#now. those of you who have been here for a while

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Purpose | Yandere Saja Boys x Reader

“You want me to do what?!”

The call from your awkward and friendly acquaintance in the idol-managing business leaves you in an unreadable ball of confusion. Typically when Bobby did call you it was to brag about his girls or about the latest resort he was gifted by the girls. But this time he needed your help and you weren’t sure if you were going to give it. 

“Please please (Y/n)! You taught me everything I know; if there’s anyone who can handle them it’s you.”

Bobby pleading on his knees doesn’t change your reluctance but the pleading gazes of the boy-band in question made you slow to voice it. It also was harder to refuse when you could see the shining blue shackles on each of their wrists. A marked hand slides onto your shoulder with a stealth you haven’t felt in a long time and instinctively you reach for the holster under your coat, locking eyes with the one you once deemed to be an enemy.

“It can only be you. Mx. (L/n).”

It’s the purple-haired idol who not only was rumored to have once endangered the Honmoon but mended it with strength that surpassed her ancestors. Here she was glowing with her shining demon marks in broad daylight. A part of you still found it wrong.

She took your blatant staring in stride; sending Bobby out of the room,”Mind giving us some space? I think it might land better y’know? Idol to idol?”

“Oh, sure thing Rumi! In fact, I’ll go get the celebratory ramyeun now!”

He dashed as if his life depended on it, leaving you and Rumi with the shackled demon idols. Looking warily at the hunter you slowly pulled your hand away from your holster. The fakely wide smile on her fades into something more concerning. Pressing her purple-painted lips together, it’s time to address the real elephant in the room. 

“Why are they still here?! I thought you killed them all when you made the Honmoon golden.”

She nervously smiles, “I–thought I did too. But it seems that they were sealed in the upper world instead. The only one who….didn’t make it was thanks to Gwi-Ma.” She steps away from you, putting her hand out as if to pet the “baby Saja boy.” Previously he looked as though he was dead; standing with a face that epitomized boredom. That all changed when Rumi came close. His eyes glowed that sinister yellow and his fangs were bared as he chomped at the air her hand used to be. The blue chains clink with golden chains that shine in a ripple like the Honmoon itself. 

“You must mean the leader. Jin.”

You were playing with fire. For all the shipping edits that the idol leaders were put through, anyone could’ve guessed that they were close. While you don’t have eyes and ears close to her domain, it still got back to you just how close she’d gotten with him. During Huntrix's report of the event, Jin’s returned soul was what gave the trio the power to completely exorcise Gwi-Ma. A feat that was impossible even for the first hunters to exist.

“Yes…Jin,” she spoke his name with a heavy resonance. A respect that hadn’t dulled at all because it still felt raw.

”He saved me by showing me how to accept this part of myself rather than hide.”

She held her hands in front of her playing with the light against her marks, “Still he’s showing me there’s more to this side of myself I never really understood before.”

You watched her close her hands into fists and turn to you with a fierceness in those brown eyes you’ve never seen in person,” Which is why I think we should try helping them before we kill them.”

Stopping your laughter you finally spoke, “We?”

“We. Huntrix can’t do this on our own. You’ve been handling the otherside of the hemisphere well and now that both sides are sealed all that’s left is to care for the demons that slipped through.”

“Then why not just kill them?” The one with abs tries to jab at her which she skillfully dodges,” They clearly aren’t fond of you.”

Pausing she looks at them and then at you. 

“I have to try…if Jin saw something worth using maybe…maybe there's more to them that I haven’t seen yet. That no one’s seen. I’m hoping you can do that.”

“I’m retired. I don’t think I can do much of anything now.”

Rumi gives you a look. That glare of determination that makes you feel exposed.

“I’ve heard you before. You can do this.”

You turn, prepared to refuse but she grabs your hands.

“Please (Y/n).To protect our reign of peace….please.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, Saja boys. Listen up you live and breathe to be the idol group I demand you be, you hear me?!” 

The collective groans of the demon boy band, the sound makes you smirk. In an instant, you begin to hum an old song you used to sing unsheathing your whip from its holster. Romance is the one who perks up, the only one who seems to catch on that you are about to obliterate them.

“AcK!”

“OW that burns!”

“Please don’t!”

“Okay okay, we’re all listening p-please contine.”

It’s over in seconds. Everything but their faces is covered in disgusting blue welts. 

“As I was saying. I expect my perfect idol boy band to be smiley, friendly, and to say 'yes (Y/n)' whenever I ask you questions. Is that clear?”

“Yes (Y/n)!”

“That’s good now have a good show just like we practiced!”

It’s been interesting taking on the Saja boys. Their image that had Jin be their cool and calm collected leader was very much the truth. Without you breathing down their necks you found they were quite awful to all around them.

“Abby did you or did you not hit that PA with a button of yours, on purpose?”

“I mean they were looking too hard anyway it’s not my fault.”

“It is your fault that they went to the hospital thanks to your stupid little stunt.”

“It’s whatever they got a souvenir they’ll never forget!”

CRACK!

“Not the whip please, I’ll make a public apology! Sorry!”

You’ve dealt with idols that had a kamidere complex or outright narcissism but you haven’t dealt with literal demons who barely grasped that humanity was anything more than a population of overgrown bugs. 

“Alright, Bae Bee what’s going to be the right response if someone asks how you feel about the subject of turtles?”

“Goo Goo Gaga?”

“No. Try using real words please.”

“It’s…whatever?”

“I did that whole slide show and you didn’t gather anything from that?!”

“....”

FWHIP!

“Their…mid?!”

CRACK!

“Wahhh!”

But you wouldn’t continue with this farce if you didn’t realize there was a learning curve to be had. The first time it dawned on you was when Romance came to you in the dead of night, clutching the book you’d gifted them your second day: How to be a Human for Dummies. You were lounging on the large couch watching your shows when he walked in. He stood awkwardly by the door like a child who’d come to woefully inform his parents he’d wet the bed. You pretended not to know he was there; gauging if he’d actually ask for help like you offered.

“Why should we try?”

You muted the TV. Giving the pink-haired demon your full attention, you turned as he stood at the opposite end of the couch.

“Because you’ll die if you don’t.”

His nails dug into the paper cover,” no I mean why do we have to…I’ve already tried doing that before. I don’t want to go through that again.”

His marks flashed and you couldn’t see his face clearly; his hair making a curtain you so desperately wanted to peek past. 

Sighing you stood, “Follow me.”

Doing as he was told he followed you over rooftops, skillfully swinging through the concrete jungle to end it bumping into your back. He opened his mouth to insult you, to whine about how you couldn’t just answer the question to following your gaze. Down below in a window that flashed with all matter of colors, was a girl surrounded by friends singing terribly into the microphone as they cheered her on.

“You see her” The girl with the red bow in her hair?”

“...yeah.”

“She used to wonder that too. She used to walk home every day from school to her room. Locking herself away because she once listened to the same voices you do. Frankly, if she had continued listening she would have ended up just like you.”

“Then why isn’t she…like me that is?”

“Because she kept trying. Worked hard to find those she could care about; though it was hard she found them. Only because she tried.”

“So what?! I try and everything will be fixed?”

“I didn’t say that but no matter what you’ve done. Trying to make amends. Trying to be better is what makes it, you, worth it in the end.”

“Even if it took 300 years?”

“Even if it took 300 years.”

They certainly had their moments and that was enough to not exorcise them when their third month existing in the idol world rolled around. Much to your displeasure, you had no choice but to inform Rumi you’d continue to manage the Saja boys. If only to help them reconcile with themselves. To instead use their talent and influence to strengthen the Honmoon and continue to keep the positive energy that the fans permeated alive and well. 

If you worked hard, you could save the remaining Saja boys.

____________________________________________________________

“I hate this.”

Mystery was the first to voice this opinion. Finally left alone and unsupervised the Saja Boys were able to speak without the threat of being whipped, stabbed, or otherwise ground into a pulp on the shining golden Honmoon. Backstage just before another performance.

“Yeah, this just such a bummer. It was more fun when we worked for Gwi Ma!” Abs spoke leaning against the walls of the hidden stage. 

“Was it actually fun or were we just happy not to be reminded of who we are?” 

