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unholyhelbig · 3 months

Note

Can we have the last chapter of oversight??

Title: The Oversight [Part 7/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7200

Warnings: Blood, (a lot of blood) Gun violence, childhood trauma, a shoot out, murder, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: This is it!! I wanted to thank everyone so beyond much for sticking with this story. I do suck at endings, so I'm sorry if it doesn't live up to expectations (I'm also writing this after the worst case of covid I've ever had). I'm more than happy to continue reader and Nat's story in some oneshots if you want to request some!]

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Sheets of warm spring rain soaked into your clothes. Despite its tepid temperature, you were chilled to the bone. By the time you had taken Ronnie from her car seat in the back and coaxed a drowsy Darcy from the front seat, there was no dry part of you. A light wind had picked up and you were positive that your skin was pale, cold. Your lips are blue and shaking. It felt right to knock.

It was Yelena who answered the door, and she did so sparingly. It was just a crack at first, letting out a stream of golden light that caught the storm in its clutches. Then it was flung open entirely, and you had to squint against the brightness.

Darcy had a good grip on Ronnie’s hand, blinking away the last of her exhaustion as she started into the massive foyer and the house that was built around it. Yelena wore a bubblegum pink robe that was fuzzy. It looked warm. Her collarbone was littered in a smattering of blue and purple bruises. She dragged the two ends together to cover her skin.

“Y/n, it’s late.”

You were well aware of what time it was. This was Yelena’s odd way of asking if you were okay. She stepped to the side and allowed the three of you to enter, sopping wet. That was a good sign. Despite her abrasiveness, Natasha’s sister had more than one soft spot. One was for Kate, another for you, and even a small one for Clint.

“Holy shit…” Darcy whispered.

“It’s impressive, no?”

Yelena frowned, glancing up to the second level. The hall light flicked on, and you knew that Natasha had stirred. You’d awoken the dragon, not something that you were against doing. It felt stupid to have the worry of Ronnie being here in the back of your mind. This was an emergency situation.

Your heart started to pound faster and you shivered into yourself when she appeared at the top of the stairs. There was worry in her fern-colored stare. Why were you there? Why was your misfit family with you? It was late.

None of those questions came with Natasha, however. Instead, she wrapped you in her warm embrace. Your skin was frigid against her own, damp with the brutal attention of the storm. She had no objections to letting you sink into her embrace, wetting her pajamas.

“Dorogaya, chto sluchilos'?”

You pulled back, her fingers still digging into your waist. Yelena had been teaching you Russian, though you only picked up on a few words a time, you understood exactly the tone of her voice. “Carol… she was waiting for me at home.”

A hardness returned to her stare as she glanced at Ronnie who was overly interested in the tile pattern of the floor, and Darcy who was trying to work the pressure from her head with small touches to her nose.

“Did she hurt you?” her voice was a low growl “any of you?”

You shook your head. “Drugged Darcy, but it seems to be wearing off. Ronnie is alright. Carol said she was a friend and shit, Nat, I taught her about stranger danger, but she came straight to the door. I didn’t prepare her for anything like that.”

Yelena had wandered in her silent, cat-like way. She seemed to spawn back into the foyer with warm towels that felt like heaven against your skin. Your fingers were numb along with your emotions. Carol had entered your home. She entered your home.

This fact seemed to sink into Natasha’s bones. While she still held a strong grip on your shoulders there was a certain type of anger that edged through her from top to bottom. A storm brewed behind her eyes and threatened to shatter her cool confidence.

“Lena,” the word broke against her tongue “Will you please take Ronnie and Darcy to a guest room upstairs. I’m sure they’re exhausted.”

There was no objection from any party. You were once again left alone with Natasha, a charged feeling in the air that pulled the two of you together. She pressed her forehead against yours, breath warm on your collarbone.

“I’m going to kill her.”

“Nat,”

“I am. I don’t have another choice. There are clear lines that can’t be crossed and she just cut every single one of them.” Natasha hurriedly pushed strands of wet hair behind your ears, clearing your eyes. “She did this as a statement.”

“And if it’s a trap?”

“It most certainly is, darling, but that won’t stop us from walking into it.”

Very carefully, you thought about your next words, your next actions. It was easy to throw Natasha off, despite her resolute standing when she made a final decision. You felt her body pressed against yours, innate in its comfort and warmth. It would make you ache if she pulled away.

The words came out as a whisper “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

She attempted to step back, but your hands were tight against the silk of her robe. You held her there and she didn’t resist the tension. It was the first time you had really studied your own hands. They were different, entirely so, from those that serviced strangers at the diner.

There were soft bubblegum pink scars on your palms, and harder, darker ones on your knuckles from the countless hours you’d leaned into the pain of each punch. Natasha’s shoulder against the sand-filled bag as she stood against the strength you mustered.

A bruise from the last time you’d entered the shooting range bubbled under the surface of your palm, and it was this that Natasha stared at the hardest as you gripped her with an intensity she had yet to see.

“Did I ever tell you about my second foster father?” You asked, having released your hold, but keeping your hand splayed on her chest. You weren’t sure if you were holding her steady, or yourself. She shook her head. “Deputy Sheriff Edwards. He was a high school quarterback in Minnesota before he blew out his knee and would never let you forget it.

“And mostly… mostly he was a good guy. But, he worked long hours and had a mean streak that would show itself after a beer or two. If he had more, it was worse. He’d stumble in and find one of us kids to go out for shooting practice in the acreage behind the house.”

Natasha swallowed thickly and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She hadn’t asked you about your familiarity with a gun and considered it a small blessing that you didn’t’ shy away from the weapon. Not only that, but you were quite nearly an expert shot once you got over the nervous familiarization.

“Locking the bedroom door, it worked sometimes, but not always. I had to pick and choose the nights when I wasn’t up for it. Usually in the winter. Minnesota gets cold, below freezing when the sun goes down behind the horizon. So cold that it burns your lungs to breathe, and you have to force your eyes open.

“Deputy Sheriff Edwards, when he couldn’t have me, he would go for my foster brother Andrew. I could hear the pistol going off, over and over again for hours. There was a distinct change in sound when the bullet actually hit the tin cans and it was… that night it was scarce. When you missed- when you missed, he got angrier.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath and pressed her forehead against yours. She was impossibly comforting, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around her and bury your nose in the small of her neck to stave off the cold. But you had to make her understand that you could handle this.

“That night, Andrew missed one too many cans and each shot was pockmarked by a hit to the temple. It was right outside my bedroom window, and the snow, the snow makes everything so much louder.” It was you that pulled in a desperate breath this time, greedy and hungry “a boy can only take so much before he aims the gun at something other than a can and pulls the trigger.”

She had reached up and used her thumb to wipe away a tear you didn’t know you shed, spreading it against your cheek. “Malysh, I can’t bare to put you through more pain.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you whispered back, reaching up and wrapping your fingers gently around her wrist. “Whether you like it or not, Nat, you’ve spent the last six months training me to be the protector that you’ve needed. It would be a crime not to have me by your side through this, after she came into my home and threatened my family. This anger, this rage, will do nothing but serve us.”

Natasha let out a watery chuckle, “alright, Summer Sentient, stay on my six.”

There was a shed at the edge of Natasha’s large property that you rarely entered. There were too many memories attached to the location. The first time you had opened the door and clocked the coloring of the floor and the coolness of the structure, you knew that it wasn’t a place you wanted to return often.

When you had first stirred months ago with your arms tied behind your back, your mouth fuzzy and tasting of blood- it was here that they had taken you. Through your exhaustive haze, you figured it was a larger place, a storage unit or even an airplane hanger at the edge of a runway. Instead, it was a simple one-room shed that was kept ice cold and made to look infinite through mental manipulation and large intense lights.

Kate Bishop seemed to sense your simple unease and moved to help your fumbling fingers with the gun holster that was secured around your chest. Like always, Natasha organized a united front and a pep talk before going into a situation that none of you could truly prepare for.

“It’s going to be okay, you know” Kate murmured after she fastened the buckle, clapping you on the shoulder. Her eyes lingered on Natasha, on Yelena as the two of them spoke in hushed voices near a small counter that you hadn’t realized was there in the dark.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Like an open book. It’s obvious how much you care for one another, and nothing is obvious with this family.” Kate moved to the other side of you, you tracked her with your eyes. Clint, in turn, watched the two of you interact from his perched spot near the far wall. “It took two years for Yelena to show any type of affection towards me.”

“Jesus Christ, I know she’s stoic, but shit.”

“Shit is right. I was head over heels for her within the first week. Mind you, I was suffering severe trauma and thrown into something much beyond myself. But I chipped away at her overtime, wore her down until she was comfortable enough telling me what she feels. But with the Romanoff’s, it’s not just about what they feel. It’s how they feel.”

You lifted both of your eyebrows at her. Kate handed you the jacket that was draped over a nearby chair, you toyed with it in your hands, moved your fingers over the brass buttons. It was much too warm in here to put on yet.

“Natasha is one of the scariest people I have ever met and It’s not because of her dripping ledger. It has everything to do with how much she cares. And she cares about you, y/n. It’s why she’s so reluctant to bring you along to something like this. To the end.”

“Thank you, Kate. For leading me through all of this.”

“Anytime, y/n. Can’t have you dying on us, can we?”

The plan was simple; there was no plan. A deal was supposed to met in a quick and clean way. Much like the restaurant, Natasha just needed you to simply be there to back her up. There was neutral ground at the edge of the shipyard that was far away enough from the unassuming population. Carol had agreed to meet there; tentatively.

There was something so civil and political about a business that was saturated in black sticky blood. You had a jarring feeling that tonight would be it for you, the moment of no return. Once you entered in a united front behind Natasha, your life would never be the same.

You didn’t want it to be.

