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pedgito · 3 months

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MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Five: Mr. Miller

Chapter Summary: Years later, you find yourself with choices that feel impossible. And of course, Joel Miller is there at the root of them. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (formerly), time jump, joel is a successfully published writer, reunions, drinking, semi-public sex in a bathroom, m!oral, unprotected piv, job proposals, ambiguous endings

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Word doesn’t travel, thankfully. It’s handled swiftly, quietly. Mostly be the discrepancies of Joel, who allows himself to take the full responsibility—for you, for him, and definitely not for Tess.

You’re not sure what expels in the office after you leave that night, other than the gradually rising voices of the troubled couple and Joel–he sounds tired, exasperated, done before Tess can get a word in edgewise. But, you don’t linger much longer.

Joel, however, can’t seem to grasp something to anchor him down, feeling himself slip into a quiet rage. Tess forces the ultimatum on him that night. Either he owns up to, tells her everything, or she would make the divorce hell. He knew she was capable of being vindictive, but he never thought it would be aimed at him. And he knew it all boiled down to him never forgiving her own undue and unjust actions. A bitterness that lingered, festered, and now that she had caught him in his own mess, like he had to her, it was too poetic for her to let things go.

Joel resigns a few weeks later, your interaction minimal—he doesn’t even speak directly to you anymore. He feels like he’s being watched, judged, under constant scrutiny. The reality was that no one knew what had transpired, but it felt louder than ever. The rest of the year is quiet and dull, but you manage.

And the months that follow, they’re fine. But, the spark you had for literature then, even if slightly skewed by Joel and his nefarious obsession with you, never really returns.

The divorce comes several months later for Joel—it isn’t quiet. It’s messy, it’s difficult. Despite his willingness to comply with Tess’s conditions over his pseudo-fling with you, she goes back on her word. Eventually though, he cuts his ties and moves on. And it shouldn’t freak him out that he sees your face in his mind every night after nearly a year of knowing you, but it’s the way he’s memorized every detail about you that paints itself in vivid pictures.

Eventually things get easier and you move on, but Joel can’t bring himself to forget.

He leaves a voicemail on the day of your graduation, a couple years passed, and he still knows—he memorized the day and even if it was without intention, he still feels the pull. To explain or apologize. Something.

He can’t explain why he’s so hung up on the moments he shared with you until the words begin to pour out. And you find yourself curled up on your bed the night of graduation, exhausted mentally, emotionally, physically—but then you see his name on your phone and you break.

You press play on the voicemail and place the phone on the bed.

‘I really…don’t know if you’ll even listen to this. I don’t expect you to, but I wanted to apologize. I manipulated a shitty situation to my advantage to forget my own problems. The shit going on within my own marriage. That wasn’t your fault…and you’re young. I shouldn’t have entertained it and I did. I liked the attention. The attention you gave me and it was wrong. If you ever want to…I don’t know, talk things out? I would like that, but I understand if you ignore this completely. I would too. A long, drawn out breath that delves into a sigh. Uh, congratulations on the graduation. I’m sorry this took so long for me to say. Yeah…anyways, goodbye.”

The abrupt ending is bittersweet, rolling your eyes at his tone. It’s clipped, void of emotion. He’s masking and you can hear it. It only pisses you off further, unable to believe the genuineness in his message or tone so no—you don’t give him the chance to talk it out. And Joel Miller fades from your mind from then on, a distant and bitter memory.

Three Years Later

Working at a local publication company in Austin was never the plan, but it was the fastest thing you could grasp after graduation and several failed internships later—and the money was decent. You had an apartment in the city, close to work, and an easier turnaround time when you needed to get something to the office on an emergency or whim.

You were a lower level employee, editing and working around the simpler marketing for author’s that—most of the time, you didn’t even know the name of. You were meant to take the brunt of the work before it was delivered to the actual team of publication for everything that they didn’t want to handle. Which often included lunch as well, daily, coffee orders every morning, and tasks that felt never ending.

But the one time you did receive a break was the publishing parties. Authors would throw a nice party for the team and a long, never-ending list of connections that led for it to be more of a schmoozy get together than anything.

You went for the alcohol, the food, and the entertainment.

Which, thankfully—they all proved to have a ton of.

So, it should be any other Friday when you walk into the bar downtown, filled to the brim with patrons and company people who were there in attendance and support of the author, who you still had yet to meet. You’d been working on the book for months now, getting small snippets of things to correct and proofread when you weren’t running around to fetch things, but sometimes the curiosity is really just too much.

You grab a drink first, sipping on the sweet mix of liquor and syrup as the people filter in and spread, conversing in a low hum that quickly divulges into a cheer as someone makes their way through the door. They’re muffled by the crowd, loud pats of congratulation and claps that aren’t entirely necessary—but everyone had been anticipating the book to be a best-seller in record time. A book of delicate poetry, beautiful and thoughtful. It was something that brought you back to a time long forgotten, sitting in your bed during your freshman year of college, flitting through the recommendations of a professor that had nearly disappeared off the face of the earth.

So, when your eyes land on Joel Miller as he pushes through the crowd, the pit in your stomach grows and swells to an unbearable size.

He’s different in every way but still inexplicably him—he seemed softer, relaxed. His hair was grown out and curling over his ears and down his forehead, curls tickling against his skin and he sported a full beard, more than he ever allowed himself while he worked as your professor the interim year he was there, patchy in places you don’t realize until he comes closer, still unaware of your presence.

You recognize the suit, though—he’s worn it a million times, week after week and it feels too overwhelming now, knowing you both had left things unfinished.

Your intentions then weren’t the same as now and you’re almost positive he could say the same—even if you did keep your vindictive streak to get things you wanted, Joel was the only person who had managed to push you in a way that brought out that side of you.

You turn on your heels as a woman catches his attention, smiling brightly and too touchy to be considered a stranger, your back facing him now. You wave and smile at a few passing co-workers, also giving a small murmur of congratulations to Joel before you feel a hand on your back, half ready with your hand balled into a fist before you hear his voice over your shoulder.

It’s a soft whisper of your name, irreverent fondness in his tone, “How’s the open bar?”

He’s folding a jacket over his arm as he squeezes into the small space between you and another person, palm flattened out against the bar as he awaits your answer.

And for once, you don’t have anything to say.

Your mouth opens once, twice, before quietly snapping shut.

Joel breaks out into a slight smile, “I saw your name on the guest list—I just thought I’d say hi.”

“I didn’t—” You take a shallow breath and press the half-empty glass against the surface, “I don’t usually know anything about who we’re working on publication for, if I had known…I just—”

His hand is a gentle press against your clothed arm, curling around your bicep, “Hey—no harm, no foul. Did you…like my book, at least?”

You chuckle softly, “Uh—yeah, of course. I think that goes without saying. I almost got fired for not providing enough notes when they asked, but I didn’t feel like anything needed to be changed.”

Joel smiles brighter, but his lack of response is palpable.

He nods, pointing at your drink, “Take advantage—seein’ as it’s paid for.”

And you feel the moment fleeing as he turns away for a brief moment and orders his own drink, thankful for the short moment of calm as he didn’t have to constantly talk shop, so your curiosity gets the better of you. You didn’t know when you would ever see him again now that he was standing in front of you—unfinished business and all.

“How are things?” You ask—it’s a vague question that without your past would seem harmless. But, Joel understands. He spots the worry in your brow where it creases subtly in the middle and he chews at his bottom lip, taking the drink that is slipped into his hand.

His ring finger is still bare and he raises the hand up, curled around the glass with eyes that peek over the rim, squinting at your playfully, feigning innocence.

“Good,” He tells you when brings his drink down to his chest, “Uh—some roadblocks trying to get back into writing but…it’s been alright. And Tess, she’s—I don’t really know how she is but we also haven’t spoken in over two years. Last thing I heard was that she was getting engaged.”

Your eyes widen by the sudden influx of information, surprised by how forthright and open Joel was being, “Oh—that’s…good? For her, I guess.”

Joel chuckles softly and raises his eyebrows in response, agreeing with the uncertainty in your statement. You had grown so accustomed to his small quirks and body language that it was coming back to you in waves, like they had never left. But, the booming voice of a few men on the other side of the bar grab Joel’s attention and he looks slightly disturbed of his peace but offers a quiet apology before leaving you alone, left to process what the fuck was happening.

For someone you haven’t seen in a few years, it shouldn’t make you feel so at ease in their presence and you hate the way it lingers and aches the moment he leaves. The same push and pull that you felt so long ago, it’s overwhelming.

You finish your drink quietly, watching the warm, orange sky morph into nightfall and you attempt to slink out quietly, having had your fill on alcohol and surprises for the night. And the activity in the bar had only ramped up more in the lingering time—but the fingers around your wrist stop you, stretching through the crowd as you spin slowly on your heels.

“Follow me?” Joel asks lowly in the space between you when you turn to him, difficult to hear under the roar of the crowd but he nudges his head in a far off direction and you nod, feet moving before your brain can process.

Joel yanks you gently into a small, unisex bathroom with a stall in the corner. It’s big enough that you can rest against an opposite wall while he presses up against the door, looking slightly flushed from the alcohol but calm—it’s strange seeing him now, outside of the setting of his work.

Also, time had passed and he’s grown and processed things in the interim.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask about you,” He begins—Joel had only wanted a quiet place to talk to you, bothered by the idea of you the entire night for more than a few reasons, but most importantly, he just needed to know, “how…things have really been?”

“I graduated, but I’m sure you know that,” You tell him, his gaze trailing down as he remembers the half-assed message and apology he left you, “got a job after way too many attempts and failing and I’m living in an apartment here in Austin, it’s a few blocks away from the publishing company. It’s not bad—I thought things would be easier. But… I can’t complain. I mean, I could—there’s really no point, though.”

Joel’s nostrils flair in amusement as his chest vibrates with a laugh, hands tucked behind him as he leaned against the surface, suit jacket having disappeared…somewhere. Now, it was the tight pull of his chest under his shirt, the gaps in his buttons covered by the long stretch of his tie.

You cross your arms gently, one leg hooking over the other as you lean the weight of your shoulder into the wall similarly, the cold breeze of the unheated bathroom brushing against your thighs and you were silently cursing yourself for wearing such a short skirt in the biting cold weather at the end of fall, rolling into winter with a force.

“I can see that hasn’t changed.” Joel comments slyly and you squint your eyes in his direction, wondering his angle. Truthfully, he didn’t have one.

You roll your eyes momentarily, biting away the smile that creeps onto your face as you look away briefly, distracted by the buzzing, overly luminescent light above your head. The tension between you two had never left, that much was apparent.

“So, how has single life been?” You ask, feeling silly at the way you word it, but given his openness to tease you so easily, you felt the need to do it back.

Joel begins with a subtle warning of your name that has you huffing out a laugh of indifference.

“What?” You say in playful defense, “It’s just a question. You don’t have to answer it.”

Joel shakes his head fondly, though the bitter memories begin to flood back.

“I’m not your student anymore,” You point out, “it’s not like you’re breaking any rules by talking to me. It’s been…years, Joel. I think we’re both different people by now.”

Were you? That was entirely debatable.

“It’s been fine.” Joel gives you as little detail as possible, which is a telltale sign that he was masking, but you can’t ignore the way his eyes drag over your figure even if for a brief second.

You nod in response, not pushing the topic any longer.

“So, what’s this about?”

Joel makes a small noise in question and you tilt your head accusingly, lips pursed into a sneaky smile.

“I was on my way out,” You tell him, “now I’m here—with you. So, what’s the deal?”

“I wanted to catch up,” Joel admits–though it’s mostly a lie, “is that a crime?”

“Mmm, but here’s the problem,” You counter him, “you’re not really doing much talking. You ask some lame, basic question to cover up whatever excuse you had to get me in here. Seriously, Joel—what’s up?”

Joel sighs, chin touching his chest as he stares at the floor, “Still so goddamn stubborn.”

It’s like a trigger, soles patting against the ground as you approach him. His gaze pulls up slowly, first at your feet, then your chest, until he lands on your face. Delicate fingers press against his chest, his arms falling to his side as you press in closer and trace your fingers upwards, brush against his jawline.

You grin at the way Joel swallows tensley under your gaze, opposite hand wrapping into the length of his tie and pulling him into you, pressing your lips against his without another thought.

This kiss was new, different. Like pressing lips against a stranger with a renewed interest, not entwined in the throes of his divorce and a shitty marriage that kept him tied down and riddled with guilt, he kisses back with a force, boring conversation long forgotten.

Deft fingers turn the lock silently, a faint click of recognition as Joel leads you toward the empty stall with roaming hands, coat brushed down your shoulders and draped over a nearby hand dryer as he huddles you into the small space and watches as you pull away briefly to lock it with a giddy smile, lip pulled between your teeth as the lock slips into place and he stares at you openly, an unhinged hunger behind his eyes that he attempted to keep it bay so long ago.

“I have an idea.” Your voice is creeping suspicion in Joel’s mind and he sees your smile soften, an undertone in the wait as your fingers stretch along the expanse of his neck, leaning into him fully as he presses against the opposite wall of the stall, faces only a few millimeters apart as you breathe into him, noses brushing gently.

“That sounds like trouble.” Joel admits, your eyes dilating under his gaze as your excitement reaches your eyes, skin wrinkling slightly at the corners as you laugh.

“I don’t know,” You reply airily, “I think you’ll like this one.”

Joel’s game, eyebrows raised in question as you descend slowly—for anyone else, offering up a blowjob on the floor of a shoddy, questionable bathroom, you’d immediately decline and foremost, wouldn’t even offer. But, this was Joel.

The Joel that, despite years of time between his company, still culminated at the forefront of your mind all of the sudden. Fleeting memories, things that threatened to remind you of him, a bitter afterthought. But now, it was sweet—tangible and finally within reach. You were seizing the opportunity to close things out, even if you knew you would never see him again.

And damn his months of unintentional abstinence, Joel is unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants at an embarrassing speed with the assistance of your eager hands, instantly cradling your head as you wrestle with the few layers of fabric before his cock is heavy in your hands and hardening with even the minimalist of touch, his mouth hung open slightly as your tongue press flat against the underside of his cock, tracing along the jut of a vein that leads to his head, circling as you pull taut at his shaft and reacting openly to the tight squeeze he gives to your jaw, eyes falling shut with a gasp as he urges with silence for you to put him out of his misery and take his cock into your mouth.

Enough teasing. He knew you were both far beyond that.

There’s a lightness to your movements, inhibitions slightly skewed. You suck at his cock greedily, hollowing out your cheeks and allowing your hand to cover the length of his shaft that your mouth can’t reach and the hand that isn’t cradling your face is pressed against the stall door for leverage. There’s a crease in his forehead from how hard he’s scrunching his face up, willing himself to focus albeit how overwhelming you are in the moment and then you’re speaking to him, needy and soft.

“Look at me Joel,” You plead, tip brushing against your lips as you kiss the head and take him once more, bobbing your head slowly as he opens his eyes, and that familiar heat sets in his gaze, “there’s nothing to worry about this time—it’s just us.”

His hand is a soothing touch against your jaw, slowly trailing until his palm is cradling your head, “That’s—hm, that’s the problem. Don’t have much time.” Oh, right. This was his party after all.

“Riiiight,” You reply snarkily when you pull, feeling the gentle squeeze of his fingers against your neck as his hand settles there and rests, “guest of honor and all that, I suppose.”

Joel wasn’t letting you go that easy, though. He pushes you away gently and helps you rise to your feet, a slow progress of crowding you against the corner adjoining the stall door and the wall and his fingers slip under your skirt, digging into the supple skin of your thighs and he breathes, takes in your scent as he buries his face into your neck and he groans, so soft you almost don’t hear it. Almost.