Romance turned still maintaining the front position of the band just as they’d been instructed, looking into the golden eyes of his fellow demons. Looking for the same confusion he’d been saddled with since they started this.

“I don’t really care, I just don’t like feeling…like this.” 

“Like what, Myst?! What exactly do you feel?” 

Abandoning his position, he closed in. Holding the quiet demon by the neck and slamming him into the wall. The infrastructure of the stage shook and dented but Romance was careful. He wasn’t certain why he cared so much to know his answer. He’d been asking the same thing of himself for all this time.

Mystery pursed his quivering lips. Romance growled and threw the demon to the ground, rolling into Abs’ feet. The muscular demon deflated when Romance turned to him expecting an answer, his eyes darting around as if the moving walls would have it scrawled somewhere. 

The lack of response only made the pink-haired demon angrier. Fangs beared and marks on full display he charged narrowly scratching at Abs’ face. Mystery got up to intervene, fully prepared to bite the neck of the completely wild Romance. Until his voice broke the silence.

“Purposeless. That is what we are feeling.”

His real voice was much deeper than his human one which is why when the late Jin led the group he was specially instructed to keep it hidden. But they had no leader. They have no Gwi-Ma. All they have in this hidden stage is each other. 

Romance retracts his claws, the marks still glowing bright, and he pulls at his locks.

“He’s right. W-we have nothing anymore! All we have is ourselves and that’s worse than nothing. W-w-we can’t even go back!”

His shaky declaration makes everyone unsettled. Placing a name to their fear—to their reality made it far too true. Their marks all begin to glow with an anxious throbbing. Mystery retreats into himself huddling into the corner. Abs freezes, willing his body to move and failing miserably. Even Baby lets the cap he’s wearing cover his face as he slowly slides to the floor.

“What’s the use of trying to change if I don’t even know why I’m here?! You’ve seen these humans!? They don’t know so what am I supposed to do?!”

The Honmoon throbs at his cry. 

“How can I try when I don’t want to face who I am?!”

Demon marks flaring in tandem with the flickering gold.

“What good can come from someone as far gone as I?!”

The Honmoon dangerously touches the color pink. 

“What am I supposed to do with myself!? Without any voice what am I supposed to do!?”

Multiple tears of the barrier are forming and joining at the seams around each of the separate Saja boys. Each one is influenced by their pain and about to damage the sanctity of the Honmoon.

~kzzt~

Like a heaven-sent. The comms in their ears buzzed to life.

~kzz~He~kzztz~

The pink fades and the healing blue returns to the barrier.

~kz~Hey can you guys hear me in this thing? It’s me (Y/n).kzztz~

It’s your voice. Their guardian. Their manager.

“As expected these walkies are crap. Anyway, I expect you boys to give me your best because I know you can do it. Can you do that for me Saja?”

The voice in their ears answered the only remaining questions.

“Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now wow that crowd and no soul stealing.”

The silence of the stage was lighter. More defined. The long turned-off comms burned into their ears. All of them replaying the echo of their manager’s voice—soothing, uplifting, commanding.

“It is them. That will be our purpose.”

Baby’s voice spoken with clarity confirmed what they all decided. As the stage begins to rise and the cheers of their fans increase even more. The Saja Boys are in position, prepared to perform just as their manager demands it. 

______________________________________________________________

“So how’s it gone, managing them?”

All of Huntrix was over for the day, enjoying some bubble tea as they looked at the golden-covered city. The barrier glowed strong with a healthy pulse fully powered by their fans.

You were glad that you’d convinced the boys to attend their shoot solo. Otherwise, you would’ve risked having this conversation with them around. Which wouldn’t have been a good idea considering how close they’ve gotten.

“It’s going great. They haven’t had another incident since I last called.”

The girls shared a look. 

Mira sneered at the promotional material for the group scattered on the table, picking it up like it was dirty laundry. 

“By great do you mean, like the Honmoons not broken great or that there's an uptick in murders in the last month—all where you guys were going on tour–great?”

Zoey chuckled anxiously, “We don’t want to accuse but the numbers don’t look great.”

Shooting a look at Rumi, you settled in your chair. Looking out at the city below carefully putting pressure on the plastic cup in your hands.

“Look I wish I could definitively say it’s just a coincidence but I looked into those cases myself and most of them seem airtight. But I’m not entirely sure there wasn’t some demonic influence.” Zoey and Mira shared a look before turning back to you with a grimace.

“I’m saying there’s just no way to tell for sure if it was them and without evidence I can't exactly ‘convict’ anyone.”

“So you're saying there’s no way not one of those boys slipped through your grasp?”

“Yeah (Y/n)...we know you’re technically retired and there’s five demons and one of you…it can’t be easy.”

Rumi finally looked ready to speak and you had a feeling you weren’t going to like it. 

“We were thinking maybe you should take a break!” She didn’t look entirely convinced, looking between Mira and Zoey. “We’re going on a break for a little while so maybe we can look after them for you.”

“I’d love that,” you studied their faces for some kind of joke,” but I don’t know if you can handle the boys any more than I could.”

The girls confidently laughed.

“Are you kidding?”

“We nearly killed them the last time we met!”

“Yes, Huntrix has got this in the bag!”

The girls cheered with pride as they whooped and hollered at one another. You admired their spunk, something you felt came far too less now that you’ve outgrown the group you used to hunt with. 

“Alright then girls, I’ll take you up on your offer–”

“Yes!” “The-Best-B-ab-y Sitters in the wooorldd!” “Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake!”

“---a word of caution girls.”

Your words had them stopping in their tracks, their triumphant smiles only softening to acknowledge you. The only one it completely faded from was Rumi, who almost looked afraid to see you step on the elevator.

“The Saja Boys are a lot more determined than you’d think. Try not to be an obstacle for them.”

With that, the metal doors slid closed, and for once in a long time you were alone. Now came the hard part—telling them. 

______________________________________________________________

“You have got to be kidding me!?”

It was Bae Bee taking his usual spot at your back, his fanged sneer hissing into the side of your head he was previously nuzzling against. His nails had gotten longer penetrating the T-shirt you were wearing, a single flick to his wrist had him retract his claws but not loosen his grip.

Speaking of claws you could feel the demon on your lap allowing his to emerge and grip at your jeans all the tighter. The practiced action of oncoming tears soaking through the denim told you, Mystery was having a similar reaction. Across the room were Romance and Abby both dressed in their custom robes were drying with their respective blow dryers after using the dressing room’s shower. Both appliances were crushed and melted onto the floor within seconds of your announcement. The demons-responsible, flashing their marks and fangs at you. Romance immediately straightens up, adjusting his hair and robe before glaring down at you.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“YEAH A PROMISE! WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK THOSE.”

Abby was worse for wear marks and teeth on full display; you mentally noted to pay the venue for the damage he’d cause. Already a partition was torn through, a wall successfully punched into, and a microwave was effectively torn apart. If you didn’t ease his worries the staff would be next.

“I’m not leaving you guys. The deal was that if you all made an effort to change, I’d never leave.”

“Which is what you’re trying to do,” Mystery muffled protests had everyone nodding.

Romance stepped forward again, arms crossed and amber eyes glowing deviously down at you. 

“Then that would mean our deal is off!”

“No, it’s not! We never said anything about time off or leaving and coming back.”

“Didn’t have to,” Bae whispers into your ear with a smirk on his face, ” You are the one who agreed.”

It’s then you feel the need to reach for your whip, reaching for your beloved weapon underneath your coat. Searching for your saving grace next to your waist you only to find its empty holster. Looking over to Abby who’s suddenly stopped his violent tirade to pull at the much sought after weapon. 

“Then if you go that means we don’t have to abide by the rules anymore.” He looks at you like a puppy, one who’s done something awful and hopes you understand. The boisterous Abby was no longer there, a serious look on his face. 

You want to soothe him. To deny it. But the truth of the matter was just that, you had to leave and at this point,t it wouldn’t do you any good to demand they accept otherwise. Your whip across the room, your body held in place by a smirking demon, your legs held down by another, and your attention on the one you were sure had made the most progress. 

“We have changed if it helps. We’ve upheld our end of the deal. For you to go against us now…well we’ll just try to preserve our purpose.”

By now you were in no place to make demands.