Natasha Romanoff drove you absolutely wild, but had a way of calming that storm all the same. Though she’d never allow it, you would take bullets for her. But, you’d also take bullets for the little girl that you struggled to confront now.

The leather binding against your chest suddenly felt too stuffy. You’d often hid it behind the guise of a jacket or slid it into your glovebox before you trudged up the rickety stairs to your apartment. Now it was hugged as tightly as Kate could get it, pinching the fabric of your shirt.

Ronnie had looked up from the book she’d curled up with at the end of the sofa. She stared at it with quiet eyes. Everything she did was quiet but this time it felt more judge mental than usual. Natasha sidled up behind you, one ringed hand pressing calmly into the small of your back.

“Remember what I told you on the Ferris Wheel?” Natasha asked.

“She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

“Mm,” Natasha gave you a soft kiss behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I know that look. She wants to talk.”

The mafia boss gave you a little shove forward before making herself comfortable leaning against the doorframe that you had just vacated. She was begrudgingly right. Veronica had scooted over deliberately and given you room next to her.

Ronnie allowed you to get comfortable next to her, running her small fingers over the leather of the holster. You stopped her before she could reach the sheathed weapon, gently lowering both of your hands to your lap.

“Natasha?”

The woman stood up straighter, looking into the expectant eyes of your daughter. She patted the empty seat on the other side of her and you watched as your girlfriend struggled not to flounder under the weight of the request. Eventually she joined the two of you on the couch, nervously twisting the closest ring around her finger.

“I’m not stupid” Ronnie said.

You frowned “No one said you were stupid, baby.”

Your daughter was glowering at you. It took years to read her facial expressions, but the one that was on her features now was loud and clear. “You can’t come home with bruises like that and expect me not to notice.”

You blinked at her dumbly. Yes, kids were perceptive, Ronnie more than others. But no part of you wanted to expose you to the life you’d been thrown in. Guilt was weighing down Natasha’s shoulders, she glanced at you sheepishly.

“You weren’t supposed to join the mob. I know why you did it, though.”

Good god, she was smart. Smarter than you’d ever give her credit for. Everyone wants to believe that their child is special but there was a certain pride in your chest that rivaled your fear. She pulled her little hand from yours and placed it on the spine of the book.

She seemed to lose interest in you altogether and turned her attention to Natasha. “Don’t let her get hurt.”

“I…Are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“I don’t know what that means, just make sure my mom’s okay.”

Natasha swallowed the dryness in her mouth, it was nearly audible. “You don’t have to worry about that, kid. I promise.”

There was an innate fear coiled in the center of your stomach, and the cacophony of footfalls against weathered docks did nothing to ease your pitfall of feelings. Clint towered over you in height, walking with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets to ward off the chill of the summer wind.

Kate and Yelena stalked behind you both, their shoulders hunched, their conversation a hushed whisper. Six docks altogether led into one hexagon platform, that at one point, must have held a fair much like the one you attended in the early summer.

From the other stretch of docking came five others. Their silhouettes were fuzzy, black against the night sky. Carol held herself with a confidence that rivaled Natasha’s. You could make out Monica amongst the crowd, a man that you’d seen around town that you were sure went by the name Fury; particular to his deeply embedded rage.

A circle of wood in the center of the land stood between the two groups like a buffer. Hands were on guns, puffs of air streaming into the lone portlights drilled into soft wood. The scent of the sea itself seemed to assuage you into flexing your fingers, the salt in the air made everything feel filmy and frigid.

It was Carol who spoke first. Her voice was carried by the wind. “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to call a meeting like this.”

“You violate my trust as if it’s nothing Miss Danvers. It’s clear you wanted to invoke something other than a slap on the wrist.”

“Well, there’s been talk around town that you’ve become smitten with your little pet project. Forgive me for wanting to test the theory myself. If the big bad Romanoff sisters are going soft, don’t you think I should know about it?”

Yelena shifted behind you and in turn, so did Monica. No one reached for their weapon, though you itched from the inside out. Natasha even lift an eyebrow at the statement.

“You wanted to discuss the Maroni property. I’m willing to sell, but only with the proper conditions.”

Clint had sat you down a few weeks after your first excursion. The two of you sat at the end of the very diner that you had quit. You never really tried the food but could stomach the fries- even admit to yourself that they were the best in town for their price point. The Maroni property was nothing more than a vacant lot, but it held more than that. It would make Carol the owner of 60% of the town instead of the meager 50% that split everything equally.

If there was any objection to her offer, no one would show it. Peace of mind would not be worth giving up her hold, but you were. Yelena could kick her frustrations out at home later, Clint and Kate were none the wiser to do anything but trust blindly; and you were right there with them.

“And what conditions are those?”

“The same conditions our parents have abided by all these years. There’s an honor in what we do and what we control and when you start crossing lines like the ones you did last night, you pour gasoline on an already raging fire.”

Carol tasked and took a step forward. This time the handle of your gun was in your palm. You held your stance. “So poetic, Natasha. You have been since grade school. I’ll take the land, but you’re mistaken if you think I’ll pay full price.”

Natasha clenched her jaw, her eyes darting to the rolling darkness of the sea. The waves were crashing violently against the wooden support beams. There were whitecaps miles from the shore and a storm was brewing that you could almost taste.

“Seventy-five. I won’t go any lower.”

“Alright, Seventy-five.”

Carol stuck her hand out over the circular center of the docks. It was a show of good faith, but your palm grew slick with sweat. You watched her with more care than you ever have before. Clint was rigid with tension, and you could practically hear Kate breathe nervously behind you.

Eventually, Natasha took the woman’s hand. She held it for a moment before leaning closer, whispering something that you couldn’t’ hear over the screeching of the waves. You could, however, see Carols face shaded by the port lights. The golden yellow color enveloped the stark coldness in her stare, the anger that flashed behind hazel irises.

When the gunshot sounded, Natasha’s back was to Carol and those who flanked her sides. It was such a quiet and muted sound that made your ears ring, but it was also a familiar sound. One that flashed back to that snowy night in Minnesota, the spray of pulpy blood on the startlingly white snow.

When Andrew had pulled the trigger, he looked Sheriff Deputy Edwards in the eyes and you had always wondered if the fear cut through the haze of alcohol that night. The split second where the bullet left the chamber, was there penance to be made? He’d dropped to his knees and let out a choking sound that you heard through the paned glass windows.

There wasn’t a wall of insulation, and wood, and glass to garble the sound of the gunshot that rang out tonight. The waves seemed to swallow up your own scream and the commotion that stretched into being.

Carol had waited until Natasha broke the handshake and turned away before she fired her weapon. Something so strong and ever-present was dropped to the sun-bleached wood in a matter of moments. Natasha didn’t make a sound.

“Get down!” Clint yelled next to you.

You caught the anger in Monica’s stare, the way that Carol had moved her target from Natasha, directly to you. At this specific point, with Natasha crumpled at your feet and the woman who had pulled the trigger sneering at you, was when something snapped within you.

A good shot, you had always been a good shot. Not only that, but you’d been efficient too. Clint had given up trying to drag you away and instead made quick work of those that were backing Carol. Kate and Yelena were gone; in the throws of darkness, into hand to hand combat. It left you alone with the woman that made everyone cower in fear.

Natasha’s blood had sopped onto your shoes. Tears threatened to well up in your eyes. She wasn’t breathing. You couldn’t tell if she was breathing. She had curled into herself and hidden her face from you and while you wanted to pull her into your arms at this very moment; that wasn’t possible.

An ongoing war was raging around you. Gunfire and screaming, and oddly enough, the pungent scent of fire. Carol watched, confident in her protection. She smiled at you, a wolfish and inhuman grin.

“Now, you can’t tell me this hasn’t changed your perspective.” She said, sweeping her arms out as if this were her kingdom- as if this chaos, this reign of gunfire and screams amongst the people you loved, was what she wanted all along.

“It has,” you raised your gun, pointing it directly to her chest. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. “I just watched you shoot a woman in the back. What’s noble about that?”

She cackled “Noble? That’s the problem with you Romanoff’s, there is nothing noble about this business. To win, you have to play dirty. To win you can’t be afraid to take what you want, and I can’t exactly do that through handshakes and good will. Can I?”

“I suppose not, but how are they supposed to trust you, hm? All of those you’ve promised the world to, the ones fighting for your wellbeing as we speak?”

“I would never betray them.”

“Oh, now, I don’t believe that.”

She frowned at you and readjusted her hold on her gun. In any other world, she would have fired her gun by now, but there was something deep within Carol that had been curious about you. About how Natasha seemed to soften around your presence. Still, she didn’t understand, but she wanted it all the same.

Her finger adjusted on the trigger. You watched every movement she made. There was another, calmer, war in her mind. She could kill you right here if she wanted to, but you couldn’t tell if she did or not.

Natasha let out a wounded noise at your feet; a wet choking sound as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. Carol lifted both eyebrows and glanced down at her. “You can save her or kill me. I don’t think you’re quick enough to do both.”

Kate let out a guttural scream from further down the dock that was followed by two more blows and flashes from a gun. Most of Carols lackeys had been incapacitated in one way or another. You clocked Clint’s trembling form as he kneeled between two dark masses. You couldn’t see Yelena, couldn’t’ even hear her, but she leaned into her silence, her rage.

By the time your eyes had met with Carol’s once more, she had made her choice. She pressed further down on the trigger, and in your blind edge of confidence you fired first. Both bullets were aimed at her stomach, and both hit their mark before her single shot found it’s way to your shoulder.

The pain shot through your arm, down the numbness of your fingers. A deep sound escaped the back of your throat. The force of the blast nearly brought you to your knees. Nearly. You’d felt the heat of the bullet rip through the gore of your shoulder- enter and exit in a clean way that would hiss in pain later, but it was no match for the adrenaline.