“You still like fucking college girls? Or was that a one time thing?” You tease, earning another less than gentle squeeze before his hand is traveling down your center and over the wet fabric of your panties, covered with your slick and you moan out—guilty, and he settles with pulling them to the side for quick access, dipping a finger inside of you and chuckling at how familiar it feels, walls squeezing around the digit and you huff, “Dirty old man, Mr. Miller.”

“Just one. Annoying little brat that she is.” Joel admits, his stiff cock prodding at your thigh as he slips another finger inside of you, your grip tightening against the fabric stretched over his shoulders, head banging deftly against the surface behind you as you moan, “And just so we’re clear—don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

It never really fit him anyways.

“Got it.” You reply softly, staring at him half-lidded as his thumb brushes over your clit and he’s so close—right fucking there, dick pressed against your thigh but he won’t cross that line, not unless you ask. Luckily, you’re selfish even under a time crunch, “Joel—need it.”

“Need what, baby?” His breath is hot against your ear as he mouths at your skin sloppily, fingers leaving you empty as they rub collectively over your sensitive clit, “Such a beautiful way with words, let me hear you say it.”

“Fuck—” You breath rough, a sharp breath, “your cock, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Fortunately, Joel’s never been more impatient as he pulls your thigh up and over his hip, his fingers holding the fabric of your panties to the side as he presses inside of you steadily, selfishly watching your reaction as he splits you open—a stark difference from the first time. He was disconnected, emotionless, trying to prove a point. But, this was so much more.

It was everything he couldn’t say before.

“Stop—stop that,” You laugh softly, fingers gripping over the edge of the stall as he Joel fucks into you with sharp, precise thrusts. He was searching, determined that no time was wasted, but still admiring the catch of a gasp or moan in your throat every time he hit a particular spot inside of you that rendered you nearly speechless, “stop looking—at me like that.”

And Joel has the gull to smirk, lip pulling between his teeth as he angles you back and hikes your thigh up a fraction and that—oh, that was perfect and your grip slips and falls to his chest, wrinkling the fabric under your tight grasp as he leans in, lips pressed unmoving against your own as he thrusts into you wildly, the deafening sound of skin against skin and noises breathed into each other’s mouths.

“Touch yourself, baby,” He pleads and you thought the first time was a one off, a slip of the tongue in such a heated moment but it rings in your ears and warms your body with a faint buzz of adoration and allowed yourself to feel special and reserved only to him for that moment, “come with me?”

You reply with a shaky nod, feeling his hand guide yours between your bodies and settle over your cunt, rubbing over your clit in quick and determined circles as he spoke soft praises against your skin.

Good girl, sweet thing, look so pretty like this while you’re taking my cock.

And you’re hit with an immense rush of emotion as you come around him, his thrusts faltering in time with your cunt as you squeeze around him, “Fuck—I’m gonna come, gonna—” He pulls his hips back slightly but you’re reeling him back in with your heel, offering a small head shake.

Inside, you plead wordlessly.

It does him in—hand grazing over your breasts, tongue dipping into your mouth as he squeezes at the flesh and snaps his hips one last time, coming inside of you with a long, drawn out groan that precedes a long moment of silence as you both come down in synchronized breaths.

Joel hasn’t moved either, cock still buried inside of you but slowly softening.

“Work for me,” He says suddenly, head resting against the wall as he looks at you, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his fingers massaging the sore muscles in your thigh, “please?”

Your brow furrows tiredly, “What?”

“Come and work for me,” He asks once more, “I can offer you a job.”

“Joel, that’s—”

You whine softly at the loss of him as he slips out of you, but silently thankful for your achy muscles—and you think Joel will leave it at that, but he’s taking your face between his hands, urging you to look at him, “Look at me and tell me you’re happy there.”

You swallow a lump in your throat and look back at him, the words perched on your tongue.

You couldn’t lie to him. Not about this.

“I saw your name weeks ago—” Joel removes his hands and redresses slowly, watching as you adjust yourself to a more presentable manner, despite the feeling of his cum dampening your panties even more than they were before, “thought I was fuckin’ hallucinating.”

Still, you’re not sure where it’s coming from. Three years of silence and now this, his cum dripping down your legs and a proposition that sounds far too good to be true.

“I need an assistant,” He admits, “Someone to help me keep track of all this shit. Everyone I’ve hired, it just doesn’t stick.

You unlock the door behind your back and file out, watching Joel stuff his shirt back into his pants with a little too much force, shifting from heel to heel as he walks, “So, you’re desperate? And you thought fucking me would help your chances?”

You’re teasing him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Immediately, his head snaps up, eyes full of concern that you misconstrued his intentions and he knows he’s fucked up again—again. He fucks up everything.

“I’m fucking with you.” You crack a gentle smile and his hammering heart slows.

“I need someone who won’t bullshit me about my writing,” Joel tells you, “real—honest feedback. Someone that knows me.”

Your hands fall behind your back, fingers interlocking as you step toward him again, playfully kicking your foot out at him, “So, the whole blind worship thing, kissing ass—it’s not for you? Because…that can be arranged too, I don’t mind.”

He says your name in warning and you pull back with a soft laugh, “I can give you a bigger picture tomorrow, after…all this. We can work things out. You can sign an official contract. I’m not trying to play you on this.”

And maybe history was repeating itself, something Joel refused to acknowledge.

“Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” You ask, allowing Joel to adjust the flap of your jacket over your chest as you slip it back onto your body, “Teacher…student…boss…”

You don’t have to fill in the rest. Joel’s pointer finger trails up the center of your chest, nudging at your chin and pulling your attention in, lips parted slightly.

“I can keep things professional,” Joel lies, “can you?”

You mouth a silent no as you shake your head and his thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to write a few stipulations into the agreement.”

“I never said I agreed,” You retorted playfully, “did I?”

“Suppose I’ve got a bit of convincing to do then,” Joel smirks, “—is your number still the same?”

You shrug innocently—of course it was and truthfully, Joel never had the thought to delete it. Letting it gather dust in his contacts, finger hovering over it from time to time. Wondering.

“You still have my email,” Joel laughs at that, barely, cracking a gentle smile, “send me the details—I’ll let you know if I’m interested.”

“And if there’s any way I can sweeten that interest—”

You lean in mockingly, eyes looking over his facial expression, clearly amused with himself as your nose brushes against each other and you speak into the quiet space between you both.

“Keep it in your pants, alright? I’ll consider it.”

Joel couldn’t let you slip through his fingers, not again.

But, you knew you were doomed from the moment he set eyes on you.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #professor!joel miller #miller's girl #my writing

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jpmarvel90 · 9 months

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Guilt

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Relationship: Natasha x Reader

Summary: Natasha finally finds her sister Yelena. Only to discover she has a friend that escaped the Red Room with her. Distrust causes issues between the trio and leads to a break up of friendships.

Word Count: 8306

Y/n's POV:

Yelena and I were on the run for almost two years before her sister Natasha Romanoff found us. We had managed to escape the Red Room together and had been on the run ever since. Yelena had become like a sister to me. She's a year older than me but we've always looked out for each other. Our last few months in the Red Room were horrible and we went through things that no one ever should have to.

Once we escaped, we had a freedom neither of us thought we'd ever have. Even if we did have to move on every few months, we lived life to it's fullest. We moved across Europe, working any job that we could and always finding some shitty one bed apartment that we could live in. The aim was to save up as much money as we could to get to the US. Yelena was sure that was where her sister Natasha was, and I wanted to make sure she got reunited with her family. In the Red Room, they take everything away from you. Knowing that she was able to keep a hold of her sister, meant a lot to Yelena. She deserved to be happy.

I didn't know Natasha really, other than the rumours I heard whilst I was in the red room. As I was 7 years younger than her, I didn't have much to do with her. She seemed familiar but I put it down to the fact that we had training sessions with the older age groups at times and we probably met then at some point.

After she escaped, Yelena was moved to our section. She was punished for Natasha escaping and I helped to clean her wounds. It's how we became friends and over time, why I started to see her as my sister.

The moment that Natasha broke into our apartment in Budapest is something I'll never forget. I had just come back from the shop to find the two of them strangling each other with a curtain. When they called a truce, it was like none of that had ever happened. Natasha was quick to pull Yelena into a tight hug and apologise for leaving her in Red Room and not going back for her.

When she became aware of my presence, Natasha was quick to point a gun to my head. "No! No! Natasha, that's Y/n. Put the gun down!" Yelena shouted, stepping in front of her sister, and pushing her away. "Who's Y/n?" Natasha asks with a bite to her tone. "She was in the Red Room with me. She helped me escape. She can be trusted Natasha." Yelena tries to convince her. She looks me up and down before dropping the gun. "You look familiar." She grunts as she slips her weapon into the back of her jeans. "She was J block. It's where I was moved to when you left." Yelena explains for me.

"Hmm. I think I worked with them a few times." She thought out loud. She's probably right. They often sent the older kids in to practice their technique on us. I had even seen some of my friends killed by them. I was even almost killed in one training session. They were completely brain washed by Dreykov and his men to do horrible things.

After the reunion in Budapest, Natasha offered Yelena a place within Shield, and with that a place to stay with her at the compound where her and her team lived. Yelena only agreed to go if I was allowed to go with them. Natasha reluctantly agreed and before we knew it, we were on a jet flying to New York.

The whole way there, Yelena and I held hands, excited that we were finally safe, no longer having to stay on the run to keep alive. Maybe we'd even get the chance to take down the red room once and for all. For the whole flight, however, I could feel Natasha's harsh gaze on me. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, but I tried to ignore it. Maybe she was just slightly jealous that I had such a close relationship with Yelena.

Over the next few months, my relationship with Natasha did not improve. In fact, I'm sure it got worse, no matter how hard I tried. She just didn't seem to trust me. And because she didn't trust me, the rest of the team were reluctant to do so either. Initially, Yelena tried to get us to all get along. But I could see that she felt like she was in the middle. So, I encouraged her to spend more time with Natasha. She had been desperately trying to get back to her for years, it's only right that they have time together. I'd be ok.

Over time though, Yelena started to spend less and less time with me. At times she would barely talk to me, it was almost like I was a chore for her. The tag along that was only there to help her escape. Now she has her sister and new family, I'm not needed anymore. I've tried really hard to make friends with the others on the team, but it doesn't seem to be going very well. Especially with Steve, he's always harder on me than the others and I can see he has a hatred for me in his eyes.

I considered leaving, but after talking with Agent Hill and Directory Fury, I found a purpose to stay. I could help to take down the red room. They both trusted me, and I appreciated that. I worked with them a lot on a number of missions to get the intel that we would need to finally put an end of other girls ending up like Yelena, Natasha and me.

Having that purpose didn't make it any easier back at the compound. I still was required to go on missions with the Avengers, but that was the only time any of them would really talk to me now. Even Yelena. It really started to hurt. I thought I meant more to her, but clearly not. I don't know why I ever thought that I would fit in anywhere. I spent my childhood locked away and with no family to help me find my way, I was always going to be an outcast.

After a particularly bad mission, I was on the receiving end of a barrage of abuse from Steve and Sam. I hadn't done anything wrong, but they were looking for someone to blame and that landed solely on me. The whole journey back on the quinjet was torture as they took it in turns yelling at me. I didn't have anything to say in response, I know I would only make things worse. But what really hurt was the way that Yelena didn't say a word to even try to stand up for me. Especially when the next attack that came out of Steve's mouth. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were a double agent really working for Hydra and Dreykov. All these solo missions you do. Are you really reporting back to the enemy?" He spits at me. I open my mouth to defend myself, but he quickly holds his hand up to me. "You don't talk!" He hisses.

He takes a deep breath before turning to me once again. "You're just a trained murderer who will never be able to make up for the red in her ledger. You're not worthy of the place you have been afforded here." I have to choke back the sob that fights to get out. My glossed over eyes look to Yelena who instantly looks away. I'm the same as her, the same as Natasha, yet none of them can give me the benefit of the doubt.

Thankfully, the quinjet lands at his last sentence and I'm the first off, the jet. I rush to my room and start to pack my bags instantly. I can't stay here anymore. I don't feel safe. I know that I don't have the teams support and I'm only a danger to them and myself.

I don't own a lot, so it doesn't take me long until I'm packed up. A miserable depiction of my life. I wait until I know everyone will be having dinner and I'll be able to slip out with no issues. Leaving probably will make them think I'm working for the enemy even more, but I won't stay here any longer.

When I'm ready to leave, I reach up and take off the necklace that has hung around my neck for the last two and a half years. It's a spider charm. Yelena brought us each one with her first pay cheque. It was meant to represent our relationship as sisters. Now it just symbolises everything that I've lost. I place it on top of the chest of draws in my room then I grab my small duffle bag and make my way out. As I sneak past the kitchen, I hear them all laughing together. A family that I'll never be a part of.

When I leave the compound, I make my way to Shield headquarters. Luckily, Fury is still there, and I explain everything that has happened. I practically beg him to let me leave and go as far away from here as possible. He offers me the chance to be free, away from Shield and far away from the Avengers, if I carry out one last mission with Agent Hill. I instantly agree when he gives me the details. If I can do one final good thing to help defeat the red room, then I'll take it. It feels like the only thing that I have left to give to this world.

Nat's POV:

Watching the way Steve and Sam tore strips off Y/n on the way back home was hard to see. It wasn't her fault that we failed that mission. But she was the chosen target for their anger. I could see Y/n getting smaller and smaller with each insult that was flung her way.

But I'm sure I saw the moment her heart actually broke. You'd think it was the moment Steve called her a murder, not worthy of her place. That did damage, of course it did, but the moment her heart broke was when she looked to Yelena for any kind of support, only for her to look away. That was the moment I saw the tiniest bit of light left in Y/n's eyes disappear. I should have said something. I should have stood up for her. If that is how Steve sees Y/n, then that is what he should think of me and Yelena, and I know for a fact he doesn't.

I feel immense guilt as I watch Y/n rush off the jet. I've not made her life easy since she's been here. But it's been misguided. I remember Y/n. Of course I do. She was my target to kill. I had been put against her in a fight to the death. But she was strong. She fought well. I beat her to an inch of her life at the orders of Dreykov, only to be stopped from choking her to death at the last moment. He had deemed her worthy of living for the fight she had put up.

I still remember the fear in her eyes as she thought I was about to take her life away. I knew who she was as soon as she walked into the apartment in Budapest. But I didn't know how to be around her, so I didn't try. The benefit of being the Black Widow, is being able to hide how I really feel. What I didn't realise was how much that would affect the team's thoughts on her.

They believed that I didn't trust her so decided they didn't either. I mean, it's good to know that the team support me like that. But it must have been hell for Y/n. She would try so hard to fit in but was met by cold shoulders from everyone. Even Wanda and she will make an effort with everyone. It made my guilt grow even more, but instead of putting a stop to it, I just started to remove myself from the situation. I would hang out with Yelena as much as I could because she was the one person that could make the guilt disappear for a split second. Y/n represents every bad thing I did in the red room, and I let her suffer for it.

But I know now that I need to fix this. I would observe Y/n and I truly believe she is one of a kind. She has such a kind soul for someone who has been through so much hell. Things were bad when I was in the red room, but they only got worse after I left. Yelena had told me some stories and they always ended with Y/n being there for her. I'm glad that she had someone like her during such a horrible time in her life.