“So go enjoy your…trip. We’ll be waiting and by then we’ll have changed some more just as you commanded.”

No trip to the Maldives would erase those words from your head.

______________________________________________________________

When you return from any kind of holiday there’s a moment of great depression. A crushing sense of reality from the joy you experienced comes in full force as you unpack and reenter your tiresome schedule. In your case it was no different, for two whole weeks you could ignore the haunting reactions of the demons you guarded to lounge with a poolside cocktail in hand. Of course, your return would be tumultuous. 

In the darkness of the condo you’d begun to call home, was Rumi. Sat crossed-legged in the mess of sliced furniture, just as worse for wear as the decor around her. You called to her, almost unsure it was she until she looked up. Her eyes were swollen, her marks an ugly black and the typically brown and golden eyes were red. 

“I…didn’t think anything would change,” she finally spoke carelessly musing as you tried to nurse her wounds, “that I would still be strong enough to beat them…I just wasn’t ready for them to…change like I did.”

You want to question her. To ask what she meant but the four pairs of golden eyes smiling back at you explained more than anything she could have said.

“A deal’s a deal.”

Out of the darkness limp bodies clattered to the floor. Battered and bruised it was Zoey and Mira. Unconscious and scarily still you watched Rumi struggle to carry them both, limping to the elevator. She spared you a single glance; eyes filled with too many apologies to ever speak.

“I…can’t be an obstacle to you anymore. Goodbye (Y/n).”

With the broken jingle of the elevator, you were left with your boys once again. Gripping the handle of your whip, you wait for them to reveal themselves to you…fully. Without a word, they emerge in their original forms circling around you with smiles on their marked and purple faces.

“So what are we doing now that I’ve returned?”

Their distorted chuckles don’t settle your unease.

“You said you changed do you plan to show me?”

“Of course, (Y/n).” Abby’s voice was the loudest and when you turned prepared to strike, your arm was held in place by the demon. 

“Whatever you demand of us.”

You dropped the whip catching it with your opposite hand, rearing to strike again only for your other hand to be caught and pried open. Your whip forcefully fell into the hands of Bae who smiles cruelly as he snaps your beautiful weapon in half with a ripple of magenta smoke. Of course, you struggle but the hands holding you in place are firm, warping your struggles so that you fall to your knees. Your chin is being held so gently by the new lead of the Saja Boys.

“We are always at your command, (Y/n). Because you are our purpose.”

You open your mouth to speak, to finally give a proper command since they demand it of you. Only for your lips to be covered in Dutch tape, which is played with as Romance comes even closer. The dark blue blush on his face shows just how much he relishes the glare you have for him.

“Since you broke your deal with us, we are free to change. To finally be free to serve our purpose however we see fit.”

It’s then you feel something monstrous intertwine itself with the barrier of the Honmoon pink and orange demon hands replacing the idol demons’ hands. Allowing them to look down on you as well all of them casually caressing your sealed lips.

“You right (Y/n), we have changed.”

There were hands in your hair.

“We’ve grown stronger and it’s all because you gave us a chance. Because you taught us to care.”

There were hands on your back.

“Encouraged us to try.”

Somehow they were in your brain.

“Even if it takes 300 years.”

You sleep in the arms of the Saja Boys—Your boys because you’re all they work for. All they try for. All they’d think to change for. 

You are their purpose and they’ll do anything you they demand.

Totally forgot some of these guys died on screen Whoopsie!

Kofi → Here Masterlist → Here Commissions → Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤

[orellazalonia]

His Soft Spot

Summary: You’re a sunshine-hearted barista in a dangerous city, all smiles and soft edges. Unaware that the quiet, brooding man at your café table is the most feared name in the local mafia. But when Bucky Barnes starts carving gentle moments into his brutal world just to be near you, even he begins to wonder if someone like you could ever love someone like him. (Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x Sweetheart!reader)

Word Count: 2.1k+

A/N: Been wanting to do a mob AU with this pair for a while now. I finally got to it, and they’re so cute! (Imo lol.) Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist | His Sweetheart Masterlist

The corner coffee shop was nothing special. Chipped counters, secondhand mugs, and a bell above the door that only worked when it wanted to. But you loved it. The soft clink of ceramic, the low hum of conversation, the smell of roasted beans.

You’d worked there for a little over a year now, always opening at 6 a.m. sharp, rain or shine. Most of your regulars were kind, or at least kind enough. Grumpy people in suits needing caffeine, half-asleep artists sketching in the window, moms with strollers and tired eyes. And then… there was him.

He wasn’t a regular in the traditional sense. He never came at the same time, never stayed too long. But you noticed him. Of course you did. Broad shoulders under expensive coats, a deep-set frown carved onto his face, and stormy blue eyes that rarely met anyone else’s. He always sat in the corner booth, never used his name, and always ordered a plain black coffee with two sugars.

You’d started calling him Quiet Guy in your head.

And he was. Quiet. Still. Intense. He didn’t smile, not once. But he tipped well, never complained, and never forgot to say thank you even if it came out in a low, quiet murmur that barely reached above the hiss of the espresso machine.

You didn’t think he noticed you much, not really. Especially not the way you always added a little extra whipped cream to his coffee, even if he didn’t ask for it. Not the way you smiled at him even when he didn’t smile back.

To you, he was like one of those paintings you stare at in a museum. Sharp, beautiful, and just a little sad.

Meanwhile, you were just the girl behind the counter. Apron stained with chocolate syrup, hair tied in a messy bun, a bandaid on your knuckle from an unfortunate knife-vs-avocado incident. Too smiley, too soft, too… naive, according to your friends.

But Quiet Guy never looked at you like you were silly. Never talked down to you and never flinched when you ended up rambling about your new cookie recipe or your dream of maybe, someday, opening a bakery with pastel tiles and big sunny windows.

If anything, he listened.

Really listened.

But it wasn’t until the third week of October that he spoke more than a sentence.

Rain was pouring that day. It was real ugly rain that soaked your shoes and stuck your hair to your face. You were closing up, locking the front door and tugging your jacket tight, when you saw him outside. No umbrella. No coat. Just standing there, rain dripping down his face, his shoulders hunched like a man carrying something heavier than water.

You hesitated. Then, without thinking, you held out your umbrella. “You’ll catch your death out here,” You said, half-joking, half-worried.

He looked down at it, then at you. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he spoke, voice gravelly, “You always this kind to strangers?”

You smiled, sheepish and soft. “Only the ones who don’t complain about the coffee.”

A ghost of something flickered at the corner of his mouth, almost a smile as he took the umbrella, his fingers brushing yours.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” He said, eyes lingering for just a second longer than they should have.

You watched him walk away, the umbrella bright yellow against the gray street.

You didn’t know you’d just handed protection to the most dangerous man in Brooklyn. And he didn’t know he’d just started falling for someone who wore bandaids with cartoon fruit on them.

You didn’t see him for a week after the umbrella incident.

The streets were rougher than usual that week. There were more police on the corner, more closed signs on family-owned businesses, and more whispered rumors behind half-lowered blinds. You heard someone mention the O’Rourke deal and someone else murmur about a warehouse fire that wasn’t an accident. A few people joked nervously about the mob running wild lately– Who’s in charge now, anyway?

You didn’t pay too much attention to that kind of talk honestly. Not because you weren’t curious, you were. But you’d grown up in this city. Danger was background noise like sirens or subway screeches. You learned to stay in your lane, smile when it was smart to, and never ask too many questions.

Besides, you had your own problems: the espresso machine started leaking, your paycheck bounced for the second time this month, and you accidentally burned your fingers on a pan of fresh croissants.

You were wiping the counter, cursing under your breath and cradling your wrapped-up hand, when the bell above the door jingled.

He was back.

And this time, he looked different. More tired like he hadn’t slept. His coat was darker than usual, collar turned up high. There was also something stiff in the way he moved, like something hurt under the surface.

“Hey,” You said, immediately smiling despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “Rough week?”

He looked at your bandaged fingers first.

“What happened to you?”

You blinked. “Oh. Just being clumsy again, it was the pastry tray versus my hand. The tray won.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he didn’t find that answer as harmless or humorous as you did. He stepped forward, slow and quiet, placing a twenty on the counter.