Carol let out a groan, one that bubbled with pain. You kicked her weapon away from her, letting it slide against the wooden dock. She blinked up at you dumbly, her hands pressing against the slowly growing crimson spot in the center of her stomach.

The color dripped from the wound on your shoulder, over the silver of the casing. A singular drop of red succumbed to the pull of gravity and landed against the smooth expanse of Carol’s collarbone. When she grinned, her teeth were stained with rust.

“Tell me, Carol, what do you see?” You pulled back the hammer, ignoring her sloppy chuckles and the frothy blood that foamed past her lips. “A broken waitress, or a trained killer?”

“Now you’re getting it…” she swallowed thickly, trying to quell the pain “It’s all about perspective.”

You pulled the trigger for a third, and final time that night. You were so trusting in your aim that you refused to look when you administered the final blow. Her head dropped to the side, the bullet finding it’s way right between her eyes.

Silence seemed to fall over the docks. You could hear the crashing of the waves and the seagulls that circled above at the scent of shed blood. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and the gun you wielded was dropped to the dock.

She’d been killed so easily. This big, hulking demon that loomed over the town, and over your life. It took nothing but a rage-filled trigger pull to end it all. Your heart was in your throat, blood rushing past your ears.

And then there was Natasha.

Natasha had shifted onto her back, her hand outstretched in your direction. You could hear the painful wheeze in each breath. Her skin was pale, a bloom of red at the corner of her lip. You wanted to kiss it away, to pull her as close as possible, but you were afraid to move her.

Your knees dug into the coarse wood, your palm finding purchase on her cheek. “Nat, baby, I need you to stay awake, okay?”

“The stars, you can see them so well out here.”

You frowned, glancing up at the velvety blue sky. The constellations were bright, making little pictures of lions, and archers, and long stretches of water. It was hard to see them with the perpetual glow of the city. But out here, just like the mansion, they made a map.

“Yeah, baby, you can.” You reached blindly for her hand. It was cold. “You can’t go to sleep. Just keep looking at the stars, for me. Clint! Lena!”

Your voice broke on the second call. Your face was damp with tears as you kept track of Natasha’s stunted breathing, and the tight grip she still held you with. She refused to let you go, and you did the same, pressing the warmth of your lips to her white knuckles.

Yelena was by your side. She was pale and shaking herself. There was a gash above her eye, dripping blood and drying against her cheek. There was a split in her lip, a forming bruise under her chin and against the length of her neck.

“ne ostavlyay menya, sestra. Ty sil'neye etogo. Drat'sya.”

“Should we call an ambulance?”

“No, no hospital.” Yelena shook her head “we do this on our own, just like we always have.”

Your fingers were caked in blood, a dried brown color that was ugly against the beauty of your shared bedroom with Natasha. You wanted to scrub them clean, watch as the water was tinted a toxic orange before it circled the drain, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

A glass of water was set on the small table next to you, and you fought back the urge to startle. You hadn’t heard anyone enter. There was a familiar spiced scent to Darcy that you picked up on before registering her presence. She nudged the glass closer to you and lowered herself into the other chair.

“You should really let Yelena look at that shoulder.” She said.

“It’s fine.”

You picked up the glass and considered swallowing down some of the room temperature water, but thought better of it. You held onto it because you could. It grounded you, the cloudy glass stained with coppery fingerprints.

“The news… they’re saying that a wealthy businesswoman snapped. Allegedly, she lured her employees down to the docks and killed them all before turning the gun on herself.”

“Tragic.” This time you did take a swallow of the water before setting it on the table.

Darcy watched you carefully. She wasn’t being judgmental, or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe. Her eyes were still darkened with exhaustion but filled with a deep kind of worry. She hesitated, moving to put her hand on your knee, but thinking better of it.

Instead, she directed her attention to Natasha’s unconscious form on the bed. Yelena had called in a private doctor, stubborn in her efforts. He worked mostly alone, and had hushed conversation with those in the room that could comprehend better than you could in your fuzzy state.

Kate had attempted to patch you up, but you pulled away with enough intensity for her to focus on licking her own wounds. Natasha was stable, she was alive. They weren’t sure if she would make it through the night- but you’d remain by her side until they were sure.

“I can’t lose her,”

The admission was whispered and shattered. You didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of Natasha not pulling through. She was the first person you’d met in years that not only accepted you, but pushed you to be a better version of yourself. She had a softness for Ronnie, a commanding nature to her presence.

Darcy cracked a small smile, “leave it to you to fall in love with a loan shark that has a pension for bullets. Something tells me that’s she’s more stubborn than even you. And if that’s the case, then she’ll make it.”

You reached out and grasped Darcy’s hand, allowing her to ground you. Pain ripped through your shoulder, the bandage that you had allowed Kate to apply was dotted with the wounds efforts to gush. Still, you squeezed as hard as you could manage, listening to the heart monitor that hummed in time with the grandfather clock in the corner.

She stayed with you while you fought to stave off sleep. At one point, Clint came in with a tray of food that lay mostly untouched on the dresser. Your eyes burned as you stared at the simple rise and fall of her chest, both feet planted on the floor.

Sixteen hours had passed. You’d paced the room, and at one point, finally allowed someone to address your wounds. It throbbed in time with your heart, which in-turn, mirrored Natasha’s. It was hour twenty when you saw any sign of life, and you nearly missed it, the fluttering of her eyes as they adjusted to the sun streaming into the room.

You’d rolled your head back, trying to quell the stiffness of your neck, the hushed growl escaped your lips. “Oh… fuck.”

“That’s a beautiful sound.”

To hell with your aching body. Natasha’s voice was so meek that you’d nearly missed it altogether. You were treated with a startling blast of green color. She stared at you inquisitively, trying to prop herself up on her elbows. You were quicker than her in this state, using your palm against her chest to gently force her back onto the mattress.

“Don’t try to move,”

“I don’t do well with orders, y/n.”

“God damn it, I know.”

She gave you a small smile at this, but allowed you to coax her back into a laying position. She let out a protest of pain as you placed your ear flush against her chest, assuring that this was real, that her heart was beating strong and consistently. And it was, it really was.

Natasha chuckled, and worked her hand through your hair. “It’s okay, Zaychik. I’m alright.”

“Nat, you were shot in the back twice. It’s going to be a long road to recovery. You’re lucky that it didn’t shatter your spine, hell you could have lost the ability to walk altogether-“

She cut you off, grabbing your chin and leading your lips to hers. She tasted of blood, of the slightest bit of antiseptic and artificial cherries. She tasted like home. You fretted to pull away, knowing that she had kissed you to ultimately shut you up, but really, did that matter?

Natasha frowned into the kiss and pulled away, her fingers had found the bandage on your shoulder, running across the cross section where your skin met gauze. “You’re hurt. She hurt you.”

“She got a good shot in but had terrible aim. Nothing but a flesh wound.”

“Flesh wounds can be dangerous, Malysh.”

“Mm, so they can.” A few moments passed, your forehead pressed against hers, happy to be in her presence. “What did you say to Carol… right before she…”

Natasha let out a deep sigh and winced at the exhalation. She laid her head on the pillow and glowered at the painted ceiling above you both. You remembered staring up at it after Natasha had exhausted you on more than one occasion. Right now, she was trying to find the words, just like you had tried so desperately to find your solace.

“I threatened her family the way she threatened mine. I thought better of her, I suppose, than to shoot a woman in the back. Though, I would have done the same with the threats I laid out. I just needed to be sure that she wouldn’t… couldn’t hurt you… Ronnie.”

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“Maybe not the Danvers family, but there are more just lurking in the shadows waiting for their chance to swoop in. They’re scared now, I’m sure. But fear only goes so far.”

“I’m in this for the long haul, if you’ll have me, of course.” You tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, careful of her wounds. “I don’t care if it’s the Russo’s, or the Sarkissian’s, or any other psycho family that tries to take your power away from you. They’ll have to go through me.”

Natasha chuckled, “Alright, quickdraw, don’t get too cocky. We’ll lay low for a little bit. Heal. Then we can talk about the future.”

Somehow, that was enough for you. Natasha waking up, speaking and smiling, and laughing would always be enough for you.

“Drop the gun,” Kate’s voice was shaking, her hands outstretching in front of her in the ultimate sign of surrender. She looked vulnerable, the sun beating down on her shoulders and her stormy eyes catching the reflection of the water. “I’m unarmed, this isn’t cool, man.”

Her protests didn’t’ seem to matter one bit. Cooper pumped the front end of his gun and aimed the ice cold water directly at Kate’s stomach. His action was a silent call to the brigade of children that ascended on her; some carrying water guns like Coop, and others nailing her with neon colored balloons.

“Ah, the inhumanity!” She fell to the grass, scooping Ronnie up in the process. “Shield me, kid!”

You watched the girl with fondness, fighting back until the end. Clint chuckled behind you, flipping the burgers that had browned evenly on one side. The scent was intoxicating, and though you wouldn’t’ admit your hunger outright; your mouth was watering.

Yelena had ascended on the situation, taking a super soaker and dousing the clan that was attacking, and winning, Kate. She tucked Ronnie under her arm like a football and started to dash away towards the fence, out of earshot.

Clint’s wife, Laura, was pouring a glass of lemonade for Darcy. The two of them watched the scene from poolside chairs with as much amusement as you carried. They spoke with smiles on their faces, cheeks flushed from the heat of the day.

Warm arms wrapped around your midsection, a chin resting on your shoulder. The scent of sunscreen filled your lungs. You had always felt innate safety in Natasha’s embrace. She kissed behind your ear once, and then the side of your neck.

“She’s good with them.” Natasha purred.

“I think it’s because she’s a kid at heart.”

