you a slut? He would laugh at the truth.

"Whatever," you cross your arms and sit back, fingers still tingling.

He drives on in silence, only his grumbles underlining his slow breaths. You don't get it. How is it always your fault? You got better grades than Faye, you did extracurriculars, it isn't your fault you couldn't afford tuition.

You don't spill any of these gripes to Walter. He would care. He doesn't care. He just needs someone to blame besides his precious daughter. If only he knew how many times you kept her from worse mistakes.

You peer out the window, yellow blocks of light flicking in between the dark. You had a bad feeling about tonight. You saw right through Faye. You knew she wasn’t coming for you. These days, your hang outs rarely end up being just that. You just don’t know why. She’s changed.

Or maybe she’s outgrowing you. She’s in college and you’re working down at the diner, scrounging tips to pay your mother’s rent. You slump down as the drunkenness coaxes your self-pity to the surface.

Your eyes wander across the dashboard. It’s not old and grimy like your mother’s used Chrysler. It has bluetooth and lights and the heat works. There isn’t a crack down the plastic and it doesn’t smell like cigarettes.

It was easier in high school to pretend you belonged with Faye. You still had that layer of naivete that made you believe things could get better for you. Well, life’s begun and you’re just the same as you ever were.

You’re rattled suddenly as he shakes you, his large hand on your shoulder, “wake up.”

“Hey,” you shrug him off, “I’m awake.” You swat him away again, “don’t touch me.”

He blows out between his lips and snorts, bringing his hand back to the wheel. You sit up and turn your eyes back out the window. He’s just another person in your life who thinks they can mistreat you. His temper tantrum is nothing to you, just like you’re nothing to him.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #night hunter #drabble #au #the club #you make me wanna

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antiyourwokehomophobia2 · 2 days

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Man, this pisses me off so bad. If you're a woman who relates more to males than other women, it's because you've decided to focus more on how you're different from other women rather than how you're like them. You will literally never have more in common with males, and males do not feel the same way about you. These cute little posts that you write about how you love males more than your fellow women? They do not write the same thing about you. They hate and mock you constantly. Anyone remember "Cis women need to shut up"

"As a cis woman, I agree"

"You need to shut up, specifically"

Yea, that's how they feel about you and your solidarity.

The difference between lesbians and trans women in female spaces is the fact that lesbians do not have high rates of violence. There is no group of women that outclass men in terms of violent tendencies. Trans women retain the rates of male violence that regular men do. I'm not saying you have to treat trans women like they're all violent beasts, but if you can't see why female people would be uncomfortable with male people in their spaces, you're either naive or genuinely unsympathetic towards the very real fear that women have of being subjected to male violence. You can't say trans women and lesbians are similar because, unlike males, there is no statistical evidence that lesbians are highly likely to take advantage of a woman. If it turned out that 98% of rapes were committed by lesbians, I would 1000% understand why straight women don't fucking want to be around me. Have some fucking empathy, holy fucking shit. Even if you are completely on board with trans women being in female spaces, at LEAST acknowledge that it makes sense for women to be concerned about who is allowed in their spaces. It's crazy how I could tell someone I have a fear of dogs because one bit me when I was a kid, and they'd put their sweet pooch up, but God forbid a woman be cautious around a demographic who commit 90% of all violent crime. Oh no. That woman is suddenly a terf bitch.

I have nothing in common with trans women. I don't care how much pain they have experienced. We are not the same. When I was twelve, I cried and I cried as I put my palms together to pray to a God I hoped would be able to take away my homosexuality. I didn't even grow up in a particularly homophobic family. Both of my parents were accepting of me, but I still sat in the dark of my room, tears streaming down my face, as I prayed to have my sexuality changed.

Two years later, one of my friends made a joke about me dressing to impress my crush. She said my crushes name---a feminine name. A girl sitting in earshot heard her, turned to me, and asked me with disgust if I was gay. I said no without even thinking about it. It absolutely did not help that we were in a locker room with other girls. I was aware of my sexuality by that point, but I was 14 and unable to hold my own against a girl looking at me like THAT. For a few weeks after that, that girl made comments about how she was "watching me".

I know pain, I know discomfort, I know what it's like to feel predatory. Seeing feminine women, especially if they're white, makes me feel like an alien. I look at them and think "how are we so different? I see none of myself in you."