I would find myself craving to get to know Y/n more, knowing that my life would only be brighter to have her in it. But I didn't deserve that, so I shut off any thoughts of that. I could not and would not think of her more than a work colleague. I wish I didn't because I don't think I'll be able to make up for everything that has happened over the past six months since the two of them came home with me.

After we got off the jet, I went straight to Yelena's room. She slammed her bag on to the floor as soon as she got there. "What gives Steve the right to talk to Y/n like that. She didn't do anything." She says angrily, pacing around her room. "She was brain washed. We all were. She was always the best of us, the one who kept the small amount of hope that we would all be ok. He has no right to talk to her like that." She shouts as she drops onto her bed.

I take a seat next to her as she breaths heavily. "We should go and talk to her and make sure she's ok." I suggest, earning a nod from Yelena. When we leave her room, we're greeted by Steve. "Tony ordered Pizza, come join us." He says with a smile. "We'll just go and get Y/n and see you there." I say but he stops me. "She's not welcome. The team don't want her there. Now join us." He says sternly. I just look at him in disbelief.

I'm sure I see smoke coming off of Yelena's head as Steve walks away. "That asshole." She mumbles, clenching her fists in anger. I place a hand on her shoulder. "Let's take a moment and then go to her." I suggest but she snaps her head to me. "Why do you suddenly care?" She snaps, but I don't blame her. My gaze drops to the floor before I decide that now's the time tell her the truth. I guide her back into her room and sit her on the bed. I take a deep breath and explain everything that happened in the red room. How I almost killed Y/n and let the guilt affect how I treated her once she was here.

Yelena sat there in shock after I finished admitting the truth. "She never would have blamed you for that. In fact, one of her best friends in there was someone who shot her. We had to do as we were ordered or we got killed or punished, she never held that against anyone." Yelena tells me, which just makes my guilt grow even more, if that's even possible!

"We need to make things up to her and try and get the team to see she's not a threat. I can't believe that I've let this happen." Yelena sighs, and I can feel the pain radiating off her. "Come on then, let's not waste any more time." I tell her, holding my hand out to her. She gives me a smile and takes it. When we reach her door Yelena knocks but gets no answer. She knocks again. "Y/n/n, it's me. Can I come in?" She asks but is met with silence.

"Friday, is Y/n in there?" I ask the AI before we go barging in. "No Agent Romanoff. Y/n left the compound with her belongings 20 minutes ago." The AI responds. Not wanting to believe what she just heard, Yelena opens the door and calls out for Y/n again. "Please Y/n. We're here to apologise." I can hear the desperation in her voice as she goes into the bathroom and opens the wardrobe to see them empty.

Tears start to fill her eyes and then they land on something on the top of the chest of draws. And this here is the moment I see my sister's own heart break. Her hand shakes as she reaches out to pick up the necklace that is waiting for her. "We vowed to never take these off. They were to show that we were always with the other regardless of where we were. What have I done?" She whispers that last bit as she slides down the wall to the floor. I sit next to her and wrap an arm around her as I fight tears of my own, knowing that I'll never be able to fix this for either Y/n or my sister.

"Director Fury has asked for your presence in the meeting room." Friday informs us. I look to Yelena and we both take a moment to compose ourselves before heading out to meet Fury. The rest of the team are already waiting in there as we take our seats. "Who the fuck wants to explain why my best agent has just handed in her resignation." He yells, hitting his hand down on the table. It makes me jump to see his anger.

"None of us have done anything to Agent Hill." Steve defends but Fury's head snaps to him. "Not Hill. Y/l/n." He says with a fire in his eyes. Steve scoffs at his words. "She got what was coming to her. She's clearly been working with Hydra. How else do you explain all these 'solo' missions she's been doing?" He argues, a venom lacing his voice. Fury lets out a small chuckle and we instantly know that's not a good sign.

"Those solo missions were at my request." He states and the air in the room seems to disappear. It's like everyone has realised what has happened. "B-but Romanoff doesn't trust her." Steve tries to defend. Everyone's eyes fall to me. "I've never said that. I had my own problems that had nothing to do with Y/n but my inability to deal with my past." I admit, but I know some of the blame falls to me as well.

"What even were these missions?" Steve questions Fury, again a bad move. "Know your place, Rogers. I don't think you realise the asset we've just lost." Another scoff comes from Steve. "She's not an asset to anyone." Fury slams his hand down on the table once more which startles us all. "Watch what the next words are to come out of your mouth." He growls and Steve instantly shrinks into his seat. "Y/n was helping me to collect information on the red room. As one of the last known people to escape, her knowledge was invaluable to us. It's because of her, we're the closest we've ever been to taking them out." Silence fills the room as Fury explains what Y/n has been doing before Yelena speaks up.

"But I escaped with her. Why did you ask me to help?" She asks, as Fury gives her a pitying look. "Y/n didn't want you to have to relive what happened to you in there or risk losing your family. She was protecting you." Fury explained. Yelena's mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out as she realises what Y/n has done for her. For us.

Fury turns his attention back to the rest of the team. "She thought if she could bring down the red room, that she could prove to you all that she was trustworthy and earn her place here. Maybe even gain a family. But instead, she's left here believe she is and has nothing. So much for earth's mightiest heroes. You can't even be there for your teammate." And with that Fury left the briefing room, leaving us all shellshocked at his revelations.

I can hear quiet sobs coming from Yelena as I try to fight the sick feeling in my stomach knowing she's out there alone feeling like she never meant anything to us. To me. "She's always put me first. Always protected me. She was my sister but as soon as I came here, I tossed her aside, too scared of losing you. I've let her down. I couldn't even stand up for her against Steve." I go to wrap my arm around her, but she shrugs me off. "Don't. I'm so ashamed of myself, of us. How we have treated her. All she has ever wanted is a family. To feel like she belonged somewhere. But I bought her here just for her to feel like she's a monster." She cries before storming out of the room.

The rest of the team are in shock. I decide to share with them what I did with Yelena. They deserve to know the whole truth. If we're able to bring Y/n back, she deserves this team at their best. They are an amazing family. I just wish I hadn't allowed this to happen.

Steve instantly feels guilty after I explain. "I should never have said what I did to her. I misplaced my anger. I just assumed the worse. I'm sorry Nat. You came from the same place as she did. What I said wasn't only disrespectful to her, but you as well." He apologises. I can see the sincerity in his face. "It's not me that deserves an apology. I've let Y/n down more than anyone here. She is a good person, and we would have been lucky to have her in our lives. I just hope that we can repair this." Knowing there is nothing more I can do. I get up to leave to find Yelena.

As I'm walking past Y/n's room, I hear crying. I open the door and I'm greeted by Yelena hugging her pillow close to her. I slowly get into the bed behind her. I wrap my arms around her and let her cry and express what she needs to. "I let her down Nat. I should have been there for her, but I wasn't. How can I ever call myself a sister to her after I just left her like I did? She deserves better." She laments, the pain evident in her voice.

"She's not safe Nat. They'll know it was her that has been doing these missions. They'll be going after her and if they get her, they'll kill her and it'll be my fault." She turns in my hold and sobs into my chest. I'm crying myself knowing that she's right. I've never seen Yelena like this. She's completely broken. I need to fix this for both of them. I can't see Yelena like this, and I just want to have a second chance with Y/n.

When we finally have pulled ourselves together, we get up and start our search to find her. Tony lets us use anything he has to try and find her, but it's no use. For weeks we try to look for her, but we get nothing. Not even a hint of where she could be. I pray it's because she is good enough to go off the grid like this. But in my stomach, I have this gnawing feeling that she's been captured and killed. It's the more likely answer, but I don't dare say it allowed. She has to be ok. She has to be alive.

Three years later

"I've got something!" Tony comes running into the dining room one evening with the biggest grin on his face. "I don't think we want to know what you've got." Sam jokes, causing us all to laugh. "Funny. But no. I've got a hit on the facial recognition for Y/n." Silence falls over us all at his words. "She's in Pennsylvania." He informs us. I feel Yelena's hand grip my thigh at his words.

We never gave up. These last three years, we have all still been looking for her. Determine to find her. The team have been helping us and we take it in turns to trawl CCTV and all of the databases that we can for any hint that's alive and well. So to hear that we finally have something, a possibility of seeing her again after these last few years is such a great feeling.

"What are we waiting for we should go!" Steve jumps up and orders us. It really affected him after we all found out the truth. He spent weeks reading over Y/n's solo mission reports. What she did was incredible and how she hid some of her injuries I'll never know. But I guess when no one gives you the time of day, it's easy enough to do. "I don't think we should all go in guns blazing. Besides we don't know what state she is in." Tony rebuts which causes Steve to reluctantly agree.

"Yelena and I will go. We'll assess the situation and hopefully bring her home safe. If we need it, we'll call in for backup." I say authoritatively. They all eagerly agree before Yelena, and I head off to grab what we need. We pack a bag as we don't know what we're going into. We need to do this carefully. If she's been taken by the red room, we can't screw this up.

Tony has arranged everything for us, including staying in a hotel in the small town she's been located in. Whilst on the quinjet there, I'm doing additional research to see if we have any intel of there being a Hydra or red room base there. After Y/n left, it became harder for us to find any information on the red room. Yelena and I went on missions in place of her, but we didn't get the same results. The red room is still active, but we are so close to ending it. I just hope it hasn't come at too high a cost.

We arrive in a town called Ligonier, a very traditional US town. We land the jet away from any people and make our way to the town centre and our hotel. Once we've checked in, we set up all our tech so we have communications back home with the compound, as well as the software for facial recognition. I can tell that Yelena just wants to go out and search the whole town for her, but we need to be sensible.

So, we spend that evening gathering as much info as we can, Tony being a great help to us from back home. "The facial recognition I got was from a coffee shop on the main street of the town. It's probably a good place to start. Interestingly, there are either no cameras there, or the ones that are don't work. Almost like someone doesn't want to be found." He starts to explain. "Where did you get her then?" I question as I find the location of the coffee shop. A camera from the town hall across the way. It picks her briefly in the back of the frame." He explains.

After coming up with a plan of action, we head to bed but neither of us can sleep. "I'm excited to see her again." Yelena says from her bed next to me. "But I'm also worried that she's not safe or won't want to see us." She adds on and I can hear the pain in her voice. Y/n leaving affected Yelena a lot. She has carried around a guilt that she wasn't there for her and let her be treated like she was. I've lost count of the times I'd find her in Y/n's room crying, terrified that she was dead, and it was all her fault. Truth is, it would all be mine.

"The main thing is that she's safe. We can work on forgiveness after that." I say and Yelena hums in agreement. "You know. I always thought you liked her at first. It's why I tried to get you to allow her to join us so much. But then over time I just realised you didn't like her at all, and I chose you over her. If only I had known, I could have made things right between you." She chuckles lowly whilst my eyes widen.

I feel Yelena's eyes on me when I don't respond. "Oh my God! You do like her!" She squeals, turning so she's facing me. "Shut up. I don't." I weakly defend. "HA! See it's so clear! You like Y/n!" She teases me whilst I huff, knowing that I'm not going to hide it from her. "Are you mad?" I ask timidly which seems to shock Yelena. "Not that you like her. You both deserve to be happy. Maybe a little mad that if you hadn't put your head in the sand, we wouldn't have been in this position of trying to find her after her disappearance three years ago!" She lightly scolds.

"I always thought whoever would end up with Y/n would be one of the luckiest people in the world. Maybe that could be you." She adds on which causes a smile to form on my face. But I quickly shake my head knowing that we have to find her and earn her forgiveness first.

We eventually fall asleep and wake up refreshed, ready to bring Y/n home. We're up early and head to the coffee shop that she was spotted in. We order our drinks and sit out of the way, but still with a good view of the whole shop. After about an hour, Y/n rushes in through the door apologising. "I'm so sorry Jill. Mia did not want to leave this morning. I'll make up for it." She rambles as she grabs an apron from behind the counter. "Don't worry about it Y/n. It's not busy. Take a breath." This Jill reassures her.

We stay for another hour and make the decision to leave, not wanting her to spot us just yet. Instead, we stay locally, to get an idea of when her shift ends. We go back the next few days and just seeing her so carefree makes me happy. "She looks good. I love the blonde hair." Yelena states as we get into bed that evening. "I thought she had been captured, but to see her alive and well is good." I reply. Knowing that she's safe is such a relief.

The next day, we go to the coffee shop for the end of her shift. We decided that we'll try and talk to her today. We're both really nervous, but I'm hopeful that we might be able to start on the road to fixing this. Whilst sat at our same table, I watch almost mesmerised as Y/n floats around the coffee shop. She knows a lot of the people here and they seem to enjoy her being around. "She looks happy." I observe and Yelena nods.

Just as the clock is about to hit three, we're both startled by the door to the shop slamming open and a little girl running in. "Mama!" She shouts as she sprints through the shop. I smile at how cute the little girl is, but I feel my heart in my throat when she is running straight to Y/n. "Hi my baby." Y/n greets the child, picking her up and spinning her around. "Mama?" Yelena questions next to me.

"Can we go home now?" The little girl asks. "Give me 10 minutes sweetie and I'll be ready to go. I'll grab you a muffin whilst you wait." Y/n responds, sitting the girl at a table. Y/n finishes up her last few jobs before returning to her daughter. Wow that sounds weird. I find myself stuck to my seat not entirely sure what I'm feeling. I've missed my chance.

As her and the girl walk out the door, her eyes land on us. They go wide and she is quickly rushing out the door of the coffee shop. Yelena is far quicker than me and has jumped out of her seat and is chasing after Y/n. When I finally get my sense back, I follow quickly after, to see Yelena just catching up to Y/n. "Please, just wait. We've been looking for you for years." Yelena pleads.

Y/n is now holding the scared little girl in her arms as her eyes stare down Yelena. "We just want to talk. To have a chance to apologise. Please." Yelena practically begs. I can tell that seeing Yelena like this is having an effect on Y/n. She lets out a sigh and slowly nods. "Follow me." She mumbles and turns on her heal.

We follow her to a small little house just on the outskirts of town. The garden is immaculate and when she opens the door, it feels so homely. "Mia, why don't you go and play with your toys upstairs. Mama just needs to talk to these ladies." Y/n instructs the child, who seems reluctant to go. "But they're scary." Mia mumbles which causes Yelena to let out a small chuckle. "It's ok sweetheart. I'll be ok." Y/n reassures her.

Reluctantly Mia leaves and heads upstairs. I start to wonder around the small living space whilst Y/n makes us a drink. There aren't many photos up. Most of them are of Mia, but there are some with Y/n in too. This gives me the smallest bit of hope that it means she's not with someone else.

Y/n enters the living room with a tray with three glasses and a bottle of vodka. "Figured you wouldn't want a tea and I sure as hell need this for whatever you're here for." She says as she fills three glasses. There's a silence as we sit, neither Yelena nor I knowing where to start. The sound of the ticking clock is all you can hear and the occasional giggle from upstairs.

I notice that each time we can hear that, Y/n's face lights up. "So, you have a daughter." Yelena breaks the silence. "I do." Y/n responds shortly. "Were you pregnant whilst you were with us? I didn't know you were with anyone." Yelena questions. "Like you would have noticed anyway." Y/n scoffs. "But no. I wasn't. She's not biologically mine." Y/n admits which takes us a little by surprise. "Oh." Is all Yelena responds with. "Where have you been?" I now ask, wanting to know that she has in fact been safe since she left us. "Why should I tell you? You can't just turn up here and demand answers from me. It's been three years." She says firmly. She certainly got her confidence since she left!

