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waskurttrans · 2 years

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Kurt Cobain Will Have His Revenge on the Straights

Had a video call with my brother Chuck the other day. Things got heavy:

KATE: Was Kurt Cobain a trans woman?

CHUCK: What?

Kurt Cobain. Rock musician. He was in a band called Nirvana.

I’m familiar with him, yes.

Was he a trans woman?

Um. No?

OK. Why not?

I mean, he wasn’t. It’s like asking why he wasn’t an astronaut.

He wasn’t an astronaut because he never went to space. Why wasn’t he a trans woman?

Because he didn’t transition. I mean, he didn’t ever say he was a woman, didn’t ever say he was trans. So no. Kurt Cobain wasn’t a trans woman.

So someone is trans if they say they’re trans. Self-determination.

That’s what you’ve told me. Is that wrong?

No, that’s right. We know ourselves better than anybody else can know us. If we say we’re trans, nobody can say we aren’t.

And Kurt Cobain never said he was trans.

So was I trans in 1994?

I don’t know, were you?

Yes, but if you’d asked me in 1994, I would have told you “no”.

So if I tell you I’m trans, I’m trans…

Right.

But if I tell you I’m cis, I might still be trans?

If you tell me you’re cis, I believe you.

That’s not the same thing as “I’m cis”.

That’s a really good point. This is sort of what some queer people are getting at when they say “gender is a construct”.

Come again?

Well, you’re cisgender, right?

As far as I know, yes.

Aha.

Hmmm?

You hedged. “As far as I know” isn’t the same thing as “yes”. “As far as I know” opens up the possibility that you could be trans and not know it.

It doesn’t seem terribly likely.

That’s an interesting statement. Early on in transition one of the biggest problems I had was dealing with the sheer unlikelihood of my being trans. I mean, I knew trans people existed. I knew somebody had to be trans. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that it would be me.

Do you think this is why you’re on this whole “Kurt Cobain was a trans woman” kick?

Hey now, I’m just asking questions. You know. Like J.K. Rowling is “just asking questions”.

Kate, you are literally wearing a T-shirt that says “KURT COBAIN WAS A TRANS WOMAN” on it right now.

Am I? Oh, shit. I thought I was wearing my “Skip school, take hormones, kill God” T-shirt. To your question, though - yeah, I do think that’s part of it. Honestly, the hardest thing about growing up trans was believing that nobody in the world had ever experienced what I was experiencing. I didn’t have any role models. I didn’t wonder if I was the only one. I was convinced of it.

So being able to say that this incredibly gifted songwriter, the voice of a generation, was a trans woman like you…

I need someone like that. I need to not be the first of my kind.

Of course you’re not the first trans woman.

No, but before a couple of years ago almost every trans woman would tell you they always knew, unquestionably and innately, that they were women.

So it’s not just about him being trans, but specifically his being a trans woman who didn’t know he was a trans woman.

An egg. Right.

Why Kurt Cobain, anyway? What’s so special about him that you’re trying to induct him into the Egg Hall of Fame?

He knew things. Things cis guys don’t know. Things I didn’t know until after I started transition. He understood women, what we’re like, what we experience. “Pennyroyal Tea”. “Rape Me”. I just have a hard time thinking of a cis man who could write songs like that.

It wouldn’t be the only way in which he was exceptional.

True. Ahhh. I don’t know. I mean, I know, I can give you all the reasons, but there’s something in his eyes.

Something in his eyes.

All the pictures of him. No matter what he’s doing. If he’s grinning, or sad, whatever he’s doing, you can see something trapped there. Trapped and in pain, wanting to get out but not quite knowing how.

Huh. You, uh, know that what you’re doing is pretty much the textbook definition of projection, right?

Maybe. Chuck, do you think I’m happier?

Since you transitioned?

Yeah.

Of course. Absolutely. Night and day.

Everyone says that, and honestly, I see it. Even in pictures, you know? I see it. You’ve seen some of my transition timelines, right?

You do look really different.

It’s not just me. Every single person who transitions looks like that. We look so much happier, so much more alive, so much more us. I don’t understand how anybody can hate us.

I don’t get it either, Kate.

And when I look at any timelines, I look at the before photos… and I see something in their eyes. Transmasc, transfem, doesn’t matter. There’s something trapped wanting to get out. Every picture I’ve ever seen of Kurt Cobain looks like the “before” picture on a transition timeline. It’s just that with him, there aren’t any after pictures.

And it’s not just the eyes, either. The way he dressed, the whole “grunge look”. It’s just literally egg fashion. We dress with total disregard for our appearance or how we look because no matter what we do it’s wrong.

“Egg fashion”, egg this, egg that… isn’t it a little bit anachronistic, judging him by 2022 standards, 2022 values?

Is it? Chuck, I was alive in 1994. I was an 18 year old egg. I know what that feels like. I know what that looks like. I lived that. Why didn’t I come out as trans in 1994? Because I didn’t have the opportunity. Because self-determination needs to be informed, and none of us were. None of us. Look. You know what he said to Melody Maker in 1991? “I knew I was different. I thought that I might be gay or something because I couldn't identify with any of the guys at all.” That’s what he said.

Holy shit. Really?

Really. September 14, 1991.

Hold on, let me look that up. Oh, yeah, I see it. Look, if you look at the full quote he’s just saying he’s not a jock. Like he didn’t fit in with the jocks.

Well, what about the dresses?

What dresses?

Kurt Cobain wore a lot of dresses. Like, a lot, both onstage and off. On MTV in 1991, he said “It’s ‘Headbanger’s Ball’ so I thought I’d wear a gown.” He said in a 1993 interview, “I personally like to wear dresses. I wear them around the house sometimes.” This is not some shameful secret he kept hidden from the world. He was open about this. He was proud about this.

Yeah, but… it’s just clothes.

Except it’s not just clothes. Listen to his songs. Listen to his lyrics. “Should have been a son”. “I’m a lady, can you save me?” “Everyone is gay.” The original lyrics to “All Apologies” from his journals – “Boys write songs for girls. Let me grow some breasts.”

I mean they’re song lyrics. There are all kinds of ways to interpret song lyrics.

Sure. All kinds of ways. You ever read Michael Azerrad’s biography of Cobain, Come As You Are?

Nope.

Azerrad spent weeks talking to Cobain. He was Cobain’s biographer, but also his friend. And he has his own interpretation of the lyrics. For instance, Azerrad talks about all the lyrics about guns, and to me, now, I look at that, and I think of how he died, but Azerrad, when Kurt was alive, he looked at it another way. He thought it’s about dicks. “To paraphrase Dr. Freud,” he says, “sometimes a gun is just a gun. But not this time.” He talks about “Come As You Are”, where Kurt keeps singing “I swear I don’t have a gun.” That’s not my interpretation. That’s never been my interpretation. That’s what this cis man says. More than one cis man. Kurt says Dave Grohl’s dad, he said the same thing. Yeah. There are all kinds of ways to interpret lyrics.

“By this time,” Azerrad wrote, “one begins to wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man at all. His first response is revealing. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Castration.’” I don’t wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man. I rationalized “being a man” in all kinds of ways. What strikes me is that he needed to rationalize being a man. Had to come up with some kind of excuse. It just strikes me kind of funny.

Kurt’s songs have meanings. The lyrics to “In Bloom”, Kurt was pretty explicit about that. The lyrics he wrote have meanings. “Heart-Shaped Box”. You know what that refers to? When Courtney Love was flirting with Kurt, Michael Azerrad says in Come As You Are, “She gave Dave (Grohl) a package to give to Kurt – little sea shells and miniature teacups and a tiny doll, all packed into a small heart-shaped box.” A tiny doll locked away inside a box shaped like a heart. That was what I felt like before I came out. A tiny phantom doll. Kurt and Courtney first kissed after a show at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago. Rumor was that they fucked against the bar, but they denied it. What actually happened, Azerrad says, is that “Courtney had a bag of lingerie with her for some reason and Kurt ended up modeling the contents.” And then they went to Kurt’s hotel room and they fucked.

You’re making it sound…

Maybe it was. Because you look at that and you think that if it was like that, it was perverted and wrong, because that’s what you were told, that it’s a sick fetish thing, and I look at it and it isn’t. To me, that’s normal. That Kurt Cobain was sexually aroused while wearing Courtney Love’s lingerie, that’s normal.

Kate, he was a punk! He hated jocks, and wearing a dress pissed off jocks, so he wore dresses. He talked about wanting to wear a dress and piss on a redneck A&R man’s desk! You think that was some kind of sex thing?

Sexuality is part of being a woman. Part. Rage – and Kurt Cobain had a lot of rage inside him – that’s another part. Am I interpreting, am I looking at things from my perspective as a trans woman? Yes, certainly, just like you’re interpreting, looking at it from your perspective as a cis man. When cis people interpret things, their conclusion is never “they were trans”. Never.

Ed Wood wasn’t a trans woman. He was just a transvestite. He was a man.

Pete Burns from Dead or Alive wasn’t a trans woman. Sure, he got all sorts of feminizing surgeries, but he never said he was a woman. Man.

Prince Nelson adopted a female persona, feminized his voice, and recorded a song about wanting to be a woman's girlfriend, but he was also a Christian and believed that being queer was wicked and sinful, and that's the identity of his we need to respect. Man.

Richard Wright, who wrote the Phish song “Halley’s Comet”, spent most of the 1980s telling everyone he knew he was a transsexual lesbian named Nancy, but after being consistently treated like shit changed his mind about that, so none of that counts for anything. Man.

Dave Carter was on HRT when he died, but he was just questioning. He didn’t tell anybody for sure that he was a woman. Man.

Quentin Crisp said just before he died that if he was younger, he absolutely would have transitioned, but wanting to transition isn’t the same as actually transitioning. Man.

All men. Always, always men, whatever they do, whatever they say. I know how that works. I was told all these same things about myself for decades, all these same reasons, and now, I don’t know, I guess people will make a personal exception for me, but for everybody else, the same old assumptions, the same old arguments, they still apply. They’re still legitimate.

I thought we were talking about Kurt Cobain.

And the only way to do that is to talk about him in isolation. There’s no larger context to consider, no bigger picture. I can’t really know. I can’t really judge.

I mean, everybody else does. I guess I can’t tell you not to. But all of this circumstantial evidence, all of the dresses and the lyrics that you I guess know the real meaning of – none of that makes him a girl.

Sure. And nothing can make him a girl. Because he’s dead. Because he killed himself.

Oh, here we go. After thirty years and countless speculation, you have at last uncovered the real reason Kurt Cobain killed himself – gender dysphoria. Do you have a book deal yet?

Working on it. And yes, people say a lot of stupid things about Cobain’s death, like it’s this big shock that this guy who hated himself and wanted to die killed himself.

Right. He was pretty well-known for being a heroin addict, which isn’t exactly something that improves one’s quality of life.

Sure, but why did he start heroin?

I don’t know. Why does anybody start heroin?

To help him cope with his eating disorder.

Wait, what? Eating disorder?

You don’t know about that? He had stomach problems, for a long, long time. He could only eat certain kinds of food, certain kinds of food that wouldn’t make his stomach hurt. Doctors looked but they could never find any organic cause for it. Nobody took it seriously. So he self-medicated with heroin. “It was my choice,” he told Azerrad. “I don’t regret it at all because it was such a relief from not having stomach pain every day.” I know, though. Lots of cis guys have eating disorders. Doesn’t mean anything.

Kate there’s a lot of interpreting going on here.

Yeah, I guess there is. Is that necessarily a bad thing, though? Is that necessarily wrong? Like. You’ve seen The Matrix, right?

Only the first one.

Yeah, that’s fine. So you know how important The Matrix is to a lot of trans women, right?

Yes, but I’m not really sure why. Just seems like a retelling of Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” with extra fight scenes.

It’s pretty trans, though, right?

Clearly. It was directed by two trans women.

And trans women who watch it – eggs or otherwise – find their own lives and experiences reflected in it in ways that cis people, like you, don’t.

I guess, but the fact that it was actually made by two trans women carries a little more weight with me.

OK, but what if the Wachowskis had died in 2000? In, like… a car crash or something? Does that mean The Matrix isn’t a trans film?

Well, no, because it’s still a film made by two trans women.

A film made by two trans women that speaks to the trans experience, and that is recognized by living trans women as speaking specifically to the trans experience. The only difference is that, in this scenario, nobody knows the Wachowski Sisters are trans women. And we can’t prove it. We can’t possibly prove it, and nobody is going to just believe us when we say it’s a trans movie, that the Wachowskis were trans women, because they didn’t say it, they didn’t say the special magic words. Self-determination. You know what self-determination meant to Kurt Cobain? I remember seeing Courtney Love on television reading his note, I remember her interrupting to say that he was an asshole, that what he was saying was bullshit. She didn’t respect his self-determination.

Um…

“Pennyroyal Tea”. Cobain told Azerrad “It's a cleansing theme where I’m trying to get all my bad evil spirits out of me and drinking Pennyroyal tea would cleanse that away.” Pennyroyal is an abortifacient – but, Azerrad notes, only in lethal doses.

Hell, not just that song. The whole album. In Utero. The collage on the back cover, the one Cobain described to Azerrad as “Sex and woman and In Utero and vaginas and birth and death". The occult symbols surrounding it, taken from Barbara G. Walker’s The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects1. There was something inside Kurt Cobain, something inside him waiting to be born, but he was told, over and over, that it was a monster, so he killed it, the only way he could. By killing himself.

That could have been me. That could so easily have been me. I was told all the same things he was. We all were. When I was 27? When I was 27, I was addicted to benzos, benzos they prescribed me because I was trying to bury, trying to kill this thing, this thing I had inside of me. I was a zombie. Walking dead. When I quit, I quit cold turkey. Nobody told me about the withdrawal syndrome. Nobody told me it could have killed me. And if it had, everybody would remember me, everybody would think of me, as a cis man. Forever. They would perpetuate the Lie. That’s why I transitioned, why I chose to go through all the shit I went through. The writer and musician Margaret Killjoy, in 2017 she talked about what she went through the day before she came out:

“All I could think was: ‘Oh god, I don’t want to die a boy.’”2

I felt the same way, came out for the same reason. I figured no matter what I did, I was dead. I didn’t do it live, but to at least have an honest death. I genuinely believed transition would kill me.

It didn’t, though! You’re alive and you’re beautiful and I’m so, so glad for that. It didn’t kill you.

It could have. Still could. Transition has helped, has made it easier for me, but it’s not that way with everyone. People have been kind to me, in ways that they aren’t kind to other trans women. Others of us… aren’t so lucky.

Who are we respecting, exactly, by remaining silent about our shared experiences, our shared perspectives, things we see that you fucking don’t, that you can’t see? Of course I can’t prove it. I can’t prove that I’m trans. You can’t prove that you’re cis. Cis people, though, cis people never have to prove anything. Their prejudices are the null hypothesis3. If I was to go out there and say that Kurt Cobain was a cisgender man, would anybody say I was wrong? Would anybody object or complain? Even though my saying that is an anachronism, is meaningless. The word, the concept, it literally didn’t exist when Cobain died. Have you ever heard the word “agnotology”?

No?

It means making a false claim to ignorance. Claiming that we don’t know something that we do. That we can’t know something that we can. We know things now, Chuck. We know what the symptoms of gender dysphoria are. We know what it does to people. How eggs think. How eggs act. How eggs die. But we pretend we don’t. We still pretend. We pretend suicide is an individual act, even when we know it’s not, that the reasons for it are wholly personal. We pretend that when someone dies by suicide, their reasons for doing so die with them. And they don’t, Chuck. We’re still dying, still dying for the same reasons Kurt Cobain did. It’s not just that we aren’t allowed to recognize ourselves. We aren’t allowed to recognize each other. Individual choice or social contagion. Those are the options we’re given. And neither of them are right. Neither of them are who we are.

Kurt Cobain wrote, thought, talked, died like eggs do. I don’t care if he never said the magic fucking words. We know our own. We recognize each other. And if someone is alive? If someone is alive I will go my whole life without ever breathing a word. Because as long as we’re alive, we do choose, and that means we can choose ignorance. What I think, what I want, for someone else, for us, it doesn’t matter. I do that, I follow that code, for the benefit of one person – the egg themselves. Once they die, all bets are off. Omerta no longer applies. Kayfabe no longer applies.

To be queer is to be erased, to experience erasure. I still hear straight men arguing, as if they have any right to argue, as if they know, that Emily Dickinson was not a lesbian. Emily Dickinson! I’m supposed to listen to people who say this shit? I’m supposed to take them seriously when they say well, actually, calling Dickinson a “lesbian” is historically anachronistic, we can’t apply the standards of the present to the past, and Jesus fuck have you read her letters? She liked girls. She really liked girls. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. Kurt Cobain was every bit as much a trans woman as Emily Dickinson was a lesbian. Refusing to say it isn’t “respect”. It’s perpetuating the crime perpetrated against Cobain, against every other trans woman who ever killed herself because of the lies we were told about ourselves. No more. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. I can’t, as an individual, say that. I don’t have the right. No trans woman can say that, individually. But collectively? All of us together? The things we see in each other, we see those things in him too. Not all of them, and not all of us. Absolutely not all of us. But enough of us. Enough that we have the right. We have the right, and I will fucking say it, and if you don’t like that, you can go fuck yourself.

Kate, are you ok?

I’m fine.

Do you want a hug?

Fuck you, Chuck.

OK, well. I’m, uh. Gonna go to the other room. You should, uh. Drink some water. Stay hydrated. Love you, Kate.

Love you too, Chuck. Sorry.

Shhh. It’s OK, Kate. It’s OK.

1 Diane Purkiss criticizes the occult nature of Walker’s encyclopedia in "Women's Rewriting of Myth", in Carolyne Larrington (ed), The Feminist Companion to Mythology, London, 1992, p. 444: “In Donna Haraway's influential terms, these women may wish to be goddesses, but they are cyborgs all the same”. The work she’s referencing is Haraway’s “A Cyborg Manifesto”. Haraway was, it happens, an academic advisor to the trans woman Sandy Stone, and her “Cyborg Manifesto” was a pivotal influence on Stone’s “The Empire Strikes Back: A Post-Transsexual Manifesto”, one of the foundational works of transgender theory.

2 Margaret Killjoy, https://birdsbeforethestorm.net/2017/06/im-not-even-going-to-try-to-pass/

3 Natalie Reed, https://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/04/17/the-null-hypothecis/

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sunfortune · 1 month

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hiiii i recently watched kanthony (the so called bridgerton show or whatever) and was wondering if u have any fic recs... 👉👈🤭

okay i litchrally have never compiled a list even tho ive been asked before bc i have read too many to keep them organized. but ill do it. Finally. for YOU.

first. my fav period setting fics <33:

tete a tete by caciopepebowl (14k~) this is REQUIRED reading to ME. its a quick read that explores kate and anthonys roles in their family. with an emphasis on KATE specifically bc of the additional hurdles of being a woman with limited funds. and anthony losing his mind on her behalf while shes breaking his heart by being like "the way i was treated was normal?? you dont know anything" and hes like "what? kate you deserved everything. you deserve ALL the love in the world!!" and shes all ">:( well if i do. you do too." . and hes like "oh. well...no. you see.. bc i suck" and shes like -_-. its really sweeeeeet and lovely <3) and really finally gave me the exploring of kates family issues that THE SHOW DID NOT!!!

the longest betrothal by caciopepebowl. (90k~) my FAVVVVV regency setting fic. its sooo good. its basically a continuation that fills in the gap AFTER they get engaged but BEFORE theyre married. and them trying SO hard to be normal about how in love they are lol. SO funny and sweet. and with IMMACULATE characterization

in vino veritas by wagamiller. (~10k) a one shot about kate going to a ladies society event and coming home drunk to anthony and him being soooo smitten with her. sauuuur cute. ive read this like 4 times <3

for reasons wretched and divine by penny_loaf. (~18k. locked fic. need an account.) basically kate and anthony get stuck in a time loop on that first day edwina is receiving suiters. they both think theyre alone in the loop and its depressing until they realize the other is stuck with them too. they try to break the loop and fail repeatedly. after a while they just give up and start fucking bc theres no consequences so who cares LOL. surprisingly tender and sweet

the harsh light of day by burnerraccount. (~22k. locked) explicit one shot. kate has the idea that they should fuck before they get married so theres less pressure on the wedding night. she decides all this without mentioning it to anthony (LOL). so she shows up at his house the night before their wedding. and his footman is like "theres a woman outside to see you" and he in all his goofy almost-married bliss is like "i dont want to see Any woman but my gorgeous, beautiful, amazing WIFE" and his footman is like "well. you see.. it is your wife. uh fiance" and anthonys like "[voice crack] huh ?". very FUNNY

green in its many hues by burnerraccount. kate and anthony decide they are going to be chaste and proper leading up to their wedding. they suck at it SO bad lol

next. modern AUS my best friends <33:

la semi dolce vita by caciopepebowl (~170k) my FAVVVV modern au of ALL time. kate is a private chef. anthonys family hires her when they go on vacation. hes being so normal about it. i promise. this is one of the best characterizations of kate AND anthony in a modern setting. with an extra emphasis on focusing on kate issues. and not JUST anthonys. which is what makes the dynamic sooo good. 10/10. hot. and i love LOVE <3

close encounters of the acutest kind by caciopepebowl (WIP ~74k. only incomplete fic ill put on this list i PROMMY. bc its by the prev author. and i Looove their writing and its sooo good so far <3) kate and anthony meet for the first time the DAY her dad died which is also the SAME DAY hyacinth is born. theyre both having a panic attack and end up running into the same empty hospital room to have it. are then intrinsically linked forever. as one is. run into each other multiple times over the years. with different feelings each time. and they are so normal (lying) <3. i love them

chosen & cherished by trash4ficsaboutlurv. (~42k) this is so underrated. kate runs a charity organization. anthony is CEO of whatever the fuck. she goes to his company when theyre holding some audition for what charity theyre going to invest in and kate is the last speaker and when its finally her turn he doesnt even pay attention. and shes exhausted and overworked and just oveeeer it All. so she just ends the meeting and tells him to go fuck himself. LOL. genuinely really good. and hot <3

sidelines by ramarro. (~60k) this was THE quintessential kanthony modern AU in 2022. took a far fetched premise and somehow made it soooo good. and hot. and cute. kates an artist who sees a picture of anthony on tinder and thinks he looks obnoxious (lol) but screenshots the photo so she can use it for sketching practice. and then she see him and his grown ass on a date with her BABY sister. and shes like well i was right about him. and lets him know to his face how she feels (LOL). its wild. it slays. read it. theres an explicit follow up to it which also slays

three cities and we never lived here by ramarro. (~25k, ~40k) very different modern au where kate and anthony meet on vacation and are very casual with them both not looking for anything (genuinely for once lol) and then seeing each other multiple times over 2-3 years in different cities and still keeping it casual. but slowly slowly slowlyyyy it doesnt feel as casual as it used to. theres 2 fics in this. the first is kates pov. the second is anthony. both very good.

just go with it by suitsusboth. (~18k) kate when booking a flight sees the potential titles like ms, mrs, dr, and "viscountess" listed as a legit option and has a laugh like whos picking this goofy shit and accidentally clicks it. and then on her flight gets upgraded to first class next to anthony bc they assumed she was his wife. and he tries to be mad about it. but well. hes stupid for her in every universe so lol. funny and sweet

the air i breathe and the bane of my existance by the_loosest_moose. (image fic) these are textfics told through instagram, twitter, article and text message screenshots. with some regular text. would just check them out to gauge how you feel about the storytelling method. very fun reads once you get the hang of it

heirlooms by waterlilyrose. (~12k) modern au where kate gets anthonys ring stuck on her finger for days and has to wait to get it off. he is of course very normal about it

a devils love by irony_rocks. (~57k) this may not be for everyone but kanthony season came out around the same time as the batman (2022) and as someone who was crazy insane about both. this was the MOMENT for me in spring 2022. its a crime mafia type au where kates character is inspired by selina kyle and the pebble lounge where she worked in the batman movie. and well. if youre about that specific combo check it out. if you arent i wouldnt recommend this lmao. its not a batman au

break point (series) by penny_loaf. (multiple. ~25k) like prev this entire series gets kind of dark bc it really delves into the pressure of the world its set in. on TOP of the issues kate and anthony already have. i LOVED it. BUT also i am an ANGST and crazy, complicated characters STAN. which may not be the case for everyone.. but again very GORGEOUS to ME <3 and hot. LOL

take me home by kendal_lynne. (~12k) romcom type explicit one shot where kate makes the mistake of telling anthony her ex couldnt make her come. and hes all like i volunteer as tribute PLEASE PKLEASE PLEASE PICK ME CHOOSE ME PLWASEE etc

we never made a sound by writergirl8. (~4k) spy au that was soooooo good and sexy. i wish it was longer

with elaichi by serendipityinwords (~6k) the two biggest bitches at a dinner party find out they're soulmates. LOL. hilarious dialogue

theres probably more i loved that im not remembering rn and maybe ill update this but for now have fun! yippee <3

#to everyone who doesnt gaf sorry for this long ass post #to everyone who does care this took 3 HOURS dont ever say i never did anything for youuuyuyu!!!#bridgerton #kanthony fic #kanthony fanfiction #kanthony #LONG POST #bridgerton*

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miley1442111 · 25 days

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unfair- a.hotchner

a/n: he's an asshole in this for a while btw. i wrote this with fem!reader in mind but i don't think there's any mention of it so imagine what you like! mad spoilers for season 3 episode 20- Lo-fi (aka i verbatim copied dialogue from it). 'ly' means 'love you'

summary: what happens when Aaron is met with an ex-fling in the workplace that seems to hate you, surely he'll be by your side, right?

pairings: aaronhotchner x reader, platonicBAUteam x reader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, mentions of murder, mentions of panic attacks, general relationship angst, reader getting hurt, mentions of guns and bullet wounds, mentions of death, suggestive themes at the end

Part 2

You hated New York. You hated the bustling crowds, the rude people, and the barely breathable air.

“Is it just me or does Agent Kate kinda look like Haley?” you overheard Jj say, and your heart dropped. Aaron and Haley had only been legally divorced for a few months, but they’d been separated for a lot longer than that. Your relationship with Aaron had grown into a 10 months long rollercoaster of highs and lows. He was hard on himself about the divorce, about not seeing Jack enough, but you were always there to comfort him. Jj blushed when she realised you’d heard and mouthed a ‘sorry’ your way. You nodded as an acceptance of her apology and continued with the case.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kate had been shooting down your ideas all day. It could’ve been something as simple as lunch ideas, or something relating to the case, she didn’t care. Your input was unnecessary and unwanted. This led you, the only licensed psychologist on the team to be silent as Aaron, Kate and the nypd cops bounced ideas and facts about the psychology of the unSubs back and forth. You knew that what they were saying was outdated. You knew it, and yet you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to give her another reason to silence you. You weren’t even that mad at her, more at Aaron. Why wasn’t he speaking up for you? He alway did before and he promised he would intervene if someone was being unfair and not listening to you in the workplace. He made that promise to the entire team. You were hurt by him, and by the rumours you’d heard. And then you thought back, since you’d gotten to New York, he’d barely glanced your way, his eyes focused on the case or Kate. Derrick slumped in the chair beside you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“She’s a real piece of work, everything I say is just the wrong thing,” He complained, a tired tone in his voice.