“And you let her protect your assets?” Clint tsked as he loaded the burgers onto a nearby plate. “Seriously, without Yelena training her I never would have taken the safety off her gun.”

“I can hear you!” Kate called back, shifting Ronnie to her other hip. “They are being so rude. I’m more than capable of being a degenerate.”

“Degenerate,” Yelena scoffed “Kate Bishop, you’ve invented the word.”

You shook your head, turning in Natasha’s arms before you draped your own over her shoulders. She wore that same black bikini that she had on when she proclaimed your new rank in her little empire. It seemed so long ago- and she was certainly marred with new markings to prove this. Your fingers tracing gently over the healed scars on her stomach.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against hers, “Thank you for this.”

“Mm,” She hummed into the embrace “For what, detka?”

You deepened the embrace, whispering against her “resolution.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Yelena Belova #Katelena #Marvel #Mafia au

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alicerosejensen · 4 months

Note

OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH

I JUST HAD A CUTE LITTLE SCENARIO IDEA. It is about vendetta! leon and young(20’s) reader series! What about reader sitting on the bathrooms counter/vanity while helping Leon shave? His hands are resting on readers tighs or around her waist as he watches her focused eyes. I THINK THAT WOULD BE ADORABLE PLS.

And i don’t think this counts as an ask, but if you’ll want to do something with this im not complainig hahah 👁👁

Warning: Fluff, mention of injuries, age difference (implied but not mentioned), Leon!Vendetta, Leon gets taken care of (this man needs a little love and devotion); talking about nothing.

I'm sorry, I'm too lazy. I write slowly and because of some eternally tired condition

Coming back to you after so many weeks of silence was wrong, or at least unfair. To tell the truth, Leon did not feel that he should have done it at all, the doctor recommended bed rest, but it was all the same. It was not the first time he had been thrown like a rag doll, although this time he felt like he was on the edge, dangerously balancing between life and death, when Aris's claws almost pierced his flesh. At least Leon thought he was going to die thinking about you- the only good thing in his life in recent years.

He wasn't even sure if you would let him in, but when he broke out of the dark tunnel, the whole flight he thought only about how nice it was to return to the person who, for some reason, cared about him. You weren't his wife, you weren't his work partner, you were just a girl. The girl he was afraid to fall in love with because he always thought that this love would hurt you. Although it seems that only one was injured, and it was Leon himself, who came up with stupid rules for himself to protect you.

And here he is, you look at him without any malice, although it would be worth it. Leon really doesn't think he has the right to show up like this without an invitation, but he does, looking into your eyes with a guilty look, hoping that you won't drive him away and let him lick his wounds while he lets you love him tenderly.

"Come in," you nod head, letting him into your tiny apartment, in which Leon felt better than at home.

Although it looked more like a lone wolf's lair. It was much more comfortable and even somehow warmer with you.

Taking a step, Leon feels not like a government dog, but an ordinary person who is taken by the hand and let into a small corner of paradise. Maybe it will last a day, two or a week, but he will be a little happy and loved.

"Should I heat up your dinner?" You ask casually, as if he wasn't ignoring you and running away to drown his problems in alcohol. "Leon?"

"No, I'm not hungry."

"Coffee?" Again you offer him, but he just shakes his head negatively as he sits down on the chair in front of you.

"No"

Maybe you think he came here to end all the little things that were between you, but no. He just needs you as a salvation, otherwise his head will drown in regret.

All Leon wants is for his fight not to be in vain, but every time someone else takes the place of the bad guy, and corporations continue to create viruses that turn people into bioweapons. He runs his hand over his face, feeling the annoying stubble under his palm that should have been shaved off, but having drowned in alcohol, he didn’t want to do anything.

“I just,” he looks at you with a hazy look but completely sober, “Can I stay here? With you?”

Who are you to refuse him? But be honest with yourself, you want him to stay here, especially since his beaten appearance really said that he was better off not being alone. Under the T-shirt, bruises and abrasions on the face and arms and what appears to be a dislocated shoulder are visible. In any case, wanted to believe that Leon didn’t break any bones.

"You know that my answer is yes"

Leon doesn't smile. Just eternally grateful that he won't have to sit in his dark, lonely apartment lying on his bed again after taking a strong painkiller.

He sleeps well with you, he doesn't have nightmares, and he's just comfortable here. You can turn on the TV, watch an old movie with you and lie quietly, knowing that he will not be called anywhere until he recovers. There was work left in New York for B.S.A.A and TerraSave, but not for him, besides, he didn't take a shower before coming to you, fortunately you had some of his things, including a spare toothbrush and a new disposable razor.

And that was the problem. The problem with his shoulder, which you kept looking at without stopping, as if he had grown a third arm.

“Working moments,” Leon muttered, feeling that he really wouldn’t refuse your dinner. “Can I ask you something else?"

“Yeah, sure.” You really never refused him.

Arias threw him against the wall, clearly sparing no effort, but thanks to the adrenaline, Leon didn’t feel much pain and was able to maneuver and attack this crazy bastard. The truth is that falling from a motorcycle does not benefit his body, which is why when everything calmed down, Leon realized that it was simply difficult for him to pick up the very razor that was now in your hands and do such a simple job as shaving.

“Just stay still, or better yet, sit down,” you said loudly, seeing that Leon didn’t like the touch on his neck when you tried to cover him with shaving foam.

It was already like instinct when they touched his neck. Leon immediately jerked to the side when he felt someone else's palm on his skin, as if the touch caused him pain. He never talked about how often he was grabbed by the throat, but from his reaction one could guess that this was a sensitive area that he did not like to trust to anyone but himself.

“I can’t shave you if you twitch like a little kid who doesn’t want to wash his face,” you joked, using your finger to spread the shaving foam you had on your hand onto the tip of his nose.

"Just...a reflex"

You thought about it, biting your lip, but Leon just exhaled, gathering his strength, knowing that you weren't going to kill him. He trusted you, so he calmly sat down on a small chair, putting his hands on your waist, trying to relax.

You saw how tense his muscles were, as if at any moment he was ready to make a jerk, his fingers squeezed the fabric of your tank top while you distributed foam over his face, trying not to overuse the product at the site of his abrasions that have not yet healed. When that was done, the razor in your hands gently touched the skin of his neck and gently shaved off excess hair from his face with smooth movements against the coarse hairs.

Carefully avoiding all the cuts, you managed not to hurt him. Step by step, you constantly rinsed the razor to remove all the hairs from it and walk it over the places where the stubble still remained. The most difficult thing for Leon was his neck - he felt too exposed and vulnerable, but when it was over and you moved to another zone, it seemed to you that he even exhaled.

In the end, getting carried away with the case, you didn't even notice how Leon was gradually able to relax and carefully watched your movements, finding you charming when you are so focused only on him. Maybe it's a little selfish, but for him you look so beautiful that he thinks about asking you to shave him again in a week when the stubble grows back, just to watch you take care of him again.

It took you a few minutes to catch his eye when you were completely done. The blue eyes stared at you with such attention that for a second you might have thought that something interesting was written on your face since he was looking at you like that. It's a little awkward and you look at him in response, stupidly blinking your eyes when you wipe his face with a towel, which makes a smile bloom on your lips and you look away.

"What's funny?"

To be honest, there really wasn't anything funny, it was just embarrassing for you.

"Did you leave me something like a mustache?" He joked and you burst out laughing

"Good idea! I'll do it next time."

Leon chuckled, because as a temporary joke, you could do that. That's just the accumulated fatigue that fell like a heavy boulder on him did not allow him to rejoice as much as you do.

"You're obviously going to amuse Chris," He sighed. You threw the razor into the sink and froze for a moment when you felt his head pressed against your stomach, relaxing in layers as you run your fingers through his hair "Thank you"

"No problem," you kissed the top of his head, helping him stand up, noticing how he hisses from the pain in his back when he straightens up.

"Fuck." Leon hisses in pain, catching his breath, realizing that maybe he should drink more painkillers and let a loved one take care of him. "I think I'm catching up with my age"

"Maybe. But I think you should rest and follow the doctor's recommendations at least until you stop needing painkillers."

"Until the next mission, you mean?"

You didn't say anything because you didn't know much about his work. After laying Leon on the bed, he finally exhaled with relief after looking at you with secret gratitude. Literally the only person who gives him warmth and comfort, and maybe he should come to you instead of washing down his bitterness in a bar. Thinking about it, Leon even thought that if he had stayed with you, he would not be suffering from his injuries now, however… What would have happened to Chris and Rebecca? But it's too late to regret what happened. He's alive and he's with you now. He lies in your bed listening to the usual chatter while the TV is on in the background and you settle down next to him bringing an extra blanket and pillow.

In the end, you just plopped down next to him, thoughtfully looking at the picture on the TV, pulling the blanket over yourself. Leon moved a little closer to you, hugging you around the waist, nuzzling your cheek, covering his eyes from fatigue. Of course you knew that he works for the government, but never what he does specifically. You saw the "DSO" marking on his gun, but you were afraid to ask him about it, although the fact that Leon has the right to carry and store weapons freely already hinted that he does not work in some average position and his injuries… one is worse than the other.

It is difficult to unravel the thoughts of this person, especially when he is completely immersed in himself. You know that he has some problems with alcohol and a couple of times you even quarreled about it, after which Leon always apologized by coming to you with flowers and other gifts. You turn off the light in the room, turning to him, meeting the tired gaze of blue eyes.

"Thank you. I rarely say this, but I'm grateful for everything you do for me."

"I know."

"Maybe you should find a better guy than me, but" he snuggled even closer and there was fear in his words, as if you could make him leave right now, "but I want to be with you. I can't lead a normal life, but being here with you feels like I'm becoming normal. Who he was before September 30, 1998"

"And what happened on September 30th?" you ask, putting your hand on his palm, smiling, and immediately see how noticeably even in the dark his face changes, becoming more gloomy.