Sometimes I'm right. Sometimes we're not similar at all. But guess what? That doesn't mean I'm similar to a straight male. Fucking hell, sometimes I'm not similar to other lesbians. That's completely normal. I think OP needs to read better work by cishet women. If you think that there is not a single piece of cishet female writing that can move you more than something written by a male, you're not looking in the right places at all. I don't understand why some LB women seem to think that the very act of someone being a straight woman makes them incapable of relatability. Of course it makes sense for you to be cautious. Lesbians deal with a lot of alienation and predatory feelings, but if the very ACT of a woman being cis and straight makes you feel like she has absolutely nothing in common with you...? The issue lies with you. YOU are the one othering THEM. Not the other way around. You're the one who has decided that a few cis straight women othering you means that they ALL will so you'd better beat them to the punch. You're the one who has decided that your relationship to womanhood is so astronomically different from straight women that nothing they say speaks to you. That's INSANE. Do you realize how much you have to alienate yourself from womanhood to feel more relatability with a male person than a female one? Idk how to tell you this, but it is highly probable that the most cis, most het woman you have ever met has had a period. It's highly likely she's been harassed by a man. It's highly likely she's been made to feel inferior by way of being born female. No, they can't relate to the experience of being a lesbian who is made to feel predatory for no reason, but to say that nothing a cis het woman says/experiences can move you at all? Nothing they say can make you feel like your experience with womanhood and hers are similar? Do you realize how you sound? "Trans women have been harassed by men and made to feel inferior, too!!" Okay! So you should be able to relate to cis women in the way you do trans women, right?

I told my discord server that I was nervous about my future roommates. I showed them photos and someone said "all this tells me is that they're feminine and white" and I literally think about that all of the time. I was projecting. I was so scared that these white, feminine, probably straight women were going to judge me for being a black lesbian that I didn't even realize that I was the one violently judging them based off of nothing but their skin color and their femininity. I knew nothing about them. I STILL know nothing about them. I've barely spoken to them. But already I had labeled them as unrelatable judgemental women because of how they looked. Hold on. Wasn't I the one afraid of them judging ME? How could I be so afraid of them judging me for being a black lesbian when I was the one judging them already? What sense does that make?

You guys are so busy writing off cis straight women as unrelatable bigots that you've failed to see that you're the one who is extremely prejudiced against them. And I absolutely fucking know someone is gonna read this and say "well, you can't say that all trans women have male violence patterns and dahdahdahdah" and it's like. But YOU can say that cis straight women are so unbelievably different from lesbian women that you'd rather say you're more similar to a straight up fucking male???

I'm not saying it's not a little jarring to see women who are so different from me. I'm not saying I haven't been burned before and there's no reason for me (or other lesbians) to be cautious. But I will literally ALWAYS have more in common with cishet women than I ever will a man pretending to be a woman.

One time I had a professor. She was on the older side (I'd say 40's) and white. Not the type of person I'd think I'd click well with. She was straight and married with children. One day we talked after class, and the only thing that ended our conversation was the fact she had an event she had to go to. We would've talked longer if not for that. She emailed me a little while later to tell me that she enjoyed our chat. After that, she actually hugged me on two occasions. You wouldn't think we'd have common ground. An older, straight, married white mother and a young black lesbian. Both of us are "cis" but I can tell you I relate to her much better than I ever could someone born male.

I once had a personal trainer who was a feminine woman. She had acrylic nails and everything. One time she said that she couldn't hug her male friends anymore because she had a boyfriend (he wasn't the one enforcing that rule. That was something she personally felt). Also not someone I thought I'd click well with. But we did. One time we had a really productive discussion that was actually derived from the conversation with my professor. I felt very close to her in that moment. Our conversation came to a close because she had another client, but I still think about that convo.

There have been so many fucking times where I thought "this woman is not like me. Look at her." But what I realized was that I was the judgmental one. I was the one deciding we were different, not her. I was the one writing her off. I was the one convinced we had nothing in common.

I am BEGGING you not to alienate your fellow women. There are no inherent traits that make you unable to relate to other women. No amount of whiteness or cisness or straightness can make a woman completely unreachable. I am NOT talking about political parties or views so don't fucking try me with that shit. Obviously that puts a wedge between people, but someone simply being born cis and het does not make them alien from you. For God's sake, look at the fucking MeToo movement. Women from all fucking backgrounds who share an experience that an unfortunate amount of women go through. Women from all different races, sexualities, etc. who came together to talk about how they've been subjected to sexual violence. Ellen degeneres was one of them. How does that fit into your "lesbians and cishet women cannot relate to each other" spiel?

OP's post has 130k notes and it makes me fucking sick. Holy crap y'all, we need more solidarity than this. Other women are not your enemy. I'm begging you to reconsider your approach to women who are different than you. You are missing out on people who can love and support you in a way that literally no male can. You are depriving yourself. Just because a few cishet women in the past alienated you, does not mean that you have to continue their legacy. Let it go. Everyone on earth can see you embracing your hatred of women, and you wonder why your fellow women never hug you? They fucking can't! Put your hatred down and make space for the love that comes with realizing that you absolutely are like other girls!

#You guys think you're so progressive but you're just in a woke version of not like other girls #Stop comparing lesbians to literal males #Jesus fucking Christ #I actually hate you guys so fucking much #I'm never telling anyone I'm gay every again bro #I hate all of you #I should've prayed to be asexual man #Maybe god would've taken me more seriously

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