"We've been worried about you Y/n. All we've wanted to do is apologise to you after that day. Well, not even just for that day. For everything, for the way I treated you when I promised you, we'd always be there for each other." Yelena answers, a hint of desperation in her voice. "For three years, I have been so angry at myself for getting so caught up on Natasha and not losing her, that I ended up losing you instead. It was like I felt like I couldn't have two sisters and being around Nat and the others made me feel like I had my family. I was a coward to let them isolate you like they did."

I have never heard Yelena talk so honest and openly about something before. It's obvious she is baring her soul her, and I think Y/n realises that too. "All I ever did was try and fit in with everyone. I knew we wouldn't always be together, but I didn't think that was how it was going to go." Y/n shares, pain in her eyes. "You just gave up on me. You couldn't even defend me to Steve." There's a crack in Y/n's voice, which she tries to hide.

"We both owe you an apology for that. How he spoke to you that day was out of line. We can't change what happened, but I hope that we can work to fix what we broke." I step in now. I know I'm going to have to tell her about why I acted like I did. But I'm dreading it. What if I tell her and she never wants to see me again?! I think that would break me. "I also owe you an explanation for why I treated you like I did." I start, wanting to get this out of the way.

"I know why. You didn't trust me around Yelena." She answers for me. I quickly shake my head. "No, that's not it at all." I defend, looking to Yelena who gives me a reassuring nod. I take a deep breath and explain everything to her. How I couldn't forgive myself for what I did, and I dealt with it all in the completely wrong way. She sat there shocked when I finished. Her silence was so tense. I was sure she was about to kick us out and tell us that she never wanted to see us again.

"Did you want to kill me?" She asks and I'm quick to deny it. "Of course not! I could never want to hurt you." I admit and she smiles. "You were controlled Natasha. We all did things that we didn't want to. But we had to to survive. I would never have held that against you." She tells me with such sincerity, it causes me to start crying. Knowing that she doesn't blame me brings such relief, but it also brings anguish at the thought of how I treated her.

"I'm still here sat in front of you. I'm alive and well with the most beautiful little daughter. You didn't ruin anything that day in the red room." She shares with a wide smile. "Yeah, about that child." Yelena jumps in. "Where did you get her?" She asks and I laugh at her blunt question. "When I went to hand in my resignation, Fury asked me to carry out one more mission for him. In return he would allow me to go free from it all. I instantly agreed. The mission was easy, but I came across a small baby, she was a little over a year old. I have no idea how she got there or what their plans were for her, but I couldn't leave her. When I arrived back at Shield with a baby in my arms, Fury stepped up for me. He helped me adopt her and get this house with a job and a new identity. Somewhere safe where Shield are still able to protect us if we need it." She explains.

If it's possible, it makes me lov-like her even more. She's so selfless. "Protect you. Are you in danger?" Yelena asks in a panicked tone. "Not directly. But with the red room still running, there will always be a chance they come for the both of us." She replies. "You know I never stopped seeing you as a sister." Yelena blurts out of nowhere. Y/n has a small smile on her face at those word. "I never did either. But I knew that the compound wasn't the place for me anymore. It was where your family was, not mine." Hearing those words is hard to take. We should have been the family she deserved but we weren't and it's all down to me.

"Do you have that family now?" I ask but I notice her head drop a little. "Mia and I make do. The people here are nice and look out for us." She responds. "Come home with us." It's my turn to now blurt things out and the request takes both Yelena and Y/n by surprise. "Hey! I was supposed to be the one to ask her that. Cyka." Yelena complains with a pout.

"But she's right. Come back with us. We can be the family you deserve. And you'd be safe too. Mia would never have to worry about the red room." Yelena directs towards Y/n. "I could make sure my niece is safe." Yelena smiles. "Your niece?" Y/n questions with a smirk. "You're my sister whether you want to be or not, so therefore she is my niece." She argues whilst Y/n lets out a hum.

"Mama! Can I have a dwink pwease?" Mia rushes down the stairs out of breath into Y/n's arms. "What did I say about running down the stairs?" Y/n scolds. "Sorry Mama." Mia apologises with the cutest little look. Oh she is going to have everyone putty in her hands. "I'll get her a drink. Milk?" Yelena jumps up, already trying to prove herself. "Please." Y/n nods holding Mia against her.

Mia's big eyes land on me and I smile at her. "Who is she?" Mia whispers to her mama. "That's Natasha. And that loud one over there is Yelena." Y/n responds, earning a gasp from Yelena. "I am not loud!" She shouts which causes Mia to let out a loud laugh in response. Yelena comes back over and hands over the glass of warm milk to Mia who happily sits and drinks.

"So... will you come back with us?" Yelena asks and Y/n sighs. "I don't want to have Mia in that environment where everyone hates her mama." Y/n responds. "They don't hate you. They understand what they did was wrong. Steve has been feeling guilt ever since you left. He was ready to jump on the quinjet with us and be here with us to apologise to you straight away." I tell her, wanting her to know that it will not be the same as it once was. "Besides, I won't let anyone say anything against you. I won't make that same mistake again." I say quietly, almost coming over as shy. "Me too. We'll protect you." Yelena confirms.

Y/n thinks for a while. "Ok, but I promise if anything like that happens again, I'm gone for good. I don't care about me, but I will protect Mia with everything I have." Y/n agrees which makes both Yelena and I jump up in excitement. "Why are they so happy?" Mia asks, placing her glass on the table. Yelena rushes over and picks her up and spins her around. "You're coming to live with your Auntie Yelena!" She shares excitedly. Considering this kid has just met us, she is so excited at the thought. Y/n just shakes her head at their antics, but she looks to me and our eyes meet. I smile at her which she easily returns.

We stay with Y/n for the week whilst she sorts all her affairs out here. We have called the team and told them that Y/n is coming home with us. We may have missed out a small detail of the child, but we wanted to surprise them all. I could tell that Y/n was nervous on the flight home. Mia was asleep, curled up on Yelena's lap, whilst Y/n was staring at the wall, her leg bouncing.

I take a seat next to her and place and hand on knee. "It's going to be ok." I try to comfort her. "I won't let anything happen to you. To either of you." I reassure her. "You've got Yelena and I completely. You're safe." She rests her head on my shoulder and looks towards the two sleeping children. "I think I'm more worried about the influence Yelena is going to have on Mia." She jokes, breaking the tension. "Oh, that I can't help you with. Yelena is a force even I can't control." I joke in return, earning a laugh from Y/n. Something that has become my favourite sound.

When the jet comes into land, Y/n gentle wakes Mia up, whilst I give Yelena a slap on the shoulder to rouse her. Y/n holds Mia on her hip, who is clinging to her mama as the ramp of the jet starts to lower. We're surprised to see such a welcoming party. Everyone is there, including Fury and Maria. I can see that it's overwhelming Y/n a little, but she takes a deep breath and starts to walk forwards.

"Agent Y/l/n. Good to see you again. You too little one." Fury greets booping Mia's nose. He quickly clears his throat when he notices we're all looking at him in shock and mutters something about important work to do before leaving. That leaves us with the team and the nerves have hit Y/n again. "Who's this?" Tony asks pointing to the child in Y/n's arms. "This is Mia. My daughter." The team gasp at Y/n's response. "Hi." Mia whispers giving a cute little wave. "No one hurts Y/n or my niece. If you do I will make your life hell." Yelena protectively growls. There's an agreement from the team as they slowly make their way forward to greet Y/n. Each giving their own apology.

"I'm going to build you a specific section here at the compound. I'll make sure you each have your own room and a living space. A place you can call home." Tony excitedly rambles on as he guides Y/n inside. "In the meantime, I'll arrange for your room to be kitted out for the two of you." He carries on. I can see the appreciation in Y/n's eyes as Tony rushes off, ordering Friday to order a new bed.

"Uh, Y/n. Could we talk?" Steve approaches Y/n, which causes Yelena and I to naturally step between them. "Please I just want to apologise." He pleads. "I'll take my little munchkin. Don't fuck up." Yelena warns, taking Mia from Y/n's arms. "fuck..." Y/n's head snaps to Mia as the colour drains from Yelena's face. "You are going to fix that." Y/n growls at Yelena who instantly apologises and rushes off, telling Mia that she can't say that word again.

I step away, but make sure I'm in ear shot should Steve not be being truthful with his intentions. "I just want to apologise for what I said that day and how I treated you whilst you were with us. I'm not going to make up any excuses because there aren't any. I was out of order, and I hope over time you can forgive me. You were an asst to this team, I was just too blind to see it." He's genuine in his delivery and I can see the cogs turning in Y/n's head. "Over time I think I can forgive you. Just don't be an ass again. I've got more to lose this time and I will do anything to protect that." She warns and I'm so happy that she is standing up for herself. "Of course. You and your daughter are safe here." He reassures her.

Content with the apology, Y/n moves further into the compound to find the two troublemakers. I follow to see Yelena and Mia asleep on Y/n's bed. "Remind me why I agreed for these two to live together?" She sighs. "Because we both unfortunately have her as our sister." I tease causing Y/n to laugh. "I know that Mia is safe here as long as Yelena's around." She whispers and I wrap my arm around her. "You're both safe here. I'll make sure of it." I tell her firmly. She looks up at me and our eyes lock on each other. I know that I will protect this woman with my life.

Two years later

I couldn't be happier in this moment as I hold Y/n close to me as the music plays. "I can't believe you're finally my wife." I whisper to her as her head rests against my shoulder, our bodies swaying to the beat. "Took you long enough to ask." She jokes and I pinch her side. "Hey! I had a real fear you'd say no." I defend weakly. "Unfortunately, you managed to worm your way into my heart that there was never going to be a chance I could keep going in this life without you. I was just waiting for you to take the leap." She responds, lifting her head to lock her gaze with mine.

"Oh, shut up. I had this from our daughter too. Bugging me every day to marry you. In fact, I think I was ambushed!" I tease and she laughs. "Well, you're stuck with me now. I'm not letting go." She replies. I lean down so my lips are hovering over hers. "Good, me neither." I whisper as I connect our lips in a soft kiss. "When are we going to tell our little spider that she's going to be a big sister?" I ask, placing my hand on my wife's stomach. "After the honeymoon. I want to have this time together first." She answers to which I easily agree. I will do anything for my wife and my kids.

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha #Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x Y/n #Natasha Romanoff Fanfiction #Yelena Belova #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #Avengers #Avengers Fanfiction

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thefrogsennaneverfound · 2 months

Note

I ask this question from a curiosity standpoint, and don’t mean to seem rude or anything, but why don’t you like Daniel Ricciardo? Am I missing something?

He’s far less offensive than a lot of the other drivers. He has a tendency to awkwardly laugh rather than say “that’s a shitty joke. Not okay”, which is frustrating, but not even in the same universe as something like Lance Stroll physically assaulting his trainer.

Like all F1 drivers, he wants to be WDC and talks a big talk, but he’s still nowhere near as obnoxious as a lot of the other drivers, who all think and say the same.

Maybe my understanding isn’t correct? As far as I know, his only really shit time as a driver was with McLaren in 2022, and words like “scapegoating” and “sabotage” get thrown around a lot. In 2021, he gave McLaren its only win in over a decade, and it wasn’t team orders based, and he hauled Renault back up into the podium as well, for their first time in almost a decade. I don’t think he should have left Red Bull, and I don’t think he’s necessarily an Alonso or Verstappen level talent, but he also made those Red Bulls and Renaults that he drove look a lot better than they were.

It's not just about what a driver's like on the track; it's his attitudes off the track too and Ricciardo has really bad form. As for dragging the Renault into the points, and the Red Bull when it was underperforming - that's his job and the cars weren't that bad. If he'd swapped with one of the back markers at the time, they'd likely have performed just the same. Plus, if he made the Red Bull look better than it was, why wasn't he the one winning championships in it? Why did Vettel get all that action when all Ricciardo got was a handful of race wins?

Anyway, here's (just some of) why I firmly believe that Daniel Ricciardo is every bit as obnoxious as the most obnoxious drivers on the grid. If you don't read right to the end, and I wouldn't blame you, please at least take in the part I've highlighted in red; it pretty much sums up the type of character he is and why I - along with many others - really do feel that he's most definitely obnoxious.

“I don’t watch the news and feel better about my day so I choose not to watch it.” Just one direct quote regarding his complete and shameless ignorance about the extreme humans rights abuses prevelent in some of the countries F1 travels to. What it amounts to is that the “drama and negativity” (his own words) of news reports on out-dated and abusive attitudes to women and LGBTQ people is a buzz kill so he’d rather not know about it, thanks all the same.

His attitude to the sexist objectification of the (now thankfully defunct) Grid Girls: "It's kind of like part of the attraction of the sport, fast cars and fast girls,". In his opinion, because it’s a male dominated sport it’s “a cool thing” so “let’s keep them”. If that's not obnoxious, I don't know what is.

On “Your Mom’s House” (a lowest common denominator podcast aimed at pathetic little boys who think they’re men) he laughed along with deeply sexist, misogynistic ‘jokes’ about women. There are plenty of drivers who would, at the very least, have kept their reactions neutral, making it clear they didn’t think it funny, but not Ricciardo; he was more than content to chuckle away at their vile comments about women.

Tricking Yuki Tsunoda into trusting him to come closer on a boat so he could throw him overboard, because it’s funny to force someone to face a very real phobia of sharks by throwing them into a body of water that’s widely known to contain them. I don’t care what Tsunoda’s reaction was to it (it's common for the victim of bullying to make light of their ordeal) or that Ricciardo threw himself into the water too; it’s still an appalling way to treat someone when they’ve been brave enough to be in such close proximity to one of their greatest fears. It’s the behaviour of a bully and Ricciardo is the worst kind of that particular species – a charming bully. The reason he gets away with so much of his crappy behaviour is because so many people are taken in by a cheeky smile, a twinkle in the eyes, and the friendly disclaimer that it’s just a bit of fun; they’re just trying to lighten the mood and make people laugh. It’s always at someone else’s expense though.

Given he was in a highly competitive Red Bull for all those years, he won precious few races, and left because he wasn’t getting the attention he thought was his right. I know athletes have to have an enormous amount of self-belief but to have looked at a racer like Verstappen and sincerely felt that he was his equal? That’s delusional. But is that really how he felt? Or did he – like so many who can’t face real competition when they know someone else is going to come out on top – jump ship because being a big fish in a small pond is preferable to being outperformed and therefore second best? I don’t know which it is but if he really, genuinely, sincerely thought he was on the same level as, first, Verstappen and then Norris, surely he’s just not very bright?

Monza 2021 absolutely was a team orders win for Ricciardo. Have you listened to Norris’s radio? He was faster; he wanted to pass; he asked if he could pass; he was told to maintain position. Either the team were concerned that the two might take each other out (although I am absolutely certain that Norris could have made that move with ease so was it more a case of Ricciardo taking Norris out if he tried to overtake?) or Ricciardo’s ego was so fragile by that point (Norris had been wiping the floor with him) that they decided he needed the win to boost his confidence and get a few more much needed points for McLaren. Either way, Norris was robbed of his maiden victory because he’s a team player who obeyed team orders rather than saying “screw this; I can win and I’m damn well gonna win”. I respect him for playing the team game but I hate the fact that Ricciardo got an undeserved win at his considerable expense (that’s not hyperbole; a driver’s first F1 win really is huge).

You're probably sorry you asked now.

#anti-Daniel Ricciardo #Yuki Tsunoda #Max Verstappen #Lando Norris #McLaren Racing #Renault racing #Red Bull Racing #just my opinion #Formula One

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an-idyllic-novelist · 4 months

Text

Heracles with fem!giyuu!reader scenario

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1. This can be seen as either a platonic or a slow burn romance scenario.

warnings: violence, canon divergence, and possibly Brunhilde's potty mouth.