“Want to go back to the hotel? I could use an early night if no one is going to utilise us,” you offered, exhaustion and hurt guiding you against your better judgement.

“Sounds like a plan, sugar, you and me sharing like old times?” he asked tentatively, clearly sensing the upset you were carrying.

“You and me Derrick, as always,” you smiled. You had known before-hand that the hotel only had so many rooms and in the beginning of the BAU, you and Derrick would always share, since he was the person you were closest with. He took your hand and gave it a small squeeze before standing up to gather his things. You stood up too, grabbing your bag and coat.

“Leaving so soon?” Kate asked, clearly malicious intent behind her eyes.

“Yeah, just tired and all, listening to you spew absolute bullshit is exhausting,” you yawned and gave her a fake smile as her jaw dropped. Aaron sent you a look of warning, one you met with your own hardened eyes. “Goodnight,” you waved at the cops you had befriended, who waved back, all too happy that someone had finally put Shelly in her place.

Derrick and you walked to the hotel hand in hand, just as you used to, he got the room key, you showered in the bathroom as he watched tv, then vice versa. You texted Aaron a simple, ‘sharing with Derrick. Ly xxx’ before you let yourself fall asleep, comfortable in the clean hotel bed.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You always wrote it out. He thought to himself as he rushed to the hotel, mere minutes after you sent the text. He had been tired and maybe his vision was clouded with Shelly, an old fling of his if he was being honest. He pulled at his tie in the elevator as he caught his breath. When the doors opened on the floor of your room, he found you standing on the other side, your eyes semi-shut as if to try and conserve your drowsy state, a habit he knew you possessed and loved. This brought an ease to him, a small smile made its way onto his lips. You had your headphones on too, which meant you really were sharing with Derrick. His smile dropped.

“Honey,” he sighed and you yawned and rubbed your eyes.

“Aaron?”

“Yes honey, can we talk-”

“In the morning,” You cut him off, “I’m just getting ice. The ice machine on this floor is out of order.”

“It technically is 1:34 am,” he corrected and you sent him a glare. He shut his mouth. “Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”

“I don’t know, is your mouth not too tired from kissing Kate’s ass today?” You stifled a chuckle at your own joke as he sighed.

“Honey if you let me-”

“Please, for the love of god, shut up, I’m too tired for this,” You got off as the doors opened and closed them behind you, pushing the button back to his floor. You grabbed your ice and took the stairs instead of risking him being there. You got back into your room and fell asleep again, even more to think about.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked into the police precinct with Spencer, ready to help him with his geological profile when Aaron stopped in front of you, and Spencer continued walking on.

“We need to talk,” he essentially demanded and you rolled your eyes and tried to push past him to follow Spencer but he grabbed your waist and started walking you both into an empty interrogation room.

“Are you planning on interrogating me?” You chuckled as he let go of your waist and started pacing around the room. “What is the problem here?” You asked.

“Why don’t you tell me? Something I did made you so upset that you decided you wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me, something I did made you not tell me you love me, and something I did made you not let me kiss you goodnight. So please, just tell me!” He was frantic, the early signs of a panic attack clear in his body language and face.

“Aaron, come here,” you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him. His hands pulled you closer to him, squeezing you tight into his chest. “I was just mad about Kate not taking mine or Derrick’s ideas, and how you didn't help either of us out. I just wanted some space to clear my head-”

“Were you jealous?” He asked, pulling away from you.

“No? I was frustrated that mine and Derrick’s ideas were being shot down, this has nothing to do with Kate.”

“Then why did you say what you said last night? It made her deeply upset,” he explained and you rolled your eyes.

“Because it was true? Maybe next time, let the registered and licensed psychologist with 2 phDs speak?”

His eyes were trained on you. “Not everything always has to be about you, some people are very sensitive to things like that-”

“I’m starting to think I should be jealous of Kate” you knew it was a low blow but it was one you were willing to take. “I’ll see you around, agent.”

You left Aaron alone in the room, a frown that was bound to stay all day.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Derrick had been right to station BAU team members on platforms and we were about to have another body.

“Hotchner,” a brief pause. “Does it look like it could be one of our guys?” Aaron spoke into the phone.

“What’s going on?” Derrick asked,

“We’ve got eyes on one of them, he’s on the subway platform at 59th and lex,” Aaron’s eyes met yours and you looked away, focused on Penelope’s voice over the phone..

“59th? We could have been right there,” Derrick sighed, clearly frustrated with Aaron’s behaviour.

“Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?”

“If he makes it to the park, we've lost him,” Kate explained.

“We could've had that guy,” Derrick stressed.

“Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved on to somewhere more isolated,” Kate argued.

“Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot,” Derrick shot back.

“We had every available man on the street,” She scoffed.

“And I suggested to you that you use this team,” Derrick seethed.

“Second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now,” Aaron piped up.

“Hotch, how am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them?” Derrick demanded, even you were getting angry now.

“We're here to present a profile. That's what we need to do,” Aaron said in that terrible deadpanned voice that made you want to shake him until he was the real Aaron again. Your Aaron.

“I said to put us at express stops- 14th, 42nd, 59th and that's exactly where they hit!” Derrick snapped.

“It's not your place to have this discussion,” Aaron crossed a line with that.

“My place?” Derrick questioned.

“You need to back off,” Aaron scolded.

“We got 7 bodies, man,” Derrick said, shocked that Aaron would ever treat him like this.

“Which is exactly why we need to stay focused,” Aaron countered.

“Focused. From where I'm standing, All your focus is on her, not on this case, you're ignoring your girlfriend, so it's not on y/n, but on her,” Derrick rebutted.

“Take a walk, now.”

You gasped when Derrick called him out, but as Derrick walked off he offered you a hand, one which you took, and left Aaron with Kate. Derrick left to go ‘take a walk’ to a bar nearby and you sat in an office, going over the case with Emily and Spencer. You all ended up sleeping in the office, you chose to be as far away from Aaron as possible. The next day, you were positioned with Emily.

“How’s it going with Aaron?” She asked and you let out a groan. “That good huh?”

“He’s being such a dick, I have no clue what to do,” You sighed.

“Maybe talking to him will help?” She offered and you shot her a glare.

“He doesn’t want to hear me, he just wants to talk,” you explained, hopping off the train and walking up the platform steps. You heard a gunshot and looked around, knowing he was close.

“Garcia? Where is he?” Emily asked. “He’s headed our way.” You ran towards the way he was coming from and spotted him, chasing him the other way. You were faster than Emily and stopped in the alleyway. He shot. He grazed your side and Emily shot him and grabbed his gun.

“Y/l/n?! You ok?” She called back to you.

“It was just a graze, I’m fine,” You took a deep breath as the adrenaline wore off and the pain started to seep in. Emily and you waited for the ambulance and you started getting stitched up as the rest of the team arrived. Derrick came straight to you, Aaron hot on his heels.

“You good sugar?” He asked and you nodded as the needle went back into your skin.

“Not my first bullet, probably not my last,” you joked and you saw Aaron’s eyes widen. Spencer and Jj shot you a look of concern from behind Aaron and you sent them a thumbs up, Spencer and Jj nodded, understanding that you were ok.

“Can I have a minute alone, please?” Aaron cleared his throat and Derrick rolled his eyes but obliged anyway, walking away. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, great. Nothing like a bullet wound to put a pep in your step,” you remarked, sarcasm flowing freely. They finished with the stitches and put a dressing on the wound. As soon as you were out of the paramedics hands, Aaron wrapped you in an all-consuming hug.

“I was so worried,” he whispered.

“Yeah, so was I, I didn’t think you could get your head out of your ass in time,” you snorted, hearing others laugh at your joke. Aaron rolled his eyes and cracked a smile.

“I was being unfair, wasn’t I,” he sighed, his hands resting on your waist.

“Yes, yes you were.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t show it,” he offered and you smiled and kissed him softly.

“You know it’s going to take a bit more than a few pretty words and a hug to make this right, right?”

“Oh I know, but I was hoping you would at least be in the same bed as me tonight? Then I can at least start apologising,” he smirked and you laughed.

“Maybe,” you mused.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #carmy berzatto x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfic

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pickingupmymercedes · 22 days

Text

Get me out of here - Lewis Hamilton

Request: "I enjoy reading your posts so much, I wanted to maybe request? I love angst, maybe a Lewis one shot where the reader gets in the cross fire in the media kind of like Kate Middleton but with the Ferrari news?" - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: Angst, Lewis to Ferrari, Toto being an ass.

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Hi anon, thank you for the request and the support, it means the world! I loved writing that, but then again I love me some angsty, hope you like it ❤️.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

“You bastard, how could you?”

You entered the farm style house in the English countryside seeing red. Newspaper on hand and phone on the other, blazing through the formal reception rooms until you found Toto and Lewis talking in the sunroom at the back.

“Woah there, what’s that language?”

“I thought I could trust you Toto” Your voice coming out stronger and louder than even you expected, facing him to see it in his eyes he knew exactly what all this was about. You couldn’t help but whisper, almost to yourself “Gosh, I really did.”

“What’s going on? Why are you shouting?” Lewis interjected as he got up and headed towards you, his arms reaching for your waist to try and calm you down

“Ask him! I’m not the one who gave the damn interview.”

“I didn’t say it like that, you know how they twist our words” The Austrian reasoned as you paced in the room

“Enough you two. What the hell is going on?” Susie emerged from the adjoining room, still in her workout clothes, towel in hand.

You threw the paper on the desk in front of them, eyeing Toto as Lewis read the headline “Source of Ferrari’s leak: Toto’s former right-hand and Lewis’ girl”

“You thought I wouldn’t see it? That I wouldn’t know that you told the press I leaked about Ferrari ?!” Exasperation written in your eyes as you tried to understand why would Toto sell you out like that.

“C’mom, it’ll blow over. By Barhein no one will even remember” His german accent echoed through the room as he tried to impose himself

“You tried to throw me under the bus for someone you’re clearly trying to cover for, that’s the issue here”

“Who sold the story to the press, Toto?” This time it was Lewis’ voice that cut the air, his tone stern and demanding.

“Does it even matter? He clearly has more respect for whoever it was than he does for me.” Your voice full of disdain throwing Toto off as he looked at you with surprise in his eyes at the tone you were using.

“Don’t be like that.” Susie pleaded from the corner, still as confused as Lewis to the events unfolding.

“Why?! Does it hurt him? I can guarantee it doesn’t hurt as much as it did when I read that stupid interview” Your voice coming out in sharp pufs as you tried to hold back the tears that fought hard to fall.

“Toto, who told the press?” Lewis pressed him once again and you were about to blow out at him when you heard the Austrian confessing “I told them.”

Your head starting spinning and all you could do was march back to the car in the driveway, not really listening to anything they were trying to get through to you. You started the car while Lewis tried to talk you out of driving, his pleading shouts heard through the glazed windows.

Your sobs came out all at once when Lewis managed to get into the passenger seat and hold your trembling hands down, getting them away from the steering wheel and into his chest for you to feel his heartbeat, your frantic eyes finally finding his soothing ones.

“Get me out of here, please” was all you could whisper mid sobs, sliding to the other seat when Lewis jumped out to get to the other side, your peripheral vision catching a glimpse of the commotion in the doorsteps of the house, with Toto exasperatedly motion to a now infuriating Susie and a few other people.

It felt like hours before Lewis pulled over, a small countryside village in the distance and a herd of sheep around. One of his hands gripped the leather of the seat, his free hand smoothing your arm and his stare focused on the road ahead.

“He did it to protect the brand. They’re gonna have a whole year to bring George forward, to switch things around…”

“Why are you defending him?” You cut him mid-sentence; your voice toneless although your eyes showed your emotions were all over the place.

“Because we need to think this through, babe. Toto’s not one of us anymore, you saw it.” He turned to you, clutching your hand into his, breathing in before continuing.

“We can’t expect anything from him anymore, least of all you.” His stare pierced yours and you knew what he meant.

You and Toto had known each other for as long as Lewis had. You had made your way up from being just an intern all the way to actually being poached by AMG and then Daimler, the whole path closely followed by Toto’s advices, and even in the years you lived in Germany the F1 GPs were always a familiar home you got to come back to, because of Lewis and Toto.

“Why did he say it was me though?” You questioned after getting out of the car and sitting by a rock fence, your voice small, much like how you felt while you leaned into Lewis’ embrace.

“To get back at me, maybe?! I really don’t know.” He breathed out after a while, leaving a kiss on your head before looking out at the fields in front of you two. It was a typical English day, cold and humid but at least the sun tried to fight its way through the clouds.

“I’m sorry he made you feel like you had to leave” you looked up at him as you brought up the subject, it was still a sore one for him.

“I always thought I’d finish my career there” He didn’t look at you as he mumbled his response, his gaze lost to the horizon

“It’s going to be a long year, isn’t it?!” You thought out loud after a while of silence and just feeling each other’s breathing.

“Yeah… and I need you there, by my side, head held high” This time he turned to look at you, loving doe stare embracing you in his warmth, no idea what the future holds but sure he will be there.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #f1 imagine

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yanaromanov · 1 month

Text

pretty little beginnings

- professor!natasha x lawyer!wanda x reader

part summary: the start of the new semester sees you reunited with your best friend, kate, but also introduces you to your surprisingly gorgeous new professor. when you get a perfect score on her first class test, she’s keen to have a conversation with you…

part warning(s): teacher/student relationship, age gap (r is of age), power dynamics, married wandanat (no cheating), pet names, mentions of anxiety, mentions of bad family relations, reader is a perfectionist, minors dni.

authors note: i have no idea about america or their universities so am purely basing this off my own experience at my uk university, so if anything is incorrect i apologise but also let’s just pretend it’s not :)

part one of the inescapable love series

inescapable love masterlist

･｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

7.8K words

The beginning of term was always one of your favourite points of the whole year. To most, returning to campus after summer was somewhat of a bittersweet moment, having to come back to the reality of long classes and endless studying. For you, however, it was the start of something new, a fresh look at different courses that hadn’t yet bundled up into countless assignments or exams. The start of term always carried the least amount of pressure and therefore, the least amount of anxiety. Everything was starting from page one again, and it always provided you with a few weeks of sweet relief before you’d once again inevitably realise just how stressful school truly was.

Aside from the pressure of classes, most of your peers also found sorrow in the end of their summer break visiting home and their families. For you, however, this wasn’t one of your mind’s concerns. In fact, the trip back to university provided solace, a well-deserved partition between the people who you’d spent the past few months trying to tolerate.

Now, to say your family were awful to be around would be overstating things, in truth they weren’t all that bad, but spending summer with them was certainly not on your list of dream holidays. Most days you hid away in your childhood bedroom, trying to avoid the bickering voice of your mother, persistently droning on about school and your grades. She’d always taken a great pride in her children and that had certainly extended to you, her ideologies of perfection constantly looming over your shoulder. Your dad liked to drink, not enough to endanger his health but enough to wake you a few nights a week when he’d stumble around the kitchen in a drunken stupor. This itself was rather a hypocrisy, your dad being the one who dragged everyone to church on a Sunday morning to praise the Christian values when it seemed the holy day was the only one he didn’t seek out the bottle. At least now you were thankful that Sunday was the only day you had to deal with your older brother, when he’d join the rest of your family at service. For years, his perfection had been a constant reminder of how you were the disappointing child, despite attending one of the most prestigious universities in America.

In fact, your family was one of the main reasons you had even applied there. Not, as one may think, to appeal to their standards, but in fact, because it was about as far away as possible you could get from them. England was your home country, growing up in a small town in the southern parts of the land. Moving to America had been a big deal, having to completely relocate your life to an entirely different part of the world, but it had been something you desperately needed. At first your mother had been hesitant to let you go at all, but once she’d heard the ranking of the school you’d earned a scholarship for, she was all for having a daughter at a prestigious university in the states.

So, that was how you ended up here, already three years into your university career with only one to go until graduation. Living in America had been just the step you’d needed, finally giving you space from your overbearing family and in the process, also gifting you with one of the closest friends you’d ever had. Kate had been the first friendly face you’d seen at your new school, smiling widely as you’d first stepped into your shared dorm and energetically shaking your hand. Ever since, the pair of you had been practically inseparable, growing closer and closer everyday, and three years later, you still found yourselves sharing a dorm room.

Despite Kate’s skills in friendship, there was one thing about her that one may call a character flaw; the inability to ever wake up on time. It was the first official day of the semester, a few weeks having passed since the two of you had had your happy reunion and redecorated your shared room. The sun shone through the curtains which you had opened almost an hour ago. In all honesty, it was quite impressive how Kate had managed to not only sleep through your alarm, but hers as well. Atop of that, you’d not taken the curtesy to get yourself ready in a quiet manner. Now however, Kate really needed to wake up.

A tress of black hair flew up in the gust of wind that the pillow brought along with it. Moments later, Kate was sitting up quickly, cursing out at you for throwing at her in the first place. You chuckled at her antics as she tried to wipe away the hairs clinging to her mouth. “You overslept, Bishop,” you called, voice light and playful.

Kate scowled back at you, finally free from the mess of her bed head. Seconds later, you were dodging the pillow flying back across the room towards you.

“Hey!” you called back, narrowly missing getting hit in the head. “You’re the one who told me to wake you up, remember? You said this was the year you were getting your shit together.”

Kate’s expression was nothing short of unimpressed. She let out a loud groan as she threw herself back down into the confines of her bed, bringing her hands up to hold her face. “Can we reschedule that to next year instead?”

The chuckle that left your lips was light. “You know there is no next year.”

Your hands reached out towards her, grabbing hold of her duvet and ripping it from her bed. A small scream escaped Kate’s lips as she desperately tried to rescue the cover, albeit she arose unsuccessful. You passed her a small smirk as you threw the duvet to the floor. “If you’re not ready in five minutes, I’m going for breakfast without you.”

The girl passed you a none-too-happy glare but eventually settled on rolling out of bed, groaning loudly as she fell ungraciously to the floor. Simply laughing off her antics, you moved towards the full length mirror that hung in your dorm to check your outfit one last time. The warm weather still clung to the September air, resulting in the floral summer dress you’d adorned for the day, a small white cardigan sat atop of it. As always, your worn-in converse sat upon your feet, tattered from the years they’d spent traversing you to class.

American weather was just another one of the things you loved about living in the states. Summer in England was sticky and gross, the house always too hot, lacking AC and unbearable to sleep in at night. You’d always end up tossing and turning, sweat sticking the shorts to your body. Every street smelled like disposable barbecues and there never seemed to be enough ice in the shops to cool your drink. Overall, it was a rather uncomfortable experience. But Summer in America was a whole different story. It felt like the movies when they’d jump out of school on the last day, sun shining down on top of them. It was warm outside, and you could enjoy the sun before slinking back to a cool room with beautiful air conditioning, rather than you’d dad’s old fan that was louder than an airplane flying overhead.

“Are you almost done?” You finally turned away from your reflection, glancing across the room to where Kate was pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail. She’d dressed in a pair of old shorts and tshirt, obviously forgoing the ritual you’d followed of dressing cute on the first day.

“Yep,” Kate replied breathlessly, moving to put on her trainers, hopping around the room as she pulled them on. Once they sat upon her feet, she stood upright and looked at you with a dopey smile. “Okay, let’s go.”

You smiled shamelessly back, opening the door to your dorm in order for the pair of you to venture out. Kate simply passed you a small thanks as she slipped out into the corridor, followed closely by you after locking up your room. Thankfully, most days you left together as Kate never seemed to remember that crucial step.

———

“Wait, so you’re actually taking Russian this year?”

Your eyes rolled as the question rung out. “Kate, we’ve talked about this so many times.”

The girl shrugged her shoulders. “I just don’t get why you’d take a random language, that’s all.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you watched Kate take a bite of some scrambled eggs. As she did most mornings, she’d chosen to load her plate up from the breakfast trays, paired perfectly with a full glass of orange juice and a large mug of coffee. On the other hand, you’d only had a slice of toast, simply buttered, then a coffee of a similar size that you’d already downed. For someone who liked to attend meals so close to classes, one would expect Kate to choose smaller portions that she could maybe finish without shoving it in her mouth two minutes before she had to leave.

“I told you, Kate,” you repeated with another sigh. “I had to pick up some credits and the only thing that fit with my timetable was either Russian or a programming class.”

Your face screwed up at the last words you uttered, the idea of such a thing enough to turn your nose up. Kate could have taken some offence, considering her major was computer science and she was in such programming class, but it seemed she was too focused on finishing her half-eaten eggs.

“I thought you said there was a Spanish class you could take?” Kate said, talking around a mouthful of food.

Your eyes rolled in your skull, not only at her actions but at the fact she’d only remembered that small detail of your previous conversation. “There was,” you replied, crossing your arms on the table. “But I just thought Russian sounded more interesting.”

Kate raised a brow as you shrugged a shoulder. She didn’t have much time to judge you however, as you checked your phone to see there was only a few minutes until your first classes. Kate scrambled to finish the food on her plate as you collected your things, downing the rest of her coffee before pulling her backpack on to her shoulders. In the end, she had to run after you out of the dining hall after you’d already left, not letting yourself be late because of her antics.

The pair of you walked across campus together, Kate branching off to her first class and promising to meet up at lunch. You continued on to the building in which your timetable indicated your Russian class would be held. It was all rather new to you, a building you’d never been in before on campus. You supposed it fit with the class that you’d be taking now, stepping into something entirely new.

Thankfully, you found the lecture hall quickly, not discouraged by your unfamiliar surroundings. A lot of the seats were already filled up, the class just a few minutes from starting. You found a space down near the front, a usual spot for you in your determination to never miss anything a lecturer was saying, persistent on never having a blank spot in your notes.

The remaining minutes passed as you set yourself up for the class, pulling out your notebook and pen and setting them neatly on the desktop. Remaining students filed in, filling up what had to be one of the smaller lecture theatres on campus. It seemed there were barely thirty students who had decided to take the class, a small number compared to your usual large English lit course.

Noise bubbled in the room as the clock ticked by. At the exact second the hour struck, a door to the left opened wide.

“Good morning. If you could all settle down now, please. I need to take attendance.”

All attention fell upon the person who walked through the door, silence befalling the room as their voice echoed through the hall. As your eyes lifted from the scribbles on your notebook, they too sought out your new professor, but what they found was certainly not what you had been expecting at all.

The woman that approached the desk at the centre of the room was perhaps the most gorgeous you’d ever seen. Her hair fell perfectly in cascading curls, a brilliant red draped across her back. She wore a pair of black slacks, paired with a light blue dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Her heels clicked meticulously across the polished wood as she set a laptop down at the centred desk, opening it up and glancing down at the screen.

It seemed you were not the only person affected by this woman’s presence as the entire hall fell silent as she began to call register. Most professors at this school were old men, droning on about things tirelessly. Even when presented with a female professor, none ever compared to the power and lure that this woman seemed to radiate across the class.

Once she’d finished calling names and assured everyone was marked down correctly, the red-haired woman moved towards the front of her desk, leaning back against it as a pair of arms came to cross over her chest. Your eyes found particular interest in the very expensive looking watch that sat upon her left wrist.

“Okay, my name is Professor Romanoff, as you have probably seen on your timetables. I will be your teacher for this class on introductory Russian.”

All ears seemed to be on the professor as she spoke, her voice confident in the space it held.

“I will start off by saying that this class is not easy so if you have taken it for that reason, I suggest perhaps changing.”

A tight smile appeared on a pair of red painted lips as the professor continued talking, the curtness behind it clear.

“This class is not impossibly difficult but it is certainly not a free ride. Anybody who treats it as such, is likely to fail.”

You weren’t sure what it was, maybe something in the air, but your attention seemed to cling to everything that fell out of the professors mouth, practically drinking up every word that she said. Your eyes found themselves particularly focused on her lips, adorning a shade of red so perfectly you even questioned if they were naturally that colour.

Professor Romanoff continued to rattle off expectations for the class, bringing up exam dates and testing styles before discussing an outline of everything the class would cover. Your pen jotted down everything she said, almost working faster than your brain could keep up, that ever persistent need to be perfect taking over once more, just like it did every time the new semester rolled back around.

Overall, the class seemed to be mostly an introduction. Professor Romanoff outlined specific topics you’d cover, before beginning to teach the difference between the English and Russian alphabets. Whatever it was she said, every word was jotted down into your notebook with persistent attentiveness.

The class seemed to pass by quickly, the order to pack up echoing out earlier than you thought it would, but with a quick glance at your phone, you realised that an entire hour had indeed passed. You tidied up your belongings, throwing them all into the old backpack you carried about everywhere, then got up to follow the crowd out of the lecture theatre. Your mind found itself satisfied with the enjoyment of the class, finding everything taught very interesting. Some part of you even found yourself somewhat excited for the next time you’d dawn the building and Professor Romanoff’s class.

———

“So how was it?”

Kate’s words were out of her mouth before you’d even sat down at the table, delayed in joining her by a few minutes due to your English professor droning on too long in his lecture. A sigh escaped your lips as you finally set yourself down at the dining table, throwing your backpack underneath as you looked over at your friend.

“How was what?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Your Russian class,” she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing ever said.

“Oh, right,” you replied, reaching for the cutlery on your tray and using it to begin cutting the omelette you’d picked up for lunch. “It was good.”

Kate raised a brow, obviously more curious than your answer could satisfy. “Just good ?”

You nodded in response, raising a single shoulder. “Yeah, good. It was really interesting.”

Kate hummed, taking a bite of the chicken burger she’d chosen for lunch. Like she often did, the girl spoke around her food to ask you another question. “How was the professor? Some old Russian guy?”

Unsure of exactly why, it felt like your heart gave a little flutter when Kate mentioned the professor, maybe it had something to do with the way you’d spent most of the lesson staring at her and thinking how beautiful she was. “Uhm, no actually,” you replied, taking a small bite of your food. “It was a woman. Quite young looking too.”

Kate’s interest seemed to be piqued, a single brow raised. “How young?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know how young. Like, thirties? I don’t know.” You shrugged again, unsure of how exactly to answer her question.

The girl across from you hummed. You could tell why it was a suprise to her, it had been to you too when you’d first laid eyes on your new teacher. Most professors at this university were very good at what they did, but that often came with the experiences of age. A younger professor was an uncommon sight.

“What was her name?” Kate asked, still chewing another bite of her burger.

“Romanoff.”

Kate hummed. “And she was any good?”

“Yeah,” you replied lightly, trying not to think too hard about the way her red hair had formed perfect curls. “She seems a little strict but she’s a good teacher.”

“Well, that’s always good I suppose.”