"My first day working as a cop. I overslept and was late for my first day at work"

He could have said a lot and revealed his soul to you without fear if he hadn't been bound by the government. Raccoon City is classified information, and even no matter how much he values you, you shouldn't know anything about it. Fortunately, you do not pry into the truth, leaving his personal border untouched, and for this Leon is infinitely grateful. Maybe in a couple of weeks, when his injuries stop being so painful and his condition improves, he'll even laugh at what kind of mustache you made for him while shaving him again. He will really be happy and he will not need alcohol in this.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon resident evil #resident evil #resident evil x reader #reader #resident evil leon #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy vendetta #resident evil vendetta

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fourmoony · 1 month

Note

hello, you could do something with Sirius by going to meet the reader's parents (Sirius was insecure about this), but he is welcomed and the reader's whole family seems to love him

thanks for requesting, sweetheart!! 847 words f!reader

this is short and thrown together worse than Sirius' cookies. sorry.

Sirius is crowded around your niece, boxing her in against the counter as she stands on her cooking stool. He'd been the only one left with enough energy to make cookies with her after dinner. It's sweet, the gentle tone he uses with her, the patience he has that allows her to do everything by herself. He doesn't balk when she spills all of the measured flour straight onto the counter, just hands her the bag with extra caution and tells her he'll tidy it up later, that mistakes happen.

They're in their own little world, unaware, or simply uncaring, of the eyes on them. You know a little about Sirius' past; his horrible family, his traumatic upbringing, how he never truly felt loved by anyone except his younger brother until he ran away and the Potters took him in. It would've been enough for you to assume the idea of doing such an activity, that requires such patience and acceptance of mess, would send Sirius spiralling. Except, he's embraced it openly, he was more than willing, and he seems to be truly enjoying himself.

In all the time you've known Sirius, you've known him to love loud and abrasive. He's jagged around the edges, a bright, shattered light of chaos and pure energy. He's over the top, loves too hard, is quick to anger. But with your niece, it's the first time you've ever seen Sirius quiet, soft. He's all gentle movements and murmured encouragements, and you like this version of him, but you find yourself waiting for your Sirius to return. The Sirius who can command a room with a single smile, whose laugh sounds more like a barking doberman, whose presence takes up every last drop of attention.

He'd been so nervous about meeting your family. Understandable, given his own upbringing. But, he never had any reason to worry. Not with the way your sister and mother watch him, black top and jeans covered in flower, dried egg white smeared across his cheek, and still, a wide smile across his lips every time your niece turns around, as if checking he's still there. Still encouraging her. He always is.

"You think you'll have one soon?" Your sister asks. There's a sly smirk on her face, as though the sight before you was purposefully designed to make you broody.

You answer with a shrug. You're not broody, but theres a glow to your heart with the idea of this being healing for Sirius. "Not sure. We've never spoken about it."

Your family don't know about Sirius' past, at his request. He'd wanted to earn their respect, not receive it through pity. You can't wait to tell him they respect him beyond what he could've ever imagined. He'll be so happy. He'd spent the whole way over fretting about whether he'd picked the right outfit, the right aftershave, what he should and shouldn't say. You didn't have the heart to tell him that your family, whether or not they'd met him before, already loved him, simply because of how happy he made you.

"You'd make cute babies." Your sister tilts her head to the side, very obviously ogling your boyfriend and you scoff.

"Subtle."

She shrugs, unfazed.

"I'm just saying. No man I've ever met has the patience for toddlers the way he does." She picks up her wine glass, takes a pointed sip, eyebrows raised.

"We'll see." You reply.

"He makes you happy. It's hard to watch your daughters grow up, navigate life and love," Your mother chips in, hands splayed out across the dining table, "It's hard to watch them fall, pick themselves back up, and fall again. Hard to watch them trust the wrong people. But I have no doubt that man would ever hurt you. He, perhaps, loves you more than anyone in this world."

It's a nice thought. The idea of Sirius loving you most. Your eyes find his, conversation coming to a halt as he lifts your niece out of her cooking stool and she toddles over to your sister.

The cookies are in the oven, and Sirius has gotten straight to the task of cleaning up. You join him, piling bowls and utensils into the dish washer whilst he wipes the copious amounts of spilled flour off of the counter.

"You think tonight went okay?" He asks, nervous eyes flicking to where your mother and Sister are fussing over your niece.

You lean across, lips pressed to the cracked egg white smudged across his cheek, "More than. They love you."

Your boyfriend breathes out in relief, "Thank god, because I have no idea how to make cookies and I need them to already like me when they taste them, in case they fail."

A startled laugh tumbles out of your lips and Sirius follows. Your Sirius, loudest laugh in the room, the man with the biggest heart you've ever known - even if it's bruised and battered.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, babe."

Sirius tsks, "You say that now, let's just wait and see if I give anyone salmonella."

#sirius black #marauders #marauders fic #marauders era #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #sirius black request #sirius black oneshot #fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black x f!reader #fourmoonys asks

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my-corneroftheworld · 1 year

Text

Child without love

Summary: Namor finds a marine biologist with the powers to control water and deep knowledge of the sea and is intrigued.

Word count: 1,1k

Tags: Smut in later chapters (no minors allowed), "water-bender" reader x Namor after the events from Wakanda forever, possessive Namor, mutant reader, talk of climate change, asphyxiation, the deep sea being a bit scary, war, violence, harsh language, Wakanda forever spoilers, the usage of y/n, afab reader

Ps. if you read the preview before you can start reading after the divider. I barely made any changes other than grammar-related and wording. If you want more chapters I would greatly appreciate some constructive criticism in the comments

Masterlist

Chapter 1

I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. "You can't just go behind my back like that! There are set rules and hierarchies that keep our organization running smoothly!" Adeoye yelled while he was walking frantically back and forth. He never could handle stress well. " You're little outburst may have cost us our one shot to get the right people's attention!"

I want to say I'm sorry and that it was rude and petty of me. But I couldn't because I did what I thought was right. They have ignored our every attempt to better their policies and today's presentation only opened my eyes to how blissfully ignorant they allowed themselves to be. He stopped his pacing and rubbed his eyes under his big ill-fitting glasses.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked abrasively. I knew that he wasn't really angry at me. He was frustrated with everything. The board director's nonchalant attitude, the over-looming doom of the deadline we've got in 2 months and my little outburst were certainly not making things better.

"No" I answered.

"Well if that's the case then you give me no choice other than to suspend you for 2 weeks" he sighed. I wasn't surprised. Cussing out the board due to their lack of ethical consideration whilst ignoring every warning I and others have worked tirelessly on proving wasn't really considered to be professional. " I understand," I say solemnly and start picking up my notes. 5 years of studying and 3 years of diligent work have come to this, being pushed aside so that rich people can profit off of dangerous means at the cost of the health of our seas. And having no power to change anything

I drove home in silence, with nothing but the wind from the window creek as my companion. I think I'll have to practice today to let off some steam. After arriving and leaving my notes by the kitchen counter, I changed into my swimsuit and went down to the beach. Moving here was mainly so I could get to work within 15 minutes but having the sea outside my back door has definitely changed my life. I never liked using my powers in front of others. Mutants aren't really welcome unless they're wearing suits and have fancy names. So there aren't many moments where I can use them to their fullest extent. When I do I feel at home. I feel free of everything. My worries and concerns are washed away.

Once I reach the water I breathe in and allow myself to feel its pull. Imitating the waves with my hands till it starts to imitate me, following my every command. I slowly start walking in allowing myself to be surrounded then I dive keeping the water from reaching my face and requiring no movements though I still haven’t passed 5 minutes at a time. Maybe I’ll make it at 6 today. I decide to explore a little further than usual, seeing what I can find on the sea floor and cleaning up small things that shouldn’t be there.

It was then I noticed it. The entity that has been watching me from afar. It barely moved and I couldn’t really make out its shape. But I knew it was looking at me and it stayed completely still. I was scared. My bubble was slowly shrinking so I began to slowly make my way back to shore. As soon as I did the shadow got closer and closer which made me anxious to reach land. I finally burst into the sea, gasping for air. I lay down on the beach, trying to catch my breath then a voice called out.

“Who are you?”

______________________________________________________________

I quickly turned around and faced what seemed to be a man. Out of panic, I summoned water at my side and launched it at him with full force. He then began to levitate and dodge my advance with.. wings attached to his feet? Shocked I ceased fire and looked at him again. He was otherworldly. His dark eyes stared at me with a hint of confusion and irritation. His hair was a dark brown and wet from the swim, framing his face ever so slightly. The sunset made his warm terra-cotta skin glow along with his pearls and gold accessories. He was beautifully serene, like straight out of a dream. If I didn't know any better I would’ve thought that he was a god. As I scanned his body so did he with mine before stopping at my eyes demanding an answer to his question.

“Who are you?” He asked again urgently, stepping closer to my frame. I tried to move back as a response.

“I- I’m y/n l/n.”

“That is not what I meant. I mean where are you from? Are there more of you?”

“I’m from here. I’m not sure what you mean by more of me” I answered hesitantly. Why is he asking all these questions? I mean from the looks of he’s most definitely some kind of mutant. He’s a bit too good of a swimmer to think otherwise. Not to mention the literal full-functioning wings at his feet.

“More who can manipulate water.” he clearifies.

“No.. I mean none that I know of” I say and start rising slowly from the ground. “Who are you?.. Are you perhaps like me?” I have never met another mutant before. Let alone someone connected to water. Hope starts swelling up. Maybe..just maybe I am not alone.

“No I am not like you. As for who I am it is not for you to know.” He says bluntly. And just like that my sliver of hope is gone. “Then what do you want?” I ask while noticing he’s pointed ears adorned with what seemed to be jade earrings.