“Black. Two sugars.”

“Same old?”

“Some things don’t need changing.”

You bit your lip to hide the smile that tugged at your mouth. He was… oddly comforting, even with the way he made your stomach flutter and your thoughts skip.

You turned to prep the coffee, carefully working around your bandaged hand, when he spoke again.

“This neighborhood isn’t safe lately.”

Your back stiffened slightly. “I mean… it’s never really been safe, has it?”

“Worse now,” He huffed. “Too many people trying to prove they belong at the top. They’re reckless.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “You sound like you know something.”

He didn’t answer that. Instead, he said, “You always walk home alone?”

“Sometimes,” You admitted. “I usually take the back route past the laundromat. It’s better lit.”

He looked genuinely displeased by that. “Don’t.”

You blinked. “Don’t… what? Walk home?”

“Don’t go through that alley again.” His voice was low and serious, like it wasn’t a suggestion. Like it was law.

You nodded slowly. “Okay. I won’t.”

You set his cup in front of him. He didn’t take it right away. He simply looked at you and for the first time, it didn’t seem as guarded as usual.

“You ever wonder why no one messes with this place?” He asked.

Your brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, two blocks down, there’s a diner with bullet holes in the glass. There’s a liquor store that got torched. But your little coffee shop? Untouched.”

You looked around like you were noticing it for the first time and he wasn’t wrong.

“I guess we’re lucky,” You said, quieter this time.

He finally took the cup.

“Not luck,” He murmured. “Some places are off-limits.”

Your stomach did a slow flip. Before you could ask what he meant, he slid a small piece of paper across the counter. His handwriting was sharp and deliberate. There lied a number.

“If you ever feel unsafe,” He said, “Call. Don’t hesitate, just call.”

You looked up at him. “What should I save it under?”

He met your eyes, and for the first time, he smiled. Small, crooked, but real.

“James,” He said. “But you can keep calling me ‘Quiet Guy’ if you want.”

And then he was gone, the door jingling behind him, a gust of cold air in his wake.

You flushed, knowing he must’ve overheard you talking about him to your colleague. You stared down at the paper in your hand now and thought, James. Huh.

You didn’t know that name came with weight. You didn’t know that in certain circles, that name made grown men flinch. And you definitely didn’t know you’d just become the softest secret in James Buchanan Barnes’s world of blood, power, and control.

You never really called the number.

Not that day, not the next. You stared at it for a while. Once during your lunch break, once before bed, but you never dialed. You didn’t need to since nothing had happened. The streets were loud, the rumors kept circling, but your world stayed small, safe, and ordinary.

But something changed after that.

The Quiet Guy – James – started coming in more often.

Sometimes in the early morning, when the city was just beginning. Sometimes in the quiet lull between lunch and dinner. He never stayed long though, but he started talking more. Asking questions and not the kind people ask just to be polite; it was the kind that meant he was actually listening.

He’d ask about your recipes, about the books you liked, whether you preferred cats or dogs. One time he even noticed the way you hummed to yourself one of your favorite songs when you were focused, and he asked what the song was.

You told him it was nothing.

But the next day, he left a little radio on the counter when he left. It was old, scratched, but with the exact song loaded onto a USB inside.

You didn’t ask how he got it. And he didn’t ask what you thought of it. But you smiled a little bigger the next time he walked in, and that was enough.

Then, one afternoon, he came in without a coat. No shadows under his eyes. Just him. Solid, real, and standing in front of you with a calm you hadn’t seen before.

“Are you free Friday night?” He asked, like it wasn’t a question that made your heart trip over itself.

You blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah. You.”

You smiled. “I mean– yes. Yeah, I’m free.”

He nodded, like he’d already planned everything. “Wear something warm.”

You didn’t know what to expect.

He picked you up just after dark in a sleek black car you didn’t recognize the brand of. His jacket was pressed. His shirt was ironed. And when he offered his hand to help you inside, you hesitated just long enough for your cheeks to flush.

He noticed but he didn’t tease.

Instead, he said, “You look beautiful,” like it was the only truth he knew how to say.

You didn’t know that three hours earlier, he’d been standing in a warehouse near the docks, quietly threatening a man with a broken nose not to let a whisper of trouble near your neighborhood tonight. You didn’t know that Bucky had postponed a weapons shipment and moved a backroom poker game three blocks east just to clear the air around you.

All you knew was that the rooftop he brought you to had a string of soft, glowing lights, a space heater, a tiny table with mismatched chairs, and two steaming paper bowls of your favorite takeout.

You gasped when you saw it. “Is this…?”

“I remembered you said you liked the dumplings from Ling’s.”

“I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I’m always listening.”

You sat, half-nervous and half-stunned, watching as he poured you a cup of tea from a little thermos he brought himself. It was clumsy, imperfect, but somehow… it made the gesture sweeter.

“Why up here?” You asked curiously.

He shrugged. “I don’t like crowds and it’s quiet.”

“Do you always go to this much trouble for dinner?”

He hesitated. “No.”

You looked up at him and found he was already looking back.

There was something different in his eyes now though. It wasn’t cold or guarded. It was more like a storm had passed and left something warm in its wake.

You ate slowly, talking about everything and nothing: your favorite cartoons as a kid, the weirdest thing you’ve ever baked, your theory that the city pigeons are evolving to become smarter than humans.

He laughed at that one. Actually laughed. It was rough and low, a rare sound that made your chest ache in a good way.

Later, when the wind picked up, he moved closer. His arm barely brushed yours.

“Cold?” He asked.

“A little.”

He draped his jacket over your shoulders like it was instinct and maybe it was.

You glanced down at your tea, heart pounding, and asked softly, “James?”

“Yeah?”

“Why me?”

He didn’t answer right away. You thought maybe he wouldn’t but you’d asked anyways.

But then he said in voice low and almost vulnerable, “Because you're the only good thing I don’t want to ruin.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you reached for his hand and to your surprise, he let you hold it like he didn’t want to let go. It all felt like the beginning of something neither of you could name just yet.

[arcanetrivia]

The thing about Discord is that just finding a server that has the conversations you're interested in can be difficult. Privately hosted email lists had this kind of problem too, that you sometimes could only even find out they existed by word of mouth, never mind join them. Sometimes you have to know a guy who knows a guy to get a hold of an invite code that hasn't expired by the time you come across it. (I get why they made the change that you couldn't make permanent ones if you weren't a Community server, but it can be frustrating sometimes.) Official servers for $THING may be listed publicly on $THING's website, but that's not the same as a by-fans-for-fans space that will probably have a much different culture and tone. There's Disboard, but not everything is on it. The central directory of a place like Yahoo Groups (whatever their other faults), being able to find communities and people that list certain interests on LiveJournal, the generally public or at least semi-public nature of a forum that can be found by a search engine... all of these supported discoverability. (And in my current primary fandom, besides the figurative "private group chat" that a Discord server is, I know there's some significant activity in literal private group chat. So unless you can somehow get admitted to a pre-existing group of friends, welp.)

IRC as a synchronous chat platform/protocol was there for a long time alongside (and is still in some cases, even with the ascendancy of Discord), and a lot of that ephemeral stuff has been lost unless people kept logs. But we're in a situation now where pretty much all there is, is the ephemeral, be it Discord, Twitter/Bluesky/Mastodon, Facebook (seems to actively work against finding and keeping up on what you want), Instagram (somehow even worse; my beloathed). DeviantArt worked decently well for a while, but every time they messed up site changes and policies in a way that angered artists, there was an exodus (similar to the waves of exodus from LiveJournal until now it's a ghost town unless you're Russian). Pillowfort... exists... but I am skeptical it's ever going to gain critical mass, even if Tumblr does completely go under one of these days.

And Tumblr itself... is better than nothing, but of course we all know how hard it can be to find things on because a lot of the older stuff isn't even indexed; and its structure really doesn't support coherent threaded conversation; and it's a bit too-little-too-late on their introduction of LJ/DW-style communities, which people here now don't seem to want.