From there, Kate seemed to become disinterested in the professor, instead moving on to discuss a cute girl she’d seen in her programming class. You’d asked more questions but the pair of you knew Kate would never do anything about any crush she had, she would get far too nervous and stumble over all of her words any time she tried to talk to anyone. Many times you’d watched her fail to flirt with someone drunkly at a party, accidentally blurting out something stupid that caused the other person to turn away. Each time you’d end up giving her a pat on the back and assuring her she’d get the next one, both of you secretly knowing it probably wasn’t true. Nevertheless, it was fun to fantasise about cute people you saw on campus and Kate often liked to share all the things she’d like to do with someone if she could actually talk to them.

Your conversation slowly passed on to other things, talking over activities you both did over summer, but sooner than you’d like, the time came for you to both head to your next classes. You both packed up your things, tidying away your lunch trays before heading out of the dining hall and across campus, Kate giving you a very dramatic goodbye before disappearing into her coding class and you slipped away to criminology, some part of your mind still clinging on to the idea of alabaster skin and perfect red curls.

———

The semester kicked off quickly and before you knew it, you were already three weeks in. Your time had been spent flitting between your classes, keeping consistent with your notes and readings. That fresh term feeling still resided within you, positivity and interest radiating through you in each of your courses. Though your creative writing class remained your favourite, your new Russian elective had quickly climbed the charts to take spot number two. Something about the language simply drew you in, perhaps how different it was to English, but every class seemed to suck you in entirely and leave you eagerly awaiting the next one.

Through Kate’s complaining, you were exceedingly glad that you didn’t pick her programming class, the professor apparently loading far too much work on his students. Though, you were never sure how much of the complaints could simply be down to Kate’s dramatics. The pair of you continued to spend your free moments in each other’s company, talking over every meal and studying in the library. You made the most of the disappearing sun, basking in the last of the summer warmth on the campus lawn, your head stuck in a book while Kate napped next to you.

You’d also easily picked up your part time job once more, the manager of the campus coffee shop reminded of your hard work the past three years. The job itself was usually rather tiring, filling up your weekends and free mornings, but it paid for your food so you knew it was a necessity. Thankfully, the lingering warmth had meant the shop had remained rather quite so far, not too many people racing for a hot coffee while the sun still shone down from above. Your experience however, let you know that in just another few weeks, you’d have to pick up the pace and things would get increasingly harder as the temperature began to drop. Yet, for now you basked in the calmness that the summer brought. But one person in particular seemed determined to change that.

Kate stumbled around the room, grabbing different outfits from the closet and trying them on, before deciding they were no good and tossing them on to the floor. She’d never been a very quiet person getting ready, usually singing along to whatever band she found interesting that month, but at that exact moment, you wished she’d sometimes find a slightly calmer routine.

Your head hurt, most likely from dehydration. It had been a long afternoon shift at the coffee shop and it seemed summer was giving everyone one grand goodbye, bringing the temperatures soaring and consequently, leaving you with a very sweaty shift. Now you were back in the dorm, showered and in some light pjs, hoping to finally get started on the work you’d been thinking about all day. But someone seemed destined to distract you. Your eyes fell to Kate, desperately trying to find a top to match the current skirt she was wearing. “I hope you’re gonna clean that up,” you said, glancing at the mess of clothes on the floor.

“‘Course I will,” Kate replied, pulling another top from a drawer. “Ugh, why does nothing look right!”

You glanced once again to the girl, taking in her current appearance. “Wear the silver top,” you said nonchalantly.

Kate began rummaging in the drawer, knowing what you had meant and what to look for. She pulled the top out and tried it on, looking at herself in the mirror and letting out a pleased hum. “Looks good, thanks.”

She passed you a grateful smile and you simply passed one in return, merely thankful that she’d stopped making such a fuss while you were trying to work. Your body turned back towards your desk, eyes falling back on to the open notebook in front of you.

“I really can’t convince you to come tonight?” Kate’s voice whined as she touched up her makeup in the mirror. “It’s always super boring without you.”

“I told you already,” you replied, not looking up from your notes. “I can’t go to a party, I have to study.”

Kate sighed loudly. “What are you even studying for? It’s only the third week!”

“My Russian class. I have a test on Monday.”

Your roommate blew a gust of air from her mouth, the repel evident. “You still have all of tomorrow to study.”

“You’re right, I do. And I intend to use all the time I have.”

Despite still looking at your notes, you could see the eye roll Kate gave you. “Whatever, loser,” she called, grabbing a bag to take with her. From behind, you could hear her pulling on a pair of heels, which would probably end up in her hands before the night was done. “I’ll try be quite coming in,” she said, reaching for the door.

“Keys?”

“Shit.”

The noise of scrambling filled the dorm once more as Kate rummaged about in her backpack for her set of keys, an item so frequently forgotten about. You heard them jingle in her hands before being slipped into her purse. Then, she said her actual goodbyes and slid out of the room, finally leaving you to study in peace. You released a relieved sigh as silence fell back over the room and you allowed your eyes to scan the Russian letters and grammar scribbled out across your paper. Whatever party Kate was venturing to that night, it wouldn’t be the thing to keep you from studying, your mind entirely focused on the terminologies written in your notes and determined to commit every piece of it to memory, no matter how long it took.

———

Natasha loved her job, truly she did. In fact, she’d given up her career of lawyering to begin teaching, something about it always drawing her in. But one part about her job that she didn’t enjoy as much, was marking papers. Although it was an integral part of her role as a professor, it seemed marking always held tedium in the never-ending correcting of answers and decoding of illiterate handwriting.

A low sigh escaped her lips as Natasha circled yet another grade atop of a paper, a red ‘D’ followed by a smaller ‘62%’. It wasn’t a surprise to her that most of the grades were on the lower side, especially for her introductory class, the highest so far reigning at a 73. It always took new students a while to get used to the new alphabet and syntax that Russian carried, their grades reflecting that sometimes up until the midterm. Papers like this were Natasha’s least favourite to grade, constantly having to mark down corrections for spellings or grammar, and usually taking up more of her time than she’d like.

The smell in the kitchen at least worked to brighten up her mood, the soft aroma of a home cooked meal fluttering straight from her nose and down to her anticipating stomach. Wanda always loved to cook and each night Natasha loved coming home to eat whatever she’d stirred up for that night. Her wife dotted around the stove top as Natasha sat across the breakfast bar, two stacks of papers sat next to her. Her mind was hoping by the time she was finished marking, Wanda would have dinner ready and the two could finally relax for the night.

Determined to get finished, Natasha reached for another paper on the stack, briefly brushing over the student’s name before beginning her marking. The usual first questions went expectingly well, but as the test slipped into slightly trickier territory, it seemed the common errors that Natasha had grown so used to seeing, were entirely absent. As each question progressed, Natasha found herself becoming continually bewildered at the perfect answers provided on the paper. At the very end, flipping over the last sheet of paper on to the counter, she lowered her eyebrows in confusion. “Huh.”

Wanda’s head raised from where it sat looking down at a pan, now gazing over at her wife with an inquisitive look. “What is it?”

Not answering immediately, Natasha flipped through the test once again, looking over the many check marks next to every question. Slightly confused, she closed the paper, looking up to meet her wife’s eye. “Some student just got a hundred percent. Like, a perfect score.”

Now it was Wanda’s turn to look a little shocked, her brows raising as she leaned across the counter. “You think it’s legit?”

Natasha shrugged, the scenario playing in her mind. “I mean, I monitored everyone whilst they took it. Nobody looked to be cheating.”

The taller redhead let out an almost amused hum. “Impressive. What’s this outstanding student’s name?”

The paper flicked back to the front cover, Natasha’s eyes flitting over the name scribbled on the top of the sheet in neat handwriting. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Natasha’s mind searched its archives for any mentions of the name, its presence feeling familiar on her tongue. She fell back to taking attendance, specifically on the first day of class. The name had rung out in the hall and a small voice had picked up to answer it. Natasha remembered her amusement at the English accent she’d heard radiating across the room, originating from a young girl in a pretty summer dress near the front row. It seemed some part of her mind had locked in the gentle smile that accompanied such a sweet voice.

"Cute name," Wanda hummed, moving to stir her pot before her recipe could burn.

"Yeah..." Natasha's eyes remained on the sheet in front of her, scanning over the name and conjuring images of the face that matched with it. "I just don't know how she could have done this perfectly." Her fingers flipped through the pieces of paper, eyes scanning the work written in black ink. "I mean, everything is exactly how is should be. Even her cyrillic is written neatly."

Wanda let out a low hum as she continued fussing about with the stovetop, her answer coming out rather nonchalant. "Maybe she's in the wrong class? Was supposed to enroll in one of your others at a higher level?"

The proposal had already flashed across Natasha's mind, the work in front of her seemingly too good for someone of beginner status. There was always something wrong, some letter they'd missed or some word in the wrong order, it was never this perfect. Her mind had scoured back to previous years, trying to remember if she'd taught her before, but the name sounded too unfamiliar, and besides, she would have recalled that distinctive cute accent that this certain student possessed. "Maybe," Natasha replied finally, turning back the paper to the front. "But I don't see why she wouldn't have swapped out already. I mean, she would have had to have noticed by now, right?"

Wanda licked the small spoon in her hand, tasting her dish before tossing the metal away into the sink. It always amazed Natasha just how much of a multitasker her wife could be. Still adding things to her meal, Wanda tossed a comment over her shoulder. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Talk to her."

The idea washed over Natasha, already present in her own mind. The curiosity of the situation was pulling her in, already wanting to know more about this mystery student. As she thought of the girl in her head, more interest seemed to curate within her. Seeing that adorable smile she'd caught each time she'd called attendance, hearing that charming little accent that followed her name being called, something about it all drew her further in than one may expect, in ways perhaps unrelated to the test in front of her. Excitement and curiosity brewing in her, Natasha looked up to smile at her wife. "I think I will."

———

Today was not a good day for you. Not only had you forgotten your water bottle back in the dorm, but it was also the first day of the semester you’d be receiving back a test. It was only a small one, one that wouldn’t dent your final grade enough to matter, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t spent hours studying for it. You should have known that the peaceful calm that followed the start of term wouldn’t last forever, but it seemed every year the reality of things slipped your mind and you suddenly felt the anxiety crashing down on your shoulders a few weeks in.

Aside from a small introductory piece you’d had to write for creative writing, this was your first proper assessment of the year. As you sat in the lecture hall, waiting for class to begin, your mind flooded over everything you’d done to prepare, the hours of studying you’d put in, thinking back to the questions and if there was anything you could have possibly misread. Your foot tapped quickly against the floor as you pondered the possibility of a bad grade, particularly the berating that would follow from your family if they ever found out. You tried your best to settle your anxiety as the minutes ticked by, assuring yourself that you’d put in all the effort you could, a good grade surely waiting for you after all your hard work. But when the doors to the hall opened and your professor walked in, the pit in your stomach only dropped further.

“Morning everyone,” Professor Romanoff called out, briefly glancing across the class. In her hands you could spy the laptop she usually carried, alongside the stack of test papers you’d be receiving back very shortly. Your heart continued to beat in your chest as attendance was taken, voice slightly shaky when it came time for your name to be called.

“Right,” the redheaded woman said, closing down her laptop after finishing the register. She reached for the stack of papers in her desk as she stood, moving towards the front of the class and looking out. “As I said, these tests are mostly just a baseline to let me know you’re all on track. Though, if you are failing, maybe come see me and we can have a chat about why.”

With that, Professor Romanoff began towards the class, calling out names and passing out tests. You tried not to look as she walked up the isle next to you, the first time close enough to touch. Mostly, your eyes remained on the desk in front of you, mind reeling at the possibility of failing. You wouldn’t fail, right? You’d studied for hours.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

A low voice brought your head up from its position, mind dragged from your thoughts and thrust back into the present moment. Your eyes raised to see your professor suddenly stood in front of you, her stare focused upon your face.

“Yes?”

A tight expression appeared on the redhead’s face, almost a smile but not quite reaching her eyes. Her fingers slid your test paper back towards you, face down against the desk. Your eyes flickered down to it before returning to her gaze. “See me after class, please.”

If there were any words you wanted to say, your throat tightened to prevent them from escaping. Before you could even comprehend what she had said, Professor Romanoff was already moving on towards the next student. Your eyes followed her momentarily, then darted back towards your upturned test. You failed, your mind screamed at you. You must have failed.

Tentative fingers reached out towards the paper, your heart preparing for the first ‘F’ ever written on one of your tests. You were already thinking about how you’d have to explain this to your parents, how you’d let it settle within yourself. The paper flipped over, the red writing of your grade distinct at the top of the first page, but when your eyes fluttered over to it, they did not find what they had been expecting mere moments before. Instead of a giant ‘F’ like you’d been anticipating, the paper held a large ‘A’ on the front, then beside it, in a smaller circle, a 100% mark.

Your eyes almost couldn’t believe what they were seeing, mind more relieved than any time you could remember. Almost at once, your body had relaxed, that small smile appearing on your lips like it always did when you did well. You hadn’t failed at all, in fact, you’d done the complete opposite. Maybe this day wasn’t going as bad as you had anticipated. But then you remembered your professor’s words.

See her after class? What could that possibly mean? Your mind suddenly became erratic again, the anxiety taking control and catastrophizing every possible scenario. You were unsure how you felt with the idea of spending time alone with Professor Romanoff, suddenly worried she may have the ability to read minds and would be able to tell how much your mind had floated back to her face over the past few weeks.

The thoughts in your head were so loud you didn’t notice when your professor first began going on the test. It was only by question four you’d caught on, suddenly snapping back to reality and trying desperately to join back in with the class seamlessly. It seemed, however, that your mind still couldn’t concentrate, entirely focused on the conversation the red-haired woman in front of you had requested to have.

Your eyes fluttered around the room, glancing at the other students to perhaps gage how everyone else had done on the test. Briefly, they fell upon the desk next to you, spying the ‘56%’ scribbled on to the top of the test paper that sat there. When your eyes raised to the girl it belonged it, she passed you a quick scowl, making an eye to the perfect score that sat in front of you. Feeling far too seen, your eyes snapped back to your own paper, hoping that said girl knew you weren’t at all judging, though by her face, it seemed those were her exact thoughts. For the rest of the lesson you vowed to keep your eyes glued to your own paper, too scared of what they might find in the faces of those around you.

Eventually, your professor’s words began to drown out, overtaken by the lingering anxiety clouding your mind. Before you knew it, you’d spent the entire hour stuck inside your head, rethinking every possible scenario that could possibly occur after class. Now, you were forced to face the reality as Professor Romanoff dismissed the class, requesting papers be returned to her before anyone left.

You watched from your chair as a line of students all placed their papers in a stack on the side of the wooden desk. Slowly, you began to pack away your things into your bag, trying not to draw attention to yourself any more than necessary. When you stood, you clutched your test close to your chest, hiding the score away from anyone who might have passed you a look any similar to the girl previously sat beside you.

As the line of students dwindled down, all turning to leave the lecture room, you slowly approached the desk at the centre of the room. The last of your class let the doors swing closed behind them just as you reached the wooden surface, leaving you in the room entirely alone with your professor. You watched her from behind as she wiped the chalkboard clean, erasing away any remnants of the previous lesson.

The air felt so thick you could choke on it. Your mind told you to make yourself known, clear your throat or something, but it seemed you were almost frozen in place. Only when Professor Romanoff finally turned, did you even move at all.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N.”

The woman dusted her hands against each other as she began to close the gap between the two of you. Both of your eyes met each other, her gaze locking on to yours as she walked back towards her desk and sat down on the edge of it. You swallowed harshly as you danced on the balls of your feet, your irrational thought of mind reading suddenly coming back to you. But Professor Romanoff didn’t say anything towards the sort, instead, simply extended her hand out towards you, palm facing up to the ceiling.

“Oh, right,” you stumbled, handing over the test paper which she had just previously been looking at. It was slightly crumpled from being pressed to your body but the woman seemingly took no notice, simply glancing over it before returning it to the pile of others on her desk, a low hum escaping from her lips.

When her eyes turned back to meet yours, you suddenly noticed how green they were, never having been so close as to regard them before. Blazing emerald gazed back at you as your heart pounded in your chest.

“This is a very good paper, Miss Y/L/N. I’ve never had a student get a perfect mark on one of my tests before.”

As Professor Romanoff’s voice caught your ears, your heartbeat only seemed to quicken its pace. Something in her gaze felt scrutinising, the small curt smile on her lips enough to practically drag your next words out from your mouth.

“I-I didn’t cheat if that’s what you think. I swear.”

It was spilling out before you could stop it really, words tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to plead your case. That had been the conclusion you’d drawn from this scenario, the reason you’d been asked to stay back in the first place. But to your surprise, Professor Romanoff simply raised a skeptical brow. “I never said you cheated, did I?”

Suddenly you felt very warm, like the wonderful AC you always gushed about had instantaneously disappeared. “No-I just-I-I mean-“

The words tumbled from your mouth, barely coherent. They were quickly silenced when Professor Romanoff raised a hand, passing you a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“I don’t think you cheated, Y/N,” the professor said after a moment, lowering her hand once more. “I’m just curious as to how you achieved such a high score.”

You felt a little stupid, mind too ahead of itself like always and blurting out the first thing it thought of without even thinking properly. Professor Romanoff’s words washed over you and you picked up on the question present, thinking over your answer briefly before shrugging your shoulders. “I just studied, I guess.”

That perfectly sculpted brow raised once more. “Studied?” Professor Romanoff seemed to look you up and down, gazing at the way you picked at your nail beds anxiously. You stopped immediately when she seemed to notice, instead moving to hold your hands behind your back. The professor moved her eyeline back up to you once more, a curious expression now taking over her face. “Have you taken Russian before?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Professor Romanoff let out a low sigh, adjusting herself on the table where she sat. She was once again wearing a pair of fitted slacks and polished heels, partnered today with a short-sleeved white blouse. From this distance, you could tell the material was silk. You tried not to stare at the woman’s exposed arms as the came to cross against her chest, and more importantly, at the slight cleavage on show that now pressed higher as she moved.

“It’s highly unlikely for a beginner to get a perfect score on a test,” your professor said, eyes meeting yours. “Especially so early on.” The air seemed to grow thicker as the redhead leaned in closer towards you, her gaze narrowing ever so slightly. “So if you’re lying to me, sweetheart, I’d appreciate if you didn’t.”

The name hung heavy in the air, hammering at your lungs as you stood under the woman’s scrutinising gaze. Suddenly, you felt warmer, your heart rate picking up even more as the words of defense began to stumble from your mouth once again. “I-I swear I’ve never taken it before. I-I just-“ You swallowed harshly, trying to regain some of your composure. "I looked at the syllabus over summer and maybe taught myself some of the basic concepts is all. And I did some extra reading, but I just wanted to be prepared! I haven't actually done Russian properly before, I promise. I-I just-"

Professor Romanoff raised her hand once more, silencing your stuttering. "It’s alright, milaya," she said, a small smile now spreading across her lips. "Calm down." The Russian was recognised by your ears but not your mind, left untranslated in the conversation as the redhead continued to talk. "You’re not in any trouble. I was just curious"

The gentleness of your professor's voice was enough to settle you down, suddenly feeling foolish for blurting out like you had. You took a moment to breath, looking down at your feet as they swayed you back and forth. "Right," you said, voice now quiet in the near-empty room.

When your eyeline raised to Professor Romanoff once again, she was still looking back at you with that gentle smile, her eyes soft under the light. After a moment of her gaze on you, she released a small sigh, reaching back to place a hand on your test that sat at the top of the pile. "This is very good test, though," she said, nodding her head towards you. "You should be proud of yourself."

The praise washed over you in a wave of warmth, spreading across your cheeks and down the back of your neck. It wasn't often you received recognition for your work, it certainly never being enough back home, so you never really learned how to properly cope with it without your face embarrassingly heating up and a dopey smile appearing on your lips. You tried your best to hide these now, looking back at the redhead in front of you. "Thank you, professor."

The woman smiled, unbothered by the way your fingers had moved to begin fidgeting with the zip of your hoodie, desperate to find something to distract your flurried mind. "I assume you have another class to get to, Miss Y/L/N?" Professor Romanoff stood up, now looking down on you from a few inches above, her heels adding even more height so that you had to slightly raise your head from where it had been to look up at her.

Your head nodded. "Uhm, yes I do."

The redhead began to collect the papers that sat on the side, adjusting them into an orderly pile. From behind the desk, she smiled over at you. "Well then, hurry along. I wouldn't want to make you late."

Your head nodded again, more frantically this time. "Of course." You adjusted the backpack on your shoulders before turning away, headed towards the door to your right, but before you could reach it, Professor Romanoff's voice called out again.

"And Y/N?"

You turned quickly, facing her desk once more with an awaiting expression. The woman met your eye, the smile on her lips different now, almost what one could mistake as a smirk. She looked over at you as she said, "Keep up the good work."

For the third time, you nodded, feeling yourself heating up again. "I will," you replied, smiling sheepishly. "Thank you again, professor." And with that, you turned and reached for the door, rejoining the rest of the world with a blush on your cheeks. As you headed towards the exit of the building and on towards your next class, your mind tried desperately to think about anything other than the way your professor’s arms had looked pressed against her chest, or more noticeably, how sweet the nicknames she had called you felt upon your ears.

#inescapable love au #professor natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #platonic kate bishop x reader #lawyer wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader

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just-aake · 27 days

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part XV (Final)

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 8179

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed when you’re trapped within your own mind.

One moment, you’re glaring at the one who you once believed was your father, wishing for his downfall.

The next, you’re falling into the eyes of the one who holds your heart, all while gripping a dagger aimed at hers.

The lost time spent drifting between reality and darkness always leaves you with a sense of helplessness, especially when you later awaken to discover the actions you took during that time, actions that still haunt you.

Your current condition feels similar to that feeling of being trapped, except, unfortunately, this experience is far more agonizing.

With each passing moment, every part of you aches, both mentally and physically.

The sensation only seems to intensify, worsening to where it feels as though your entire body is engulfed in flames, burning from the inside out. Even the simple act of breathing becomes a challenge, let alone attempting to move.

At times, the overwhelming agony drains you to the point where your weary mind is tempted to just surrender to the dark void at the edge of your consciousness, promising relief.

But then a voice breaks through amidst all of the pain, calling your name in desperate pleading.

Though your tired mind struggles to place the voice in the moment, it feels familiar.

There's something about it that warms your heart, making you forget about the pain even if only for a fleeting moment.

The devastation in their tone is the reason you find the sudden need within you to push through the agony, if only to help alleviate the sadness in their voice.

And so, that's what you decide to do.

You endure, and you stay.

Gradually, it starts getting better. The pain lessens along with fewer waves of feverish sensations coursing through your body.

Eventually, you hear other voices too, all familiar and all concerned for you. And as your mind slowly recovers from the fog of pain, it begins to piece those voices with their respective owners.

Wanda and Pietro

Yelena and Kate

Carol

Even Queen Melina

Ironically, the one voice you hear the most, always a constant source of comfort and peace at your side, is the one that proves the most challenging to place.

Frustrated at the mystery of this person, you eventually gather enough strength one day to will your mind to wake up, determined to finally discover their identity.

Slowly, your eyes open, and after a few blinks, your vision clears.

The first thing you realize is that you’re not in your room, but the surroundings look familiar. With a dull ache on your stomach, you opt to turn your head instead to survey the rest of the area.

As your gaze falls upon the sleeping figure by the window, illuminated by the afternoon sun casting a warm glow on her red hair, memories flood back, and you finally recall the owner of that elusive voice.

Natasha

With her eyes closed, the princess sits in her window seat facing you, her head resting on her hand against her bent knee.

The realization that she must have fallen asleep, likely exhausted from watching over you, causes a sad bittersweet feeling to form in your heart.

Glancing around once more, you take in Natasha’s bedroom, a place you haven’t visited in a while since before everything that had happened last year.

Despite subtle changes in details, everything remains mostly unchanged. Her swords and armor hang securely on the wall, and her shelves are lined with books and personal items that she treasured through the years.

On her desk, a small stack of papers awaits her attention, likely documents of the kingdom needing review, and adjacent to them sits a tray of obviously untouched food.

You frown at the sight, aware of Natasha’s tendency to neglect meals whenever she’s stressed or too busy.

Returning your gaze to her, you notice the dark circle under her eyes, deepening your frown and concern.

Intending to call out to her and urge her to rest in her bed, you open your mouth, but your parched throat betrays you, plunging you into a painful fit of coughing instead.

Natasha’s eyes snap open instantly, her body tensing in alertness as she searches the room, before locking onto you in realization.

She swiftly rises from the window seat and approaches the edges of the bed where you lie, her hand reaching out to comfort you but then she stops in hesitation just before she touches you.

As you regain your breath, you notice her hand clench with nervous energy before slowly withdrawing to her side.

Summoning your strength, you reach out and grasp her hand firmly, not letting her go far, as you intertwine your fingers and rest them atop the bed.

You nod toward the bed, silently urging her to stay by your side.

Natasha's tense posture relaxes at your gesture, and a faint, relieved smile forms on her lips as she takes a seat at the edge of the bed. She reaches for the cup on the nightstand, bringing it to your lips and helping you take a sip, soothing your parched throat.

In a whisper so soft as if afraid to break the moment with you, Natasha asks, "How are you feeling?"

“Sore,” you respond honestly, your voice still strained.

A flash of regret flickers across Natasha’s face as she looks towards your injury. Not wanting her to spiral into guilt over what happened, you tug on her clasped hand to bring her attention back to you.

“Can you help me sit up?” you ask, determination in your tone as you release her hand and prepare to push yourself upright.

“You really shouldn’t be moving right now,” Natasha cautions, her hands hovering tentatively in concern.

“I know, but I want to,” you insist.

The thought of continuing to lie helplessly on your back, a sight that likely tormented Natasha during your time of unconsciousness, doesn’t sit well with you.

You want to reassure her that you’re feeling better than your previously weakened state.

Natasha hesitates, torn between honoring your request or prioritizing your well-being. However, she comes to a decision when she sees the determined look on your face.

“You’re so stubborn,” she remarks with a gentle shake of her head, a hint of fondness in her voice, as her hands move to support you carefully in sitting up against the headboard.

“Takes one to know one,” you tease lightly, offering a small smile as you lean back, taking a moment to catch your breath.

A comfortable silence settles between you as you stare up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Memories flood back, and you distinctly recall Natasha’s anguished face above you before darkness consumed your vision.

Your smile drops slightly at the memory, and with a tired sigh, you turn to meet her patient gaze, breaking the silence.

“How long was I out for?” you ask softly.

“Three days,” Natasha responds gently.

Processing the information, disappointment washes over you as you realize what was supposed to have taken place yesterday.

“Your coronation…I missed it,” you say sadly.

Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief at your priority.

“No, you didn’t,” she reassures. “I’m not the queen yet.”

At your confused expression, Natasha continues her explanation.

“I postponed it. And before you say I didn’t have to, you know that there was no way I would have gone through with it without having you there.”