“That is yet to be decided.” He begins circling me around slowly. “There are threats that are making it hard for me to perform my duties and your power, though meager, may develop into what I need to avoid any more...complications.”

Duties? Complications? What the hell is he talking about? He studied my face, assessing it possibly looking for a way to find out what I was thinking. Does he work for the government? Is that it? I’ve heard of mutant agents who were forced to do sketchy shit that higher-ups didn't want to be associated with.

“Sorry, I’m not interested. Though I am grateful for the consideration to recruit me, I have my own “duties” to attend to.” After voicing my intentions I decided it was best to leave. As soon as I turned around I heard him say. “I’m afraid I cannot take no as an answer” and before I could react, everything went dark and my last thought was how warm he felt in his arms as he took me back to the sea.

#kukulcan #ku'kulkhan mcu x reader #namor x reader #mcu namor

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

VA Reader pulling a harmless prank on seemingly innocent yan-

Shhh.

"Be quiet, it's ringing!" Stifling your own baited laughter, you press a finger to your lips as you hold the phone to your ear - shushing your partner in crime. Huddled together on their couch, you and your accomplice hover over their phone like two kids. about to take part in the same comedic pastime. Similar to those fictitious children you both had trouble containing your excitement for the mischief planned to unleash. You angle the speaker below your lips as the line connects.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is Y/n in today?"

The line goes dead.

"What?" You dial the number again, beginning to wonder if this was as good an idea as when it was shoved in your head. You've been in the voice acting business for a couple months now - a lifelong passion finally realized with dedication and training. Paid roles were far in between, but you had fun with what you did, and were on the road to starting an asmr channel with the assistance of a good friend. Being somewhat of a prankster, that same person suggested you prank call your job and already had a script to boot. It was a little hard to say no with the effort they put into it.

"Hello?"

You regain peace of mind as the phone clicks. Too late to go back now. Once again you relax yourself, swallowing as you breath through your nose and draw your voice from the reaches of your throat.

"Hi, I called just a minute ago? I was asking about someone who may work there?"

The line goes quiet - again. You would've suspected them to have hung up again if not for the labored breathing on the other end. Your coworker forces out a chuckle.

"I'm sorry, nobody by that name works here."

One thing you learned after spending so much time together with this particular coworker was they were a terrible liar. It's what made you glad they're the one that picked up on top of their obvious caution in fear of your safety. Others would be glad to rat out your location if it meant less time take out of their schedule. If anything, the person you were speaking to now would drop everything to help you out. Just the type of person they were.

"Are you sure? We went out the weekend and they mentioned this place while we were talking. They suddenly stopped answered my calls after chatting not stop and I'm worried about them."

You read over your notes to pass the time until they reply. Wow, your friend really thought of everything. At this point you could possibly wing things out, but they had witten heavily in-depth paragraphs detailing possible scenarios and what to say as a result. Real gushy things too. If it weren't for their goofy nature you'd start to wonder what the true motives behind this prank were.

"maybe that's for the best."

"Pardon?" Your voice falters. That certainly wasn't what you expected. They seemed abrasive from the beginning of the call, but that drop in their tone was something you've never heard from them before.

"What do you mean by that?"

Your coworker mutters something you can't quite make out. "It means take a hint. They clearly aren't interested in you if there's no explanation for their disappearance - not that you deserve one. Who the fuck do you l think you are?"

Your hand clinches around the phone hearing that subtle hiss in their voice. Your friend grips your shoulder, worry clear as day. You wanted to drop the act, but had to see this out. "Look, I just wanted to know if they were available-"

A heavy object clatters to the floor.

"Stop. Saying their name. If they won't speak to you then you're as good as dead to them, and I'll make that happen if you don't learn your place. I won't let anyone ruin what we have..."

Your friend reaches for the phone. "Maybe we should hang up-"

"If you hang up this phone I will slit your throat. Your friend can be a witness before I do the same to them. Maybe they'll get a grave. I will hang you out to bleed like the worthless pig you are and leave your body for neighbors to find. You don't deserve to go missing. A cold case is more than you'll ever be worth it you think you can take what's mine. I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill yo-"

"It was just a joke!" You hang up the phone and chuck it onto the table like a hot coal. It worms back into your hold with the vibration of dozens of texts flooding in, crashing to the carpet as you recoil from the shock. Yours starts to blow up with messages too, screen still opened on their chat from when you punched in their number.

"Was that you?"

"You're doing that voice acting thing, right? You really had me fooled. Haha."

"I was messing around too. Your safety is really important to me so I panicked."

"Are you still coming into night?"

"Y/n?.... Please?"

"Hey, Answer me... I'm sorry."

"I think I cut myself picking up the glass I broke. Can you take me to a hospital? Please.."

You shove your phone in your pocket before your eyes can register the picture loading on screen. "I gotta go"

You're out the door before your friend can get out a single word. Ten minutes later, they receive a request for a window call from an unknown number. They answer it.

All that's on screen is the trail of red an empty bottle of food coloring. Your coworker holds up a peace sign off screen.

"How deep should I make that grave?"

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n

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misc-obeyme · 4 months

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Here's a kinda angsty thought I have with dateables!

Okay, the brothers and side characters (not Luke ofc) love MC, yeah? And MC makes it very clear the brothers are their first choice whenever they have to choose between them and the side characters.

Imagine Diavolo, Barbatos and Solomon hell maybe even Thirteen when they realize no matter what they do, the brothers will always be on top for MC. Sure, MC is great with them but they only truly relax and show their real self with the brothers and it shows.

What do you think? [BTW have a great night/day!]

MY FRIEND I AM SO SORRY.

Apparently this ask was sent way back in October?!?! It only just showed up today!!! Tumblr, whyyy??

I got your other ask today, too and I will answer that one as well! But I think this must have been the mystery message my ask box kept telling me was there, but I could never see it?! It was like you have 1 message, but then it'd also be like your ask box is empty and I was like which is it?!

I'm so sorry if you thought I just ignored your ask 😭

That is absolutely not my style at all, so a note to everyone who has ever sent me an ask: if I don't respond in maybe a week, please send it again!! I usually answer asks within a couple days, but I'm saying a week just in case I have some extenuating circumstances lol.

ANYWAY lemme actually answer your ask from two months ago! 😭

I think about the potential of this scenario when I wanna get angsty lol.

So here is what I think it would be like for the side characters realizing that MC will always choose the brothers over them:

Diavolo: Ahh, our prince would be so gentlemanly about it. Especially if MC ended up with Lucifer specifically. But either way, I think he would prioritize MC's happiness over his own. He would see MC's choice as a good one. He would see the way the brothers love MC. He would get sad about it sometimes and I think he'd have some sleepless nights where he wishes MC was beside him. But in the end, he would focus on his job and let MC go. Seeing them be comfortable and happy with the brothers would bring him a sort of bittersweet happiness, too.

Barbatos: I think Barbatos would withdraw. I think he would become quieter and even more formal around MC than he already was. He respects MC's choice. I also feel like he would deliberately restrain himself in order to keep the peace. He cares too much about Diavolo, the brothers, & the state of the Devildom to really fight for MC's affections.

Simeon: Quiet suffering, but willing to cry about it when he needs to. Like I see him being honest with himself about how much it hurts, but never letting anyone else know. He would watch MC with a soft fondness, but from afar. Willing to let them be with the brothers if that's what makes them happiest.

Solomon: To be expected. Solomon already believes this. He already thinks MC is going to choose the brothers over him every time. He's prepared for that inevitability. It still breaks his heart to watch them slip away from him. Deep down, it probably devastates him. But he's determined to be there for them in any way he can, no matter what that looks like. And he would never let them know how he really feels... unless he got drunk maybe.

Thirteen: I see her being kinda like, Fine! Who needs you anyway!? But she says it with tears in her eyes. She gets abrasive as a response. And at first she might be a little stand offish with MC after she realizes. But I think in the end, her love for MC would soften her again, but it would hurt, too. She would need some time to transition herself to "friends only" status.

Raphael: I see his response as being kind of a mix between Simeon and Barb. Like, he's going to accept MC's choice and wants them to be happy, but he's also going to have to restrain himself from fighting for MC. Mr Spears does not strike me as the kinda guy who would just let someone go if he really loved them. But he does seem to be the kind of guy who cares a lot about doing the right thing. And I think he would consider letting MC go to be the right thing.

Mephisto: I could see him trying to push MC away himself, in an effort to protect himself from getting hurt. Like oh who would want a human anyway? Only fallen angels, obviously. But that's not what he really thinks, it's just a coping mechanism. And he can't keep it up anyway. He's secretly soft for MC. So I see him just transitioning to hating the brothers. Not going out of his way to make their lives difficult, but not helping them out either. Only being nice to MC. Keeping that pain inside because he can't admit it even to himself.

Nooo I made myself sad lol. I guess that's the point of angst though, huh??

Anyway, I am very fascinated by this topic! Once again, I'm sorry you had to wait so long for the response, I'm still so annoyed at Tumblr lol.

#I'm glad I finally got the ask though #because I like talking about these things lol #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me side characters #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me raphael #obey me mephistopheles #avatar0fpr1de #misc answers

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good4olivia · 2 years

Text

dark!aemond hc's

warnings: late night thoughts, not rlly edited, typos, gaslighting, aemond is a manipulative lil shit, but idc i would do aything for this man, this is the last time i write straight on the tumblr lol

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!maid!reader

you were the only maid he tolerated, you didn't stare at him or try to talk to him, you only did your job. he liked that about you, so much in fact that when the septa moved you to work in the kitchens, aemond threw a fit about it.

"who are you?! where is y/n?" he would yell at the unsuspecting maid in his chambers. she only lasted an evening before you were returned to aemond.