(Semi-aside, not to be a Fandom Old, but re: reblogging/reposting, I see how such a thing can be a boon for those who really don't want to participate even on the level of an occasional comment here and there, but fandom was doing fine without such a feature on email lists, forums, LiveJournal. People actually were pretty annoyed when LJ tried to introduce a reposting-style feature, which was pretty clunky. The site hadn't been conceived with that sort of ecosystem in mind and it was rather grafted on. Think how people keep rejecting Tumblr's attempts at a short-form video feature: "Stop trying to be X other site and just be what you are! We're here because we want what is unique about this place!")

....sorry, I think I went on a bit of a pointless ramble there 😅

imo a discord server should be like a breakout room for fandom. like the place to run your wips by your besties or discuss your otp in more detail with a few people who were insane about it on your post or organise events with a handful of trusted mutuals etc etc. if it’s where ALL the fandom activity is going to happen it will inevitably foster a cliquey environment where the fandom is divided into “those in the server” and “those who aren’t”, lurking is disincentivised if not made outright impossible, people who feel uncomfortable joining in conversations and would rather interact with fandom through reblogging etc are largely excluded because there’s no repost mechanism, and the fandom itself becomes an enclosed space so new fans are limited in how much content and meta they can access without having to make the plunge into Joining The In Group, there’s limited scope for interaction between different communities within the same fandom, god it’s just an altogether dogshit stupid idea. what if we moved all fandom activity to really massive private groupchats. STUPID

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 2

“Baby please move your head. It's right under my tit.” Natasha mumbled with a groggy voice. It had been a week since she started managing the boy band and letting them invade her privacy every night. They had their own rooms in the penthouse but at that point, they only used them to keep their belongings. The boys had taken a shine to sleeping in Natasha's bed every night and made no effort to stop their behavior. To be fair, Natasha did try to ban them from her room multiple times.

But there was only so much an older demon woman could do against 5 younger demon men who claimed they were obsessed with her scent. “Mm no… comfy.” Baby mumbled back in an incredibly deep morning voice. “Well you gotta move anyway. I need to get up so I can make breakfast. You got a recording session today.” Groaning, Baby instead moved closer into Natasha's side while Mystery tightened his grip on her waist.

“Come on boys. You gotta let me go.” After some heavy convincing, Natasha managed to slip away from the bed that was crowded with all five Saja boys and went to brush her teeth. As she did, she sighed as Abby came up behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her waist. “Come back to bed~ Miss you.” Using one hand, Natasha shoved the man back gently. “Go back to bed young one. I have things to do.” She smiled softly before leaving the bathroom and going to the kitchen. As she started cooking, Natasha began to hum an old song of hers very quietly.

She remembered her years in the spotlight fondly but she had no desire to return to those times. The money was good and she adored her fans. She reveled in her fame and fortune but she hated the paparazzi. The constant invasion of privacy and the fabricated lies they would spin like nosy little spiders angered her. She liked her years in the spotlight, yes but not enough to return. “Smells good. That for us?” Romance smiled as he and Jinu walked into the kitchen slowly.

Sleep still clinging to their bodies. “Yes it is. Good morning. Jinu? Can you go wake up the others? Romance, set the table please?” Natasha asked sweetly. As Jinu left to wake the others, Romance took the opportunity to walk up behind Natasha and grab a handful of her ass. “What the!? Romance!!” Angry and flustered by the action, Natasha turned to scold the man only for his lips to catch her own in a deep kiss while his hands rested on her hips.

His fingers slowly sliding into her fluffy pajama pants. He then pulled away, slowly licking his lips before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I'm hungry, but not for food. Won't you feed me properly lovely lady?~” He asked, almost whining before trying to slide one of his hands into Natasha's underwear. “No. I can't.” Natasha responded firmly by grabbing Romance's hand and moving from her body and pushing past him.

“I'm not going to sleep with you. Now please set the table.” She then replied trying to keep her cool as if she was not at all turned on by the man behind her. Instead of being upset with the rejection, Romance smirked. He knew he got to her. He could smell the arousal from her. He just wished Natasha wasn't so uptight and let herself enjoy the benefits that came with the fact 5 sexy young demon men took interest in her. “Why does it smell like pussy juice out here?” A loud voice interrupted the once peace and quiet Natasha was trying to enjoy.

“Watch your fucking mouth Abby.” Another voice added. “You watch your fucking mouth Baby.” “How about you both watch your fucking mouths?” Jinu groaned as Mystery made a beeline towards Natasha and wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. “They're so loud…” He whispered into her neck. “Good morning to you too Mystery. Go sit down hun. Breakfast is about to be served.”

Moving from his embrace, Natasha watched as Mystery took his seat next to Baby who was eyeing the extra spicy hot sauce that was placed on the table specifically for him. After breakfast, the boys scattered to their rooms to get ready, save for Romance who decided to stay behind to help with the dishes. After drying the last one, he watched as Natasha retreated to her own room to get ready for the day.

Sneaking into her room and listening to the sound of the shower turning on, Romance smirked and undressed himself before teleporting behind a naked Natasha who, due to the sound of the shower, hadn't heard him appear behind her. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head the moment she felt hands on her hips. “Oh my!!-” “Shhh it's just me.~” Romance replied. “How is that supposed to make me feel any better!? Get out!! I told you no!!” Natasha shouted angrily.

“You said no, but your body said yes. Your scent practically screamed it. Why won't you give in to your instincts. Let me be the first to mate you.~” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss her neck. Natasha felt herself shiver despite the hot temperature of the water. “Can't you smell me? I smell you. Your arousal is like a drug I want to keep taking. It's intoxicating. I'm addicted. We all are. Please~” Romance bit his lip while pressing himself up against Natasha's back, making sure she could feel his erection.

“You just don't wanna listen do you?” She growled, causing the man behind her to tilt his head in confusion before he was shoved against the shower wall with Natasha's hand pressed against his chest and the other grasping his cock. “O-oh shit!!” He choked.

“Do you know how hard it is trying to keep my composer around you sluts? Your musk is constantly flooding my senses and it's driving me crazy. But I still have the sense to keep it professional. Something that seems like a foreign concept to you. So let my tell you something, I'll fuck you. Absolutely! But on my terms. My time. And when I feel like you deserve it. Whore. Now, be a good boy, cum on my hand and tell the others. Because I know they're listening at the door. Go on. Sing like the whore you are.~” Natasha smirked all the while she pumped Romance's cock and listened to his choked moans and begging sounds.

Her demon form allowing her to growl in his ear while he cried in pleasure. “Please! Oh fuck! Mistress! I'm yours! I'm your whore! I wanna be your good boy! Fuck! Fuck! Cumming! Cumming!! Mistress!!!” Natasha watched satisfied as thick ropes of semen shot from Romance's cock. “Good boy. Now get out. I need to wash myself.” She whispered as she pressed a long kiss to Romance's lips before shoving him out of her shower.

Outside of the room, the others watched in envy as Romance stumbled out of Natasha’s room with a dazed smile on his face. The only thing now on their minds was which of them was next.

Chapter 3

[bunnybeaches]

We’re on Air

Pairing: John Price x radio host! reader

or: Johnny and Kyle call into your radio station to help save John’s love life.

cw: swearing, fluff, bad attempt at johnnys accent

wc: 1.1k

part 1!

‘On Air’ has been flashing above you all night and yet nothing interesting. Coffee has gone cold, the blanket has fallen to wrap around your shoulders, and doodles grace your notebook. You love your job, you really do. Just some nights take it out of you.

One lady called and spent almost an hour gushing over her toxic ex-boyfriend, while another cried because the cat favors her husband.

You do quite fancy your job, you really truly do, but sometimes it’s overwhelming. You’ve felt sparks of love. Little bursts yet never that gushing feeling. The feeling where you’d absolutely do whatever you wanted for your person.

People come to you for your advice. Your hot takes on how people should act, or love. Sometimes you don’t feel quite qualified for this job.

What’s a girl doing giving love advice, but she can’t even follow her own advice?

Supernatural by Ariana Grande plays softly on the radio as you spin and spin in your chair. Slow nights like these are the absolute worst. You’ve almost gone through all the songs you wanted to play whilst still having over two more hours of the show left.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as the song ends. One more spin before—

“Hello everyone, Welcome back to Love Notes!” You immediately put on your radio voice. The sugary, soft voice that makes you seem more welcoming.