“Besides,” Natasha adds with a playful smirk. “Staying by your side is always better than any kind of event, even if it’s my coronation.”

Her comment lightens the somber atmosphere, drawing a small laugh from you, which makes her grin in turn.

The action causes a dull ache to appear at your side, and unconsciously, your hand moves to brush against the bandages covering where the blade had pierced you, reminding you of your ordeal.

“So what happened after…” you trail off, unable to voice the memory.

Natasha's gaze shifts sadly to your wounded area as she begins to explain.

"Yelena arrived with the physician shortly after. They tended to Pietro and you," she recounts. "Meanwhile, Kate stayed at her manor to apprehend the attackers and helped Wanda to recover."

Concern flickers in your eyes, prompting Natasha to offer a reassuring grin.

"Don't worry, Wanda's fine. She just tired herself out when she took down Rumlow and his followers.”

At your puzzled expression, Natasha moves her hand pointedly, mirroring the similar action of Wanda’s whenever she uses her powers.

“Oh,” you say, at a loss for words in realization.

Natasha chuckles at your expression, raising her brows at you.

“You did say she had a special way with people.”

Sighing worriedly, you explain your reasoning for keeping Wanda’s abilities a secret.

“You know how some people are towards magic, Natasha.”

“Well, considering she saved our lives, I’ll make sure no one messes with her, though I’m sure she can protect herself just fine.”

You let out a small breath of relief at her reassurance before inquiring further, “What about everyone else?”

Natasha tilts her head in thought as she continues to recount the events afterward.

“Clint was able to warn my dad, Steve, and Carol in time to capture the ones under control here in the castle. And as for the ones that went after my mom…”

She lets out an exasperated sigh before continuing, “...let’s just say that they shouldn’t have attacked her in her lab when she was in the middle of mixing certain chemicals and powders.”

You chuckle lightly at the thought, knowing about Queen Melina’s tendency to cause explosions in her lab during her experiments.

However, the mention of explosions brings a grim reminder of another figure Natasha hasn't mentioned yet.

“And Dreykov?” you ask cautiously. “Did he escape?”

Natasha's hand clench into a fist at his name, her expression clouding with silent fury.

"No, he's currently in prison, awaiting trial. Along with the rest of the traitors," she responds, shaking her head with resolve.

Taking your hand in a reassuring grip, she adds, "But you don't need to worry about him. I won't let him hurt you ever again."

Natasha lifts your hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your skin.

“I promise.”

You offer her a grateful smile, relieved at the information.

However, a sense of resignation settles in as you prepare to bring up the next topic.

“I guess all that’s left is to decide what to do about me,” you say with a heavy sigh.

Natasha tightens her grip on your hand as she urges gently, "Just concentrate on getting better.”

You chuckle lightly before your expression turns somber as you clarify.

"No, I mean about me being the Stark princess."

An awkward silence descends in the air, both of you acutely aware of the weight of the decision looming over you.

As much as you dislike it, the reality of your identity remains, and you need to officially address its involvement in your future eventually.

“What do you want to do?” Natasha finally asks, breaking the silence.

You contemplate your options and remember your conversation with Bucky, finding that your feelings about your decision remain unchanged even now.

"Honestly, Natasha, I want to just leave it in the past," you admit. "Everything's relatively peaceful between the kingdoms at the moment. What's the point in bringing up troubling revelations from mistakes in the past?"

“Are you sure?” Natasha questions in concern before pointing out. “You’re essentially rejecting your title as a princess.”

You nod, giving her a content smile.

"I've never needed it in my life before,” you say as you tilt your head at her in question, a hint of warmth in your voice as you ask, “Besides, I already have a princess in my life, don't I?”

Natasha returns your gaze with an affectionate smile before intertwining your hands together.

"Yeah, I'm yours," she affirms softly.

Gradually, you feel more strength returning to your body as you remain awake, nodding confidently as you adjust your position carefully.

"I think I'm feeling better enough to go back to my manor this evening," you observe, suggesting, "If you could have the twins come and help me, then you can finally get a proper night's sleep in your own bed tonight."

Before you can sit up any further, Natasha’s hand moves to your shoulder, gently holding you in place, her expression filled with disbelief.

Glancing at her hand, you give her a questioning look, causing Natasha to shake her head exasperatedly.

"If you think you're going to leave this bed anytime soon, especially after being stabbed for my sake, you need to think again," Natasha says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Meeting her gaze, you both engage in a standoff, locked in a silent challenge. After a moment, Natasha raises her brow at you.

“If the situation was reversed, would you let me move?” she asks pointedly.

You open your mouth to reply before deflating in resignation, knowing you would do the same as her if you were in her position.

“Fine,” you concede, though a small pout forms on your lips, before adding, “But I should still return your bed to you and move into one of the guest rooms.”

Natasha tilts her head in thought as she traces the pattern on the blanket on your lap before commenting.

"Is that really necessary? It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before," she reasons, her tone light.

Then, with a teasing smirk, she adds, "Unless this is your way of avoiding me after I confessed that I love you."

You pause, taken aback by her casual declaration, and you feel your cheeks heating up as you finally process her words.

When you see the victorious smirk on her face, you roll your eyes and shake your head, giving her a chatising look.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, frustration evident in your tone, though there's a hint of fondness.

“I believe you’ve always called me charming,” Natasha retorts, her smirk widening.

Frustrated, your hands grip the collar of her tunic tightly, pulling her closer to you.

"Natasha Alianovna Romanov," you begin, your voice tinged with both exasperation and affection.

She smirks, amusement dancing in her eyes as she catches herself with her hands against the bed on each side of you, encasing you between her arms.

Gazing at you with a teasing expression, she prompts, "Yes?"

With a small smile, you finally gather the courage to voice the words you've been longing to tell her.

"I'm in love with you," you confess softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

"That's good..." Natasha replies, her voice tender as she leans in closer, "...cause I'm deeply in love with you too."

Her words brush against your lips softly, and without hesitation, you tug her closer, closing the tiny distance between the two of you.

The kiss feels both new and familiar, a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, as you lose yourself in the moment, savoring the warmth of her lips against yours.

Natasha is the one who pulls back first, resting her forehead against yours and letting out a happy sigh.

"You have no idea how many times I've wanted to do that," she admits, her voice filled with sincere longing.

Unconsciously, you lightly bite your lip to keep the warmth and feeling of her there for a little longer, before noticing Natasha's gaze drifting down to the subtle movement.

You recall the countless times you've witnessed that look of desire in her eyes, prompting a small chuckle to escape your lips as you pull her in closer.

"I think I do," you tease, brushing lightly against her lips. "You're not exactly subtle, princess."

Natasha lets out a tiny huff, her lips curving into a playful smile before she leans in for another kiss and then another, each one gentle and delicate, never leaving your lips for more than a second, as she steals your breath away and makes you melt against her.

Your hand, still lingering on her collar, instinctively seeks more contact, slipping beneath the thin layer of her clothing to clutch at her bare shoulder.

The warmth of her skin beneath your touch only intensifies the longing between you as you try to pull her closer.

As you go to deepen the kiss, the moment is suddenly shattered by an unexpected interruption.

“Oh my—Nat! Let her breathe! She just woke up!”

Startled, you pull back from Natasha, breaking the kiss, as your gaze shifts to the doorway where Yelena and Kate stand.

Natasha groans in frustration, her head falling against your shoulder.

Kate quickly steps in to cover Yelena's mouth, offering you an apologetic expression.

"Sorry! We just wanted to check on you two. We didn't mean to interrupt," she explains, as Yelena’s objection is muffled behind her hand.

Still pressed against your neck, Natasha responds in an annoyed tone, "Then leave."

Yelena rolls her eyes at her sister's bluntness, pulling Kate's hand away to respond, "Alright, alright, we get it."

With a warm smile directed at you, Yelena adds, "It's good to see you awake, Y/n."

"Yeah, we're glad that you're okay," Kate chimes in, relief evident in her eyes.

You offer them both a grateful nod. "Thank you two for coming."

“I guess we’ll visit you later then,” Yelena remarks, moving to take Kate's arm and guide her away from the door.

As Kate closes the door behind them, you catch snippets of their conversation.

"Should we really, though?" Kate's voice holds a hint of hesitation. "I don't want to interrupt them again while they're...you know."

Yelena hums thoughtfully before responding, "I mean it's a good thing we did this time, or else Y/n would have probably pulled out her stitches trying to undress Natasha."

Your face flushes with embarrassment as you instinctively cover it with your hands, feeling a wave of mortification wash over you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, adjusting her tunic as she shoots you a playful smirk, a teasing glint dancing in her eyes.

“Don’t even start,” you warn, noticing her mischievous expression.

Natasha holds up her hands innocently, adopting a nonchalant tone as she suggests, "I was just going to say we should have the physician come and check your condition."

She then adds with a teasing edge, "After all, you may have overexerted yourself from being so eager to kiss me."

You huff in disbelief, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"I'm the eager one?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your tone.

Natasha nods with mock seriousness.

"If you say so."

Rolling your eyes, you playfully swat at her shoulder, then turn away with a small pout.

"In all seriousness, though, let me go get the physician," Natasha says, amusement evident in her voice at your behavior.

As she turns to leave, you call out to her.

"Wait, Natasha.”

She turns back to face you, curiosity in her eyes.

Leaning forward, you catch her off guard with a surprise kiss before pulling away.

"...okay, now you can go," you whisper against her lips.

Natasha's eyes fluttered closed at the unexpected contact, her tongue lightly tracing where your lips touched hers. When she finally opens her eyes again, they seem impossibly darker, filled with a mixture of desire and love that makes your breath catch.

“That’s unfair,” she breathes out, her voice husky with desire. “…doing that just as I’m about to leave.”

You pull away slightly, only for her to follow, not allowing the distance between you two to grow. A sly, knowing grin spreads across your face as you tease her.

"I just wanted to see who between us is actually the one who's more eager."

"I'm your princess, yet you're teasing me like this," Natasha says playfully, feigning disbelief.

"And you still love me anyway," you point out, a fond smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's eyes soften, and she closes the distance between you once more, whispering her next words against your lips.

“Yeah, I do.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Upon hearing that you were awake, Wanda and Pietro arrived quickly just as the physician was assessing your condition.

Soon after, a request from her mother to speak with Natasha in private causes her to leave the twins in charge of watching over you at your insistence.

Now, Natasha stands in her private study, a deep frown creasing her forehead as she examines the letters that her mother had handed to her.

“What is this?” Natasha asks, her voice steady but laced with a subtle hint of anger as she reads the contents of some of the letters.

Melina lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off an impending headache, knowing that her daughter won't take the news well.

“Many of the heads of the other noble houses in the kingdom are asking for Lord Dreykov’s release,” she reveals grimly.

“He tried to kill me,” Natasha states incredulously. “And yet they’re still defending him.”

“I warned you that Lord Dreykov is influential among the other nobles. You need strong evidence if you want people to turn their back on him,” her mother reminds her.

She then places a stack of documents on the desk, and Natasha quickly realizes that these are the results of Steve’s investigation.

Her mother continues her lecture, as Natasha skims the contents.

“The staff from the Bishop manor provided witness accounts of Lord Rumlow and the others' betrayal, but there were no witnesses at Dreykov’s manor besides you and Y/n.”

“What about his guards?” Natasha suggests.

Melina shakes her head grimly. “Found dead in their cells by unknown means.”

“What about Barnes?” Natasha points out the presence of the old captain.

Melina gives her a look of disbelief, raising an eyebrow.

“The other nobles are not going to believe the words of a known criminal.”

Frustration and disbelief cloud Natasha's expression as she processes the information. She searches for another angle, another way to bring Dreykov to justice.

“If we can’t prove attempted murder against me, then what about the fact that he almost killed Y/n?”

Melina grimaces, her reluctance evident in her expression as she braces herself to deliver the answer Natasha doesn't want to hear.

“What is it?” Natasha presses, her tone betraying a hint of impatience.

Melina taps the stack of letters pointedly before explaining, “Many argue that Dreykov’s actions against Y/n are akin to a father disciplining their child and is not a crime, especially considering she survived. They believe it's a family matter that should be resolved within the respective house and not involve any others.”

Natasha's frown deepens as she hears this, her hand tightening around the letters.

“I told you handling the relationships between the nobles of the court is delicate work,” Melina reminds her gently.

“Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean,” Natasha concedes, her expression resigned in anger at the twisted parts of the kingdom.

Melina offers a comforting gesture, placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder and giving her a proud look.

“Don’t worry, Natasha. Lord Dreykov can still be forced to face trial if you want. And I’m confident that you can convince the others to be on your side. In this matter and the future.”

Her mother’s encouragement does little to ease Natasha’s mind of the difficult task ahead for her once she becomes the queen.

Despite the troubling news, Natasha still thanks her mother for the warning before taking her leave.

Returning to your side, Natasha finds you resting once again, exhaustion evident in your features. She watches you with a tender and affectionate gaze, remembering her promise to protect you from any further harm.

If there's one thing Natasha is certain of for the future, it's her unwavering commitment to fulfilling her vow to protect you.

With that resolve in mind, she later finds herself standing at the entrance of the most secure cell in prison, her arms crossed as she fixes a steely glare on the person seated in the shadows.

"Well?" Dreykov's voice cuts through the stillness of the chamber. “Is that girl dead yet?”

Natasha's jaw clenches at his callous words, refusing to be baited by his cruelty.

A click of his tongue signals his understanding before he speaks again, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.

“No, you wouldn’t let that happen. So, then, are you here to finish what you started?”

Dreykov's eyes finally meet hers, his form emerging from the darkness as he tilts his head, his injuries still evident in the flickering light.

His face bears the remnants of bruises, one eye swollen shut—a testament to the beating Natasha had inflicted upon him when she first learned of the severity and uncertainty of your condition from the physician.

Unconsciously, Natasha's hands clench into fists, the memory of her rage surfacing as she recalls the moment she unleashed her fury upon him, her knuckles bruising and bleeding until Yelena intervened to pull her away.

Dreykov catches her movement, a knowing glint in his eyes as a smirk tug at the corners of his lips.

“I see, so you’re mad because you can’t kill me,” he says confidently, accurately guessing her current predicament. “Tell me, how many of the other nobles have interceded for my release?”

Natasha grits her teeth in irritation at the extent of Dreykov's influence over the court and the fact he already knows that some nobles would rally to his defense.

“They’ll abandon you once they realize what sort of person you truly are,” she retorts, her tone firm.

Dreykov chuckles in amusement, unfazed by her words.

“Feeling pressured already?” he taunts. “It’s just going to get worse from here on. After all, I’m not the only one in this kingdom who wants a war.”

“And you already know that I would never let that happen,” Natasha counters, her voice tinged with resolve. “That’s the whole reason why you didn’t want me as the queen in the first place.”

Dreykov eyes her critically, considering her words before a smirk dances across his lips.

“Perhaps I was wrong about you. You have potential. You just need the right…” he waves his hand dramatically. “…motivation.”

Rolling her eyes at his attempt at manipulation, Natasha turns to leave.

However, before she can reach the exit, Dreykov's voice calls out to her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Do you know what causes war the most, Your Highness? More than greed or vengeance?”

Natasha turns back to glare at him, irritated by his continued insinuations.

At her silence, he answers his own question.

“Love,” he spits out the word in disgust. “Such a foolish emotion, but you’d be surprised at how much destruction it can cause.”

He raises his brow at her, gesturing pointedly. “And it seems you have plenty for that pathetic girl.”

Natasha slams her fist against the bars, anger erupting, as she glares daggers at him.

“You better hope you don’t get to leave this cell, Dreykov. Because if I ever see you free…” she pauses, her voice lowering to a dangerous tone. “…I’ll kill you myself.”

Despite her threat, a pleased smile forms on Dreykov’s face, as if her words confirmed something for him, infuriating her further.

Turning swiftly to the door, Natasha indicates to the guards to let her out, but Dreykov's voice interrupts her again.

“I do have one more question for you.”

The door opens for her to leave as he continues.

“If that girl ever ends up in the way of you and your so-called peace, would you still choose to avoid war then…or would you fight for her?”

Natasha clenches her hand, finding herself unable to respond, her mind consumed by the weight of his words.

With a determined look, she decides not to entertain his question further, swiftly leaving the cell and slamming the door shut behind her.

“I look forward to seeing what your choice would be when that time comes, Your Majesty,” Dreykov's voice echoes tauntingly down the corridor as Natasha makes her way back to you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The unsettling exchange with Dreykov from that night a week ago still lingers in her mind as Natasha sits at her desk, lost in thought.

She ponders his cryptic words, bothered by his confidence that trouble was coming, and especially at the implication of having you in the middle of it all.

Her main concern is for your safety, prompting her to consider every possible scenario where you might be at risk.

After all, she had come dangerously close to losing you during the recent conflict, a thought that sends a shiver down her spine every time.

Leaning back in her chair, Natasha’s gaze falls on the small opened box resting on her desk, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

The red gemstone embedded in the golden band glimmers with a silent promise, one that she hasn’t dared to ask you yet.

Pushing aside the unsettling thoughts of Dreykov's words, Natasha closes the lid of the box with a gentle sigh, tucking it away in the drawer for safekeeping.

One day, she promises.

When she can guarantee your safety and ensure that she can provide you with a peaceful future, she’ll give it to you then.

A knock at her door draws her attention, and Natasha looks up to see you poking your head inside, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

"Don’t tell me you’re hiding already?" you tease, your voice laced with amusement.

Natasha's lips curve into a fond smile at the sight of you, her worries momentarily pushed aside by your presence.

Chuckling softly, she shakes her head before asking, “Did my mother send you?”

“She wanted me to make sure you wouldn’t be late,” you reply, walking over to her with cautious steps, mindful of your injury.

Leaning back against her desk, you give her a pointed look.

“After all, it’s your last ball as the princess before you become the queen tomorrow.”

Natasha smiles gently at the reminder before glancing down at the area of your dress where she knows the bandages are hiding underneath. Her expression softens with concern as she meets your eyes.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Better,” you assure her. “I’ve been able to move around by myself without any help.”

Standing up, Natasha intertwines her fingers with yours, drawing you closer as she gazes at you.

“You look beautiful,” she compliments softly, her eyes reflecting genuine admiration.

“So do you,” you respond, your hand reaching up to gently brush against her cheek, slowly losing yourself in her gaze.

Then as if remembering your original goal, you clear your throat and nod towards the door.

“We should go. Your mother’s expecting us,” you remind her.

At your suggestion, Natasha moves closer to you, enclosing you between the desk and her body.

“I’m sure we can spare a couple of minutes, can’t we?” she asks, her voice lowering suggestively, caressing the air as she leans in.

Raising a brow skeptically, you tilt your head slightly, your lips barely grazing hers as you ask, “Only a couple of minutes?”

The moment your lips touch hers, Natasha's eyes darken with desire, her breath catching in her throat.

Absentmindedly humming in agreement, she whispers, “…yeah, just a couple…” before closing the distance between you.

Arriving at the ball later than expected, you and Natasha are greeted by her mother at the entrance, who gives you both a reprimanding yet knowing look.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, offering her a genuinely apologetic expression. “We lost track of time talking.”

Melina raises her hand in a stopping gesture at your explanation.

“No, don’t apologize, Y/n. I’m sure I can guess what happened,” she says, shooting a pointed glare at her daughter before turning her attention back to you.

“Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”

You nod in understanding, softly excusing yourself.

Natasha brings the back of your hand up for a gentle kiss goodbye before releasing it, and you turn to leave the two women to their private conversation.

“Hold on, Y/n,” Melina calls out to you before you can go too far.

Stepping up to you, Melina carefully examines you before adjusting the strap of your dress on your shoulder slightly.

“Do try to direct Natasha to a less visible area the next time you two decide to ‘talk’,” she advises with a raised brow.

A flush spreads across your face in realization, and you quickly place your hand atop the area she adjusted, before giving a reprimanding look to Natasha, who looks away, barely concealing the satisfied grin playing on her lips.

You offer a quick, polite thanks before swiftly making your exit, eager to leave the embarrassing situation behind.

Turning back to her daughter, Melina meets her gaze with a raised brow.

“I guess it’s safe to say that your relationship with Y/n is still going well?”

Natasha smiles softly at her observation, her eyes still following you as you go to join the others.

“Yeah, it is,” she replies honestly.

“That’s good,” Melina comments, handing her a cup before taking a sip of her own. “It’s important to show the other nobles how good the two of you are together so that they can have more confidence in the future with you as the ruler.”

Natasha nods in understanding, taking a sip of her drink in preparation for another lecture from her mother.

“Even if your relationship started as a ruse in the beginning,” her mother adds nonchalantly.

Natasha chokes on her drink in surprise at her mother’s words, coughing lightly as she gives her an incredulous look.

Melina raises a brow at her in challenge, daring her to deny her claim.

Looking away, Natasha glances over to where you are, oblivious to you and her arrangement being revealed at the moment.

As if feeling her eyes on you, you glance up, meeting her eyes and giving her a soft smile. She returns it before returning her focus to her mother.

Knowing there’s no point in trying to convince her mother otherwise, Natasha asks instead, “When did you figure it out?”

“Oh, I’ve had my suspicions since the beginning,” her mother reveals, swirling the contents of her cup in thought as she recalls how the events all started.

“That morning, Y/n mentioned in passing about her meeting with Lady Maria as a potential partner, so I knew I had to do something to make you act.”

Natasha's brows furrow as she pieces together her mother's words with her own memories. She was right to think it was odd that her mother would suddenly take an interest in her love life, especially with such a ridiculous ultimatum given in such a short time.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Natasha interjects, holding up her hand as she processes the information. “You're saying the only reason you pressured me to find someone was because you found out about Y/n’s date with Lady Maria?”

Melina nods before offering Natasha a sympathetic pat on her back.

“Let’s be honest, Natasha, you can be quite oblivious when it comes to your feelings for Y/n. I only pushed you to pay more attention to your love life because I didn’t want you to miss your chance with her.”

“No, you said that if I didn’t find someone, you were going to choose someone for me,” Natasha reminds her mother, her tone tinged with frustration.

Melina waves her hand dismissively.

“I was confident that you would come up with something before it ever got to that point, and you did. This charade that the two of you concocted worked out much better in the end, wouldn’t you agree?”

Natasha gapes at her mother, blinking in disbelief. She pinches her brows, feeling a headache forming at her mother’s antics.

“Please, go meddle with someone else's love life,” Natasha pleads, her patience wearing thin.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Natasha,” she says, chuckling, before pressing on, undeterred by her daughter's exasperation. “Now, tell me, have you thought of a plan on how to propose to Y/n yet?”

Meanwhile, after leaving Natasha with her mother, you join the pair at one side of the ballroom. Stepping in front of the twins with a warm smile, you admire their new formal clothing that you had arranged for them to attend the event.

“Well, don’t you two look beautiful and dashing?” you compliment, ruffling Pietro’s hair playfully. He swats at your hand lightly with a pout, then tugs at the collar of his shirt.

“I think you and Wanda are just trying to choke me in this,” he comments.

A red mist envelopes his topmost button and undoes it, granting him some relief.

“Better?” Wanda asks, returning her hand to cross her arms at her brother’s exaggerated behavior.

“Yes, I can actually breathe now,” Pietro responds with a teasing smirk, nudging his sister in thanks.

At the corner of your eye, you notice some nobles nearby shooting disapproving glares at your group, their attention mostly focused on Wanda, and then they begin to speak to each other, their voices intentionally loud.

“So disgraceful that they allow such people in here.”

“Did you see her eyes? They say it’s red like a demon.”

Pietro scowls at their words, moving protectively in front of his sister, but you stop him before he could confront them.

Then placing a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder, you check up on her. She gives you a reassuring smile, truly unbothered by their harsh words.

You’re glad to see her adjusting okay to the fact that her powers are now known by others in the kingdom.

Still, you will not stand idly and let them talk about people you care about like that. The twins may not be in a position to say anything, but you can always defend and protect them.

Before you can confront the rude nobles, however, they are suddenly pushed off balance, stumbling to the ground, as the pair of canines rush through their legs towards you.

Their respective owners follow swiftly after them, with the younger princess giving the people a glare and challenging look, causing them to avert their gaze in embarrassment, looking elsewhere.

Yelena turns to your group with a satisfied grin.

“Don’t mind them, Wanda. They’re always judging everyone,” she says.

Kate nods in agreement, adding, “Yeah, intolerant people like them are not worth your time. There’s plenty of people in the kingdom who already know you’re amazing.”

Pietro chuckles and places his hand atop his sister’s head teasingly, remarking, “Careful with the compliments now, we wouldn’t her getting a big head.”

Wanda rolls her eyes in response, shoving his arm off and commenting pointedly, “Your head is already big enough for the both of us.”

As the four of them continue their playful conversations, your eyes spot a familiar face hovering in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom.

Excusing yourself, you make your way over to the lone captain.

“Not one for parties?” you ask as you step up next to Bucky.

He sighs and shakes his head as he observes the surrounding guests joyfully engaged in celebration.

“It’s been a while since I attended events like these, but then again, I’ve never enjoyed them before anyway,” he admits.

Curious about something that you’ve been wondering about him, you finally ask.

“Why did you decide to come to this kingdom? You know, after hiding away for so long.”

A silence follows, and just as you think he’s going to leave your question unanswered, he finally responds, nodding toward the distance.

“To visit a friend.”

You follow Bucky’s gaze and realize he’s looking at Steve, who’s currently in conversation with Clint and Maria.

As if feeling your eyes, Steve glances up toward your direction, giving you two a welcoming smile and waving his hand in invitation.

A small smile forms on Bucky’s face, surprising you, and you find yourself asking curiously, “Then why not just stay? Enjoy life without constantly looking over your shoulder for danger and having to run away.”

He chuckles ruefully, giving you a look of disbelief.

“I’m the most wanted criminal of the Stark Kingdom. Nowhere is safe for me or for those who help me.”

“Well, at least consider the option,” you say, nudging him gently and giving him a pointed look. “Because you do have more than one friend here.”

He examines you carefully before giving you a silent, noncommittal nod, and you understand that this will be the most you’ll get from him.

“Y/n!”

At the call of your name, you turn to see Carol coming towards you. As you turn back around to excuse yourself, you're not surprised to find Bucky has sneaked away.

Carol stops in front of you, the happy smile fading slightly into a serious expression as she examines you critically.

"How are you feeling?" she asks with genuine concern.

The familiarity in her question makes you laugh lightly as you shake your head.

“You and Natasha. Why do you two keep asking me that?”

Carol raises an amused brow at you.

"It's because we both care about you, Y/n," she answers softly before tilting her head in thought.

"Maybe the fact we both like the same things is why we're always competing with each other," she muses aloud before extending her hand in invitation.

"Speaking of, would you like to join me for one dance before Natasha decides to keep you all to herself?"

You give her a playful warning look, raising your brow at her.

"No extravagant twirling, lifts, or dips?" you ask, knowing her tendencies.

Carol nods in reassurance, answering firmly, "I promise."