"why did you agree to leave? do you not like being here?" he questioned you, watching as you folded his clothes.

"no, my prince. i simply go where the septa tells me to go, she told me to go work in the kitchens, i went there." you didn't look up at him, you weren't scared that the prince would hurt you but you certainly didn't appreciate the intense look in his eyes

"i don't give a shit what the septa says, you're not to go somewhere else. from now on, you're only job is to look after me"

after that, things changed between you and aemond. before, he would simply just watch you - bend down under his bed, or see your cleavage when you are pouring his wine but now - now, he will touch you. simple, innocent (not really) touches that made your skin crawl.

one night, after he had had too much to drink, he asked you to spend the night in his bed. "just to sleep, my love. i just want to be close to you. don't you want to be close to me?"

you just wanted to sleep in your own quarters, your bed was nothing compared to his, but it was yours

apparently you had taken too long to answer, "i must've been mistaken to believe perhaps you felt the same but how could you? i am disfigured and abrasive, a lady such as yourself could never-"

"no, no of course not my prince. i'm sorry i was just... well honestly i was surprised you asked, i believed my... feelings for you to be only one-sided."

the smile on his face after you said made your stomach errupt in butterflies, you weren't sure which kind

he watched you slip out of your dress, only in your undergarments he could make out your tender body so much more clearly, he already felt his nightpants tighten

aemond did not keep his promise to 'just sleep', when you laid next to him he pulled you close, kissed your hair and gently guided your hand to his cock, "you're so beautiful." he whispered in your hair. "do you feel what you do to me, my flower?"

you moved your hand up and down, his breaths getting sharper and quicker, eventually, he finished as he was kissing, sucking on your neck

you felt ashamed at the wetness pooling down at your core, even more so at the moans that left you as he slipped his fingers in you, "does that feel good my love?" he said, god his voice had never sounded so good.

ever since that night, aemond had barely let you leave his chambers. everyone knew you belonged to him, aemond made no efforts to hide it, he simply did not care.

you, on the other hand, had to deal with jealous and petty maids, making your job harder, as well as cruel remarks from alicent.

as much as your time with aemond was fun, you wished for life before - not that you could ever speak your mind about that. anytime you said something remotely close to wanting some more freedom, he would blow up

"freedom for what? hmm? what can anyone give you that i can't? you're lucky i chose you. "

his outbursts would always be followed by his apologies after a few cups of wine,

"my love please forgive me. i just can't fathom losing you and when you say things like wanting to spend some nights in your old room, what am i supposed to think?"

"i'm sorry my prince, i did not think. i won't bring it up again." he kissed you deeply after that, cupping your face in his hands.

" i don't care what my mother says, you will be my wife. would that make you happy? us being married?"

"oh of course my love, nothing would make. me happier than being your wife."

two moons later, you were wed. aemond had given your family some gold in exchange for the loss of income (now that you were a princess, you were dismissed of your duties)

"i can't wait to see you full with my child." he would say to before finally taking you fully

he vowed to never father basters so before the wedding, he didn't fuck you, only the other stuff

no, you weren't allowed to leave the chambers without him, no any hope of you returning to work you enjoyed was long gone but somewhere down the road, you did end up falling in love with him.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #house of the dragon

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rontra · 23 days

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How does failteacher Yuri interact with the greater plot of persona 5? I remember Toriumi mentioning 'some weird shit in 2010', but do the two of them have to deal with stuff like Kamoshida's change of heart and the principal's death?

the current policy is that unless something directly and immediately relevant comes up the answer is "it doesn't"

for 2 reasons. number one is that i don't feel like binding myself to the month-by-month timeline of p5-the-game in too much detail, because i'm lazy, and making my AU up as i go (lol). and the second reason is that observing the plot from a completely uninitiated unrelated POV is just not very interesting to me....... orz

one important thing about my failteacher AU is that it's a casual n sloppy style(!!) project that i do this way because it's fun (and as soon as i stop having fun i will stop making it). the vibe of creating it is just as important as the vibe of reading it. my worry is that committing too hard to ~The P5 Plot Is Happening Among Us~ would have me too distracted by logistics and timeline puzzles that aren't even relevant to the story i'm trying to tell, and suck the fun out of the project for me...

due to the year difference btween the 2 games, the plot of P3 did happen in 2009-2010 (the "weird shit" comment was in a doodle but yes it did happen and parts of it will be Main Comic Material later when relevant) (and i think its obvious enough from comics like #3 and general characterization that the Hermit 1-10 arc took place) (BUT MODIFIED IN VERY IMPORTANT PLACES. LOL) but obviously toriumi was an uninitiated & unrelated POV to that game so she doesn't really know that much about it outside of the parts that directly impacted her (which to be fair. are pretty serious)

p5 is much scarier because its looming on the horizon in FRONT of us and i hate being confined by a tangentially-related-at-best timeline. directly dealing with stuff like the fallout of palace 1 is a MAYBE? but ONLY because there are tangible Relevant consequences for -us- (more scrutiny placed on shujin teachers -> ms chouno gets on kawakami's ass, etc)

im gonna be real withyou i didnt even remember the principal dies. MDHNBFGB sorry to this man

all in all its just like. 99% of the plot of p5 is stuff these people are not privy to (kawakami's % is removed due to her no longer being joker's confidant thanks to hermit meddling) + committing to that timeline too hard would be abrasive to the comic + im much more versed in p3 minutiae anyway (especially later on in the p5 year). so its kind of like. well. just try not to Expect anything too major xD

if smthg catches my interest and i can work with it to make an interesting development, sure. but in the end its like why would i risk binding myself to specific points of a timeline and incurring Untold Rammys when i could simply not do that to myself. you know 😭

HOWEVER. FOR UNRELATED REASONS THAT ARE IMPORTANT BUT MAY OR MAY NOT PAY DIVIDENDS LATER (<- what did he mean by this?) it is seeming INCREASINGLY LIKELY that we might in fact currently be in the autumn -before- p5, meaning joker enrolls come spring in a few months and the game starts then.

^this paragraph directly contradicts everything above it but its fine. i have my reasons. just don't hold me to it TOO closely. i don't want to commit to a timeline just to be boxed in by unforeseen consequences later. but if you were curious there is a quiet notion in the background that says the plot of p5 proper hasn't started yet.

it's a "soft fuzzy timeline" but that's Secretly where we're at in it . kawakami bitching about her awful new student come April <3

So Perhaps Time Will Tell. if they're still doing this shit come May maybe i get to blow kamoshida up or whatever

#BREAKING THEIR SILENCE. failteacher timeline CONFIRMED?#Cut because Long

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sugawarassoulmate · 7 months

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Hii! I was binge reading your loser kuroo and oh my god 😭 it's literally everything I hope you don't mind me just venting everything I felt when reading fr.

The dynamic is just amazing! I'm not sure if bully!reader is not that common (everytime I search it's a bit hard to find, so omgg when I came across your work!). Sub guys are just 😪😔 a want you know?

The (lots of) 'first' interactions they had were so ughshsjsbs S-est tier! I felt the excitement on my body, like actually for real! Not gonna be a weirdo and get into details 🤭

And since I was reading it throughout the day I had to pause a few times, chorezz, and when it was getting too tiring and boring I'd stop to read and!! That's when the more angsty ones started and I was about to combust like lord how can life be like that?? Ik I'm being dramatic but it was like the story was kind of matching my mood.

So! It was the best rollercoaster I've been on so far. And again I really hope I'm not being too pushy? but I wanted to ask about some parts of the universe if that's fine! 😔

• are all of the works connected in the universe? I feel like to some point yes, not all of them, but you're the author!!

• about their dynamic in bed!! is the mc kind of like a sub? cause mc definitely leads the relationship. and how would tetsuro define himself? cause he acts like a sub (just realized how repetitive it sounds, sorry!) but when it comes to sex, at times he seems to be the one in "control", control might not be the best word to describe but, you know? for example when he's drunk. Sorry I don't know how to exactly say what's on my mind but you have a gigantic brain!! So I think the question is a tiny bit understandable.

• that part where he started showing interest in someone else?? That was my biggest wtfff moment (very respectfully). The part where I think I have more questions about. I feel like I'm really pushing my luck by asking these, so of course you can ignore these or just idk 😭. 1. Why did he start having feelings for someone else?? 2. Why did mc just ignore it like it was nothing when in other occasions they would be livid? 3. Why did *he* do that to mc? I was like damn bro there's no true love anywhere. In some occasions you mentioned mc being insecure and things like that. 4. How did mc really take it? Did mc feel sad at all with all that? What was mc really feeling through it all? Why did mc forgive him so easily? How was it when they got 'back together'? was mc even more of a cruel bitch to teach him a lesson or something? I'm light headed just thinking about it 😩.

I'm pretty sure there's more I want to ask but I can't remember right now and I feel like I went way over the socially acceptable to ask 😷

I just saw that were both infp and leo!! So happy very belated!!!