Giyuu!reader is selected to fight in round four against Heracles, the mightiest demigod of Olympus. Brunhilde had emphasized that his strength is nothing to scoff at and to make sure to secure a win so that Humanity will be given an advantage against the shitty gods. While she was not someone who judged a person by someone’s words alone, Giyuu!reader had promised Nezuko and Tanjiro that she would come back to them. And that is what she will do, regardless of who her opponent is in the arena.

To her shock, Heracles had actually tried to persuade her to forfeit the match because he did not want to fight a woman. To him, it was dishonorable. She just looked at him for a moment, then unsheathed her sword and charged at him, though he had parried the blow with his club.

Giyuu!reader clicked her tongue, leaping backwards and landing on her feet. She straightened her posture, [Eye Color] orbs staring at him icily.

“This is a fight to save mankind…my gender is irrelevant. Or will you dare to change the match to suit your own benefit, as Zeus had done in the second match?” She asked, maneuvering her fingers around the leather handle of her sword before bending her knees. She inhaled her nose, exhaling through her mouth.

“Water Breathing. Fifth Form. Blessed Rain After the Drought.”

Giyuu!reader darted across the arena, swinging her blade from the left, aiming at the demigod’s neck. She had hoped to finish her opponent in an act of kindness, but alas the tip of her blade barely made a dent as he had used his club again to parry. He pushed back against her, allowing Giyuu!reader to use his arm as leverage and leapt away again, putting distance between them.

She frowned at him. “Stop this.” She said, “Fight back.”

“I cannot and will not unless you lay down your arms.” He replied, lowering his club towards the ground, cerulean orbs bright with conviction and sincerity. He might…mean what he said, and these aren’t just pretty words to lower his opponent’s guard…it still pissed off Giyuu!reader that he was under the impression that she is weak. Yes, she is a Hashira, but she is neither the strongest nor the weakest Demon Slayer of the Corps. She did not survive for as long as she has, protecting Valhalla from the monsters on the other side of the Bifrost, by being soft either.

“You are not a warrior.” Giyuu!reader snapped. “You….are pathetic.” Ignoring the outraged cries bouncing across the arena, she raised her blade at him with a single hand, the tip pointed at his chest.

“It is one thing to show mercy upon an enemy. But what about an opponent who is willingly to lay down her life in this fight, and she is expecting you to share the same courtesy, yet instead she is treated…like she is weak? This is not an act of mercy you are showing me. It is dishonorable. You, Heracles of the Grecian pantheon, have done nothing but humiliate me. Is that the reason you have chosen to be a representative of the Gods in this tournament, even when you proclaim to love humans? Or will you raise your weapon, shut up, and fight me with all of the strength that you possess?”

“Then tell me what drives you.” Hercules pleaded. “Why are you doing this?”

“...I can’t tell if you are being serious or just stupid.” Giyuu!reader spat. “You are fighting against someone who is considered to be powerful under Lord Hades’ command. Pummel me into the ground, right here and now, and I will gladly answer your question. Unless you have figured it out already, then congratulations. Either way I’m still going to win against you, even if it means I will sacrifice myself to ensure mankind will survive.”

For a split second, Heracles noticed how his opponent’s shoulders tensed as someone called out to her from humanity’s side of the arena. He saw a young boy with a burn mark and wearing a checkered haori waving his arms frantically, a smaller girl with a bamboo piece in her mouth mimicking him, albeit with a bit more enthusiasm.

The demigod closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through the mouth, Heracles raised his club, the spiked edges pointed at Giyuu!reader as she kept her sword pointed at him.

“I love humans. I do not wish to see them destroyed when I know there is still hope for them to strive, to grow, and become better. Therefore…I will not kill a warrior who is fighting for such an honorable reason. Come, I will give you what you want. Instead of a clean death, however, I will fight until one of us loses consciousness. There has been enough death here today.”

“Fine. The victor shall be the one who is not incapacitated.”

Heracles nodded, and got into a fighting position. So did Giyuu!reader. Although the crowd - humans and gods - jeered at their words and wished to see more carnage, Zeus silenced them with his own agreement. He will make an exception in this round of Ragnarok…but no more mercy beyond round four.

Giyuu!reader fought against the red-haired giant, deflecting his movements and using her Breathing techniques to counterattack. But….in the end, Heracles was too powerful. Giyuu!reader lost. Another win for the gods. And Brunhilde reminded her of her failure as soon as she gained consciousness in the medical wing, the Valkyrie glaring at Giyuu!reader.

The Water Hashira felt frustrated tears building in the back of her eyes, rapidly blinking them away and praying that Brunhilde would not see such…an unsightly display of weakness. She was prepared for another tongue lashing when a familiar, deep voice rang in the white room.

“That’s enough, Brunhilde!”

Giyuu!reader looked up and saw Heracles hobble through the door, his broad chest and left arm covered in bandages. She noticed that the demigod was leaning heavily against his club, using it as a cane of sorts as he glared at the Valkyrie.

“It isn’t like I walked away from this fight unscathed either. Nor was it a failure on her part. Do you know how rare it is to find a human who is able to keep up with my physical strength? And it was a tie, Brunhilde, not a failure.”

Giyuu!reader stared at him with widened eyes. “...A tie?” She whispered, averting her attention back to the dark-haired woman. Brunhilde sighed, her hands planted on her hips and lips curled into a frown.

“He speaks the truth, though in hindsight, there is no predicting how this tournament will proceed. A complete victory would have been preferable…but this…I’ll accept it. For now. And you did fight hard, and with courage, unlike some of the warriors I had spoken to before coming to you. So…forgive me.” She inclined her head slightly to Giyuu!reader before she strode towards the door. The Valkyrie then looked back at the Hashira.

“Get some rest.”

That was the last thing Brunhilde had said before she skittered out of the room, leaving Giyuu!reader alone with the demigod. She said nothing, watching Heracles smiling boyishly at her as he carefully lowered himself on the edge of the bed, causing Giyuu!reader to scoot a little towards the right so that he’d have enough room. “How do you feel?” Giyuu!reader asked, tilting her head. “If we were both knocked out…then why weren’t you in the same room as I? Did the gods fear I would try to finish the job as soon as I was conscious?” She would have done it too, if Heracles had been a demon instead of a half-mortal, half-god she fought against in a tournament where the fate of humanity hung in the balance.

Giyuu!reader watched as his eyes widened for a fraction before he threw his head back, a booming laugh bouncing off the walls. He laughed for a bit, and then looked at her, his grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Sorry. I-It’s just…wow, I definitely wasn’t expecting that! No. The hospital policy is to not have men and women share the same room, even when there are curtains that can be used for privacy and so on.” He chuckled, using the back of his hand to wipe away some tears that were trickling down his face from laughing too hard.

Giyuu!reader blinked, staring at him blankly. “I suppose that does make sense.” She muttered. “Will you be leaving soon then? I’ve heard gods and demigods have extraordinary regenerative abilities.”

“Soon.” He said, flexing his left arm. “The facilities used here are amazing, and you’ll get to go back home too!”

“And our fight was most definitely a tie?”

“Absolutely! It was a double-knock out! Everyone saw it, and they can certainly not deny it! Even Heimdall was astonished at your strength. Oh, we could even have another match when you’ve made a full recovery! Ares is an amazing fighter like you, but he’s not always available! And I’ve never seen a fighting style like yours, it’s incredible!”

Giyuu!reader stared at him for a long moment until she slowly nodded in agreement.

“I would not mind.” She said softly. “Although…knowing Tanjiro and Nezuko, they will probably give me quite the scolding when I return to the compound.” Just when she said those words with a small smile, which caused Heracles’ heart to skip a beat upon seeing such a lovely expression on the warrior’s face, however, the door opened with a loud ‘bang’. Both of them turned and saw a little girl with a bamboo piece in her mouth, pink eyes widening before she began to weep. Without a word of warning, she blitzed towards Giyuu!reader, performing a small backflip as her body shrunk to the size of a toddler and landed squarely on the Hashira’s solar plexus, knocking the wind of her with a grunt.

But Giyuu!reader didn’t push the child away. Instead, she pulled the little one into a hug as chubby arms coiled around her neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m alright, Nezuko. See? I told you everything would be fine.” The Hashira cooed, slowly rocking her body back and forth.

From the corner of his eye, Heracles saw another human enter the room. Taller, and he couldn’t have been younger than fifteen or seventeen summers with dark red hair and a green checkered haori draped over his black uniform with silver buttons. The demigod immediately recognized him, and the little girl. They were from the arena, and the boy called out to Giyuu!reader during the match.

The boy, whom he had to guess was Tanjiro, stared at him with nervous, inquisitive eyes. Heracles smiled at him, and stood from the bed, allowing the tiny mortal to approach Giyuu!reader. Tanjiro beamed at him before he walked over to Giyuu!reader’s side, throwing his arms around the Water Hashira and Nezuko, burying his face in the former’s shoulder. When he pulled away, the demigod saw that this boy wasn’t even trying to hide his tears. He had been truly worried about Giyuu!reader.

Giyuu!reader smiled at him, raising a hand and stroking the top of his head before trying to wipe away his tears, although such a tender gesture only made him cry even harder.

While he didn't know the history between these three individuals, it was clear to Heracles that they shared a close bond with one another. He smiled, watching Giyuu!reader panicking over Tanjiro while the little one, Nezuko, looked up at him with tiny flowers over her head till she decided to hug his uninjured leg. His grin widened.

Humans were truly amazing.

“Say, once we’ve been cleared by the healers to be released, how about we all go out and get something to eat? My treat!”

Tanjiro and Nezuko definitely wanted to go, but they left the final decision to Giyuu!reader as they stared at her with wide, curious eyes. Giyuu!reader nodded.

“It would be our honor, Heracles of the Grecian pantheon. I hope we can wait to spar until we’ve fully healed?” She asked with a raised brow. Heracles beamed, jabbing a thumb at his chest.

“Of course! I swear upon my honor!”

“Then it is settled.”

Heracles felt his heart race and his smile widen upon seeing her smile for the second time. He did not know why he felt like this. The only conclusion he could come up with is that he didn’t have to kill this strangely wonderful woman and cause grief for these children. He wouldn’t find out the actual truth until much, much later.

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#an idyllic novelist #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #ror x reader #snv x reader #fem reader #snv #snv heracles #ror heracles #giyuu!reader #fem!reader #heracles x reader

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majeoeje · 3 months

Text

Words better left unsaid

Gojo Satoru x Reader (fem implied reader) SEASON 2 SPOILER WARNING‼️‼️

In which i don't ever wish to be strong like you

"Don't look at me like that"

Satoru said, the dark circles around his eyes showed how fatigue could made the strongest falter

He hasn't really faced any mission that required his full attention 24/7 recently, but his best friend leaving must've taken a toll on his soul

"Rough week?" You inquired seeing how he caused destruction near his sorroundings

Well no duh he had a rough week?!! You cursed yourself at the shitty attempt at small talk. His best friend just did a massacre on his own village, even killing his own parents for the sake of his ideals.

To eliminate all non sorcerers and for the world to be free of curses... to think that Suguru Geto would aim for such grand motivation was a hard pill to swallow. Though you didn't doubt it one second seeing his gaze that filled with disgust and hatred when he last saw you. To think that after that he'd murder the people of his own hometown made you feel like you just dodged a bullet.

Despite your empty words, Satoru only ignored your words much to your dismay, his brows knitting together in frustration as he stared far off in the distance.

"If you know where he is then why not go after him"

Gojo Satoru has the ability to see miles away with his six eyes. An ability that perfects his infinity technique

Even in this distance, you already know that he is literally staring down on where Suguru was standing, there's no denying that

"You already know why"

In fact you didn't. Maybe you just lacked an understanding on his self restraints. With his power, he could just join suguru any day and assure their victory. Because you already know deep down inside, Gojo Satoru lacked morality

Well why would he? When everyone praises the ground he walked on? When everyone recognize him as the strongest and never Gojo Satoru? When everyone sees him as a God?

Well in some way he was

But then why stay? You thought, as you eyes wonder to his bright blue eyes, today it seemed a dimmer than usual. Maybe if Satoru truly believed in what Suguru was trying to achieve, then he wouldn't waste any time here

You heaved out a sigh, knowing well you yourself also lacked morals, not batting an eye upon thousands humanities along your kind, afraid your efforts would ring fruitless.

You approached him, closing his blue eyes with the palm of your hand from behind

"I think that's enough of that"

Without his glasses, his inhumane eyesight can tire him easily from sensory overload. You only sighed sliding your other hand on his shoulder to hug him. A poor attempt to comfort him really

"Awe, are you finally warming up to me after 7 years? I gotta warn you i'm not exactly the faithful type" he chuckled, trying to put on a facade he so intricately crafted, but it wasn't enough to fool you.

"Well that's surely surprising, how could i ever keep my feelings to myself?" he could practically FEEL you rolling your eyes

"I can see how tired you are Satoru" You insisted, feeling him reluctantly give up as his eyes relaxes in your touch.

Satoru had barricaded his heart away from other people, choosing to constantly use his infinity almost as every second passed. Setting up a literal out on everyone. Yet he stills turns it off everytime you got closer

"Don't be such a priss, you know no one could even lay a finger on me" you guessed he wasn't counting you

"I know that more than anyone" you let go of your embrace, though still covering his eyes

At the age of 10 you were engage to Gojo Satoru, an arrogant cold child who would grow up to be a bigger child. You grew to despise him really. You never put in any effort to understand him, and he never did you. But maybe years together wasn't nothing at all

"I wouldn't ever want you to be hurt you know that right?"

for the first time in years you said a heartfelt thing to him, he wouldn't call it the sweetest thing ever, yet he falters with crumbs of your affection

"I know"

Silence ensues. It wasn't uncommon in your relationship for the past 7 years, you never minded it considering his whining gives you a headache

"I'll call someone to pick us up" you said shortly as you dialed a number, the sound of buttons being clicked on your flip phone served as a mediator to the tense atmosphere you're in

Your driver arrived in a flash but those 3 minutes felt like forever. You brushed it off anyways leading Satoru to the car, still covering his eyes

"Where's your glasses?" You asked him, feeling your hands being sore for being up for a while. Trying to find other solutions such as his pitch black glasses

"I lost it" he said, not harboring any guilt whatsoever

"Gah- my hand is sore Gojo." you whined, despite not letting go. You never learned how to

But he instinctively leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder, making you rest your hand easily

"Much better i know" He gave you that shitty smile. The one that always gets you to succumb to his will as you sighed for another time that day.

"I guess" you try not to give him too much of an earful to his antics. Because you noticed how when suguru left him, he felt an undeniable sense of lost in his heart. He never truly picked himself up like he seemed to, opting to try to distract himself with missions such as now. Going as far as the Gojo family sending you to look for him

His glasses were on his pocket this entire time. Opting to say white lies instead of the truth. Satoru Gojo truly had never changed.

Because truthfully he wanted to stay this way just a little longer. He didn't want you to feel the absence of anyone's touch right in that moment, even if he needs to make millions of excuses to do so.

"Don't leave." He'd say

But he'd burried it in inside even as he watches them walk away not saying what he wanted the most

But words of his own would echo in his mind over and over again throughout the car ride, as the occasional bump of the old school vehicle was your white noise throughout it all. Once again, innanimate sounds continued to fill in the blanks for the both of you. Well you always had found comfort in it knowing you don't have to put much effort for him... but.... right now, the pride that seems to overshadow your genuine care for him seem to have fogged away. Only for now of course

"I won't leave, Satoru"

Satoru didn't say anything as it felt like you saw right through him. You felt something wet trickled your hand. But you didn't say anything.