As she leads you in a slow dance, keeping an easy pace to avoid tiring you, you seize the moment to ask her something.

“Are you leaving after the coronation tomorrow?”

Carol nods in confirmation.

“That’s the plan,” she responds. “I want to do as much exploring as I can before my own coronation.”

A tiny, sad smile forms on your face at Carol's words. You've honestly missed her since she started her travels. Poking her pointedly, you give her a serious expression.

"Still, you should come visit more often," you tell her.

Her eyes soften, and she gives you a small nod.

“For you, I will,” she says, a hint of affection slipping into her tone. "If you ever need anything, Y/n, just let me know, and I’ll have my ship practically fly back to you."

Her eyes glance at something behind you before she shrugs, adding with a sigh, “And I guess the same applies to Natasha if she ever needs my help again.”

“How generous,” Natasha remarks dryly, her voice tinged with sarcasm, as she comes to a stop beside you.

Carol gives you a small bow in thanks, her expression teasing as she remarks, “Looks like my time’s up.”

“Natasha,” she greets, giving her an acknowledging nod.

Natasha returns the sentiment, her demeanor cool as she replies, “Carol.”

Carol gives you one last smile, before pressing a chaste kiss on your hand goodbye and whispering sincerely, “Be happy, Y/n.”

As she leaves, you glance at Natasha and notice the small displeased pout on her face.

Unable to resist teasing her, you nudge her gently, remarking, “Jealousy looks cute on you.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your statement before offering her hand to you.

“May I have a dance?”

As Natasha leads you in a slow dance, you can’t help but feel nostalgic, leaning your head against her shoulder.

“This feels familiar, doesn’t it?” you ask softly.

Natasha hums in agreement and nods against you, responding, “Last time we danced like this, we decided to be a couple.”

You chuckle at the memory, reminiscing about how clueless you were back then, never imagining how things would turn out for the two of you.

The soft music creates a serene atmosphere, cocooning you and Natasha in your own world, away from everyone else.

Recalling the details of your original agreement, you meet Natasha’s eyes, a mischievous glint dancing in your gaze.

“You know, according to our deal, our fake relationship is supposed to end after your coronation tomorrow,” you point out.

Natasha raises an intrigued eyebrow, curious about your intentions.

“So, what should we do about that then?” she asks, her tone playful.

You tilt your head, pretending to ponder before flashing her a teasing smirk.

“Didn’t we agree that if anything were to happen between us, it would be the princess who confessed her feelings first?”

Understanding dawns on Natasha’s face, and she grins in agreement, a fond smile playing on her lips.

“Y/n,” she begins softly, her gaze filled with affection. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were amazing…then I learned that you were really stubborn.”

You roll your eyes at her teasing, but Natasha just chuckles before continuing.

“But you're also kind and smart. And truly the strongest person I know.”

She leans in closer, her breath mingling with yours.

“My heart and my life have always been yours, Y/n.”

You feel warmth spreading through your chest at her confession, and you can’t help but cup her face gently with your hands.

“You’re my best friend,” Natasha continues, her voice barely above a whisper as she covers your hand with hers. “But I would be honored if you are willing to have me as more than that.”

Your heart swells with love, and you nod happily as you respond.

"I want that too, Natasha," you whisper sincerely. “I want to continue to stay by your side and be yours too. Always.”

With those words of promise, Natasha closes the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.

The sound of cheers and applause surrounds you, but you pay no mind, lost in the moment with Natasha.

You don’t know what the future holds, but you’re not afraid. As long as you’re together, you know you can overcome anything that comes your way.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Epilogue

In another kingdom, far away, inside one of the workshops of the castle, the king’s assistant waits patiently by the doorway for a pause in the king’s pastime of tinkering.

“What’s the matter, Jarvis?” Tony Stark asks without looking up from his careful concentration.

“A letter arrived for you, sir.”

“Is it about the next shipment of parts?”

“No, sir, this came from a nobleman in the Romanov Kingdom.”

“Oh…you can just toss it in the fire then.”

There’s an awkward silence as his assistant makes no move to do as he asked, causing Tony to glance up in question.

The assistant hesitates before explaining.

“Counselor Potts strongly advised us not to do that anymore, under the warning of severe punishment should she find out. Also, the messenger stressed that the contents pertain to an urgent matter.”

Tony stops and furrows his brow. After the war and the deaths of his whole family, he preferred to keep contact between the kingdoms to a minimum. Just because there’s a peace treaty between them doesn’t mean he has to like or care about anyone there.

On the other hand, facing the wrath of his most trusted advisor for ignoring this letter is not something he wants to deal with in the foreseeable future.

“Just leave it on the table then,” he sighs with a roll of his eyes.

If anything, it’s probably more news about the coronation of their upcoming queen. He’s already sent his decline to attend the event and a decent enough congratulations present that Pepper picked out.

He doesn’t understand why they can’t just keep the indifferent relationship between the two kingdoms as is instead trying to make them into something closer.

Shaking his head as Jarvis closes the door behind him, Tony attempts to return to his flow of concentration, picking up his tools as he continues to tinker with the parts in front of him.

Unfortunately, as time passes, his eyes keep glancing at the letter sitting in the corner, something about it gives him some sort of unnerving feeling.

Slumping with a resigned sigh that he can’t keep his focus anymore, he places his tools down again and swipes at the letter, sitting at the edge of the table.

Opening it, he skims the contents quickly before his posture suddenly straightens with tension, his expression turning serious.

The door of the workshop slams open, and Tony strides out purposefully, calling to his assistant.

“Jarvis!”

They are at his side in an instant, following him and listening for the next orders.

“Tell Vision to prepare the carriages and let Pepper know I’ll be away a bit for some business.”

“Yes, sir. May I ask where you will be traveling to?”

“The Romanov Kingdom,” Tony answers, glancing at the letter in his hand before tightening his fist, crumpling the paper slightly.

“Looks like it’s time to pay this new queen a visit after all.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you to everyone for reading all the way to the end of this series! (especially this long chapter) It's been a journey, and I'm happy that many of you enjoyed it and showed up for every update (all of your comments and reactions are so sweet and fun to read and honestly helped to keep me motivated).

This is the final part of the series, but it's not the end yet. There will be a sequel for Boundless Devotion, and it's called Everlasting Devotion (title mention in prequel Fateful Encounter 🤗).

I’m still in the middle of working on it, so the first chapter is not going to be released right away since I also want to finish some other one shots that I‘ve been working on and maybe take a little break.

That being said, for those currently in the taglist for Boundless Devotion and anyone else who's interested, if you also want to be added in the taglist for when the sequel starts, please let me know. (I prefer to ask again just in case instead of just assuming and forcing you along on another series that you didn't sign up for)

Again, thank you to all of you for reading!

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin, @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson, @automaticdinosaurtaco, @jono723, @mousetheorist, @tofu9162, @natsbiggestfan1, @iheartjohansson, @nothanksbye07, @midastouch013, @dvrkhcld, @red1culous

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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marvelobsessed134 · 4 months

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Tis the season to be needy

12 days of fics masterlist

Pairings: Dom!Kate Bishop x Sub!Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, strap on use (R receiving), praise, kind of somo, and I think that’s it.

Summary: in which you wake up early on Christmas for an entirely different reason.

You couldn’t sleep. Not with your dripping core being so desperate to being filled with Kate’s strap. You snaked your hand down your pjs as you ran your finger through your wet folds. You hissed, looking over to see Kate soundly asleep next to you.

You tried to get yourself off without her, you really did. But you were just so cock hungry that you had to ride her. Need her so bad.

You noticed the bulge through the blanket. She rarely takes her strap off, especially because she loves to fuck you at random times during the day. It turns you on so much. You love seeing it bulge through her pants.

You squeezed your thighs before carefully removing the blanket. You then slowly pulled down her boxers, the purple dildo springing up. Your mouth was salivating and you licked your lips. She snored under you. You felt guilty doing this without her consent but, you were really needy.

You licked it up from the base to the tip before sinking your mouth down her length. It was 7 inches and thick. Just how you like it. You bobbed your head up and down, trying to keep quiet. Your slick was leaking through your pj shorts.

So into it, you didn’t notice the archer swirling awake. She was shocked to see the sight but definitely not complaining. “Good morning to you pretty girl.” She groaned in he raspy voice, feeling herself getting more aroused.

Your eyes went to hers, wide. While her cock was still in your mouth. She smiled, “No, no. Keep going baby. Feels so good.”

You continued to suck her off, then she finally pulled you off of her. “Go ahead and ride my cock pretty girl.” You immediately obliged. Taking off your shorts and panties, straddling her. You sunk down on the strap, feeling so full.

You begun to ride her, chasing your high.

Her hands were firmly planted on your hips as you moved faster. “Fuck. Good girl.” You continued to ride her, whimpering as you reached your peak.

Finally, you clenched around her cock and came all over it with a loud moan.

“Merry Christmas to me.” She chuckled and you laughed, getting off of her and leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

“Sorry Katie, I was just sooo needy for you.” You pouted.

Your girlfriend caressed your face, “Aww it’s ok. You’re my needy girl. Now let’s go downstairs and open presents.”

#kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop smut #marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel #kate bishop

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theetherealbloom · 4 months

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WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 1 | 14th Doctor

Chapter One: After All Of The Time, And Give An Actual Try

Summary: An enigmatic old face makes a reappearance, heralding unforeseen events. A mysterious spaceship plummets to Earth, bringing chaos and prompting the Doctor's intervention. Amidst the unfolding narrative, a cute and endearing creature seeks assistance, weaving together elements of mystery, adventure, and companionship.

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance

Word Count: 12.2k

A/N: Surprise! I love Doctor Who too. I’m a huge nerd, I know tehe. I hope you enjoy this mini-series I have planned for the 14th Doctor! As we know, he is played by the beloved David Tennant who is one of my favorite Doctors ever.

Song: Where do we go now? By Gracie Abrams

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MILLSON WAGNER STEELWORKS, NORTH LONDON – EVENING, DECEMBER 2023

A UNIT team was promptly dispatched as the spaceship breached Earth's atmosphere, making its way North of London. Both serving as scientific advisors, you and Shirley were on-site where the ship had landed.

While some military personnel were busy extinguishing the flames from the spacecraft and securing the perimeter, preventing you from delving further into the investigation, you found yourself engrossed in studying the ship's scans displayed on the monitor in your hands, attempting to unravel the mystery.

"Miss them, do you?" A voice called out from behind.

You averted your gaze from the tablet, turning to find Shirley maneuvering her wheelchair next to you. Curious, you asked, "What? Who?"

The redhead sported a cheeky smile. "The Doctor, of course."

It was widely known that you had journeyed alongside the Doctor and his myriad companions. Images of their faces flashed in your mind as you reminisced about those exciting adventures. Rose, Donna, the Ponds, Clara... you longed for them. There was a noticeable absence of the Doctor that left a gaping black hole in your chest.

You shook your head, muttering to yourself, "Can't let the Doctor catch a glimpse of me again; the entire universe might just fold in on itself once more. Already me being here is a problem since there’s a possibility he could pop out at any moment. I’m only on duty since I owe Kate a favor."

Shirley hums and responds, "I've read the files, you know. You two were quite the team. Everything that had happened… was in the wrong place at the right time. Still, it could happen, the two of you… together."

You raise your eyebrows at her and offer a small smile while shaking your head, scoffing, "The Doctor was unaware before, and I won't be the catalyst for another cosmic meltdown due to my selfish reasons. Besides... the Doctor doesn’t know I’m still alive and UNIT is already on my arse for even existing on this timeline.”

The redhead emits a sympathetic murmur and pats the side of your thigh, "Wasn't your fault, love. A colossal tear in time and space that dragged you in here... sounds like fate, or destiny even. If anything, maybe it was supposed to happen... like you and—"

The tablet beeps, abruptly halting Shirley's train of thought. You glance at the monitor, furrowing your brow, then hand over the device to her, saying, "You need to see this. I believe there's more to this than we initially thought."

“Now I think we’re making a fundamental mistake. ‘Cause maybe that spaceship was a collision course to start with, but look.” Shirley says while the UNIT soldier looks at the tablet, “At the last minute, it pulls up, then settles. What I’m sayin’ is, that ship didn’t crash. It parked.”

As Shirley presents her observations to the UNIT soldier, you can't help but notice the intensity in her gaze, the lines of concentration etched across her forehead. The soldier queries, "No signs of life?" You step forward, interjecting, "Not yet. But we don't know what kind of life we're looking for."

Suddenly, an unexplained shiver races up your spine, goosebumps breaking out on your skin. A palpable sense of familiarity and the eerie feeling of being observed by someone you know too well. Your expression shifts into a frown, and Shirley catches on, concern knitting her brows. "What? What's wrong?" she asks.

You open your mouth but hesitate, exchanging glances with Shirley and the UNIT soldier. Shirley, sensing the urgency, instructs the soldier to step aside. Both of you retreat to a secluded corner, where she probes, "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost, dear."

You exhale shakily, "I... I think he's here. He's back."

Shirley blinks, seeking clarification, "You mean..."

"The Doctor. The Doctor, he’s here."

"Shirley, I need to leave, immediately," you declare, attempting to stride away with urgency.

"Wait, hang on a second," Shirley interjects, gripping your wrist and compelling you to halt. "He's already seen you, yeah? Looks like nothing bad has happened and—"

"Nothing bad has happened yet, Shirley. The stars could go out; millions of galactic species could die if we so much as breathe in each other's direction. I can't risk it. I won't."

Tears well up, and Shirley guides you to a stop near one of the staircases, settling herself in her wheelchair. As you take a seat, you rub both hands over your face, wiping away the tears. "I should have died that day."

Shirley remains silent, allowing you to continue as you shakily sob, "I should have died. But I didn't, and I'm still here."

"I lied to him, Shirley. I lied. He... he might never forgive me for it," you confess brokenly. Shirley shrugs, offering, "You won't know unless you talk. And it seems to me that whatever was keepin’ you apart before… is tellin’ you two maybe now is the right place at the right time."

Deep in contemplation of your choices, someone suddenly seizes your wrist, muffling your voice as they pull you close, your body pressed against a comforting warmth.

"Hey, it's me. It's the Doctor," he reassures, and you instinctively push away, allowing some distance between you two. Both of you stand there panting, but he breaks the silence first, shouting, "I thought you were dead!"

Throwing the words back at him, you retort, "I was supposed to be dead!"

"Why aren't you dead?" he demands, and frustration laces your high-pitched response, "Are you bloody serious in asking me that?”

“No. Yes! Argh, I don't know!"

Shaking your head and taking a step back, you declare, "I need to leave."

The Doctor firmly grabs your wrist, halting your escape. "No. Not again."

With determination, you wrench your wrist from his strong hold, shouting, "The universe could collapse! Again! We weren't ever supposed to meet. It was a mistake."

Wide-eyed, the Doctor gazes at you and replies in a breathy tone, "Is that really what you think?"

Paused, unable to respond, you hear his voice in your head, a telepathic whisper so familiar. "You and I both know, that it wasn't a mistake."

Glaring at him, you muster as much resistance as possible, but those big dark brown eyes make it challenging. "That's not fair. Get out of my head," you retort with furrowed brows.

The Doctor whispers your name, barely audible, causing you to flinch and look away. Instead of acknowledging his presence, you pivot to a question, "You regenerated… But why this face? Why are you back?"

"Why do you ask? You don't like this one?" he retorts.

Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes, "With you, there's always a reason for everything."

The Doctor admits, "Must be why the TARDIS brought me to you and Donna."

You regard him with a concerned gaze and tone, "What? You saw Donna, did she recognize or remember you?"

"The fail-safe worked; she just commented about my clothes. She has a daughter named Rose," the Doctor hums, kicking a small piece of gravel on the floor. You nod, "Yeah, I keep tabs on 'em. Making sure they're alright. Even though Donna gave all that money away to charity."

"Do you know why she did it?" The Doctor asks.

"I don't. But I have a couple of guesses," you reply with a close-lipped smile and a shrug. The Doctor brings his gaze to you, and you can already feel the question before he says it.

"I thought you were dead, for fifteen years."

You scoff, "Oh, that's nothing for you, Time Lord and all."

The Doctor throws his hands up in frustration, "Oh, don't do that."

"Do what?" you demand.

"Pretend that it was nothing for me! You were everything to me," the Doctor says, taking another step closer, and you take a step back this time. You look at him with narrowed eyes, and in a low tone, you say, "You and I both know that's not true."

"What happened? Where did you go?"

"You and I both know what happened after Arcadia. I was ready to die. I thought I had served my purpose, what I was made for. I got shot midway through the regeneration process, and I felt it. I felt myself slipping away... I could only see the two suns, and then when I closed my eyes, there was this surge of energy... I couldn't explain it back then, and I can't now. But it was like someone had given me their regeneration energy... but when I looked around, no one was there, and I was no longer on Gallifrey."

The Doctor finishes the sentence for you, "You were brought to Earth."

You nod, "I still have no idea who did it. But now, I can't leave. And all those years, my memories were locked away in that old pocket watch until I met you... and then the stars started to go out once more, and I knew I had no choice… I couldn't stay with you."

"All those years... you were alone, just like me," the Doctor says, and you look away before sitting atop one of the crates by the pillar, sighing, "I need to leave again... planets could disappear and galaxies could collapse at any second, and we'd be back where we started."

The Doctor remains silent as you close your eyes, resting your head on one of the stacked crates behind you. You yearn for him. Every atom in your being longs for his presence, yet every angle you examine seems to present an unsolvable puzzle. Thus, you convince yourself that distancing is the best course for everyone involved. How does one repay a sacrifice of such magnitude?

Then, you detect his approaching footsteps, and he settles comfortably beside you, shoulders brushing as he leans in. "Or... we could finally figure out a way to solve the paradox."

Opening your eyes, you shoot him a pointed look. "Doctor, we're in the middle of yet another crisis. A spaceship just landed, and we have no bloody clue who the hell we're dealing with right now. And you want to solve the impossible with our situation?"

"Who says I can't multitask?" he retorts, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. You lightly smack him on the arm, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. Memories of the carefree early days flash through your mind, recalling lingering gazes and soft touches exchanged. Licking your lips nervously, you release a heavy breath, "One problem at a time. We have another alien on the loose."

The Doctor takes that as a win, a calculated risk, with the universe as a potential consequence. He's never demanded anything, and for the first time, he yearns for something for himself. He envisions it — hope — the prospect of finally rewriting the ending you both desperately desire.

The sonic clicks and buzzes as the Doctor conjures a holographic screen, displaying the schematics of the spacecraft that recently landed nearby. He retrieves his glasses from his coat pocket, donning them as he peruses the screen. Pressing a few buttons, he zooms in on the bottom part of the ship before highlighting the drive.

Frowning, your eyes narrow as an unsettling weight settles at the pit of your stomach while reading what's on the screen.

"Too good for us now?" Shirley remarks as she rolls up in her wheelchair. The Doctor briefly glances at her, nodding, and casually greets, "Evening."

Shirley smiles knowingly as she looks between the two of you. "Doctor. I see you and my colleague have talked. Has galaxies and universes collapsed yet?"

The Doctor hums, "Mmmm, not yet. Soon maybe, if I could get her to kiss me."

You smack him on the shoulder a little harder this time, and he yelps out, "Ow!" Making a face at him, you retort, "Oh, sod off!"

The Doctor gives you a cheeky smile while Shirley chuckles next to you. She then looks at the holographic screen on display, and the Doctor brings his focus back to the problem at hand, saying, "That’s a double-bladed dagger drive, damaged by laser fire which means we’ve got two sets of visitors at war with each other."

He glances at Shirley politely, "Nice to meet you. Did you get the heat readings on deceleration?" Shirley chuckles and clicks her tongue, "Oh, I got everything." She unfolds her tablet to give to the Doctor, who presses a button on his sonic screwdriver to close the holographic screen. Taking the tablet, he begins to analyze the readings as your colleague introduces herself, "Shirley Anne Bingham, UNIT Scientific Advisor number 56."

The Doctor sounds delighted, saying, "Oh! I was Scientific Advisor number one."

Shirley smiles, "No, I know. I’ve read the files. I’m gonna get a bonus just for meeting you."

The Doctor makes a face, not used to humble praise. "Oh."

Shirley then asks, "But why are you hiding away? We’re on the same side and it can’t be ‘cause of her now." She looks at you, and you also turn your attention to the Doctor.

He slightly groans and inhales sharply before replying, "It’s all a bit mad, Shirley. I don’t know who I am anymore."

Shirley crosses her legs in the wheelchair and says matter-of-factly, "Well, you look like the Doctor to me."

The Doctor shrugs, "Well, exactly. The one in the skinny suit. After that, I wear a bow tie. After that, I’m a Scotsman. After that, I’m a woman."

Shirley frowns, "But that’s your future. You can’t know that. It’s forbidden."

The Doctor replies, "I regenerated. And she became me."

Both of Shirley’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes widen as she says, "You got your old face back?"

The Doctor replies with a resounding pop, "Yep."

"But why?" Shirley asks, and the Doctor sighs, "Well, that’s what I’m worried about."

He then inhales deeply before continuing, “Because, besides this lovely stubborn woman right next to me,” you pinch the bridge of your nose briefly as he continues, “I've got this friend called Donna Noble. She was my best friend in the whole wide universe. I absolutely love her as much as I love this one right here.” The Doctor pulls a face and pouts, puffing out a breath as his thick eyebrows furrow, he says, “Oh. Hmm. Do I say things like that now?”

Shirley smiles at him while commenting, “Sounds like a good thing to say.”

You mumble, “I’m not used to this.”

“But Donna took the mind of a Time Lord into her head. I had to wipe her memory to save her life. If she ever remembers me she will die. So what happens next?” The Doctor said with emphasis and leaned closer to you and Shirley, “I get this face back, and the TARDIS lands right next to her. I turn around, there’s her husband. A spaceship crashes in front of her. That led me here to my other best friend in the whole wide universe, my Time Lady who I thought was dead for many years. It’s like she’s drawing us in.” The Doctor finishes, and you and Shirley give each other a look, processing everything he has just said. Especially you, who was processing the fact he called you his. You and Shirley blinked a few times before Shirley said, “What? She’s making it happen?”

The Doctor shakes his head, “No, she’s got no idea. She’s so ordinary. She’s brilliant. She’s got this beautiful daughter. She’s happy. Is she? Hmm.” He pauses before saying in a lower tone, “But the universe is turning around the two people I love the most again. I don’t believe in destiny, but if destiny exists, then it's heading straight for Donna Noble and quite possibly the love of my life right next to me.”

You blink in surprise, opening your mouth to try and say something, maybe correct him, but nothing comes out, so you sit there, mouth gaping next to him like a fish while Shirley has a toothy grin as you say to the Doctor, “Okay, I’m still not used to whatever this is… and I don’t think I ever will be. You’re kind of freaking me out a little, dear.”

The Doctor grins, “Ooh, are we doing pet names now darling?”

You rub your right eye, feeling a migraine beginning to form, “I… What the hell is happening? You sure you’re alright? Last time you regenerated into this form you had a high fever and you were… completely out of it.”

The Doctor scrunches his nose and sniffs, “I feel great. Fantastic even!”

You purse your lips, observing the Doctor from head to toe, and then focus on his eyes—those warm, inviting brown eyes. Softly, you remark, “You've grown.”

The Doctor returns your gaze, his lips forming a quirked-up smile that reveals a dimple. "Just a little bit, yeah."

Shirley interjects, steering the conversation back on course, “You said it was also heading for Donna. What for?”

The Doctor responds with a swift, “I don’t know.” Shirley replies with an, “Oh.” The Doctor continues, with deep emphasis, “But she can’t remember. I won’t be the one who kills her.”

Shirley nods, and the tablet in the Doctor’s hands beeps. He looks at it, saying, “Right. There’s no sign of a pilot, but that’s not an automatic drive, so you should look for–”

“Ma’am,” a soldier interrupts, cutting off the Doctor. He slinks back into the shadows, and you and Shirley listen to what the soldier has to say. “We found the escape pod. No sign of life, but we’re moving out to secure the site.”

Shirley quickly replies, “Good work, soldier. Go get it.” Dismissing the soldier and watching her walk away, the Doctor moves to stand, removing his glasses and putting them away, ready to follow the soldier. But Shirley raises her hand and says to him, “Uh, yeah, yeah. Not you two, mate. I’ve got this. Off you pop. Bye-bye.”

Shirley begins to roll her wheelchair away, leaving the Doctor and you confused. The Doctor then calls out to her, “Waited your whole life?”

To which Shirley throws a look over her shoulder as she responds with a smirk, “You wish.”

The Doctor looks at you, and you look up at him. He turns his hand, palm up, waiting for you to take it with your hand. You glance at his hand and back to his eyes; he sees the uncertainty swirling through your gaze.

The Doctor speaks gently, “I know you aren’t ready and you’re scared… but I know you’re brave. And the universe listens to the brave. C’mon, it’s time to be brave again.”

You release a shaky exhale, swallowing the lump in your throat and dismissing the rational urge to walk away from him. Taking his hand, he tugs you along, pushing his legs into a run with you, hand-in-hand.

He thrusts the exit door open, utilizing his sonic screwdriver with his other hand on the back of the UNIT truck, the chains rattling as the trunk hatch pops open, pulling you with him to settle at the back of the truck.

As the UNIT truck pulls away, you see Shirley waving you off, and the Doctor gives her a small salute while you offer her a faint smile.

CHISWICK, LONDON – EVENING, 2023

You constantly poked your head out to see the stars, in case anything had changed. The Doctor held your hand, squeezing it every time you did, quietly reassuring you that whatever you faced, you'd do it together.

Arriving in the residential area, a long street lined with cars and now multiple UNIT trucks and soldiers running around, you could hear Donna shouting, “Oh, what the hell is it doing in my shed? Get out of my garden!”

The Doctor ran towards the sound of her voice, and you followed him. Reaching Donna's home, the Doctor pounded on the door, “Let us in! Let us in!”

Sylvia glared at the Doctor as she briskly walked towards him, but he exclaimed happily, “Sylvia! Oh, Sylvia! So nice to see you again. Could you let us in?”

Sylvia angrily whispered, “You said that if she sees you again, she will die. Well, no. If – if she remembers me. That’s slightly different.”

You heard and saw Donna through the stained glass yelling from down the hall, “No such thing as spaceships? We’ve got a bloody Martian in the shed!”

Sylvia angrily said, “Just get out of here, now.” But the Doctor knelt down to peek through the mail slot to see all the commotion, finding a small white fluffy creature with big eyes. “Oh, wow. He’s so cute,” the Doctor mumbled. With no other choice, he used his sonic to unlock the door as Sylvia told Donna, “Don’t look! Don’t look. It doesn’t exist.”

As the Doctor walked down the hall, with you trailing behind him, Sylvia whirled around to slap the Doctor. He grunted and groaned, “Here we go again.”

“It’s that man!” You recognized Rose say as Donna pointed at the Doctor, “Oh, it’s the skinny man!”