“Still waiting for any calls! Talk to me about anything. "I’m all yours for the next two hours!” An exaggerated laugh leaves your lips right as the phone rings.

“Oh hello lovely! What brings you here to my show?” You smile even though you can’t see what you assume to be a lady.

“Aye lass? Is this tha’ radio show? Love notes?” A man. That’s a man’s voice. A quite Scottish man at that.

You don’t get men on this show often. Maybe to ask for a suggestion, or advice. This man seems like he wants to have a whole conversation with you. This should be interesting.

“Love? Are you still there?” He has a friend. A British friend. “We need help.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for! Go ahead boys, I’m always happy to help someone in love.”

You frantically flip through your notebook. Trying desperately to find a page without your doodles.

With an inhale then and exhale you say, “Ok, I’m ready. What can I help you boys with on this fine evening?” Radio voice, use your radio voice and make it seem like you’re interested.

“Yes well, it would probably help if you knew our names,” The British one introduces himself first, “My name is Kyle. The other lad here is my mate, Johnny.” Johnny does a little wolf whistle.

“Aye, lass. We ‘ave this friend . He’s been alane fer years. He needs a date. We’re sick o’ him spoilin’ our nights at the pub wi’ his singleness.” Johnny’s voice goes fast. Spilling out any and all details about his friend.

You jot down any details you can pick up from his rambling. His friend's name is John Price. John is in his mid-thirties, and he’s in the military. Those are the basic details you’re able to pick up from Johnny.

“You want me to do what now? Well, I mean…I’m sure I could do that, but I’ve never done anything like that before.” You blank for a moment. Your show isn’t a dating show, and it never will be.

People don’t come to you to find a date, they come to complain or ask for advice on love. You aren’t a matchmaker, nor are you cupid. You’re just someone who’s trying to please the people pleaser inside of you.

“Aye love, we want you to get our lad a date.” Kyle says it slower this time. Like you couldn’t comprehend their ridiculous ask in the first place.

“You open your mouth, then close it again, then open it, then close it, before saying, “It’s uh…time for a commercial break.” Never once in your two years on this show have you gotten speechless.

”Stay on the line boys, we’ll be right back!” And with that you flow out commercials for the most useless shit no one will use.

“Find their friend a date! Who do they think I am!“ You pace back and forth, and all around your little booth. A few paces and a few jumps up and down should do, or that’s what you think. Right as you go to sit down the booth door swings open.

“Oh my god girl! I can’t believe you did this!” Tina, the office manager and your best friend, storms into the room.

”What did I do..?” You stare at her. She looks ecstatic right now.

“Well this John guy! You have to get this poor man a date!” She shoves her phone in your face. “The ratings babes! They are up like crazy! I’ve had so many calls about this guy already and wanting to date him!”

The color drains from your face, You aren’t qualified for this. Is she trying to make you look like a fool on the radio? In front of 100s, well 20s, of people.

“T, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t do this. I’m not—“

“John Price, from thirty to flirty!” Tina’s smile is gigantic. This is huge for the station. This could finally be what brings you guys back up.

You watch her. Study her. You know how Tina thinks. She’s going to put all her effort into this project till it succeeds. And it will. You won’t let her down. Letting her down is letting the show down, you can’t do that.

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll talk to John and get his thoughts. I won’t let you down T. I promise.” You muster up the best smile you can before bidding her farewell.

“Don’t let me down gorgeous! I’m counting on you!” Tina spins around with a wave of her hand. Her heels click click click against the ground as she walks away. The same click click click that’s going on inside your head.

You plop back into your chair with a sigh. Radio voice, radio voice, radio voice, they can’t know you think this is ridiculous. They won’t know you think you’ll fail. The radio voice wi—

“Hello and welcome back! If you’re just now tuning in, let me catch you up! We have two lads here, Johnny and Kyle. They are trying to find a date for their friend.” You flip through the notebook.

“His name is John Price.” You smile softly. Maybe you’ll get a shot at him if this doesn’t work out.

“So boys I’m ready! Let me meet John.” You’re followed by silence.

“Boys? Johnny? Kyle? Did I lose you?”

“Ne lass you didn’t we're still here..y’see the thing is..John don’t know tha’ we called you.” Your mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t know. All this shit for a man who doesn’t even know this is happening. What could possibly go wrong.

i’m soooo proud of this it’s the biggest thing i’ve ever written

thank you to allll my friends who supported me but especially @tojisteddy i love you so much girl

tag list: @yshanavocado, @omgfangirlland , @dilf-luvr-4evr

[natsaffection]

Redline. Bonus 6 | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha x Younger!RacingDriver!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (N= 32, r=23), Mention of sex, fluff, fluff, fluff

Word count: 8,7k

A/n: First of all, I added Yelena again! Totally forgot her in the last bonus :,) Second, I wish you could see the thoughts/pictures in my head while writing and rereading those scenes. And third? I want a marriage. Immediately.

The sheets were a mess. The pillows were barely holding shape, pushed to opposite ends of the bed like casualties. Somewhere on the floor was your sports bra, one sock, and the remote that Natasha swore she wasn’t going to lose again.

And she was grinning. Natasha shifted slowly, lifting herself from between your legs with the unhurried satisfaction of someone who had definitely proven a point. Her hair was a mess, strands clinging to her cheekbones, and her lips were still a little swollen, glistening just slightly with a kind of shine that wasn’t from the lotion.

And you groaned. A soft, wrecked sound. Not from pain. From everything else.

Your arm fell lazily across your stomach, your chest rising and falling in the afterglow of something that had burned slow and deep, like it always did with her. Natasha was climbing up the bed, moving slow like she had nowhere else to be. She nudged your thigh with her knee as she crawled over you, her smirk lazy and knowing and a little proud, even.

You let out a tiny laugh, breathy, exhausted. Your fingers reached weakly for her, as if even the strength to pull her close had been…extracted.

“Hey.” she whispered, pressing her lips gently against your temple.

You made a noise that could have meant hi, I love you, or please let me die peacefully right here. She smiled again.

“You’re unbelievable..” she murmured, dragging her fingers lazily along your arm. “You know that?”

You barely moved. Maybe nodded. Maybe not. “Fast on the track..”she said softly, her voice almost smug, “but this…this is where you really shine.”

Your body jerked, just slightly, in something like laughter. Or embarrassment. Your lips moved but you didn’t form words. Your lashes fluttered once, twice, then stilled. Natasha kissed your bare shoulder. Let out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding.

You didn’t need to say I love you. It was stitched into the air between you. Into every breath. Into the way your legs stayed tangled, the way your nose brushed hers in the dark, the way your body turned toward hers even in sleep.

She kissed your jaw, then your temple. “Sleep.” she whispered, voice like silk now. “You’ve done enough for tonight.”

And you did. You melted into her, mouth slack with peace, fingers loose over her ribs. And Natasha held you until morning.

The light broke slow and quiet over the horizon, filtering through pale curtains that hadn’t been drawn fully shut. Outside the window, the paddock was already waking, distant engine testing, someone shouting about a torque wrench. But up here, in bed, the world was still.

Natasha stirred first. Her body shifted against empty sheets, the absence of warmth beside her immediate and noticeable. For a moment, her muscles tensed, not fear, not alarm, just that deep-seated instinct to look, to check.

But then, from behind the half-cracked bathroom door, she heard the soft rush of water.

She exhaled, and relaxed. Her hand slipped beneath the pillow automatically, pulling out her phone. The screen glowed bright in the half-dark.

7:42 am.

Her calendar buzzed softly.

9:00 – Sponsor call (Zoom)

12:30 – Fitting (Race jacket)

15:00 – Strategy meeting with Willow + trackwalk

20:00 – Dinner with Y/n? (optional - ask)

She added a mental note next to that last one: Definitely. She smiled, thumbed the phone off, and turned onto her side to face the bathroom. Moments later, the door creaked open.

And there you were. Hair up in a messy bun, one of Natasha’s old team shirts hanging halfway off your shoulder wrinkled, oversized, clearly slept in too many times. Your legs bare, skin soft with fresh lotion. A toothbrush sticking out the corner of your mouth, and that squinty, just-woke-up look still clinging to your expression.

You stopped when you saw her awake. She didn’t say a word, just smiled, slow and warm, like you were the first sunrise she’d ever seen.