Once again you both chose to stay silent. But just how long can this colorful silence last?

(A/N:love triangle era ig)

#satorugojo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x suguru

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cursedvibes · 28 days

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The way people are focusing on "My fav Gojo is not racist, he's just ignorant" and "Gege really hates Gojo he made him racist" when it was not even the point of that interaction. The point was to educate and talk about some stereotypes about black people that are harmful to the community and, if you look into it I'm sure you'll find has it origins in slavery.

Besides, Gojo is privileged and comes from an old money family, and it looks like he isolatehimself from others. Of course, it's in character for him to say stupid things like that. Even if he strives for change.

Yeah, everyone is so pressed that their fave is being problematic (which honestly Gojo has always been, he's hardly a saint and he treats many people quite shitty like for example Utahime and Ijichi) that they miss the bigger picture of this. Given, I think there are better ways to get that point across, but the aim here was definitely not "look at what a uniquely bad person Gojo is, I want to make readers hate him" it's for readers to reflect upon themselves and their own biases, conscious or not. Gojo is often being a dick to people, Miguel included, but this wasn't it. He wasn't just being annoying as usual, he made a misinformed statement rooted in racism "black people are naturally stronger/tougher/more resistant" and he got told off for it, which actually led to him apologizing. He expresses bigoted views, that are quite common all around the world and can lead to real harm like for example medical discrimination, but people often don't question or even notice that they have these views. I think exactly because he's such a fan-favourite character, Miguel calling him out and Gojo admitting he said fucked up shit is important.

Gojo might make a trip to Kenya to meet Yuuta, but unsurprisingly doesn't have any real black acquaintances and the one black person he knows a little better doesn't like him because he treats him like shit, an expandable tool (given, Miguel did try to help someone do a genocide so it's not like him working to make up for that in principle is a problem, but Gojo is not just treating him badly because of that) and has dismissed him and his culture as a whole. Gojo's racism towards Miguel didn't come out of thin air with chapter 255.

No wonder Miguel wants him dead.

You could say Gojo's racism and ignorance got punished before as this powerful cursed tool he so casually dismisses here together with its history could have gotten him out of the box much earlier. If he hadn't gone out of his way to destroy part of Kenyian sorcerer's culture because of his fear that it might be used to hurt him, he might still be alive. This chapter the payback was just more direct, Miguel was given the space to push back and not just get beat up (making in the previous moment Gojo seem like the righteous cool guy, seen by how the fandom reacted to their fight) and he also didn't sugar-coat it and straight up said "you're being racist".

The fact that Gojo apologized, something quite rare for him, and didn't defend his uninformed views or mocked Miguel for questioning him also shows that a lot of this comes from unaddressed biases, irrational fears and having lived a sheltered life in terms of being exposed to other cultures (and actually valuing them) that influence his judgement. He's not trying to be maliciously racist, but he clearly doesn't know what he's talking about and why it is harmful. I don't think he revelled in destroying other people's culture, he was just driven by a base fear, but that doesn't make the harm he caused any better. He's never had any reason to engage with black people on a personal level and that has unsurprisingly led to some ignorant opinions about them. Again, a very common sentiment which Gege uses Gojo to highlight. This is clearly reflecting arguments and talking points Gege has heard themselves and tried to address here. I'm sure there are all kinds of wild racist takes about Miguel on Japanese social media, I know the English side has them plenty.

I think the message Gege wanted to send was executed a bit clunkily by for example still tying Miguel's CT to rhythm (replacing the inhumanly strong black guy stereotype with another common one) and putting the burden all on Miguel to educate the people around him. Similarly, having only one (explicit) black person in the manga who has to then explain anti-black racism to the reader makes it feel very forced. I think you could've avoided a lot of that and included these topics more dynamically by giving us more background on Miguel's technique and how he came to it and comparing it to cursed technique's of other Kenyan or African sorcerer's. Another option would be making Hakari for example Black-Asian (or Todo or Yaga). He has a darker skin tone than the other characters and differently textured hair (which would already lead to him having to face a bunch of bigotry in his everyday life) and he is hated by the conservative higher-ups. So actually do something with that and address it.

Even Japanese people who are merely slightly tanned get harassed. Just being from Kyushu or Okinawa, somewhere where it's much warmer and sunnier and therefore not being as pale as the average person in e.g. Tokyo will get you plenty of derogatory comments, especially if you're a woman. That goes extra for indigenous people like the Ryukyuan or Ainu who not only face prejudice because of their appearance but also legal discrimination because of their origins and challenge the very popular notion that Japan only has one ethnic group and one language. Japan still struggles with a lot of racism internally against their own people, so you can imagine that it's even worse for anyone who newly immigrated or with parents who immigrated (in the best of times you will always be treated as a foreigner no matter how well you speak the language or integrate into the culture simply because you look "different"). It has gotten better in recent times, but it's still a problem, as Gege pointed out in this chapter.

Coming back to Hakari, we would also be able to see through him how jujutsu society treats black-identified Japanese sorcerers, which would be a different perspective from Miguel's who only visits Japan occasionally and mostly operated outside the system until Gojo came along. Black people aren't just something distant overseas, they are also Japanese citizens. You could show if and how jujutsu society differs from regular Japanese society. Most likely they are even more behind as they also discriminate against what kind of cursed technique you have (modern or one based on a long bloodline, which would automatically work against anyone not born in Japan and with a long family history there). You could also combine it with the transphobia Kirara faced and generally show how this system fails young sorcerers who don't conform to their norm.

But yeah, sorry Gojo is not perfect and will fall into the same stereotypical and bigoted thinking as many other people who rarely step outside their narrow homogenous social circle. Like you said, he's privileged with old money and family history who pride themselves on their bloodline. He's generally very narrow-minded about things that don't interest him or he sees as irrelevant like how he doesn't bother to understand Maki or has no problem ignoring a starving child on the road (who cares what happens to Hana, she's weak and Megumi is the strong one, he's who matters here and deserves to be lifted out of poverty) and international sorcerers fall under that as well. There are so little of them so it's okay to ignore them, why should he bother reaching out or informing himself about people abroad, he's never gonna interact with them anyway. If they get too dangerous for his taste, he's just gonna slap them around a bit and take away their sharp toys.

Honestly, I think what Gojo did previously is worse than what he said this chapter. He can learn to check his internalized racism and be more mindful of how he talks to Miguel or black people in general (he shows openness to criticism and improvement here), but he can't bring back Black Rope. It falls to Kenya's sorcerers to recreate it, which will take decades. They'll feel the impact of Gojo's actions long past his death, even when he can't say anything ignorant or racist anymore.

So I don't think this ruins his character, was done by Gege to make Gojo fans feel bad, or meant to keep anyone from liking him. He has character flaws and that is fine. He gets challenged on them and receives push back for them plenty in the story. I can understand that some fans feel bad reading the chapter, hearing Gojo regurgitate talking points they might've heard said against them as well, but it's not really Gege's fault for addressing this very common issue.

#asks #jjk spoilers #jjk 255 #jjk leaks

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 4 months

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I liked Kieran, maybe only because he reminded me of myself as a kid. Constantly feeling left out and being both harassed for everything you do do and never being trusted with anything to even proof yourself capable, like the knowledge about the truth about ogerpon. I still am, working on that, but was way more jealous of other people hanging out with my friends simply because I had so precious few. Idk how much it would have fucked with me if my verbally abusive older sister (I do also have one of those) simply decided that one of my friends was now one of hers instead and kicking me out while my friend isn't saying or doing anything to be like "no, actually I want to spend time with [anon] too".

Obviously his obsession with ogerpon and the following Drive to get stronger is pretty hyperbolic but I did also have a bit of that. Just rejecting everything, throwing everything back at everyone since it was, or at least felt, like its always my family and the people around me just throwing shit at me too. Did I overreact a bunch of times? Oh yeah for sure. Teenage tantrums will get ya, but I really did need that. Without it I don't think I would have ever learned to call out my family's abuse and other people treating me poorly. Since as a kid that just radiates low self esteem you seem to get treated like shit from just about everyone.

Anyway all that is to say, throwing around things like "I think this kid would shoot up a school if only he had access to guns" isn't, imho, great. And I don't even really particularly care about your instance rn, like it's a fictional character in a Pokémon game who cares. So sorry for being the one who got my rant lol. It's just something I've been seeing more of lately, people throwing "they'd shoot up a school" not only at fictional characters but actual human beings. Which I think is fucked. Thankfully no one ever said that to me, but I cannot imagine how hurtful that must be, like if we ignore all the other negative effects it has for a second, when your actual school life was hell enough to make you consider ending your own life, like it was for me, to just get thrown another brick at your head that people think you would be monster enough to murder people.

...well there's a lot to unpack here.

So first up, you have my genuine condolences for your extraordinarily shitty school life. You clearly had the very rough end of the stick, and it's clearly still hurting, and that sucks.

However. I am not thrilled that you just trauma dumped in my inbox because you over-projected onto a fictional character, and I'll ask you not to do that again. Particularly when your "rant" is explicitly aimed at trying to make me feel bad for criticising a fictional character that you, once again, have over-projected onto.

Like listen, I too had an extraordinarily shitty school life, and I also had very few friends (and at three separate extended points, a combination of Literally No Friends At All, AND Being Actively Targeted For Bullying; the first time around, the bullying was led by the class teacher, even.) I have very much been there, done that and got an entire t-shirt shop. But I still didn't come away from that feeling that I was entitled to other people liking me or wanting to be friends with me, because no one is obliged to like or be friends with anyone else. I may have occasionally felt jealous, but I didn't throw tantrums and demand perfect loyalty from the few friends I did make, because that would have been abusive as all hell and would have justly made them want nothing to do with me. And, crucially and relevantly to the fictional character in the fictional world that we are discussing, I did not fixate on someone I wanted to be my friend, see that they were afraid of me and wanted to be friends with someone else, and then throw such a tantrum about it that I physically fought that someone else for the 'rights' to that friend regardless of their consent in that matter, apparently with the intention of abducting them if I won. And on losing that fight, I did not storm off and start amassing a collection of stronger and stronger weapons so I could take over my school and prove my dominance over them, emotionally abusing anyone who couldn't keep up with me because of family problems along the way. I presume you did not either!

And if I had, then the trauma and loneliness I received would be irrelevant - actions borne of trauma are still actions, with real world consequences, and you are still responsible for them regardless of how bad you felt.

(I mean, not to put too fine a point on it, but school shooters are people who are also lonely and often bullied. It's very interesting therefore that you dismiss them as "monsters" while demanding that all behaviour from such people up to the shooting be excused. But the issue with such people is the entitlement they feel and the abuse they therefore dish out. Shootings are just the most extreme symptom of that - they're far from the only symptom.)

I cannot stress this enough - you are not the fictional character of Kieran in the game Pokémon Scarlet and Violet. You did not make his choices, or perform his actions (I assume). Criticism of him is not criticism of you. No one is accusing you of being about to shoot up a school. You state that you don't care that he's a fictional character, but I'm afraid you very much should, because that is the crucial difference. I am sorry that you're seeing a lot of people accusing real life people of being school shooters, but that is not what has happened here, is it?

You're welcome to write back. But I'll warn you very clearly - I am absolutely not at home to you trauma dumping further, or trying to make me feel guilty for talking about a fictional character because you have over-projected and therefore are taking it personally. That is a You Problem, and I will block you without reading if you do.

However, I am going to finish by reiterating my very genuine sympathies for your school experience. It truly was an appalling time for me, and it seems like it was for you, too. I hope you can process that trauma now, and find peace.

#asks #yikes

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lvrhughes · 8 months

Text

I Love You, I'm Sorry | C. Caufield

pairing: Cole Caufield x gn!reader?

word count: 1.1k

summary: part 2 to Do You Know How Hard I Tired, after Cole's outburst he comes over to apologize

warnings: none? cursing (a lot oops)

“Hey,” The beg interrupted by a sniffle before returning, “could you come pick me up please?”

“Babe, what happened? Are you okay? I’ll be there in five.”

At least you could always count on him, Arber Xhekaj. He was like a giant teddy bear, one you befriended quickly.

No more than three minutes later, Arber was back, pulling in front of you and running out of his car.

“Babes, what happened?” His tone was soft, his arms quickly tugging you into a hug, letting you break down into sobs.

“Cole.” was all you managed out.

“I’m going to kill him.” He growled, his grip tightening around you. He was the only person you had ever told about Cole, and you told him everything.

“Don’t”

“Babes, he hurt you, he’s not getting away with this.”

“I hurt me, it’s my fault, i wasn’t supposed to fall in love.”

“That was a shitty rule, you’ve always loved him.”

It was the truth, yet it didn’t hurt any less. He was quick to bring you home, constantly checking you were okay before leaving for the night.

You could hear your phone buzz on the counter, ignoring it for the peace of some random show you had thrown on, only reacting when your phone began alerting you of a call.

His photo popped up on screen, sending chills through your body, laying the phone back on the couch beside you now. Peeking when it stopped.

Over 100 messages, 2 voicemails, and far too many snaps. He had gotten desperate. Going through everything to reach you, yet always coming up short. Making the choice to put your phone on do not disturb before returning to the TV.

It was a peaceful half hour before there was persistent banging on your door, urging you to get up and get rid of whoever was there.

“If you are Cole Caufield you better be thirty feet from the door right now or I bring out my throwing knives!” You yelled, slowly walking to the door, opening it quickly.

Cole stood there, hands in his pockets, leaned against the wall.

“You have shitty aim, your knives don’t scare me.” He grinned, earning you to slam the door in his face. “Hey!”

“Fuck off Cole!” You yelled back, turning to the stairs leading to your room.

Falling onto your bed as you entered, rolling over to lay on your back, staring at the roof. Until the sound of your window opening jolted you from the trance. Seeing Cole crawling through the window.

“Cole, what the fuck?”

“Stop ignoring me.” He said as he stood, brushing his pants off.

“Stop being a dick.” You countered, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m not being a dick.”

“I told you I love you and you told me it was all my fault and yelled at me to leave. Pretty dick move to me, now get the fuck out Cole!”

“Okay, fine, I’m a dick, I’m a horrible person, but I can’t lose you.”

Silence seemed like the best answer, leaving him to run his hands through his hair in a panic. Quickly pacing the room, leaving you sitting on the edge of your bed as he did.

“Say something! Please God, Mon Amour, do something! Anything! Scream, yell, something that shows me you still care!”

You shook your head, getting up to walk out the door. His hand quickly reaches out and grasps your wrist. His movements quick, dragging you into his chest as his arms wrapped around you, leaving you wiggling in his arms.

“Cole let go!”

“Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you so much, don’t leave.” You could feel his tears drip onto your shoulder, his body racking with sobs.

“Cole, pull yourself together! This is your fault.” His arms finally dropped, letting you slip away, returning to your kitchen for a drink.

Cole following shortly after, seeing you pour a glass of wine. His body stood behind your kitchen island, keeping distance.

“I’m so sorry, I’m stupid, I can’t handle anything and I’m in love with you.”

His words making you turn to stare, sipping your glass of wine while you listened before replying gently.

“Cole, this doesn’t fix anything. You blamed me for something I didn’t have a part in, you yelled at me for falling in love with you as if I chose that.”

“I know, God I know, I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t mean anything, I just, fuck. I fell for you so quick and I thought friends with benefits would satisfy me but it didn’t. I just fell harder for you and then they chirped me for it and I couldn’t take it. I wanted so badly to yell back at them that your mine and they should be jealous but your not and now I’ve fucked it up.”