Sylvia continued to try and gaslight Donna, outstretching both her arms to block both of you, “He’s not there! You can’t see him. And there’s no monster. Oh, for the love of God, none of this is real!”

You and the Doctor ducked down and crawled to the creature to help assist them. In the middle of all the shouting and noise, you saw Shaun Temple appear, saying, “Hey, hey. Dad’s home.”

Everyone stood at a standstill, wide-eyed and unsure of what to do next. After a pause, Shaun commented with a small smile, “Something smells nice.” Sylvia smiled, “Tuna madras.”

“Meep, meep.”

As you and the Doctor sat on the floor, he carefully wrapped Meep’s injury in his hands with medical tape, while you quickly assessed if the Meep had any more injuries. Sylvia spoke to Donna, “We should think about infection. I mean, I think this man should deal with this beast, and we can leave him alone and go back to mine.”

Donna pulled her arm away from Sylvia and gestured around the Meep, “Never mind. Never mind about the ferret from Mars.” She gave you and the Doctor a pointed look as she growled out, “Who the hell are you two?”

You looked to the Doctor for help, and he stumbled over his words, “I– um. What was it?” He looked to Shaun who replied, “A friend from Nerys.” To which the Doctor promptly agreed, “That’s it.”

Donna scrunches her nose and says, “Nerys. Well, now it all makes sense. That viper in the nest.” She continues and points to the Meep, “I’m not going anywhere. We could sell mad Paddington for a million quid.”

Everyone reacted, giving Donna a pointed look and a noise of disagreement, “Woah!” Donna tried to justify her comment by saying, “You fill the fridge!”

The Doctor’s expressive eyebrows furrowed, and he asked Donna, “What did happen to all your money?” Donna got defensive and threw back, “Why are you so interested in us? Everywhere you go, there you are. Now you got this woman with you,” She gestured to you, “are you sure you’re safe with him, darling? Is he forcing you to be with him? Did he kidnap you?!”

You blinked wildly at Donna, “Uh, no– I’m good. He’s my partner.”

The Doctor smirked at you, “Ooh, I’m your partner?” To which you narrowed your eyes at him, “Quiet, you.” He pouted but continued to finish wrapping the injury of the Meep, then the Doctor said, “There is one person missing. I used to know your grandad, Wilf.”

Donna shook her head, “He’s not with us anymore.”

The Doctor had a somber expression as he nodded, “Right. Course. He wasn’t young; he was—” His lower lip trembled as he admitted, “I loved that man. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Donna shook her head, emphasizing, “He’s not dead.” Sylvia shot the Doctor a sharp look, “You idiot.”

The Doctor gaped at them, and Donna continued to share, “He’s in sheltered accommodation. He’s 94. He can’t manage the stairs.” Shaun took over, saying, “We were lucky. We couldn’t afford it, but this offer came along.”

Rose smiled, painting a vivid picture, “It’s amazing. He’s got this room, like a cottage and a garden, and it’s almost free.”

“Run by that lot in the middle of town? UNIT? This woman in charge, Kate, she says he’s an old soldier, she’ll look after him.” Shaun said, and the Doctor's face lit up, “Right. I know her. She’s looking after Wilf. Brilliant. Brilliant.”

Shaun tilted his head as he looked at you, “You look very familiar… Weren’t you with Kate as you were helping with the accommodations for Wilf?”

Your lips pinched together as you nodded, “Yeah, I work with UNIT. I check on him regularly; he’s wonderful.”

“Meep, meep.”

You and the Doctor turned to the fluffy white creature in front of you, and the Doctor’s eyebrows raised as he inhaled sharply, “Yes! The Meep. I promise I can help him get home. Then you’ll never have to see me, or well, the both of us ever again.”

Rose looked at the Doctor and gave him a questioning look, “You’re assuming he as a pronoun? Hmm.”

The Doctor took it in stride and nodded, “True. Yes. Sorry. Good point.” He quickly turned to the creature and asked, “Are you he, or she, or they?”

The high-pitched voice of the Meep responded, “My chosen pronoun is the definite article. I am always the Meep.”

The Doctor’s expression shifted to one of understanding as his thick eyebrows raised and he nodded, “Oh. I do that. But you were shot down. Who wants you dead?”

You tilt your head, captivated by the Meep's explanation, “The Wrath Warriors. They cultivate Meepkind for our beautiful fur. But then the galaxy said, ‘No more fur. It’s wrong. So the Wrath Warriors slaughtered their livestock.”

The Doctor crosses his arms, a thoughtful expression on his face, and leisurely leans back on the couch, letting his back rest against it, “You’re a fashion victim.”

A collective groan escapes from all the humans in the room, “No.”

The Doctor quickly mumbles an apology, and the Meep continues, “Now, they will hunt me down till there are no Meeps left.” The Meep sniffs, “It breaks both my hearts.”

You and the Doctor exchange surprised glances, both of your eyebrows raised. The Doctor shares with the Meep as he gestures to both of you, “You got two hearts? So do we.”

Donna quickly catches onto the Doctor's revelation and frowns, “You’ve got what?”

Sylvia tries to downplay what the Doctor just exposed, stammering as she speaks to Donna, “No. He means it like a metaphor. Like two minds. Do you?” You and the Doctor shake your heads, but suddenly there’s a pounding at the door.

“Open up!”

“Well, what the hell is it now?” Donna exclaims, her frustration evident as she wonders why all these strange anomalies keep happening. The Doctor pushes himself up, and you assist him with his navy blue coat as he puts it on. He continues addressing everyone in the room, “Ah, good. The soldiers! They can give us a lift.”

As he goes to answer the door, leaving you with the Meep and Donna’s family, Rose can't help but ask, “Are you two…”

Your cheeks feel flush, the tips of your ears turning warm, “Yep.”

Just as Donna is about to make a cheeky comment, you hear the Doctor slam the front door shut, loudly informing you all, “I think we need to run. Woah!”

Suddenly, an explosion rocks the backdoor, causing everyone to hit the ground with a collective yelp. You and the Doctor peek to look at the new visitor; arthropods, with a tough chitinous exoskeleton. With their external skeleton acting as a skelo-shield they had formidable strength. Their eyes were like large red lights. Seeing the Wrath Warriors enter while saying, “Wrath, attack formation! Surrender the Meep!”

UNIT soldiers burst in from the main entrance, their voices echoing down the hallway as they shout instructions to each other. The distant hum of gunfire and the vivid flashes of lasers light up the space, creating a chaotic symphony that fills your senses.

Donna, caught in the middle of the sudden onslaught, shouts in confusion and frustration, “What the hell is going on?”

The Doctor deftly manipulates his sonic screwdriver, adjusting its settings. He turns to Shaun and inquires, “Where’s your car?”

Shaun, bewildered but cooperative, responds, “Uh, five- five doors down.”

“Excellent.” The Doctor nods. He pivots, activating the sonic screwdriver to generate large, rectangular force fields. The blue glow emanating from the force fields reveals a recent upgrade, and you can't help but smile, commenting, “Nice upgrade, love.”

“Thanks, dearest. Help me move this, won’t you?” The Doctor passes the sonic to Donna, who handles it with familiarity. You and the Doctor work together to slide the force field into the first section of the hallway, dodging blaster shots as you go. Once in the living room again, you take the sonic from Donna, creating your force field with the Doctor’s scientific instrument. The Doctor observes you with admiration, and together, you slide the final force field into place, sealing off the area where the Wrath Warriors were firing from.

Immediately, the Doctor issues a commanding directive to the Noble-Temple family and the Meep, “Upstairs! Up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up!” They follow the urgent order, shrieking as they ascend the stairs, sandwiched between the force fields that shield them from the relentless onslaught of gunshots and laser fire.

“Come on, Meep!” The Doctor encourages, executing an energetic dance of hopping and flailing arms. The Meep responds with a whimper, “No.” Undeterred, you and the Doctor persist, the Doctor continuing his lively hopping routine, insisting, “Come on! That’s it.”

You guide the Meep up the stairs, the Doctor closely behind. A reassuring hand rests on your back as the trio ascends. When you're halfway across the corridor, a deafening explosion erupts from behind. The Noble-Temple family screams in fear, and you're thrown to the ground. However, the Doctor reacts swiftly, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to break your fall. In a protective move, he cushions the impact with his body, leaving you on top of him.

You swiftly roll off him, your palms hitting the floor as you propel yourself upward. Grasping the Doctor's hand, you haul him to his feet, both of you swiftly turning around to confront the aftermath—a colossal, gaping hole now occupying the space where a window once stood. Donna's cry of agony echoes through the room, "My house!"

Despite the devastation, there's no time for dwelling. The Doctor urgently directs everyone, gesticulating emphatically, "Upstairs. Upstairs, upstairs!"

Observing the Wrath Warriors soaring menacingly through the breached window, and amidst the symphony of gunfire and laser blasts echoing from the stairs, you and the Doctor deftly ascend to the third floor. With a swift motion, he lowers the ladder leading to the attic, urgently urging everyone, "Up we go! Fast as you can."

The entire group efficiently ascends to the attic. Positioned beside a robust brick wall connecting attics along the street, you and the Doctor huddle close. The Doctor showcases the device in his hand, proclaiming, "This is a sonic screwdriver. And if it's good at one thing, it's resonating concrete." He flips it in one hand before activating it, causing vibrations to ripple through the mortar.

Shaun interjects, "That's not concrete. That's mortar." Donna, in her familiarly exasperated tone, sighs and quips, "Thank you, Bob the Builder."

With a determined push, you and the Doctor dislodge the bricks, prompting them to cascade down. Donna crouches beside the Doctor, complimenting, "Skinny minnie, you're not bad."

The Doctor grins at Donna, "You think?"

However, Sylvia intervenes, frowning as she guides Donna aside, firmly asserting, "No, she doesn't. Now move."

"Come on. Five houses down," the Doctor grunts, effortlessly moving aside a box brimming with Christmas decorations. He takes the lead, guiding the family through the interconnected attics.

Traversing through these loft spaces, you witness the chaotic scene unfolding outside, with laser beams and gunshots punctuating the air. Explosions resonate in the distance as you navigate the makeshift route, carefully descending a staircase. Along the way, you stealthily pass by someone deeply immersed in sleep on a couch, oblivious to the turmoil around them.

Upon reaching a door, the Doctor jostles it open, revealing a view of the black cab parked a few meters away. Amidst the cacophony of gunfire and distant shouts, the Doctor extends his hand and requests, "Can I have the keys?" Shaun promptly hands them over.

As the Wrath Warriors advance with their menacing backs turned, the Doctor swiftly swings the door open, directing the family and the Meep into the sanctuary of the black cab. Positioned in the passenger seat, you observe the Doctor deftly using his fingers to check the pulse of a fallen UNIT soldier. Abruptly, a Wrath Warrior pivots, growling, "Meep located. Stop the Meep!"

Evading blaster fire with nimble agility, the Doctor slips into the driver's seat, swiftly igniting the engine and propelling the cab into motion. The Meep whimpers, "Help! Save the Meep!"

As the Doctor skillfully navigates away, Donna exclaims, "Oh my God!" Shaun pivots within the cab, jubilantly stating, "You did it!" Meanwhile, Rose chimes in, "We're alive," and Sylvia expresses gratitude, "Thank you."

"Meep, meep."

While the Doctor keeps a vigilant eye on the side mirrors during the escape, there's a discernible shift in his tone, "Either we've escaped, or we've got things very, very wrong."

UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE, LONDON – EVENING, 2023

The Doctor skillfully maneuvers the cab, smoothly parking it in an underground garage. A contemplative furrow graces his forehead as he steps out of the vehicle. With an attentive courtesy, he opens the passenger door, gesturing for you to alight from the cab. Simultaneously, he opens the back passenger door, facilitating the exit of the Meep.

The Doctor deftly extracts a barrister's wig from the depths of his coat, perching it atop his head with an air of theatrical flair. Meanwhile, the Meep positions itself purposefully in front of the cab. In a tone of authoritative declaration, the Doctor announces, "This court is now in session."

With a swift motion, he retrieves his trusty sonic screwdriver, and it emits a distinctive whiz as he proclaims, "Intercept teleport!"

The Meep emits a piercing shriek, swiftly retreating a few meters behind you and the Doctor. Donna, emerging from the cab, questions, "What the hell are you doing?" The Doctor, with an authoritative air, responds, "Silence in the court."

In the blink of an eye, two Wrath Warriors materialize just across from you and the Doctor. You stand there, massaging your face with your hand, as he adopts a menacing tone and declares, "I’m invoking Shadow Proclamation protocols 15, P, and 6. Under my jurisdiction, there will be no violence until such time I deem it fit and proper. Is that understood?"

The Wrath Warriors nod in compliance, dutifully stowing away their weapons to their sides. The Doctor, brandishing his sonic, gestures towards the taxi, asserting, “Now, exhibit A. The taxi. No scorch marks. Donna, can you confirm?” Donna swivels around, inspecting the taxi behind her, and nods, “Um. Yes, no, nothing.”

You arch your eyebrows, interjecting, “We were hit by plasma bolts, but there isn’t a mark.” The Doctor affectionately kisses your forehead, remarking, “Clever girl.” You duck your head, feeling a slight warmth in your chest and cheeks. He proceeds, “And that soldier in the street. He was unconscious, not dead.” Pointing at the Wrath Warriors' guns with his sonic screwdriver, he continues, “Exhibit B. Those guns are stun guns. Is that correct?”

The right Wrath Warrior nods, “The guns apply a mild and harmless neural anesthetic. For the record, my name is Sergeant Zogroth.” The left Wrath Warrior adds on and says, “And I am Constable Zreeg.”

The Meep interjects from behind you, its large ears folding to the side, “But the evil Wrath Warriors want to kill the Meep.”

“The only ones out to kill were the soldiers with the swirling eyes,” the Doctor asserts, gesturing in a circular motion with his sonic, his eyes widening to emphasize his point. “Were they coming to hurt you, the Meep? Or save you?” The Doctor eyes the furry creature suspiciously.

“If I may speak,” Sergeant Zogroth says, and the Doctor promptly replies, “Address the court.”

“The story of the Meep is a tragic tale. Their planet basked in the light of a living sun. Until one terrible day, the sun went mad,” Sergeant Zogroth began, his voice laden with the weight of the narrative. Constable Zreeg chimed in, “A psychedelic sun.”

Sergeant Zogroth continued, “Its radiation mutated all of Meepkind into cruel beasts who live for conquest.”

The Doctor's face lights up with realization, "The eyes. That's solar psychedelia." Sergeant Zogroth adds, “It renders them as maniacs.”

“The Meep army captured the Galactic Council, beheaded them, and ate them,” Constable Zreeg revealed, sending shivers down your spine. You and the Doctor exchange a grimace at the horrifying revelation. “The Wrath Warriors were summoned. And we fought across the stars, a long and awful battle,” Sergeant Zogroth continued with a somber tone.

“Meepkind died rather than surrender. And now, only this one survives. Their leader, the most cruel and despicable of all,” he added, pointing to the Meep, who responded with a plaintive, “Meep, meep.”

The Doctor, adopting a composed stance, interjects, “Now. Let’s be fair. It’s your turn, the Meep. Witness for the defense. So, what do you say?” The Doctor crosses his arms, and you observe as the Meep's innocent visage transforms into something more sinister and monstrous.

The Meep's sharp teeth are bared as it growls defiantly, "Oh, to hell with this!" With a swift motion, it brandishes a weapon, declaring, "Exhibit C!" The Meep takes aim and fires, bringing down the two Wrath Warriors, their bodies collapsing to the ground. You, the Doctor, and Donna quickly rush to the fallen foes. The Doctor, during the action, removes his barrister wig. The Meep, in a sinister tone, adds, "No stun guns for me! Just die!"

Shaun leaps out of the cab, urgently shouting, "Donna! Donna, don't!" Despite his plea, Donna remains fixated on the fallen warriors, her concern evident. You find yourself beside the Doctor on the ground as the Meep triumphantly declares, "And here they come! My soldiers of the psychedelic sun!"

Suddenly, a convoy of UNIT vehicles arrives, accompanied by soldiers with their distinctive headgear, forming a protective perimeter around all of you. Their authoritative voices ring out, "Obey the Meep!"

Donna, her maternal instincts flaring, turns to Shaun and passionately commands, "Get out! Get Rose out!"

Shaun swiftly maneuvers to the driver’s seat while Rose and Sylvia settle back in the taxi. However, the UNIT soldiers, now under the control of the Meep, have you all surrounded with no clear escape.

“I don’t need to pretend, for I am the Beep of all the Meeps,” the Meep declares, grinning menacingly with its sharp teeth.

Sergeant Zogroth emits a final groan, his parting words being, “Sergeant Zogroth regrets retirement from active duty.” His eyes dim, and his body goes limp. Donna, disgusted, confronts the Meep, saying, “I was right. You are a monster.”

The Meep revels in Donna’s anger, taunting, “And you believed every word I said. You stupid woman! With your weird child!”

Donna, ready to confront the Meep for insulting her daughter, stands defiantly, retorting, “Oh, don’t you dare!”

The Meep, relishing the confrontation, points its weapon at Donna, threatening, “Oh, I dare!”

You quickly rise, positioning yourself in front of Donna, raising your hands in a protective stance. Simultaneously, the Doctor moves across the floor on his knees, hands raised, pleading, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! But— Last-minute evidence! Me.”

He emphatically points to himself and exclaims, “Why are there two more two-hearted species on this planet? Unless we are part of a strategy by the Wrath Warriors to outfox you? If you kill me and her and fail to take this family hostage, you’ll never find out, will you?”

The Meep hums, then commands the soldiers, “Bring them!”

The Doctor stands animatedly, “Good! Now, look, I can suggest a much better way off this planet than a double-bladed dagger drive. ‘Cause that thing is gonna—”

His sentence remains unfinished as he is abruptly knocked out by a UNIT soldier. The Meep cackles triumphantly as the rest of you are ushered into the back of a truck, alongside the unconscious Doctor.

On the truck's floor, the Doctor lay with his head resting on your lap, his unconscious form a testament to the challenges you faced. Your fingers moved soothingly through his untamed, spikey hair, offering a quiet comfort amid the tension.

Donna observed the scene, her curiosity getting the better of her. "How long have you two been together?" she inquired, attempting to place where she might have encountered you before.

"A good number of years," you replied, choosing to keep the more intricate details to yourself, considering the Doctor's timeless nature.

Rose, equally intrigued, posed another question, "Are you two married?"

A snort escaped you. "Nope. I don't think he wants that with me if I'm being honest."

“Why?” Rose pressed on.

Your gaze drifted, and you sniffed softly. "I’m all sorts of wrong for him. And sometimes, it scares me. The emptiness I see in my eyes,” you admitted, vulnerability seeping into your words. Your eyes lingered on the Doctor as you continued, “The Doctor is brilliant. He is truly brilliant. After all he’s been through... he deserves everything good and more… more than me.”

As your confession lingered in the air, the Doctor began to stir awake, bringing a momentary hush to the truck. His eyes fluttered open, and a low groan escaped him as he gradually sat up, settling next to you.

Donna eyed the Doctor with suspicion, her narrowed gaze fixed on him. "Who are you?" she questioned, her tone demanding answers.

The Doctor, still feeling the effects of his earlier unconsciousness, touched the back of his head with a wince. "I’m just passing by," he nervously replied, attempting to deflect her inquiries.

Undeterred, Donna redirected her attention to her mother, Sylvia, and pressed on, "Do you know him?" Sylvia, in an attempt to conceal any familiarity, shook her head, responding, "No."

Donna, frustrated and puzzled, continued, "You act like you know him. Ever since he arrived, it’s like—" She heaved a heavy sigh, abruptly halting her train of thought. "I’m so stupid!" she declared, voicing her self-reproach.

Shaun quickly reassured his wife, "No. No, you’re not."

Donna shook her head, lost in contemplation. "We could be living somewhere far away from here. Monte Carlo. Switzerland." She then turned to her daughter Rose, who sat beside her. "And you— And you’d be safe, Rose." Donna pulled Rose into a comforting side hug. "It’s all my fault. Gave away that lottery money."

The Doctor, unable to resist his curiosity, interjected, "Why?"

Donna shot him a glare. "Because. There are places out there where people are in danger. And in pain. And fear. And I could help. Just felt the sort of thing he would do." Her words hung in the air, revealing a sense of duty and compassion that drove her actions.

Abruptly, the truck jolts to a stop, resulting in the Doctor colliding with one of the crates, eliciting a pained groan. You swiftly move to assist him. The truck door swings open, and a stern voice commands, "Out!"

MILLSON WAGNER STEELWORKS

NORTH LONDON, – EVENING, DECEMBER 2023

The UNIT soldiers briskly led you towards the heart of the steelworks, where the Meep's spaceship had strategically landed.

"It didn't choose the steelworks by accident. It came here to be mended," the Doctor remarked as the group neared the spacecraft. The Meep made a grand entrance, seated on a makeshift throne of steel carried by a procession of UNIT soldiers. With its menacing teeth and booming voice, it declared, "Hail to the Meep!"

A hypnotic chant echoed through the steelworks as multiple officers joined in unison, "Hail to the Meep. Hail to the Most High. Hail to the Meep. Hail to the Most High."

"Human scum, behold my vessel to the stars! Far beyond your tiny, grasping minds," Beep the Meep declares with an air of arrogance. You respond with an eye roll of annoyance, and the Doctor shakes his head while humorously interjecting, "I name this ship the Delusions of Grandeur."

Beep the Meep growls in protest, "Meep."

"You can't fire those engines. Not from here. A dagger drive gets its energy by stabbing down. It would extract, ooh, five square miles? The whole of London town burnt as fuel," the Doctor explains, his tone serious and concerned.

Rose, wearing a frown, adds, "But that's nine million people."

"A great day for Meepkind. And the start of a new reign of terror as the Meep return to the stars for revenge. And feasting. Now, activate the initializers," the Meep commands, its voice dripping with malevolence.

A disciplined UNIT soldier swiftly responds, "Initializers activated."

The low hum of the spaceship's engines reverberates through the steelworks as the Meep grins with an evil glint in its eyes, proclaiming, "Brandish the gravity stanchions."

"Gravity stanchions brandished," announces a focused UNIT soldier as the prongs of the spacecraft forcefully dig into the ground.

"Calibrate the flight deck," the Meep commands with a sense of authority, intensifying the tension in the air.

A disciplined UNIT member announces, "Flight deck calibrated."

The Meep, perched on its steel throne, commands, "Take the prisoners on board! Then I’ll decide which one to eat first. Hail to Meep!"

The rhythmic chant of the hypnotized UNIT soldiers fills the air, "Hail to the Most High! Hail to the Meep!" while the Meep indulges in a sinister cackle, reveling in its delusions of grandeur.

The liftgate slams shut, transporting you to a different floor. Thoughts of subduing the UNIT guards swirl in your mind as the lift grinds to a halt. As the gate creaks open, Shirley appears, wearing a mischievous grin. "Evening, boys."

With swift precision, she activates a concealed device beneath her wheelchair, firing two darts at each soldier. The tranquilizers swiftly take effect, rendering the guards unconscious.

"You've got weapons in your wheelchair," the Doctor exclaims, eyeing Shirley with a mixture of surprise and admiration. She glances back at him, a knowing look in her eyes, and responds, "We all have. You've got your girl to thank for that. Come on." With a nod, she leads the way, wheeling herself confidently through the complex.

"Right. You lot, the family, you can get out through that door," Shirley says, gesturing towards the exit on the right. She then turns her attention to you and the Doctor, her tone more serious, "You need to get to the engine control. But the port side’s guarded, and there's no way around it."

A quick exchange of glances between you and the Doctor precedes his question to Shirley, "So what do we do?"

With a confident smirk, Shirley retorts, "I don’t just fire darts, mate." She spins her wheelchair around, revealing hidden capabilities. With the push of a button, two missiles activate and blast through the wall, creating a makeshift path forward. The unexpected firepower leaves you and the Doctor momentarily impressed.

Shirley swiftly directs the family, "You lot run. I’ll fight them off at the lift."

The Doctor tightens his grip on your hand, leading you through the large breach in the wall. The chaotic, metallic environment of the spaceship's bridge unfolds before you. With his trusty sonic screwdriver, the Doctor deftly manipulates the controls, unlocking the gate to the engine control room. As the door creaks open, the two of you step inside, ready to stop the ship from taking off.

The Doctor removes his coat and hangs it on one of the pillars as the ship's system voice declares, “Dagger drive systems initializing.”

In a sudden burst of energy, Donna enters the control room panting, "That's enough… running. Blimey."

The system voice abruptly announces, “Chamber deadlocked.” Panic sets in as the only exit seals shut, leaving the Doctor frustrated. He slams his hands on the door, exclaiming, “No, no, no, no! I told you to go—just don’t!”

Frantically, he moves about the room, urging, “No time. I’ve got this. We’ve got it. We’ve got it. You stay there. Don’t move, Donna!”

The Doctor and you scramble around, pressing buttons and flicking switches, racing against time as the system voice declares, “Star launch in five minutes.”

Climbing up one of the pillars, the Doctor instructs you while you squat on the other side to manipulate hidden switches. Suddenly, the system announces, “Deadlock sealed.” A flicker of discomfort courses through both of you as the ship's mechanisms react.

“It’s been deadlocked,” you groan, and Donna questions, “What’s that mean?”

The Doctor replies swiftly, “It means, we can do it by hand.”

You move to the far end of the ship, and the system voice chimes in again, “Maxifold bisecting.” A glass pane wall starts dividing the room, separating you from the Doctor and Donna. “You can stay on that side Doctor, I—” But then the Doctor rolls under the glass just before it seals, protesting, “Oh. No, no, no, no!”

“Double dagger drive installed and initiated.”

You can feel your eye twitch as you look at the Doctor standing next to you. “Okay, okay. Okay, we can do it with half the room. That’s fine.” The Doctor tries to reassure himself and you look at him wondering why he had to end up on your side of the room.

“Let me help.” Donna insists and the Doctor is quick to disagree, “No! You can’t get involved.”

Donna looks at the Doctor with a glare, challenging him and the Doctor tries to steady his resolve, “You can’t!”

It's then your turn to shoot him a pointed look. The Doctor groans and pants in frustration before finally surrendering. He instructs Donna, "Switches, the top ones, the blue ones, flick them all down."

Donna diligently follows his directions, swiftly flicking the switches down, while you navigate to a different section of your side of the room to spin a dial a few times. Despite your efforts, it proves futile, and you slump down in disappointment. The Doctor, leaning defeatedly on a pillar, somberly admits, "We've run out of time."

“Ignition in 230.”

The Doctor sighs with a heavy burden on his shoulders as he confides in Donna, "If there was anything else I could do, but there's one thing left."

"Well— Well, then do it," Donna urges, her tone laced with desperation. The Doctor, however, looks down in shame, prompting Donna to insist, "Hurry up and do it! What are you waiting for?"