You mumbled something that sounded like “morning.” around your toothbrush, disappearing again into the bathroom.

“Come here.” she called softly when she heard the faucet shut off.

You reappeared, sleepy but obedient, and padded over to the bed. “Still got foam in my mouth..”you muttered.

“Don’t care.” You crawled up onto the bed, and Natasha pulled you in the second you were close enough, an arm around your waist, a hand at the back of your thigh, guiding you into her body like it was muscle memory. You fell against her chest with a sigh, your forehead pressing under her jaw.

“Gonna fall asleep again..” you warned, mumbling into her skin.

“You better.”

She kissed your temple again. Ran her fingers down your spine. You let out a tiny, happy sound. She smiled into your hair, her other hand smoothing lazy circles over your hip. She could feel your breathing begin to slow again, your body going heavy, limp in that exact way it only did when you trusted her completely.

She closed her eyes too, content, but then- The door flew open.

“Well!” came a too-familiar voice, “I leave the country for four months and this place smells like sex and sleep deprivation.”

Natasha groaned. Yelena was standing in the doorway, suitcase still in one hand, eyebrow raised. You flinched violently and tried to sit up.

“No..!” Natasha muttered, dragging you back down with a grumble. “Ignore her. She’s a fever dream.”

“I’m a gift!” Yelena shot back, stepping inside like she lived here. “I came to see if anything changed while I was gone.”

Her eyes swept the room, the messy sheets, the tangled limbs, your shirt (her sister’s shirt), your sleepy face tucked into Natasha’s neck. A grin spread across her face.

“Nope.” she said. “Still filthy.”

Breakfast happened the way it always did the morning, quiet, slow, and mostly carb-based.

You moved around the kitchenette barefoot, still in Natasha’s shirt, flipping pieces of toast one-handed while yawning so wide your jaw cracked. Yelena had made herself at home already, slouched at the table in an old hoodie, tearing through the box of cereal she found in the cabinet with zero shame.

Natasha leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a mug of black coffee cupped between her palms. Her eyes didn’t leave you once.

Not when you burned your finger on the pan and hissed. Not when you leaned over the counter to grab a plate and the hem of her shirt lifted almost too high. Not even when you caught her watching you and rolled your eyes with that dopey, affectionate half-smile she’d come to love.

You moved like you belonged there..Because you did. She watched you set a plate down in front of her and brush your fingers across her shoulder as you passed behind her. Something about the way you touched her in passing, without thought, without fear, made her chest ache in the softest, cruelest way.

You were just there. Always. And lately…she couldn’t picture anything without you in it.

“Eat, Romanoff.” you said over your shoulder, grabbing your own coffee.

It was maybe twenty minutes later when your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced down, read the message, then stood up.

“That’s Willow.” you said, already downing the last of your coffee. “Track run starts early. She wants to warm up before the trainers get there.”

Yelena lifted an eyebrow. “It’s Sunday.”

“She’s got a competitive streak.” you said, stretching your arms over your head. “And apparently, so do I.”

Natasha caught your wrist as you passed her. You paused, turned, leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Back by lunch.”

“Wear sunblock.” Natasha murmured.

You gave her a look. “Yes, Mom.”

She smacked your ass lightly as you walked away. Yelena made a dramatic gagging noise. The second the door clicked shut, Yelena spoke, flat, direct, amused.

“You’re planning something.”

Natasha looked up from her coffee. Blinked. “What?”

“You’re planning something.”

“I am drinking coffee and existing.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her face like she was reading engine telemetry. Natasha stared back, blank and unimpressed.

“Natasha.”

“I’m serious.”

“You haven’t blinked since she left.”

Natasha opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked down. Yelena tilted her head. “You’re so obvious. You’ve been staring at her like she’s made of diamonds since I walked in.”

“She is made of diamonds.” Natasha muttered.

Yelena’s face broke into a wide, knowing smile. “Oh, my God. You’re in love love.”

“I’ve been in love love.”

“Yeah, but now you’re..wait. Wait. Wait.” She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “Are you proposing?”

Natasha jerked like she’d been slapped. “What?!”

Yelena gasped, fully standing now, pointing like she’d caught her red-handed. “You are!”

Natasha groaned. She stood abruptly and walked toward the kitchen door. She locked it. Then turned around slowly. Yelena was watching her like a cat who’d cornered a bird.

And for the first time that morning, Natasha’s shoulders dropped. Just a little.. She leaned against the door, silent for a long moment.

Then, quietly, “…I’m thinking about it.”

Yelena blinked. Then slowly, slowly grinned. “Holy shit.”

“I haven’t told anyone.” Natasha said, voice low. “Not Willow. Not Mom. Not the team.”

Yelena placed a hand on her heart. “I feel so honored.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.”

A beat passed. Then Natasha said, “I was watching her this morning. She wasn’t even doing anything. Just making toast in my shirt. Talking to you. And I just…I couldn’t stop thinking about how there’s no one else. Ever.”

Yelena softened a little, finally. “You’re sure?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

“Then do it.”

“I want to.” Natasha said quietly. “I just…want to do it right.” Natasha just smiled, staring off into the middle distance, already planning.

The day burned fast under the late-afternoon sun, laps, drills, strategy sessions, hydration reminders barked over headsets. Heat shimmered off the asphalt like water. The trainers looked ready to drop by hour five.

You didn’t. Neither did Willow, who had started pushing the pace in your second run just to see if you’d flinch. You hadn’t. You’d smirked and gone faster. Somewhere between the second cooldown and the post-run debrief, Natasha had shown up.

Silent at first. Leaning against the fence, sunglasses on, black polo hugging her shoulders like it was designed just for her.

She hadn’t spoken much, just corrected Willow’s hand placement during turn 7 corner drills, nodded once when you passed your time mark, and pointed silently toward the brake zone when you clipped it too late in the simulator review.

Classic Natasha, no fanfare..just presence. By the time the sun dipped behind the last of the temporary paddock structures, the track was empty again. Lights buzzing. Water bottles half-drunk. The air smelled like rubber, sweat, and the wind-down of something intense.

You made your way through the garage and up the stairs to her office, muscles aching, tank top clinging to your back, sun just barely kissing your shoulders.

You didn’t knock. You never knocked anymore. Natasha was at her desk, glasses on, typing something into her laptop with one hand and scrolling through telemetry with the other. The light from the screen painted her in soft gold and navy, the faint shadows under her eyes more from focus than fatigue.

You leaned your shoulder into the doorframe. “Day’s over.”

She didn’t look up, just tapped one last key, then reached forward and shut the laptop in one clean, casual motion.

You blinked. “You don’t even want to save that?”

She shrugged. “Autosaves. And I trust the system.”

“Liar.” you muttered, stepping inside.

She was already watching you now, elbows on the arms of her chair, legs slightly parted, expression unreadable except for the faint, quiet pull at the corner of her mouth.

The kind she saved just for you. You crossed to her without thinking and slid around the desk. And then, like you’d done it a thousand times before, you climbed onto her thighs, knees bracketing her hips, hands coming to rest on her shoulders. Her palms found your waist instantly. Like gravity.

You sat like that for a second. Breathing the same air. Then you dipped your head slightly to meet her eyes. “How was your day?”

Her hands flexed a little against your sides. “Better now.”

You smiled, warm and a little smug. “Sappy.”

“Accurate.” she replied, deadpan.

You leaned in and pressed your forehead to hers. She let out a breath, steady and long, like she’d been holding it all day. Like this was the only part of her routine that really made sense.

Your thumb stroked the edge of her jaw. “You showed up today.” you said softly.

“You noticed?”

“You didn’t say much, but I always know when you’re watching.”

She smiled again. This one softer. “I’m always watching.”

You kissed her. Once, slowly. It wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t about the thrill. It was just there, true and quiet and deeply, completely familiar. Her hands moved from your waist to your back, then up, then down again, sliding under your shirt, just enough to feel your skin.

You let yourself relax into her body. The office was warm, and the hum of the vending machine down the hall was the only thing filling the silence. Eventually, Natasha murmured, “Come to bed.”

You nodded, curling closer. “Yeah.” you said, yawning into her neck. “Okay.”