Thank you for the patience!

omg no i love these kinds of questions!!! i’m so glad you love their dynamic 🥹 trust me i love hearing all y’alls thoughts when it comes to my stuff it makes me so happy.

i’ll answer your questions one by one haha

okey the worlds are kind of connected. you’re definitely right that in some ways they are and other ways they aren’t. i like the idea of everything being kinda interconnected in the sense that loser!kuroo, bully!osamu, and stoner!suga can all exist in one universe (the peach cinematic universe if u will) but i didn’t want to make hard rules if that makes sense??? cause i didn’t want to limit what scenarios i could put the characters in! so there’s deff the canon of osamu and reader being childhood frenemies and kuroo and his reader being college lab partners yeah but other than there aren’t rigid rules they have to follow. the freedom allows people to send in whatever request they want for those characters (so long as it doesn’t break my rules!!!) i hope that makes sense!!!

you’re definitely right about reader and loser!kuroo’s dynamic in bed! i just thought it was interesting for the mean, abrasive character to also be the sub in bed?? like “you’re a fucking loser, you can’t do anything without me but alsoooo please pin me down and hold me in bed.” i tend to imagine reader as being shorter/smaller than kuroo (but y’all can imagine reader any way you want!!) just cause i like the idea of mean person a who bullies and bosses around their much bigger/taller person b 😅

ok!!!!!! so i’m glad you caught onto that! it’s a dynamic that i’ve kind of been playing around with bc i have plans for a longer, possibly chaptered fic with that kind of plot in mind. if y’all remember that monstrous 8k fic i wrote for bully!samu and reader….i kinda want to do something similar??? (maybe reader finally tells kuroo she loves him?????) that’s very tbd at the moment haha

this was fun!! it felt like a press conference 😂😂😂 please send more asks like this i love talking about my writing and i LOVE even more hearing what all of you think!!!!

it’s not a bother to me at all!!!

#asks #💌

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rayshippouuchiha · 1 year

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God, Gokudera is just so Character. From his introduction alone, he went to an immediate 180 from grumpy shonen rival to over-the-top #1 Tsuna supporter. He's a delinquent with punk aesthetics, and also an academic genius. He is so goddamn uptight all the time. He's a dork who spends his time making up secret codes and alphabets and is very much into cryptids and occult stuff. He explains simple things through advanced scientific theories. He plays the piano. He had nigh-zero self-preservation. If his typical fighting style of throwing explosives doesn't work, then his next move is laying down traps for his opponents. He swings around the extremes of being so abrasive and overenthusiastic. He's a disrespectful little shit. He's traumatized. He has five out of seven Dying Will Flames running through his body. He's amazing, I love him so much.

Also, to this day, I'll say that the Sistema CAI is one of the coolest anime weapon of all time. The Storm + Cloud bullet/blast was a beautiful thing to process when I saw it the first time.

Sorry for gushing so much about him in your ask box 😅 I'm not sure if you've answered this before, but what's your favorite Flame type so far? And what kind of Flame type do you think you have?

Gokudera really is a lot and I love him. Boy is so so much. He has such big Feral Cat You Befriended With Scraps Who Would Now Fight A Bear For You which honestly explains so much about his box animal Uri.

Sistema CAI is super fucking cool! I really enjoyed how they set that weapon up and had Gokudera actually have to work to figure it out.

I'd say that, as of right now, my favorite Flame type is Cloud and Sky. Though, that being said, I see the appeal with all of them, especially Sun and Mist.

Not really sure about my own Flame type. Need to hunt down another well done quiz ,,,,

#RayRambles #KHR #katekyo hitman reborn

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ghostussy · 1 year

Text

Promises

Trans Copia x Transmasc teen reader, platonic

Copia finds the reader struggling to use trans tape.

. . .

Quick drabble I started last night after trying trans tape for the first time lol

(It didn't work but that's okay, I'll give it a few days and decide what else I'd like to do, if anything.)

TW: Mentions of crying, being trans, dysphoria, self-hate, etc.

. . .

"Y/n?"

You don't answer.

"Y/n, please answer the door," Copia calls, concerned. "The ghouls say there is lots of, eh, distress coming from in there."

You ignore him, hoping he'll go away. He doesn't. Instead, you hear the jingle of a master key.

Shit.

"Child, I am coming in there if you do not answer."

"Copia!" You call back, panicked. You stand from your place on the floor, hurriedly throwing a blanket over the mess you've made, and throwing a shirt on. "O-one sec, please!"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine!" You squeak, picking up a few loose strands of adhesive. "Just tidying up!"

When you think you've got everything cleaned up, you answer the door.

"Y/n... have you been crying?"

You wipe your face, looking away. "No."

He sighs. "Can I come in?"

You stand in the doorway, blocking his way in. "No."

"Please tell me what is wrong. I know you are upset."

"I'm not upset. I'm fine."

"Y/n-"

"I said I'm fine!" You shout, then gasp and cover your mouth in shock. "Papa, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

His eyes soften, and he looks at you with pity. "Let me in."

Tears form in your eyes again, and you step off to the side. "Okay." You shut the door behind him, and he walks over to your bed.

"Oh, why is this blanket on the floor?"

"No-!" You're too late, he's already picked up the blanket to reveal a mess of used trans tape, the paper backings strewn all over the floor, loose adhesive where you'd cut the corners from the tape and a pair of scissors. He sets the blanket on the bed before speaking.

"Oh," he says softly, not looking at you. His eyes are transfixed on the mess.

"Copia, I-"

"Shh, I know."

"It's not-" You stop speaking when he looks up, raising his eyebrows at you. Tears start streaming down your face, and you can't look at him.

"Oh, kiddo. Come here," he coos, moving to pull you into his embrace. You pull back, subconsciously moving your arms to hide your chest. He smiles sadly. "It's alright, I don't mind. Come here." He pulls you in somewhat forcefully, but gently enough that if you wanted to pull away, you could. You don't.

You bury your face in his chest, tears staining the fabric of his shirt. Those loose tears turn into tired sobs, and he rubs your back in an attempt to help ground you. "Shh, it's alright. Your papa is here. It's okay."

It takes you a few minutes to gather yourself, and when you do he pulls away to look you in the eyes. "Was this your first time binding?" You nod, and he gives you a sympathetic look. "Okay. Can I see?"

You shake your head. "I'm not wearing any. It didn't work."

"How bad are the abrasions?"

You shrug.

"Will you let me see?"

He starts picking up pieces of paper and tape. You scramble to help him, feeling guilty about the mess. When you're done, he stands to face you. "Alright, here's what's going to happen; you are not wearing any tape or a bra tonight. You need to let that heal. I have some ointment that can help... and to make sure you don't wallow in your dysphoria, you're sleeping in my bed tonight. End of discussion." He uses a hand to tilt your head up. "When that heals, I will help you learn to apply tape properly. Do not ever treat your skin as harshly as you have tonight, okay?"

Slowly, you lift up your shirt. You're still wearing the pasties, so it's not like he can see much, but you feel entirely too exposed and naked. You hold the shirt to limit what he sees, so that he only has visuals on where you'd torn your skin.

"Fuck, kid. How many times did you rip the tape off?" He eyes the angry, red abrasions that cover much of the skin across your breasts. "Alright, you're done. I- shit. I'm sorry y/n, that looks awful. No wonder you were in tears. I would have been too." You pull down your shirt.

You look at him, confused. "Copia, you don't know how to apply tape, do you?"

He smiles kindly at you. "Your papa was not born this way, you know."

You frown. "What do you mean?"

He gestures towards the door. "Grab some loose pj's and come on."

. . .

"Okie dokie, this is for those nasty abrasions." He hands you a small bottle of some sort of medicated cream. "My bathroom is right in there, you may use it to change and apply as much as that as you need."

"Thank you," you mumble, barely audible. You disappear into the bathroom, where you take your time. Tears brim in your eyes when you see just how much damage you've done to your skin, but you quickly wipe them away.

When you come back into Copia's bedroom, he's already got the lights dimmed. He smiles warmly when he sees you. "Ah, there we are. Feeling a little better, I hope?" You shrug. "Ah, well. That's alright. Come on, let's get you into bed." He gestures at the bed, which is adorned with blankets and stuffed animals. You tiredly climb in, and he follows suit.

You curl up next to him, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you to rest in the crook of his arm. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, voice gentle.

You shrug again. "I don't like this, papa." Your voice is small, as if you can't believe the words coming out of your mouth. "I don't want to be trans. I just want to be..." your voice cracks as the tears start up again, and you throw your hands up in defeat. "Why couldn't I have been born right?"

"It's alright," he runs his hand up your arm. "I do not know why you were born this way, but we can take actions to make you feel better. You do not have to do anything you do not want to. I can help you apply the tape next time, or we can get you a binder, or even surgery in the future."

"I just... I don't want to be trans." You whisper.

"I know." He looks sad, yet understanding. "You know... If you ever, eh, have any questions or need to talk, I am here. But please know these awful feelings you have, they will pass. There will come a time that you will feel alright. You may not wish to be trans now, but these are the cards you were delt. This is a piece of you. One day you will learn to be okay." He pauses. "I do... speak from experience," he says slowly.

You look at him, curious. "You do?"

"Si," he says, lifting his shirt for you to see. You spot two familiar crescent shaped scars, located just beneath his pecs. "I do."

You smile as he pulls down his shirt. "So things will get better? Promise?"

He pulls you closer, pressing a small kiss onto the top of your head. "Promise."

He wraps a blanket around the two of you, reaching for the TV remote. "Now, I was thinking we could watch a movie before bed..."

. . .

Copia steals a glance at you a few movies later. You've long since fallen asleep, face pressed into his side with your arms curled around him.

He sighs, thankful he'd found you. The idea of you crying yourself to sleep, feeling dysphoric and upset saddens him.

Gently, he brushes a few loose strands of hair from your face. You mumble something incoherent before sleepily pressing yourself closer to him.

"Sorry," he says quietly, "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

You mumble something else; though he still doesn't understand, your voice is more loud and clear.

He drags his hand gently across your back, a soft and fatherly action. "Shh, rest now. I will be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" He looks down to see you staring at him, eyes open yet half-lidded and clouded with a sleepy haze.

"Promise," he whispers, and his confirmation is all you need to be sent back into a blissful sleep.

#trans copia #trans reader #copia x reader #trans copia x trans reader #the band ghost #copia is my comfort character okay #insert that one pic of copia holding a trans flag #tw: dysphoria #tw: gender dysphoria #please let me know if I missed any tags!#drabbles

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