Pushing himself off the pillar, the Doctor strides over to the glass partition separating Donna from the two of you. "I think… all that coincidence was heading here to save London from burning. 'Cause the three of us can stop this ship. Together."

Donna gasps in realization, "Oh."

As you rise and move towards the glass, locking eyes with Donna, you declare, "But it will kill you."

Donna sharply inhales, and responds easily, “Okay.”

The Doctor’s voice cracks as he says, “You’ll die.”

Donna's lower lip trembles, her eyes reflecting the imminent crisis, as she says, "My daughter is down there."

"Ignition in 180."

Tears well up in Donna's eyes, and her voice stammers with fear, "And it's not just Rose. It's nine million people. Who cares about me?"

The Doctor responds swiftly, his urgency palpable, "I do. We both do."

Donna takes a deep breath, mustering courage, and asks, "But why?" She pauses, gathering her thoughts, and continues, "I'm just no one."

The Doctor's expression shifts to one of anger, his eyebrows furrowing as he yells, "No, you are not!"

He takes a few steps back, the weight of the situation evident in his sob and scream, "Why does it have to be this?"

"Entering the final sequence."

The Doctor looks at Donna with a somber gaze, defeated, as he utters the words that trigger Donna's memories, "Westerly. Pelican. Dreams."

Donna is desperate as she says, "I don't— Look, I don't care what it is. All right. Just— just go on and do it, will you?"

"Ignition in 150."

"Tornado. Clifftops. Andante," the Doctor says.

"Get on with it!" Donna shouts.

The Doctor continues, "Grief. Fingerprint. Susurration."

Donna's eyes light up as she begins to remember her adventures, "Oh."

The Doctor and Donna utter the last few words in unison, "Sparrow. Dance. Mexico. Binary. Binary. Binary."

A golden glow emanates from Donna, the metacrisis shimmering through as she regains her memories once more. You and the Doctor press your palms against the glass, witnessing her transformative moment.

"Ignition in 100."

As the glow dissipates, the Doctor anxiously asks, "Are you alright?"

"Ignition in 90."

Donna pants, sighs, and sweeps her bangs away from her eyes as she glares at the Doctor. Inhaling deeply, she says, "I gave away my money."

"Ignition in 75."

The Doctor looks at her, puzzled, "Right, but—"

Donna, expressing a mix of frustration and anger, interrupts, "I gave away all my money. And do you know why, Doctor? I gave it away to be like you. So I could be kind. So I could be nice. So I could be helpful— I—"

Donna releases a frustrated growl as the system voice continues, "Ignition in one minute."

Moving her face closer to the glass panel, Donna continues, "I had a subconscious, infracutaneous, retrofold memory loop making me act as soft as you and give away 166 million pounds!"

"Ignition in 50."

The Doctor, wide-eyed, nods in agreement but attempts to refocus on the urgent matter, "Yes, Donna, but— Destruction of London?"

"Oh, I'll show you destruction, mate," Donna declares, intertwining her fingers before flexing them to crack her knuckles.

"Ignition in 40."

You and the Doctor observe in awe as Donna moves around the control panel with ease. "I'll triple-drive the particle manifesto, overstep the umbilical feed, vindicate the cyberline, and roast the hyperfeeds! Like this!" Donna exclaims, spinning the dial on the lower left of her.

The Doctor navigates about half of the room, deftly flicking switches while instructing, "Maximise the stressfold links!"

"Channel up the booster drive!" Donna commands, pressing a few buttons.

"Inculcate the plexidrones!" You chime in, flicking a few more switches.

"And shatterfry the positrons! Oh yes!" Donna exclaims.

"Twenty, nineteen..."

Donna interrupts, asking, "How long have I got to live?" as she switches off a few controls.

"...sixteen, fifteen..."

All three of you simultaneously answer, "Fifty-five seconds."

"Thirteen, twelve, eleven..."

"The best fifty-five seconds of my life!" Donna exclaims.

"Seven, six, five, four..."

"Because I get to do this!" Donna proudly announces, turning around and simultaneously flicking off several switches.

"Three, two— Ignition halted."

You three watch as the panel flies off the wall; the countdown has stopped, and Donna proudly states, "Donna Noble is descending."

"Ignition reverse. Ignition reverse."

"It’s working!" The Doctor's voice resonates with exhilaration as the tangible effects of the reversed dagger drive unfold before your eyes.

However, your joy is cut short when you notice Donna beginning to falter. Panic sets in, and you urgently cry out, "No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

Swiftly, both you and the Doctor move in unison to catch Donna as she descends, cradling her fragile form in your arms. Donna sighs, her expression reflecting a mix of exhaustion and relief. The Doctor reassures her, "We did it. She’s fine. She’s safe. You saved her."

Donna smiles weakly, and you add, "You saved them all."

In a moment of introspection, Donna questions, "Why did this face come back?" She turns her gaze towards the Doctor, who responds with a sigh, "I don’t know."

"To say goodbye," Donna asserts with a soft smile. She then shifts her attention to you, saying, "Oh, the Stargazer. I’ve missed you."

"I’ve missed you too, Donna, every day," you confess, and the Doctor emits a thoughtful hum.

"Good fun, though," Donna remarks, her chuckles mingling with yours and the Doctor's. The lighthearted moment takes an abrupt turn as Donna's eyes flutter closed, her entire being going limp in the arms of her two closest companions.

A collective sob escapes from you and the Doctor as you sit there, cradling your best friend, a bittersweet mixture of victory and loss filling the air.

Abruptly, the door to the engine control room opens, revealing a cadre of UNIT soldiers with swirling, hypnotized eyes. The air tightens with tension as one of them declares, "We have orders to kill you."

Undeterred, the Doctor retorts defiantly, "Do what you want. This ship isn't going anywhere. You were beaten. By the DoctorDonna." The soldiers, rifles at the ready, cast ominous shadows in the confined space. You resign yourself to the impending threat, feeling the Doctor's protective instinct as he positions himself to shield you.

In a surprising turn, the psychedelic light emitted from the soldiers' eyes screeches and hisses, dissipating into nothingness. Bewilderment echoes through the room, and you join the Doctor in uttering a perplexed, "What?"

Even one of the soldiers can't help but question, "What?"

Donna, roused from her unconscious state, adds her own disoriented, "What?"

The Doctor, his voice tinged with disbelief, softly utters, "You're not dead."

A collective sense of confusion lingers, and Donna, now fully awake, queries, "But how?" as she steadies herself.

After a brief pause, Rose's voice resonates through the intercom, "Can you hear me? Mum? Doctor? Star? I think it's safe for you to come down now."

Donna responds, perplexed, "Rose?"

The Doctor's eyes widen with a sudden epiphany, "Too much power for one person, but you had a child, and the metacrisis passed down. A shared inheritance."

Donna grins, “It was always there. Shining out of her.”

“And she chose her own name,” the Doctor adds.

“Oh, the shed! The shed was her memory of the TARDIS. The toys! Every creature we met, she remembered as a toy,” Donna says with a glint in her eye.

You gape, suddenly realizing, “We are binary.”

“She’s not. Because the Doctor’s—”

The Doctor interjects, “Male.”

“And female,” Donna finishes.

"And neither. And more," Rose says, her voice carrying a warm smile through the intercom.

Donna rushes down the stairs, her steps echoing in the cavernous steelworks. Rose meets her halfway, and they share an emotional hug, Shaun joining in the embrace.

You and the Doctor follow suit, descending rapidly to the ground floor. Sylvia awaits, and as you approach, the Doctor wraps her in a jubilant hug. He inquires, “Happy now?”

Sylvia responds with a radiant smile, "My father would be impressed. I have no higher compliment." Laughter of triumph fills the air as you and the Doctor proceed to the nearby control center.

Shirley deftly maneuvers her wheelchair towards you and the Doctor, offering her unique perspective. She addresses the Doctor with a sly grin, “There’s a word for you, Doctor. And that word is jammy.”

The Doctor responds with infectious enthusiasm, “Jam on toast.” He decisively slams a button, activating the intercom. With authority, he speaks into the microphone, “Calling the Meep.”

The Meep's defiant voice crackles through the speakers, “You forget I still have my ship. And if I have to explode the engines and rupture this world and damn us all to hell, then I will!” A shared glance between you and the Doctor follows, and he graciously hands you the task of flicking the crucial switch.

With a resounding click, the Meep’s cockpit is ejected into the sky, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of the Meep's distressed shrieks. You and the Doctor gaze upward, drawn into the spectacle unfolding against the canvas of the vast night sky.

“There you go.” The Doctor points with a wry smile, observing the Meep’s cockpit deploying a parachute against the cosmic backdrop.

You feel the Doctor's reassuring grip on your waist as he pulls you into his side. Together, you look up, transfixed by the celestial display. The stars twinkle above, and in that moment, you choose to hope and believe that nothing universe-ending has transpired yet.

As the sun ascends on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the scene, the Wrath Warriors stand sternly with the imprisoned Meep, forming an uneasy tableau. You step forward, addressing them with a heavy heart, "Sergeant Zogroth and Constable Zreeg gave their lives, alongside many Earth soldiers."

The Wrath Warrior, resolute in the face of the aftermath, declares, "Their names will be included in the litany of crimes as the Meep atones in prison for 10,000 years." The Meep, defiant in defeat, mutters, "Oh, I will escape and have my revenge. So you beware, Doctor and Stargazer, because there’s one more thing."

With a determined stride, the Doctor moves closer, inquiring, "Which is?"

“A creature with two hearts is such a rare thing. And to have two of your kind here… Just wait till I tell the boss,” the Meep retorts, an ominous promise lingering in the air. The Wrath Warriors and the Meep vanish in a teleportation, leaving a sobering aftermath beneath the morning sun.

The Doctor, caught in contemplation, mumbles under his breath, "Cryptic. I hate that." He takes a deep breath, turning his attention to Donna and Rose with a sense of urgency, "But… we’ve still gotta fix you two. ‘Cause the metacrisis might have slowed down, but that thing is wrapped around your cortex."

Donna, with an eye roll and a knowing nod, quips, “Yes, we know.”

Rose adds confidently, “We know everything, thanks.”

Donna, in her typical nonchalant manner, shrugs, “And you know nothing. It’s a shame you’re not a woman anymore. ‘Cause she’d have understood.”

Rose, crossing her arms, asserts with confidence, “You’ve got all that power, but there is a way to get rid of it. Something a male-presenting Time Lord will never understand.”

Donna, ever pragmatic, advises, “Just let it go.”

The unity between mother and daughter becomes evident as Rose takes Donna’s hand, and together, they release the accumulated metacrisis energy. Shaun interjects with a grin, “Like I said, mate, how lucky am I?”

Rose, with a joyous laugh, concludes, “After all these years, I’m… finally me.”

CAMDEN MARKET, LONDON — MORNING, 2023

Shaun skillfully navigates the vehicle, bringing the group back to Camden Market in London. Earlier, you had informed Shirley about the intention to bid farewell to the Doctor and Donna before returning to headquarters. Shirley responded with a nonchalant, "Sure..." accompanied by a discerning look, rolling away from you in her wheelchair.

The Doctor maintains his characteristic chattiness as he informs Donna, "And UNIT has a splendid insurance policy for damage caused during an alien war. While they sort that out..." Approaching the iconic tall blue police box, the TARDIS, the Doctor gestures towards it, saying, "One last trip?"

"Uh, don’t you dare," Sylvie interjects with a pointed look. Donna, casting puppy eyes at both you and the Doctor, laments, “Do you know, I would love to.” She then takes a sharp inhale, sighs, and adds, “But… I have got adventures of my own, bringing up this one.” Donna points her thumb towards Rose.

“Can I see inside?” Rose asks the Doctor curiously, taking a step toward the TARDIS. Donna, however, swiftly moves her away, cautioning, “No. No! No. No.”

Rose sighs, and Donna playfully waves her finger, “No. Because summat will go wrong, and you’ll end up on Mars with Chaucer and a robot shark. And that’s actually happened, hasn’t it.”

The Doctor gives a sheepish, “Oh, yeah.”

“But I was thinking, we could go and see Wilf?” The Doctor suggests to you and Donna.

Donna then says, “Now that is cheating.”

The Doctor pouts, “Just a suggestion.”

“I mean it, don’t you dare.” Sylvie says, and Donna sighs, “But imagine his face, Mum. Oh, he would be so happy. All those secrets Grandad kept for years. He— He thought I’d never remember. And to see the Doctor. One last time.”

The Doctor and Donna make a puppy face to you and Sylvie, urging you to join them. Sylvie relents and gives in, “Oh, all right. But one trip. That’s all. Just one.”

The Doctor turns to unlock the door with his key while Donna laughs with glee, “One tiny, little trip. That is a promise.”

Donna turns to you and the Doctor and gasps in excitement, “It’s like the old days. Just me, the Doctor, and the Stargazer. Together.” She then turns to her family, “Is that all right?”

“Yeah, of course it is,” Shaun says confidently with a huge smile.

“Well, a lot of husbands would worry. You know, me, in a box, with another man.” Donna jokes, and Shaun shrugs and shakes his head, “Yeah. But not him.”

The Doctor looks somewhat offended, but then Donna shoos him to go inside, “Come on, space man.”

In the quiet aftermath, with Donna entering the TARDIS, the Doctor notices the unsure expression on your face. He whispers to Donna to go ahead, and she complies, leaving the two of you alone, behind the TARDIS, sheltered from prying eyes.

With a gentle gesture, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He cups your face with both hands, his smile revealing dimples that carry the weight of countless adventures. “The stars haven’t gone out.”

Your raised brows betray a hint of skepticism, “Yet…”

The Doctor locks eyes with you, his deep dark brown orbs conveying understanding. As tears well up in your eyes, you break the silence, your voice a fragile whisper, “You have no idea how bad it gets. How scared I am that all of this is temporary and I lose you… and I can’t have you.”

“Hey. Hey, hey. None of that,” he reassures, his gaze unwavering. “So far, everything has been leading me back to you. And when the time comes to face it… we’ll fix it… together. I can’t lose you again. Not ever again.”

His words linger in the air, a vow shaped by the quiet resilience of a Time Lord who has navigated countless challenges across time and space. You respond with a nod, sealing the unspoken pact, and tenderly kiss his wrists. In return, he draws you closer, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“When this is all over,” he declares, “we’re getting married.”

“What?” you screech, caught off guard by the unexpected revelation.

“We've waited this long. I’m not spending the rest of my how many years without you,” the Doctor insists, his eyes earnest.

“Is this a proposal?” you inquire, a mixture of surprise and delight in your voice.

“If you want,” he smirks, playfully nonchalant.

On tiptoe, you reach up to kiss the tip of his nose, a tender acknowledgment, “We'll see.” The promise of an unwritten future hangs in the air, held by the shared understanding that time and space will unfold their stories together.

THE TARDIS

The Doctor guides you inside the TARDIS and closes the door behind him and both of you are in awe of the major changes of the entire TARDIS. Huge curved white walls with round circles that glow with lights and many ramps that lead to different corridors.

The Doctor hangs his coat on one of the railings as he grins and laughs, “Whoa!” He begins to run around all the ramps with the energy of a little kid as he shouts, “This is amazing!”

“It changed! Oh, you clever thing! Look at that!” The Doctor laughs as he finishes his lap around the new interior of the TARDIS. He runs over to the console and smiles, “It’s got this!”

He pushes a lever forward, and the lights within the TARDIS shift to a vibrant orange, casting a warm glow. Your gaze is drawn upward in awe as the ambient hum of the time machine resonates around you. Running your fingers along the railings, you can feel the TARDIS responding, and you affectionately murmur, “Hello, sweet thing. I missed you too.”

Amid the luminous atmosphere, the Doctor darts around the console, engaging with switches and buttons on the refurbished device. Donna, observing the transformation, remarks, “It’s still a bit nippy.”

The Doctor protests, “Oh, come on!”

Undeterred, Donna concedes with a grin, “All right…” Her expression changes as she admires the surroundings, “It’s gorgeous!” Laughter bubbles up from both Donna and the Doctor, who joins in the jubilation, bouncing excitedly.

“It’s cleaner. And it’s grown,” Donna observes, her laughter echoing through the TARDIS.

Making your way to the console, you overhear Donna questioning the Doctor, “But I— I still don’t get it. I mean, the TARDIS can change all right. But what about your face? Why did it come back?”

“Does there have to be a reason?” the Doctor muses, and Donna, with a snort, retorts, “In your life? Yes!”

With a nonchalant shrug, the Doctor remarks, “Well, I’m stuck with it now.” He continues exploring the console, fidgeting with excitement, and comments, “Oh, this thing is brilliant. It’s even got a coffee machine!” Glancing at you and Donna, he inquires, “You want one?”

You shake your head, “No, thank you, darling.”

“You’re kidding,” Donna says with wide eyes.

“With cold milk, yeah?” The Doctor deftly presses a few buttons, and Donna, smiling, says, “Well remembered.” To your delight, a white cup materializes with coffee and cold milk.

He carefully hands the cup of coffee to Donna who says, “Thank you very much. Careful. It’s how I lost my job. Dropped a coffee in the computer.”

To which the Doctor just hums and moves to flick a few more switches around the console as you lean on a railing, to listen to him say, “I really do remember, though. Every second with you. I’m so glad you’re back ‘cause it killed me, Donna.” The Doctor clicks another switch as he continues on, “It killed me, it killed me, it killed me.”

"We can have more days, can’t we?" Donna inquires, her tone laced with a mix of hope and curiosity. Her eyes reflect a desire for a future filled with shared moments. Continuing with optimism, she suggests, "I mean, why is it such a big goodbye with you? Why is it one last trip? ‘Cause you could visit. With my family."

The Doctor, absorbed in examining a screw, listens attentively as Donna paints a vivid picture of ordinary yet precious moments. "We could do outrageous things, like have tea, dinner, and a laugh! And Rose’s school play. Well, maybe not that. She can’t act. She’s terrible. I don’t know how to tell her. But the point is, you’ve been given a second chance. You can do things differently this time."

Encouraging him to embrace change, Donna suggests, "So why don’t you do something completely new and have some friends?"

The Doctor contemplates the idea, responding with a hesitant "Maybe. Yeah." Donna chuckles, savoring the simplicity of their current moment. "Mmm. Like now," she remarks, lifting her cup as if to toast. "Here we are. Having a coffee."

Before the Doctor can respond, Donna's accidental spillage disrupts the calm, eliciting a gasp from her. "What’s gonna go wrong—" Her sentence is abruptly cut off as the spilled coffee interacts with the TARDIS console, resulting in sparks and flames.

With urgency, Donna questions, "What’s happening?" The Doctor, swift in his actions, ushers both you and Donna away from the unfolding chaos. The TARDIS groans and whines as its engines protest, and the cloister bell rings ominously in the background.

"We could end up anywhere in time and space," the Doctor confesses, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. As the atmosphere fills with anticipation, you brace yourself, thinking, "Here we go again."

TAGLIST:

#14th doctor #14th doctor x reader #14th doctor x fem!reader #fourteenth doctor #ethereal writes #doctor who 60th anniversary #60th anniversary #catherine tate #doctor who special #david tennant #14th doctor x fem reader #doctor who x reader #donna noble #doctor who

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semiweirdshipper · 1 year

Text

Killer reactions to a reader who had their pants pulled down while they were on a hook. (Part two).

Evan

He heard one of his traps being dismantled near where you were hooked and swiftly went to investigate. He had imagined your team mates would have pulled you off by the time he arrived, but... Apparently not.

"No, no- stop!" He heard you shout, turning the corner just in time to see Jake tearing your pants and underwear down to your ankles. You were struggling and shouting, trying desperately to cover your naked crotch.

Rage boiled deep inside his gut at the disrespectful, offensive display. How dare Jake treat one of his own members this way.

Releasing a loud, bear like growl, Evan chased after the unsuspecting coward, cornering him into a trap and killing him. By the time he passed by your hook, he heard you crying softly and slowed in his tracks. For some reason, he didn't know why, he couldn't find it in himself to just leave you like this...

Turning around, he kept his head lifted and slowly approached you. At the sight of him, you flinched and cried harder, and it put a rod in his chest. "Want me to pull em up for ya?" He asked as calmly as he could manage.

You sniffled, looking at him in baffement and humiliation, your voice a quiet whisper, "Yes please."

Evan did it fast, stepping up to you and leaning down to pull your pants up. Once he was done, he took in your humiliated stance and reached out to gently cup your chin and tilt your head up, "I'm sorry they done this to ya, but it ain't so bad."

He brushed your cheek gently for a moment before letting go and turning away, "Keep your head up, darlin'."

Max

Everyone knew that he was an extremely sensitive person, and some times people tried to take advantage of that- like the times when survivors would flirt with him or get in suggestive poses; they knew he couldn't handle it without getting flustered and angry, his ability to focus shattered.

But this... This was different.

"Oh Max," Kate had whistled, "(y/n) here has something they wanna show you." And then she yanked your pants and underwear down.

Max had immediately flinched and gone to cover his eyes, the sound of your loud, horrified screaming causing him to hurt on the inside. Why were they doing this? You were hooked, they should be helping you, not... Not this.

Unable to look at you, Max took in the sounds of your loud cries, whimpers and whines and realized that this wasn't something you were purposely a part of. Your team mates were taking advantage of you like they constantly tried to take advantage of him, and he could tell how much it was bothering you.

Officially too shy to even look at you while you were half naked, Max ran off and did his best to kill Kate and the other two survivors. At the end he found you hiding by the shack, the hatch just a few meters behind him.

Dropping his chainsaw and hammer, Max stood aside and gestured to the hatch. It took you a few minutes, but you finally came walking out, your body tense, shaky and nervous. You couldn't make eye contact with him.

"Thank you," You whimpered gratefully, "I-I'm sorry about the..."

Max shook his head and uttered a soft growl. When you looked at him with a smile, he blushed and closed his eyes. For the first time, he wasn't flustered.

Ji-woon

He returned after hearing excessive screaming from where you were hooked, his chest flaring in anger at the thought of someone touching what was soon to be his. He worried that you might be being assaulted, and when he arrived at your hook, he cursed in Korean at the sight of you.

Your pants and underwear had been pulled down, and you were panicking in a struggle to cover yourself. Ji-woon saw red. "Who did this?" He demanded to know as he sprinted up to you.

You gasped, crying harder as you shook your head and looked away, utterly humiliated and afraid, "Élodie did it."

That monster. "Did she touch you?" Ji-woon asked, his teeth baring in dangerous rage.

Relief flooded him when you shook your head, but still... This was unacceptable. "I'll pull them up, yes?" He softened his voice while gesturing to your pants.

"Please." You whimpered, shaking lightly as he bent down and pulled your pants up.

Once that was done, Ji-woon looked at you and smiled, one hand slowly reaching up to cup your cheek. "I promise," He grinned at you with an almost endearing, psychotic blush, "I will get you revenge."

And then off Ji-woon went, leaving you in a pit of shock. Later after you got unhooked, you would discover Élodie's hooked body mutilated and... Pantsless. Revenge achieved.

Pinhead/Elliot Spencer

Elliot wouldn't deny that he had preferences. You weren't very far up on his list of favorite survivors to torture, and more often than not he subconsciously allowed you to escape him. But some times there were trials where he had to hook you at least once to please the Entity.

This was one of those trials.

Having sensed odd commotion from the area you were hooked, he went to investigate only to go immobile in shock and disbelief that soon melted into pity and frustration. The other survivors had pulled your pants down thus leaving you exposed, humiliated and vulnerable.

Whenever you noticed his presence, you brutally shook your head in embarrassment, anger and shame, your hands trembling as they covered your privates. You refused to look at him, your shoulders hitching with small, quiet cries.

Rules be dammed, Elliot lifted his arms out, summoned four chain/hooks and carefully used them to grab hold of the edges of your pants. You startled at this but otherwise remained still, watching the hooks with breathless awe as they worked your pants back up your legs.

Yanking your pants up the rest of the way yourself, the hooks around you disappeared with a clatter. Elliot stared at you with his usual monotony, observing the nervous yet grateful expression on your face as you offered him a timid, thankful wave. Hmp.

Elliot left with a light smirk. Perhaps now you would be more open to accept his offers of pleasure.

Wesker

When he finds you, all he can do is stand there and stare. You were one of the more efficient survivors- one that always gave him a run for his money. To see you this unhinged, this defeated and vulnerable... It, well...

It made him furious. Compared to you the other survivors were ants, and the fact that they felt the need to take advantage of you in such a state made his blood boil. How dare they.

"Stop staring at me," You screamed at him, your face flushed, body shaking and hands covering your exposed crotch.

Blinking behind his sunglasses, Wesker mentally shook himself from his thoughts and slowly began to walk forward, "My, my... I didn't take you as one to so easily break under pressure."

"Go away- don't come any closer," You shouted, your voice so passionate and defensive and true.

God, you had no idea what kind of effect you had on him. Wesker smirked, "You know, requesting help is not a crime. You should be smarter than that."

At that, you had gone silent, your eyes on him and filled with distrust, embarrassment and anger. For a few seconds you were hesitant, but then you quietly mumbled, "Will you help me? Please..."

It took all of his effort not to grin. "Since you asked nicely," He nearly closed the space between you as he bent down and pulled your pants up. "I must say," He whispered lowly, looking you in the eye, "You are exquisite in more ways than one, (y/n)."

Pyramid Head/The Executioner

He's good at reading auras even from far away, so when he hears a shout and senses your ill distress, he follows. And soon he comes to the wild scene of you frantically trying to cover your naked crotch while Nea and Nancy raced away in a hurry.

They had pulled your pants down, he realized with a swell of empathy. You weren't the only victim of this particular method of humiliation and immaturity. Many times now the survivors had taken advantage of his lack of speed and succeeded in pulling his own pants down.

You had never done anything like that to him before though. In fact you were a rather kind, modest person- a rare one that he envied and respected. Just like him, you didn't deserve this type of childish torment.

As he walked forward, constantly emitting monstrous growls, you trembled and shook your head, stuttering in fear, "N-no please. Stay-stay away, please. I'm sorry- just please... Stay away."

And when he was right in front of you, you really began to panic, "No please! I'm sorry, please. Please stay away. No!"

Using one hand, the Executioner grabbed an edge of your pants and sloppily drug them up until you were able to reach them yourself. Once you had them back over your hips, he stepped away and quietly observed you.

You bore an expression of gratitude and surprise, your eyes glossy as you gaped at him, "Thank you."

Nodding once, the Executioner left you in search for Nea and Nancy. Don't worry (y/n), he was going to get you some revenge. Maybe later you both could share your stories.

(A big thanks to the lovely EroismPro and Enigma-System for helping me choose what killers to use- give momma Weirdo some smooches you two, *mwah*, I love you! Also, shout out to any other interested viewers, I'm happy to make a part three, so if you want then just leave a comment on which killer you'd like to see in here. Thank you so much for reading).