His words said quickly, almost slurred together as you sipped your wine, listening to his panic and slur of words.

“Breathe, Cole.” You heard the breath he took after you interrupted before continuing on another speech.

“Cole, stop.” He paused, his whole body still, almost shaking with nerves. “You know I can’t just tell you it’s fine and I love you?”

He was quick to interrupt with a short ‘yes I know I didn’t expect that’ before you continued.

“But I love you so much even when you broke my heart I still wanted you, so, if you’ll agree, we’ll go slow?”

“Yes! Yes please yes, I need you and I fucked up and I’ll be saying sorry forever. I just need you.” With each word he took a step closer, standing right in front of you, his hands reaching to cup your face.

Hesitation on his face, the way his hands froze just before touching you. Waiting for confirmation, letting you nod before he touched you. Leaning into his touch, feeling the breath he let out as you did was comfort for him.

“Can I kiss you?” The words slipped past his lips quicker than he could think, the look of panic on his face confirming, making you laugh a little.

“Yes.”

Without hesitation his lips fell on yours, letting you melt into the kiss, your hands running through his hair and his secure around your waist.

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” He mumbled against your lips, earning you to shake your head a press further into him.

“You’ll make it up I’m sure.” You promised against his lips, a small smile playing on yours.

#mads writings!#cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagine #cole caufield #cole caufield blurb #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #montreal canadiens #montreal canadien imagine

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garoujo · 2 years

Text

・✶ ｡ﾟ nanami doesn’t offer extra credit in his ‘class’ but you decide to do a little mutual exchange instead.

♱ warnings — roleplay, f!reader, teacher / student roleplay, he’s not actually ur teacher but that’s discussed at the end, creampies.

♱ note — i get so stressed writing him incase he’s ooc but i rly hope u guys like it <3

RETURN TO KINKTOBER MLIST ♱ REGULAR MLIST

“you’ve never heard of extra credit?” you hum from where you’re leaning over nanami’s ‘desk’ in his study. giving the man sat opposite you a pretty view of your tits in your shirt as you send him an even prettier look.

“that is not an option in my class, sweetheart.” he looks at you like he wants to devour you, every part of you as he lets his eyes linger on the twist and bounce of your hips in your tiny skirt as you round his desk.

your fingers graze along the cold wood and nanami thinks you’re dangerous, a force to be reconned with but you’re so fucking beautiful.

“so you’ve never thought about it?” you hum, your voice taking a seductive lull that makes nanami clear his throat to try and ignore the twitch of his cock in his slacks at the sound. “what are you implying?“

you’re like a succubus when you rest yourself against his desk just infront of him, your pretty thighs spread to reveal your already damp panties as your fingers press down on the intimate skin. his eyes are heavy, narrowed on the twitch of your thighs and the alluring, irresistible sight of you so desperate for a grade you’d do anything.

“i see the way you look at me. we can just call it a mutual exchange.”

beautiful, nanami thinks you look beautiful with your chest pressed tight against his desk, that same skirt bunched up around your hips as he ruts into you ruthlessly from behind, eyes blown and focused on the way your pussy is spread tight around his heavy cock.

he knows it’s wrong, fucking one of his pretty little students just so they can pass him class, waiting until the halls are clear so he can fold you in half on his desk.

he could lose his job, never teach again, but then he feels your walls clench around him with the next deep drive of his cock into your cunt, and nanami realises he doesn’t care, the overtime for this job was shitty anyway.

“you should just aim to do better in my class, sweetheart.” he grunts, there’s a breathless edge to his voice that’s still barely audible over the ringing in your ears, the blunt head of his cock making your head spin, sliding along your sweet spots perfectly and igniting every nerve ending in your body.

your cheek is pressing against the cold wooden desk below you, your figure caged underneath nanami’s chest as he presses into you from behind — but you still manage to let your eyes wander to really take him in.

his shirt is half unbuttoned, tie discarded somewhere on the floor to let you admire the peek of the broad muscle underneath the fabric. his blonde hair is mused from your hands and his efforts and his gaze is blown and heavy lidded when he meets you with a needy look.

“are you listening?” your walls tighten and twitch around him, like you’re answering his question with your cunt and it pulls a low, gravelling groan from nanami behind you when he looks at you again, lust burning in his gaze — making you swallow heavy before you’re gasping out a little whispery promise to be better.

he shoots you a kind grin, one that almost seems misplaced when he angles his hips higher against yours, pushing his cock deeper into your messy pussy. the wet squelching noises only seem to grow louder with every slam of his hips, and you’d think he was trying to engrave every sound you make into the walls with his pace.

your cunt squeezes around him, like it’s trying to milk him — pull him back in every-time his hips draw back and nanami’s pace stutters momentarily as another low groan falls from his lips. “you’ve always been a model student, sweetheart. is this why? or is it just for me?”

“‘ts only for you, i promise—ah!” he likes that answer, you can tell by the way he breathes heavy — following it up with a particularly sharp thrust that feels like a reward, like you’ve just answered an answer correctly in his class and maybe if this was what you got in return everytime you’d try harder.

“mmm, then let me see how much you want to pass my class.” he’s grunting, clenching his teeth as he sinks back into your warm cunt, and the force of his hips only seems to grow heavier as your body jolts underneath him with each thrust.

“are you going to pay better attention in my lessons?” nanami grunts again, cursing roughly when you tighten around him once more and you’re almost embarrassed at the mess you can feel on the wood beneath you — the small whimper that falls from your lips not doing anything to assure him. “are you that greedy for my cock, sweetheart? fuck—do i need to tutor you after every class?”

“mhm, need extra help.. i-it’s so hard.” his thrusts grow louder, you’re reduced to needy moans and whimpers of his name as he drives you into the wood beneath you — feeling his cock pound away at the spot that has you hurtling towards your end.

“hhmmn, i’ll need to make time for you then.“ he drawls and your lips part into a silent scream when you suddenly stiffen beneath him, your orgasm ripping through your body as a familiar rush of warmth ignites your nerves.

you feel nanami tremble before curling over you, giving into the needy coax of your clenching walls as he follows you off the edge, spilling into you with a deep but satisfied groan.

he fucks into you shallowly until you’re both hissing from overstimulation, wordlessly pulling away from you with a low hum and a smeared kiss along your shoulder before he’s massaging his large hands along the bruises in your hips.

“how was it, nanami-sensei?” you tease where you come to stand and you watch nanami send you a soft sort of smile as you curl yourself against his chest — his arm hooking around your waist eagerly before he presses his next kiss against your forehead. “is this how you were as a student?”

“hmph, no.. unless you were my teacher, then maybe.” your quick reply makes him chuckle, a deep sound that rumbles in his chest before he starts to smooth out your appearance — thankful that you let him indulge in a little one of his fantasies in the makeshift ‘classroom’ that is just his stay at home office.

“i’d make sure you were top of my class, sweetheart.”

#𖥶 ₊˚. — ktober !#jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut

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piratefishmama · 11 months

Text

Crossing the Line | Part 12

Using the word ‘Conflicted’ for what Eddie was currently feeling was… an understatement. On the one hand, good lord he’d almost came in his jeans from just a tongue down his throat, a very very talented tongue belonging to a very very attractive man. On the other, that man had basically just pretended to like his music to get into his pants.

Eddie had never had that happen before. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

He did, however, know that he was ignoring the DM on Insta from that very same attractive man, the message full of blushy emojis and how he’d ‘forgotten’ to leave his number, dropping the digits right there in plain view.

He had Steve Harrington’s personal phone number. Holy shit.

He was ignoring it. Left it on read. Didn’t know what to do with it. If push came to shove and he made a decision in Steve’s favour then he’d just claim he was busy with the band at the shitty diner after the show. He stuffed a handful of lukewarm fries in his mouth, ketchup smearing the corners of his lips. If he decided against Steve then… he’d block him and forget all about him, and hope he wouldn’t show up at the coffee shop.

“I mean, if they were earplugs, then they were pretty shit earplugs, Eds” Gareth was the only one supplying a sound argument, he had ulterior motives though, he had bias to stick up for Steve! He was aiming to get the hell out of retail, and it showed.

“What?” Frank cut in with that expression on his face that blatantly said are you hearing this shit?

“I mean, he answered us all pretty easily, he had a full conversation with us! Didn’t even seem like he was struggling to hear us. Earplugs would have made it difficult to hear, right? Maybe they were something else!” All very valid points. Or… a very valid singular point.

“No he didn’t, dude, he vaguely responded to Jeff’s babbling, that he definitely could have vaguely heard through the earplugs, then left. I dunno about you but sometimes, I can definitely hear around earplugs, they’re probably just the cheap ones you get at the airport or something.”

“Dude what is your deal?”

“What’s my deal? Why are you so pro Steve Harrington?”

“He’s sick of Paul.” Jeff supplied helpfully around the straw of his chocolate milkshake.

“It’s Ralph, Paul quit last month remember?”

“Whaaatt Paul quit? Man what about him and Rhonda?"

“That’s why he quit! She got a promotion, and they couldn’t work toge—what am I even, this isn’t about Paul and Rhonda!”

“Shut up!!” Eddie’s outburst silenced the others, and also gained the attention of the drunk teens across the diner, they didn’t move though, stared for a second, before going back to their terrible ‘night out’ food. “What should I do?” He couldn’t make a decision on his own. There were too many what ifs, too many how dare he’s, too many thoughts and they were all so very loud. His friends talking over each other really wasn’t helping. “Should I… confront him? Should I just ask him about it, should I ignore him completely and hope he just goes away?”

“I think, you should talk to him.” Eddie looked up, the returning figure of the angel of Corroded Coffin, his original best friend, honorary band member. Chrissy. The girl carrying two shakes, followed closely by Nancy. “Listen, ignoring Gareth’s need to get away from retail, sorry Gare”

“It’s cool, I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Ignoring Jeff’s blatant hero worship.”

“He’s known worldwide, he did modelling in Japan, Chris! He’s a massive star!”

“And ignoring Frank’s scepticism.”

“The only sane person here you mean. Nobody recognised him tonight, Jeff, worldwide my ass.”

“Ignoring, them.” Chrissy sighed, placing hers and Nancy’s shakes down before climbing into the booth beside Eddie, Nancy following suit forcing him up against the wall. “I think you should give him a chance. He’s come all this way, he paid for tickets to see you even though he obviously didn’t have to. Did you talk to him while the others were out of the room?”

“Mhm”

“And did he talk back without any issue?”

“…Yeah.”

“Okay, so, these earplugs might not even be earplugs. There’s plenty of things that they could be! Hell, he could have issues with his eardrums for all we know! That’s pretty common in the music industry” loud instruments, huge speakers around you, he could have just been born with it for all they knew “—and there’s earplug looking things that help with eardrum issues, they could even be those sneaky 'invisible' hearing aids! You should talk to him, it’s the only way you’re gonna know for sure.”

“You just wanna flirt with his friend some more.”

“Frank I swear to god.”

“She’s right” Nancy sighed “try conjuring an ulterior motive for me you little shit.” Nancy levelled Frank with a sharp glare, he wisely chose to stay silent. She looked back to Eddie with a small smile “He spoke with me too, even over the music near the bar so I don’t think they were earplugs either. And you like him, right?”

“…I really do.” He hadn’t at first, he’d made assumptions, he’d jumped to conclusions, he’d let his music snobbery get the best of him, but then he did his research. Then he looked the guy up, his accomplishments, his skills, his general personality that shined like sunlight around the right people, he took what’d happened at the coffee shop into consideration, and then the kiss… his lips still tingled, his neck still tingled! His body still craved what’d been abruptly cut short. “He’s… he’s really nice, Nance…”

“Yeah, he seems really nice, and if he’s not? I have a revolver in my glove box.” Eddie let out a soft breath of a laugh, which lit Nancy’s face up as if she’d taken that as a personal victory. “Reply to the text, or DM, or whatever he’s sent you, I saw you looking at it on the way over here. Set something up and ask him when you get there, you’ll only regret it if you don’t.”

“…We’re supposed to be having dinner tomorrow night where he’s staying, just me and him.” And he was… so nervous didn’t seem quite the right word for how nervous he actually was. What would happen if he went? That kiss had turned filthy so quickly and he’d wanted it. He’d wanted it so badly, would tomorrow be the night? Should he prepare or—

“Great! Set up a time and find out the address.” Nancy didn’t even give him time to step onto the spiral. “It’ll be okay, we’re a call away if something goes wrong, or if he turns out to be an asshole, alright?”

“…Alright. Now let me dip my fries in your shake.”

“Ew, no!”

Part 14

#PirateWrites #crossing the line #Steddie #Ficlet #no upside down au #Nancy and Chrissy are honorary band members lmao

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doberbutts · 2 months

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one thing to make clear is that from what ive seen people aren't saying transmascs are claiming transmisogyny doesnt exist, but kind of the opposite? as in, transmascs are trying to co-opt specific experiences transfems go through when they dont have that same lived experience, and thus cant offer as meaningful insight. this is basically the crux of the whole tme/tma discourse, though i think it'd be easily resolved if we were just allowed to have our own language to talk about our experiences

Oh there's absolutely people saying we think transmisogyny doesn't exist literally right now in the tag.

But you're also right that there's also people saying that somehow by discussing our problems, we're somehow stealing from trans fem discussions about theirs.

I don't really follow the logic of this to be perfectly honest. I think there is very little that trans fems experience that doesn't either have an equivalent experience for trans mascs or that trans mascs don't experience something also terrible in its stead, just like I think that of the other way around: there's very little that trans mascs experience that trans fems don't have an equivalent or equally terrible experience for. I think that is the nature of us both being affected by the specific intersection of transphobia and misogyny, just gendered in specific ways to hurt us as individuals.

Pretty much any post I've seen on this matter has made a lot of assumptions one way or the other that completely ignore the lived reality of both trans mascs and trans fems, and it's very frustrating to try and engage with this problem because it feels more like people dedicated to screaming at each other than anything really particularly productive.

I also think it is impossible to be exempt from oppression. Not being the target doesn't mean the bullet can't hit you if the shooter can't aim for shit.

And it's genuinely WEIRD to me that trans mascs are talking about suicide and rape statistics, medical gatekeeping, rejection from social groups upon coming out, politicians making laws targeting their ability to transition, erasure and also weaponization of trans pregnancy, resources for the most vulnerable of us requiring detransition at minimum for entry if we're allowed in at all, the rates of violence from domestic partners and family members, struggles with male beauty standards and eating disorders... all stuff stemming from transphobic cishet society and the patriarchy... and somehow we're stealing from trans fems or blaming trans fems for the shit that 99% of the time is lived experience coming from being targeted by fucking cis people in the first place.

Like, how is me talking about getting beaten up while being called a tranny and a heshe and getting pantsed and groped to "prove" my status as a girl due to being incredibly GNC and also intersex prior to figuring out that I'm trans co-opting anything from anyone? I'm talking about something that happened *to me*. It wasn't trans women who sent me home with bruises and scars every day, it was my shitty cishet classmates and their shitty cishet older siblings in an ultra-conservative environment. I don't think trans fems are at fault for what happened to me at all? I just don't like to be told that I'm "victimized myself" by talking about my very real trauma as a kid by someone who isn't even a trans fem claiming to be defending trans fems on my posts about it.

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lemonluvgirl · 8 months

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ROLE REVERSAL: More Hijacked Katniss AU (Alternate version of the lunch room scene)

"Your bread used to taste better." She says conversationally, as if she just wants to contribute something to the lunch room discussion, but her eyes cut to him and stay there. Narrowed and waiting for his reaction. All around them, their table grows quiet. Finnick stops separating Annie's carrots and peas on her plate. Gale's head snaps up from where he had been determinedly staring at his garlic/squash soup and shoveling it into his mouth dispassionately. And Haymitch cocks his head in her direction attentively. They are all watching her. This is the most she's said to him in days since their last botched interaction.

Peeta, though, keeps quiet as per their mentor's advice. Holding back a million things, he could say in reply. Like how District 13 only keeps the barest of ingredients in stock to make their food. No spices or herbs to add flavor. No add-ins like fruits or nuts or even butter can be spared from their spartan like rationing. Their ovens are also huge and dont heat to temperature evenly. They are for making large quantities of food fast and easily, not for slow cooking breads. Everything that has come out of them so far is either overcooked and dry or still slightly doughy in the middle. He can't seem to get them to produce a decent loaf no matter how hard he tries. They are nothing like the bakery ovens he is used to.

He gives her only a half shrug in reply, and the corner of her mouth twitches up in a near smile that sends a shiver down his spine. He doesn't like that look.

"Then again, maybe your bread was always shitty. Maybe everything you do is mediocre at best, like those kisses in the cave and those kisses on the Victory Tour, and Snow just messed with my head to make me think you were better than you are." She says the words, and they drip with undisguised malice.

The comment hits him square in the chest. Like a punch to the sternum. Just like she intended, no doubt from the way her gray eyes are glittering with hungry anticipation. They way she wants to hurt him and watch his reaction is so personal that it's vindictive. He never knows quite what to say to her when she does it. On one hand, it's better than when she's ignoring him completely. Like the way she treats Gale. As if he barely exists, and isn't even important enough to warant her disdain. He is like a nonenitity to her, a mild annoyance she occasionally frowns at when she can be bothered to acknowledge he even exists. Peeta can't imagine being that inconsequential to her after everything they've been through together. On the other hand, when she speaks to him, now it's excruciating. She's a sharp pointed weapon, as deadly accurate with her aim as she ever was, only now she uses her words instead of her arrows. Every time she opens her mouth, he's left feeling like a wounded fawn, shot through and left bleeding on the forest floor, heart pumping and blood racing in fear and desperation as she stands over him in violent triumph. He tries not to react to her words. Tries not to show how deeply she cuts him. Getting defensive only spurs her on he's learned. Because the more he struggles, the more she enjoys it. Like she knows, he'll bleed out faster because of it. He won't be able to keep his terrifying emotions in check. His broken heart will ooze from him and land in a puddle at her feet. Something for her to drag her boot through in disgust before she closes in for the kill.

A weezy chuckle breaks through the silence that has decended around the dining table, and it's their mentor who speaks while everyone's eyes are glued to the two of them.

"Of course, his bread used to taste better. You were in love with him. Everything in the world is better when you're young, stupid, and in love."

Peeta watches as the weight of their mentor's statement lands. Anger and something like embarrassment flash in her eyes. She scoffs, but two twin spots of color rise high on her cheeks. Evidence that the well placed volley has hit its mark.

Peeta exhales slowly. Fighting the urge to defend her and himself. It's a hard to break habit. And he knows that the urge to protect her will serve no one right now. She would hate him all the more if he even attempted it.

On the other side of his instinct is a strange kind of satisfaction at seeing her thrown off balance for even a moment.

Haymitch's words are a kind of vindication, and her reaction is further evidence, but the feeling that it leaves in his soul is bittersweet. Because it rings soundly true in a way that is simple and irrefutable. She did like his cooking once. Couldn't get enough of it, in fact. And she did love him in some way. She must have. The way she hates him now all but assures it. But Haymitch's use of the past tense when he talks about her feelings for him makes a place inside Peeta's chest ache with a sad longing that he fears will never completely go away.

Because she doesn't love him anymore, and now all that is left of their once profound connection is this. This cruel exercise in bloodletting that he really should walk away from but can't.

"I never loved him." She spits out, and if Johanna were here, she'd say something snarky and sarcastic about how Katniss is still a shit actress.

"That's what Snow wants you to think." Finnick says, looking squarely at Katniss, even voiced and confident in his words.

She sneers at him, opens her mouth, but Haymitch cuts her off.

"You did, and you still do. You're the only one who can't see it. Then again, even before the hijacking, you were pretty slow on the uptake. Still got the intuition of a fucking rock. Guess it's nice to know they didn't change everything about you." Haymitch says, words slipping out quickly, and punctuated by a loud burp that leaves a lingering stench of garlic.

It makes Peeta's nose wrinkle, and in the time it takes for him to shake his head to try and dislodge the smell from his nostrils, she bolts.

All he can do is stare at the empty space she had been sitting in and wonder if they will ever be able to have a normal conversation again.

#thg #everlark #fanfiction #lemonluvwrites #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #Golden Cages #Hijacked!Katniss #thg au #angst #hurt #no comfort #just ouch

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fckyouiwontdowhatyoutellme · 3 months

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Okay. Fuck it. I said I'll get it done until the weekend but considering I'll make it into 3 parts now, have part 2 of 'Sanji having a tattoo and Zoro being super normal about it' before writers block kicks my ass again.

Pt. 1 can be found here

This part gets a bit horny and also kinda emotional....at least as emotional as these idiots can get. Enjoy😊

For a few moments the bathroom was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Then hell broke loose, or rather Sanji broke loose. With a kick to Zoro's stomach he tried getting the green haired man off him.

"The hell is wrong with you? Did all that moss on your head finally grow into your brain or what?!" he screamed. But the swordsman didn't move, eyes fixed on the tattoo. Sanji cleared his throat, aiming for another kick. "Mosshead, I'm talking to you!" he tried wriggling free but it was no use. Zoro still held both his hands in an iron grip with one hand, while the other reached out towards his chest as if the sentient seaweed was in a trance, unfamiliar gently tracing over the rose. It took everything in Sanji not to shiver at this.

"You know..." Zoro started, his fingers still tracing over the tattoo. "I really hoped you weren't that dumb. Tattooing some random girl's name, fucking stupid!" as soon as the last word left Zoro's mouth, he found himself splashing backwards into the bathtub. Maybe he should have seen that one coming. "Bet her reaction was comparable to yours right now, am I right?" Zoro asked as he hoisted himself upon the ledge of the tub. The shitty cook made an angry noise at that, stomping over to the swordsman.

Crossing his arms Sanji gave Zoro an angry stare. "What happened to asking about it like a good boy, huh? Instead you barge in here like a perv and assume you know shit about what I conciously put on my body! I didn't know what I expected from someone who only has alcohol poisoned moss for brains, but it certainly wasn't this!" he yelled, contemplating to just kick the shitty swordsman back into the tub. At least that would take care of his personal hygiene. Already raising his leg towards his opponents head, he noticed that the shithead wasn't even looking at him anymore. Ignorant bastard. Instead the green haired idiot was staring towards the ceiling and was that a blush on his cheeks? For a moment Sanji wanted to blame that on the overall temperature inside the bathroom, then he finally realised that he was still entirely naked and the swordsman literally had a front row seat to see his dick right now.

As soon as the shitty cook raised his leg towards Zoro, all thoughts left his brain. This sight was better than anything his imagination ever produced. Long legs still dripping with water, muscles flexing, ready to deliver a painful kick. He wished to feel them wrapped around himself, to mark them up with bites, kiss along them up to...No. As much as he wanted to appreciate those powerful thighs and everything between them some more, this was not the right moment. It took all his willpower to look at the ceiling instead of the very exposed cook infront of him. Why did he even go through with this stupid idea? He should just walk out and forget this ever happened, the cook wouldn't let him live it down anyway. Speak of the devil, said shitty cook shook out of his momentary stupor to grab Zoro's chin and force him back to eye level with himself. "First of all, my eyes are here mon chou" he almost purred with newfound confidence and Zoro felt heat curl in his stomach. "And second, you still haven't asked to see me like this, it's not that hard...unlike you".

Sanji didn't really know what he expected from teasing the mossball or where he took his sudden confidence from but he was still surprised when a callussed hand grabbed his wrist and a dangerous growl escaped the swordsman. "Don't fucking talk to me like that! I'm none of your hopeless flirts curlybrows!" he hissed, guiding Sanji's hand aways from his face. "I've already seen it now so there's no need to ask anyways!" Zoro sounded different as he said that, tho Sanji couldn't quite pinpoint why. This entire situation was too weird for them to think about such little details now. He never thought the swordsman would stoop as low as this just to see his tattoo. But here he sat infront of Sanji dripping wet and with a very visible boner. This was the weirdest thing of all and the blond had to dig very deep through his memories to not match the swordsman in his compromising position (For once he was glad to have seen his old man in the rattiest pair of underwear known to mankind). He wouldn't give the mosshead that satisfaction. Not yet at least. For now he wanted to sort through this mess that startet shortly after he joined the Strawhats and maybe finally tell the truth about the name over his heart. The swordsman didn't seem to buy the lie of Sanji getting the name tattooed for a random girl, so truth it had to be. Goddamn shitty marimo and the things his presence did to Sanji. He needed a cigarette. Or three. For now he settled on a deep sigh.

"Alright marimo, this is ridiculous even for us. Take care of your little problem and then find me in the galley. If I'm gonna tell you about this, at least I wanna wear pants" with that the cook yanked his hand out of Zoro's grip and made his way out the door. Zoro sighed. The love cook was right. This whole thing was ridiculous. The only thing he himself got out of it was the most embarrasing boner of his life and uncomfortably cliging wet clothes. He waited until he heard Sanji's steps retreat, then quickly took care of the problem in his pants. After cleaning himself as good as possible and wringing out his clothes he made his way to the galley. Hopefully all this shit was worth it, he just wanted to know wich poor girl was forever stamped on the cook's chest and if it was something he could use against him. With a teasing grin Zoro swung open the galley door. "So, who's the unlucky lady on your chest curlybrows?" he asked and settled on the couch. The cook already looked ready to kick him again and took a long drag of his cigarette. Oh this would be a fun story to hear.

"Will you finally stop with that assumptions you shithead? And maybe apologize first for spying on me" Sanji hoped he could stall for a bit, still contemplating to tell Mossball the same lie as anyone else. But he said it himself. He knew Sanji wasn't stupid enough to do something like this. And why was that idiot so determined to see it anyways. That was the question that drove Sanji insane the most. "Well shitty swordsman? I'm not hearing an apology and why are you so dead set on seeing my tattoo anyways, hm?" if he was to answer the swordsman, he also had some things to explain first. Sanji watched the still slightly wet marimo opening and closing his mouth like a fish, all while looking like doing the hardest mental gymnastics. Maybe it was mean to force Zoro into telling, considering he didn't like to talk about personal things. No. No, for once he had to explain himself no matter how uncomfortable it made him. Sanji was right there with him anyways. After a while, Zoro finally decided to speak.

"Well, I was just curious I think" he managed to get out. It was only half the truth but he wasn't ready to tell the shitcook the entire reason why. Zoro's eyes flicked around the kitchen, he couldn't look at the blond in front of him. Not when the images from the bathroom were still fresh in his mind. He never thought to see the cook like this close up and it was a sight to behold. Nope. Full stop. That train of thought had to wait until this conversation was over. He wished he could stand up and get some Sake, that always made talking easier. But noticing the ashtray on the counter filled with cigarette butts he at least knew he wasn't alone in his nervousness.

Sanji sighed. "Curious? That's what you call spying on me in the shower? I'd call it being a creep" he said pointing his cigarette at Zoro.

"If anyone's a creep it's definetly you curls. Seeing as you got some random girl's name tattooed" Zoro grumbled out, not caring for the shitty cook's sharp intake of breath.

"Will you stop with that? Have you even considered that it could not be a random girl?" Sanji had a hard time trying to keep his voice calm.

Zoro huffed out a half hearted laugh. "Well then, enlighten me cook! I already asked you once but you didn't answer me. So go ahead, now is the time"

"First off: you were drunk off your ass when you asked me, I doubt you'd even remember it if I told you back then. Second: unless you apologize, I won't tell you shit!" by now Sanji didn't even care if he was yelling. Sometimes that was the only way of communication the mossball infront of him understood.

"Fine shit cook! I'm sorry for being curious about your stupid tattoo! Now tell me who the poor girl on your chest is" Zoro yelled back and narrowly escaped another kick aimed at him.

Sanji took another deep breath. The mossball had sort of apologized and he was getting tired of his stupid assumptions, so now it was all or nothing. "It's my mother's name, shithead!" he said in a calm and measured tone that even surprised himself.

That left Zoro stunned. He blinked, opened his mouth, blinked again and closed his mouth.

Sanji took the last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the overflowing ashtray. "Bet that never crossed your mind, eh marimo?" he asked looking at a still very much speechless Zoro that looked like he was questioning his entire being right now. It made him kinda nervous. Sanji never thought that the first person, besides Zeff, to know about his tattoo would be the stupid moss haired swordsman that is Roronoa Zoro. He basically bared a part of his soul to the one person he knew could destroy him with this knowledge.

After a few more seconds that felt like hours, Zoro finally found his voice again. "Shit, curls....'m sorry" he mumbled, looking anywhere but the cook. Feeling his curiosity come back he added: " Why didn't you tell the others?".

Sanji leaned against the counter, already fumbling with his next cigarette. "Dunno, they never questioned my cover story. I'm sure at least Robin-chan and Nami-san know it's not the truth but they never pressured me for an answer, unlike you dumbass." he chuckled. "The others would probably never believe you if you told them what I told you"

Zoro nodded. "Wouldn't have told them anyways" he said, decidedly not acknowledging the cook's provokation. Sure curlybrows mostly was an idiot but that didn't mean Zoro would tell his secret to everyone. He still had some sense of honor.

"Thanks, mon chou" the words fell out of Sanji's mouth before he could stop himself, mentally cursing the unusual fond tone of his voice. He blamed the weird time of night for it and hoped Zoro would ignore it like his jab towards him. Unfortunately luck wasn't on his side.

"Anytime curls, thanks for trusting me with that" came Zoro's equally fond reply. The atmosphere between him and the cook was weird enough anyways, so what. The blond lowered his guard, so Zoro could too even tho he didn't like how mushy he sounded. Like a lovesick teenager, wich was technically the truth but he didn't really want to put that kind of feeling into the conversation right now and risk making things even weirder. So he decided to test his luck, maybe the cook would tell him some more. "How was she? Your mom, I mean" he asked, playing with the hem of his still damp shirt. Sanji looked at him like he'd grown three heads.

"Why the sudden interest in my family mossball?" Sanji asked. That question was decidedly too personal for the two of them and considering he wanted to keep his family history hidden from the world. His crew knew enough about him already. Zoro just shrugged at him. "Well marimo, I'm still mad at you for what happened in the shower so why should I tell you? Also it's late, I have to get up early and I believe you still have a night watch to get back to" with that he made his way to the door, running away from the question like a coward. "Good night!" he added before leaving the galley.

Zoro was left sitting on the couch, suddely very aware of his damp clinging clothes and the ruined moment between him and the cook. Damn this pretty blond bastard and his ability to scramble everything in Zoro's brain. And damn Zoro too for handling emotional matters with the grace of a bull in a china shop. Grumbling about Sanji and himself he made his way back to the crows nest where he stewed in his thoughts for the rest of the night.

#zosan fic #zosan #black leg sanji x rorona zoro #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #don't look too close for spelling mistakes i wrote most of this half asleep without coffee

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