#dead by daylight #fanfiction #slashers #reader insert #evan macmillan x reader #max thompson x reader #pinhead x reader #albert wesker x reader #pyramid head x reader #silent hill #resident evil #hellraiser #reader x killers #Ji-Woon Hak x reader #slasher fanfiction

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beautyislovley · 9 months

Text

𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙖𝙞𝙙

“You mentioned Miles… who is that Flora?” Kate asks the young girl. “Miles is my older brother, he’s at school right now though” Flora said with an upset face. “Is he always at school?” Kate asks hoping to not deal with a teenager. “No—he plays games with me but when he’s not he’s hanging out with Y/n” Flora said as she smiled once again. “Y/n?” Kate asked, a name she didn’t know. Flora sighed “her” Flora said with her tiny finger pointing to the teenager washing the dishes. “She’s a maid—why would he be spending time with her? Isn’t she older then him?” Kate asked as she felt a pit in her stomach from the thought of Miles(a teenager) hanging out with 𝘩𝘦𝘳(“an adult“). “Nope—she’s a couple months younger then Miles actually” Flora smiled as she sat on the couch with Kate across from her.

“Why is she working here if she’s a teenager, doesn’t she have school” Kate asking a million questions. “She’s homeschooled and Miles wanted her here after—“ Flora’s voice trailed off. “After what?” Kate asked, she was already intrigued. “I’m not supposed to say”—and with that Flora ran off. “Weird” Kate mumbled to herself as she watched the young girl run away to wherever she wanted. There was no telling where she had gone due to how big the house is. “Hi” Kate said scaring Y/n “oh.. hi” Y/n smiled at her as she put the last dish down “don’t you think it’s unprofessional to hang out with someone who’s parents you work for” Kate asks immediately changing her tone causing Y/n’s brows to furrow “I uh… no? It was Miles Idea to start hanging out as we are the same age” Y/n replied trying to reason with Kate but by Kate's face it was obvious that she wasn’t having it. “I suggest you stop plus Flora mentioned your homeschooled” Kate said earning a nod from Y/n “yes I am-“ “if the reason your homeschooled is to spend more time playing than working than that is disappointing” Kate spoke before leaving Y/n alone to think.

Why was Kate so aggressive towards her? She has only just met her. Maybe she was right? Maybe it was stupid that she spent her time with her best friend and his little sister.

♡_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_—_♡

“Y/n” Miles knocked on her door constantly, he had just got home from school accidentally scaring Kate and was ready to tell Y/n about his time there. “Yes Miles?” Y/n asks as she opens her door pretending to act sleepy but she really wasn’t and he knew that. “Let me in” Miles groaned as she sighed, letting him in he sat on her king size bed “what’s wrong? you seem… off” Miles asks as he grabs her hand bringing her closer to him “this is unprofessional Miles.. we shouldn’t be as close as we are” Y/n responds as she pulls her hand away. “Haha very funny” Miles says as he goes to grab her hands once again but she pulls away looking down. “Y-Your serious?” Mikes asks as he stands up, she looks up at him nodding “did Mrs. Grose say anything to you while you were cleaning cause I swear—“ “No Miles—it was the new baby sister for Flora.. Flora told her about us being close friends and she talked to me saying that it was unprofessional for us being friends because I work here and..” Y/n strolls off “and what Y/n?” Miles asks as he sits her down seeing as she was in a trance. “and she was right Miles” Y/n said causing Miles to shake his head, pulling her in for a hug “no she wasn’t and if it bothers her that much than i’ll teach her a lesson” Miles says as he rubs her head.

Needless to say he learned what Kate was afraid of and used it to his advantage whenever he could.. and she won’t be complaining about their friendship any time soon.

#beautyislovely #miles fairchild #miles x reader #miles fairchild x reader #the turning #horror movies #finnwolfhardcharactersxreader #finn wolfhard #x reader #fin wolfhard #finwolfhardxreader #finn wolfhard x y/n #finn wolfhard x reader #milesfairchildxy/n

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romanoffsbish · 8 months

Text

Don’t Worry, I’ve Got You

GN!OC (Rio) x F!R

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Natasha had planned to sweep you off your feet when she returned from her mission. But it seemed someone else had beat her to the punch… | WC: 5,144

Warning: Domestic Violence - Abusive OC | Mentions of Sexual Coercion | Petrified R | Violence - Blood - Gory OC Death | Happy Ending 😀

Smut: Somno (Consented)-Oral (R) | Tribbing | Overstimulation | Sweet/Soft | Mommy (N)

When Natasha exited the Quinjet she was in a state of disbelief to find Yelena stood there. It'd been a year since she'd been home, and it wasn't the compound she looked to, it was you. Not only was it strange that you were missing, but Yelena being there was truly worrisome.

The sisters loved each other endlessly, but they never wanted to seem vulnerable enough to the others by showing their concern outwardly. For you and Kate though, they'd always be there, and in turn the two of you'd always show too.

"Where's Y/N?" Natasha couldn't hide the fear in her voice, but her face remained neutral.

——

Yelena cringed at the mention of you, it didn't take a rocket science to know what happened.

The blonde wanted to help you the first time she saw you with a busted lip, and a bloodshot eye that wasn't simply from crying. Then you flashed her a nervous smile, and she knew that she would only make it worse. You were oddly attached to this asshole—she understood.

Not to say she didn't help in her own ways, she was fond of you, not the same way as her sister, but enough to want to protect you. There was a very specific reason Rio was sent on an influx of lengthy missions this year by his CO, Yelena, (and it wasn't the hopeful rank bumping).

As a former widow she knew that being under another's control is something you become conditioned to respect over time. Sometimes you're even to the point of defending your abuser, for her they doubled as her captors, she reasons it's the same for you in this case, but regardless the reaction all worked the same.

You wouldn't leave unless you felt safe, and you wouldn't feel that way until Natasha returned.

Which is why Yelena is here now. "Natasha, we need to talk yesterday, fuck the reports." The blonde knew the walls had eyes and ears so she pulled her confused sister off to her bike, then drove her fifty miles out to a quaint diner just far enough from the city that Natasha wouldn't sprint back to immediately avenge you.

It was the right thing to do, she didn't want you to see just how scary Natasha could be. The last thing you needed was to be startled into seeing any part of them inside of your Natasha.

"I'm going to kill them!" Yelena smirked over her stolen coffee mug as they'd moved to the dead fields just to the left of the rest top. The circumstances weren't amusing, but seeing that her sister shared her sentiments elated her.

"This is funny to you?" Natasha questioned, her fist shot out at the blonde with the quick reflexes, landing in her open hand. "Why didn't you help her Yelena? Sh-she was my..."

"Lyubov'," Yelena quietly finished for her, she dropped her fist and wrapped her arms around her trembling body. "I never got to tell her what it meant, she always asked, but just as I was about to tell her I had to go. I never..."

"No!" Yelena reprimanded her, "You are not to blame here Natalia. Neither am I. If I helped her alone it would have been worse. Doveryat'."

(Trust)

Natasha nodded, and for a few minutes they stood there, Yelena thinking over what weapon she will use on Rio, and Natasha mourning through sobs the loss of your perfect start.

Everything in both of your lives had been deeply rooted in pain, and now this would be too. Natasha dreamed of more, she wanted the silly first date where she fumbled over her words, that came with the reward of a kiss.

She wanted to enter into a relationship with that period where you dressed up for each other to go out on the town that slowly faded into lazy nights in wearing matching pajamas.

Natasha adored you wholly, and wanted to make every little thing as special as she could. Up until she left she had already been doing so, but still she feels like she failed you. Maybe if she had just staked her claim more outwardly then Rio would've never taken you as theirs.

They would have never been able to hurt you...

Deep down she knew all was not lost, and she could make it right with you. Natasha also knew Yelena was right, it wasn't her fault, but that didn't mean she didn't carry the burden.

All she ever wanted was to keep you safe, and this failed instance will forever haunt her.

"Go pay the bill, I need to make a call." Natasha handed over her card, and as Yelena walked away she dialed in a favor, "Afternoon Hill."

With an urgent need for reaching you the redhead had swiped her sister's keys, and drove them back with a practiced elegance in her every illegal swerve. Yelena grumbled about the likely wear and tear, but there was no genuine anger with her concern, and the redhead couldn't hear her over the racing of her nervous heart, or the harsh wind anyways.

Every second counted, she couldn't risk letting Rio do anything further to you, and she worried that her return might've sparked something in the devious agents voided chest.

"Meet me at the underground cells in an hour," she coldly said to her sister as she tossed her the keys to her bike before she sprinted off. The rooms were spinning when she ran through the compound doors, and it continued to do so until she finally managed to spot you.

You were sitting with your back to the entrance of the communal kitchen, your frame hunched over and your body was lightly shaking. It was clear as day to her that you were sobbing, even if you tried to muffle the sound with your hand.

Natasha wasted no time approaching you, and in her hurry she failed to announce herself. It broke her heart when you jumped away from her touch and skidded across the kitchen.

"I-I'm sorry, I promise I will never mention her again, but please don't —," you cut your shaky pleas off the moment you looked up to see it was a frowning Natasha and not a seething Rio.

Natasha saw the exhaustion in your cloudy eyes, and the rest was painted on your face. Your worry lines were more prominent from when she last saw you, and you looked small. You were once a strong, well built agent at the top of her game, with a ranking higher than her own, but now you looked like a weak prisoner.

There was a scabbed over gash of sorts on the apple of your right cheek, and scratches and bruises all over your upper arms that you tried to conceal with your sleeves but she saw them. The eyes of a spy were a curse just as much as they were a skill to the woman. Because seeing your skin marred broke down her resolve.

"D-don't cry Natty," you yourself said over a sniffle, she smiled sadly as she approached to give you the comfort you were trying to offer.

You whimpered as her strong arms wrapped around your tense shoulders, but your entire body couldn't help but to relax as you smelled the familiar floral scents of her cologne. It was like the world returned to normal for just a moment. All you needed was her touch and suddenly the tears were flowing unendingly.

"It's okay moya lyubov'," she coo'd, and you whimpered once more hearing the familiar words that always brought you comfort. You held onto her shirt beneath her leather jacket for dear life, and she gently swayed your form as you freely sobbed. "You're safe now."

Natasha grinned over your shoulder as her eyes met those of your sleazy partners. Rio's fists were clenched as they stood outside the room, their gaze held contempt as they scowled. They hadn't a chance to interrupt your moment as Maria stopped them in their tracks, and swept them away—if only they'd known of their fate...

"I am here," she whispered, "They are not."

It didn't matter that you knew what her words meant, the meaning was clear; Rio was gone, and you were nothing short of relieved.

Natasha watched as you removed the ring on your finger and dropped it onto the counter in a hurry as if touching the metal harmed you. It was self motivated, but it still left her hopeful to see you denounce them before her own eyes.

The redhead wordlessly pulled you out of the kitchen and you ignored the smell of Rio's musty cologne as Natasha took you straight to her bedroom, a place where you always found yourself sneaking off to when they were out.

While you sat on her bed silently pondering the fact that you were free from this last years terror she ran you a soothing bubble bath. It helped to ease the remaining tension in your body, the warmth of the lavender water helped to soothe the marks atop of your battered body.

Natasha did her best to respect your privacy, giving you her room as she stood outside of the door until you came to collect her. The redhead beamed as you cracked the door and beckoned her inside, seeing you wearing her clothes filled her with a sense of pride, it made her want to remember the way you looked in this moment.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" You smiled softly, and silently nodded towards the bed, she nodded her understanding and laid down with her arms wide open for you to crawl into like you'd always done in the before times.

"I missed you," you croaked, and she pressed her chapped lips against your temple, leaving a firm kiss against the skin and for a moment the persistent ache in your head from the earlier scuffle with your spouse seemed to fade away under the soft affection of your desired lover.

"I missed you too Y/N/N," she sighed, her arms gently tightened around you in emphasis. "Every day I found it harder and harder to stay away. I'm so sorry I was gone for so long, and.."

You shook your head and kissed the side of her neck as your lips were rested there. "Don't."

The redhead sighed, and relented on pushing you beyond your limits. Even if she felt sorry, she still should keep that to herself. It's unfair to ask of your forgiveness, when you were the one who had to endure the cruelty of another. All she was meant to do now was hold you close, and never let this ever happen again.

Once you'd slipped into a state of unconscious that had you snoring the redhead cautiously shimmied out from beneath you. She hated taking the comfort of her embrace away from you, but she had somewhere to be in ten. So with a final kiss to your cheek she left the room, securely locking her door as she did.

"Sestra, welcome to the party!!!" Yelena greeted her sister, "You are just in time."

Natasha took the brass knuckles from her sister's extended hand with a smirk, but before using them she decided to punch Rio square in the nose with nothing but her bare hand. A reminder to the crooked agent that she didn't need anything more to harm them efficiently.

Blood gushed from the asshole's nose and the sisters rejoiced when the pitiful excuse for an agent began to cry. "Seriously? Already crying? What a joke." Natasha snorted at her little sisters taunting, then she turned her malicious attention back to your sobbing ex. "Too bad you're not the funny kind. Just the pathetic."

Rio knew better than to plead for their life. Maria escorted them here and handcuffed them to a chair. Yelena menacingly stood watch over them before Natasha entered. It was clear to the criminal of the hour that their fate was sealed the moment they took your hand in theirs and abused your loving nature.

"Snyat' s nikh naruchniki," Natasha dryly said as she slid the brass knuckles over her fingers.

(Uncuff them)

Yelena obliged her sister, and with unnecessary but warranted strength she shoved them from the chair. "Wh-what's happening? Can I go?"

Natasha chuckled darkly, "Oh please, you are simply being granted a chance to try and throw one of your little punches at me. Show me the inexcusable power you used against her."

Rio smirked, then lunged at the redhead with a confidence they were sure to lose in seconds. Natasha cackled as they punched her nose just as she did theirs with literally no damage done.

"God damnit you're fucking weak!" She cackled as they stumbled back in shock, looking at their fist in confusion as if it betrayed them. "You're going to regret ever laying a hand on her!!"

A taunting smile adorned their face as they challenged Natasha with a tilt of their head. If they were going to die anyways, they decided it would be best to torment her back. "Not only did I smack her around, but I gave her my —."

Natasha socked them in the jaw, cutting their disgusting words off at the source. Only cries of pain left them as the bronze over her knuckles had effectively broken their jaw into sections. Blood mixed with their drool and dripped down their chin along with a chunk of their tongue, and that made Natasha smile wickedly.

Yelena watched with a glint in her eyes as her sister tossed the buff excuse for a human being around as if they were a weightless rag doll.

"Pozvol' mne povernut'!" Yelena eventually whined, and Natasha scoffed, "Imet' eto."

(Let me have a turn / Have at it)

While the blonde tormented Rio with her sharpened knife Natasha chose to discard her weapon and stared at the blood on her hands. Observing as it dripped onto the cold cement of the cell floor, staining it red; her ledger gushed.

"Natalia!" Natasha shook her head free of the distraction of her dark, self destructive thoughts, and looked up to see a bloodied Rio on their knees, body swaying as they fought to keep their loose grip on consciousness. It was time to deliver the final metaphorical blow.

"Y/N's mine," Natasha growled while holding their disfigured jaw in her hands, her nails dug into their raw skin and they hardly winced as the life force left within them was dwindling. "She was never going to be yours, because she loved me, and she was far too good for you."

"Fut yuh," they spat incoherently, and Natasha grimaced as their blood spluttered onto her face. "I'd bless you, but we both know you're not going to make it to heaven," she teased, smile mocking as her hand lowered to wrap around their neck. Her stony glare of the black widow was the last thing the abuser saw before their lights officially went out. Yelena looked at her, and Natasha smiled weakly at her sister.

"Ready for cleanup," she muttered tiredly into the speaker of her phone, then left the room as fast as she could. The weight of the situation had finally gotten to her, the realization that she could have lost you to that weak fool had her crying the whole way back to her room.

She heard shuffling, so she stood with her head pressed against her door until her breathing regulated, and the tears had come to a stop. Only then did she enter her room, and headed straight for the bathroom to take a shower.

You were flat on your back now, your midriff exposed as the shirt you wore rose up and the plush blanket she left was kicked off the bed. Natasha admired you fondly as she walked out with her towel wrapped around her nude form.

When you finally awoke she was drying her hair in front of her body length mirror, she now wore a pair of biker shorts, and a sports bra. The sight of her flexed abs, and swell of her perfect breasts through the mirror made your mouth even dryer than the amazing sleep had.

The redhead turned around with a soft smirk on her lips, the teasing gesture was however overwhelmed by the distant look in her eyes. She watched guiltily as your eyes filled with recognition when you saw her purple hands.

"Natty?" The redhead sighed softly, "Don't." You nodded in understanding, and patted the bed besides you, and she stalled briefly as she walked into the closet to grab her shirt, as well as her favorite leather jacket for extra layers.

She didn't want to seem like a temptation, even if she only had to exist before your eyes to be.

You honestly couldn't restrain yourself, seeing the physical proof that she'd used her assassin skills to defend you turned you on. It was odd, the way that her violence didn't turn you off. It was perfectly understandable though, knowing that she loved you enough to chose to defend you was the most attractive characteristic.

You were down bad, and Natasha gulped as she saw the way your eyes bloomed with swirls of palpable lust. It took all of her not to pounce on the moment that presented itself to her, but she stood no real chance at abstaining here. In a matter of seconds you were straddling her lap and lifting her bruised knuckles to your lips.

"Y/N," she gasped, a subtle warning in the way her hand trembled in yours, but you cupped her cheeks and smiled warmly before saying: "I want to feel your love Nat, please show me."

Both of your hearts beat out of rhythm, but the jumbled thumps were however in sync. She surveyed your eyes for a brief moment, then she kissed you breathless as she lifted you both up off the mattress. Setting you down on shaky legs she smiled at the way your eyes took time fluttering back open. Her hands settled on the hem of your shirt, "May I?" You nodded, a bit emotional as she sought your permission out.

Natasha was incredibly gentle as she disrobed you, a muffled sob left you as you cherished the unfamiliarly soft touch. It had been such a long time since someone regarded your body this way. Every partner you'd been with since you moved into adulthood had been callous; rough around all your edges and cruel to your curves.

Your parents were just the same, the redhead had given you hope for a brighter future. Then she was gone, no longer present to keep that shadowed figure from exposing themselves.

Rio was never someone you regarded as a threat until the day when they introduced themselves, cocky grin on their face as they asked you out on the date you'd be at later.

It was never a question, it was a veiled prison sentence that you would fall into the trap of.

You were naive enough to believe it friendly, everyone knew you were unspoken for, but the whispers echoed that you were Natasha's girl.

Which you were wholeheartedly aligned with.

Rio disregarded the claim, showing you the empty finger that they shoved a ring onto a month into your assigned arrangement. It devastated you being with anyone that wasn't her, they never physically forced you down, but they used their venomous words to coerce you.

"Moya lyubov, are you sure?" You felt this wave of warmth tingle beneath your skin, and felt as her calloused thumb wiped away your tears. "We don't have to do this yet detka, or ever if-."

"Natasha no," you whimpered, nails dug into the nape of her neck as you feared being left sexually frustrated. You needed her more than you ever thought humanly possible, "Please."

Natasha's arm wrapped around your bare waist, she guided you back towards the bed and kissed your lips the entire time she spent cautiously lowering you onto the mattress. It was like she was in a trance as she took her time kissing away the pain of your scars.

It was her intention to make this moment one full of love, her lips gently kissed over the skin of your stomach and she felt the way your entire body tensed in anticipation. Yet she didn't take the bait, she instead continued to lick the salty sweat from every bit of exposed skin she could, and her kisses continued to drop all over, like into the crook of your knees and elbows, and the apex of your thighs.

You whimpered in need for nearly an hour, but she never heard you as she was determined to feel every last bit of your skin beneath her now numbed lips. Soft snores finally pulled her from her trance, she gazed up at you, her lips stalled on the skin beneath your belly button.

She grinned against your pelvis as she caught a whiff of your abundance, her eyes closed as she felt her mouth salivate in an instant. Her body shuffled until she could eye your cunt, it oozed like a waterfall and seeped into the grey sheets.

With the tip of her nose she nudged your lips apart, then slid up to bump at your clit as her tongue followed the trail with a firm lick. Natasha groaned against your sensitive nub as she truly tasted you for the first time. Her face was absolutely coated in arousal in seconds as she ate your pussy like it was her last meal.

If she goes down for her crimes today she would actually request you as her final meal.

Muffled whimpers left through the part in your lips instantaneously, your hips shifted, then all of a sudden your upper torso arched off the bed and you moaned yourself into consciousness.

You were enthusiastic as your hand wove into her hair and you loudly vocalized her praise: "O-oh my god, don't stop—fuck, never stop!"

Natasha purred against your pulsating clit, a clear indication that she shared your thoughts. Dangerously so honestly, because she made you release on her swirling tongue alone four mind blowing times before she took a break.

While you grappled hazily with the functions of time and space the woman merely watched you in amusement. You were adorable as you came down from your repetitive sequence of highs, yawning obviously and smiling contentedly.

Moments later you finally stared down at the woman whose body was pressed into yours. Natasha smiled up at you lazily, with her slick cheek smushed into your thigh, you returned the gesture and her heart skipped a million beats. You took her breath away every time she saw you, but this time was different, it was even better than she dreamed. She finally had you in every sense of the word, before she left you were already hers in totality, but it was never the right time to take that leap together.

Or at least you'd both thought that you needed the time to be right, but now you knew to stake your claims and to never let each other go.

The redhead needed to be closer to you, so she left the oh so comforting heat radiating from between your thighs behind and began to kiss up the center of your body, a snail trail left in her lips wake with each sloppy press of them to your sweaty skin. She relished in the way you'd shiver as the breeze from the window solidified your essence and had your heated skin chilled.

She smirked once her lips pressed into your cheek as you tugged at her clothes and whined.

"What is it moya lyubov'?" She chuckled, then prohibited your response as she pecked away your pout. Her tongue licked at your bottom lip and you allowed her the moment of distraction. Savoring the taste of you on her tongue as she kissed you breathless, your body pushed back into a needy state as your arousal soaked into her shirt, and she was reminded of your prior whining as you had just tried to undress her.

Natasha shook her leather jacket off of her arm, keeping her body raised on the other like it took no strength at all. She never once broke the kiss, managing to suck your soul from you, she even kept her balance as she threw it off. For her remaining clothes she had to pull away, but you didn't feel her absence for long as she moved rather speedily, almost like a cheetah.

"What does it mean?" You shakily asked as she lowered her cunt atop of yours, a carnal groan then left you, "Fuck, Natasha you are so wet."

She hummed teasingly as she began to rub her aroused cunt against yours, her plump lips hovered your ear as she whispered her secret words: "My love." You felt the warmth of her sigh tickle the skin of your collarbones, and it spurred on a flurry of goosebumps across your body and burrowed deep into your heart. "I'm only ever wet because of you Y/N, every time you'd kiss my cheek goodnight I'd be drooling."

"Oh god," you moaned as her lewd confession was huskily spoken just as her clit brushed over yours, the stimulating touch caused Natasha's arms to nearly give out as she was overrun with pleasure, but her impressive strength won out.

"You've always been mine Y/N," she murmured the truth you both vehemently aligned with as she kept up a breathtaking pace with her hips, it wasn't rushed though which was new to you.

The painstakingly raw jut of her hips left you feeling dizzy, her teeth grazed across the skin of your jaw before her lips latched onto the bob of your throat as your body arched into hers.

It was made worse when she pulled away from your neck and hovered you once more, her lovesick gaze locked on your hazy one, and you were surely a goner as the words as sweet as honey left her saccharine lips: "I promise to cherish your body for a lifetime if you'll let me," her pace sped up just as fast as your heartbeat had, and your eyes brimmed with tears of pure joy as you came in sync with your soulmate.

Whispers of yes and please left your lips in between the moans of her name, and the world stopped when you hoarsely cried out mommy.

Natasha collapsed into you, her arms giving out as her warm arousal gushed from her already dripping cunt onto your thighs as she came again from she's sure your words alone.

"You did such a good job for mommy," she pecked your cheek then pressed her lips to yours and satisfied your needs to kiss her luscious lips as you basked in the aftershocks of your highs in a bubble of undeniable passion.

"Get some rest now detka," Natasha rolled off of you and pulled your limp body into hers. "You're safe with me Y/N, I promise you this."

"I know Natty," you mumbled over a yawn while burrowing your face in between her soft, rounded breasts. The redhead smiled and happily admired your relaxed face, she wore a proud grin as you drifted off, trusting her to keep you safe with the same hands she'd used to wring the neck of your spouse this evening.

You knew deep down that Natasha didn't let them go like you’d thought when she said they were not here. Apparently she was foreshadowing their looming demise. You didn't question her for a meaning when it came to the bruises on her hands, you just accepted it because she loved you enough to bloody her ledger. Though they surely deserved it, she still had to consciously take a life, and even though they were wretched, she still felt the loss.

Good or bad, her heart still cared too deeply.

The world was a safer place, you'd pointlessly reminded yourself of her humanity, as if she would ever lay a harsh hand on you. She who hummed softly, and ran a gentle hand up and down your back even after you'd slipped off into a middle ground. Your mind was still aware but your body was slumped into hers, but you heard her whisper clear as day as her lips faintly kissed your hairline. "I love you Y/N Romanoff, I promise I'll put a ring on your finger soon, I just have to unpack the little box from my suitcase and threaten a judge is all."

You involuntarily giggled softly and her hands teasingly tickled at yours sides, "You sneaky minx," you could hear the smirk in her voice, and you knew then she'd known all along that you were still conscious on some plane. "So, tell me Y/N, will you be my runaway bride?"

"It depends," you yawned out exaggeratedly, "Where will we be running off to Natty-kins?"

"Wherever you want sweet girl, I can make a home anywhere in the world if you're there."

"So romantic," you giggled, your lips brushed over her racing pulse and you left a tender kiss there to try and calm her, but it only made it beat out of sync as it sped up then slowed back down. "Of course I will marry you, just as soon as I can get this crock of fibbery annulled."

"Fibbery?" Natasha chuckled and you whined a little too honestly, "Don't make fun of me, I'm tired, and have a lingering minor concussion."

The redheads breath stalled, her body tensed but you tiredly lifted your head and kissed her chin before you whispered, "It's okay, I'm safe now in my favorite persons arms. Like you said, nothing can hurt me if you're around."

"Damn straight," she said as her grip on you tightened, and you sighed. Natasha's hold was expectantly possessive, which briefly felt too familiar to another's, but the way Natasha kissed the skin beneath your hairline, and continued her prior humming soothed you.

This wasn't the start she dreamed of, but she also couldn't prevent the smile that adorned her sleepy face as you nuzzled even further into her embrace, your clear trust in her meant the world to her and even eased some of her guilt.

You both knew it would be a long while before you were truly yourself again, and you knew from experience that her patience would never waver, and that alone would be enough. One thing was rather clear as you slipped off to sleep—you were safe, and loved just as you'd always deserved to be in your home's arms.

——

726 notes · View notes