She didn’t carry you, but she guided you, hand at the small of your back, thumb idly tracing patterns on your side as you walked side by side down the hall and toward her suite. Neither of you spoke much. There was nothing left to say tonight. At least not yet.. But Natasha’s hand didn’t leave yours for a single step.

The morning came like any other. You were standing in the bathroom, towel-wrapped, holding a toothbrush in your mouth while mumbling something about how if Willow made you run laps before 10 am again, you were going to rearrange her face.

Natasha watched you from the bed. She was already dressed, black slacks, clean white shirt, sleeves rolled once at the forearm, hair down but combed neatly. There was something quietly put-together about her, like she was going somewhere important. But she didn’t say anything yet.

She just sipped her coffee. Watched you move around like you belonged in every inch of her space.

“You look nice today.” you called out, voice muffled by toothpaste. “Business call?”

Natasha didn’t even flinch. “Mm. Something like that.”

You popped your head out of the bathroom with a grin. “Tell the sponsors I’m cute and deserve a raise.”

“I’ll forward them your highlight reel.”

“Make sure it includes the clip where I lapped that Red Bull junior last season.”

“Obviously.”

You disappeared again, humming off-key. Natasha glanced down at her phone, checked the time. 08:19. Her GPS was already loaded, address blurred at the top of the screen. She’d spent an hour the night before staring at it, just…thinking. What if they said no? What if they didn’t trust her? What if she didn’t deserve to be trusted?

She swallowed that down now. No room for it. Not today. You reappeared a moment later in leggings and a cropped team hoodie, sleepy but glowing from your shower, eyes still a little soft at the corners. You leaned down to kiss her before pulling your shoes on.

“Track with Willow.” you said. “Want anything on the way back?”

“Just you.” Natasha said automatically.

You blinked. Then smiled, slow, crooked. “You’re being sweet.”

“I’m always sweet.”

“You’re always rude, and then sweet when you want something.”

She reached out to tug your hoodie down, smoothing a wrinkle over your stomach. “I already have what I want.”

You paused at the door. Then shook your head and grinned again. “You’re gonna make me late.”

Natasha watched you leave with something unspoken in her chest. When the door closed behind you, she finally let out the breath she’d been holding since she woke up.

The drive was quiet. Her playlist on shuffle. City traffic melting into suburban roads. She kept one hand on the steering wheel and one on her thigh, thumb tapping out an anxious rhythm that only got faster the closer she got.

She sat in the car for exactly thirty-five seconds before getting out. Her boots clicked against the stone walkway. The door opened before she could knock.

Your mom stood there in a sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back, eyes widening in pleasant surprise. “Natasha?”

Natasha cleared her throat. “Hi.”

“Oh my God, come in, come in.”

She stepped aside and Natasha entered, carefully wiping her boots on the mat like you always told her to. The house smelled like coffee and old wood and something warm in the oven. Your father appeared a moment later, smile already forming.

“This is a surprise.” he said, offering his hand.

“I hope it’s a good one.”

“It is. It’s just- what brings you?”

Natasha hesitated. She folded her hands in front of her for a moment. Unfolded them. Smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle on her sleeve. Then looked at them both.

“I was wondering.. “she said slowly, “if I could talk to you…about something important.”

Your mother exchanged a glance with your father. Then gestured to the living room. “You want coffee?”

Natasha sat on the couch. Hands on her knees. She tried not to fidget. She was good at being composed in high-stakes situations. But this? This wasn’t business. This wasn’t strategy. This was you. And somehow, that made it harder.

So when your parents returned and sat across from her, mugs in hand, Natasha met their eyes and did something she almost never did: She let herself be nervous.

“I love your daughter.” She said. There was no preamble. Just the truth.

“I think you know that. I think maybe you’ve known it longer than I did. But I’m here because I want to do this the right way. She’s strong, and independent, and stubborn as hell, but…she still believes in things like respect. And tradition. And family.”

Your mom’s eyes were glassy already. Your dad didn’t speak, just watched. Natasha kept going. Soft now.

“I want to marry her. And before I ask her…I wanted to ask you.”

Your dad set down his coffee. Exhaled slowly. Looked Natasha in the eye. “She’s always been intense. Impossible to sway once she decides on something.”

“I know.” Natasha said.

“And hard to love, sometimes. But the right person…” He smiled faintly. “Makes it look easy.”

Natasha’s throat tightened. Your mom reached across and put her hand on Natasha’s.

“We’d be honored to have you in the family.”

The breath she let out wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t shaky, it was simply relief. Pure and honest.

“Thank you.” She said, meaning every word.

——

You were halfway through a breakdown of tire compound degradation when you realized Natasha hadn’t said a word in almost three minutes.

“I’m just saying..” you continued, hands flailing as you paced barefoot across the room, hair still damp from your shower, “Pirelli has got to be cooking something illegal because that soft compound today? Willow said it felt like she was skating on frozen yogurt.”

Natasha didn’t respond. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, phone held casually in her palm, thumb flicking upward in slow, deliberate motions.

Totally silent. You slowed a little, narrowing your eyes. “Are you even listening?”

“Hm?” she said without looking up.

You stopped mid-pace, towel still draped over your shoulder. “What are you doing..?”

“Nothing.”

“‘Nothing’ never looks that intense on your face.”

She tilted the phone slightly away from view, subtle, smooth, practiced. Which meant guilty.

You squinted. Natasha glanced up at you then, and for a split second, just one, you saw it. That little shine in her eyes. The slight pink at the tops of her cheeks. The way the corners of her mouth were tugging up like she was sitting on a secret the size of a small country.

You narrowed your eyes further. Stepped forward. “You’re way too happy right now.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are. You’re, like…glowing.”

“I’m just sitting.”

“That’s the problem. You only sit like that when you’ve made a decision.”

She didn’t answer. You sat beside her on the bed, thigh pressed to hers, and leaned in to peer at her screen. She pulled it back slightly, but not too obviously.

Your brows lifted. “Nat…”

“Hm.”

“…What are you doing?”

She looked at you then, really looked at you, and the grin that threatened to take over her face barely made it to the surface before she smothered it like a match under water.

“Nothing important.” she said smoothly. “Just… planning.”

“Planning what?”

You were playful, curious. Almost a little suspicious, but not in a real way. And she didn’t lie. She didn’t say “email” or “strategy notes” or “logistics.” She just smiled, slow, unreadable, dangerous, and leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll show you when it’s ready. I promise.” she murmured.

You groaned dramatically, throwing yourself backward onto the mattress. “You’re so mysterious..” you complained, one arm flung over your eyes.

Natasha looked down at you. You, in your hoodie and bike shorts, legs still slick with lotion, hair damp, skin warm from the shower, heart beating in the same room as hers. She glanced back at her phone. There it was: the search bar still open, photos scrolled halfway down the page.

Custom rings, understated but personal.

Nothing was quite right yet. She’d seen diamonds, vintage cuts, silver, gold, even motorsport-inspired ones with carbon fiber edges, but none of them looked like you.

She’d know it when she saw it. And when she did, she was going to ask you a question that would change everything…But not yet. For now, she just smiled again, quietly, and set the phone down facedown on the bedside table.

Then she lay beside you. Her arm tucked beneath your neck. Your body curling into hers without hesitation. “Wake me when you’re ready to stop being mysterious..”you mumbled.

“I’ll keep you guessing forever.” she whispered back. And you didn’t see her grin as you fell asleep.

——

The lights above the track glowed red in sequence: one, two, three, four… And then the roar.

The engines launched forward in a deafening scream of velocity, tires burning against asphalt, two cars slicing through the opening straight like they were being pulled by gravity itself. You were already pushing. Willow was behind you, not by much, but enough to make it personal.

Natasha stood on the pit wall, arms crossed over her black headset, mouth set in a tight line of focus. Her eyes flicked between monitors, her voice low but sharp over the comms.

“Y/n, adjust your entry on Turn 6, your angle’s too wide.”

“Willow, settle. Let her take the corner. You’ll lose time fighting it.”

“Copy.” came Willow’s voice, crisp and unbothered.

“Got it.” you said, your voice tight with focus, breathing controlled, jaw locked. You weren’t losing this race to your own teammate.

The pit team scrambled behind her, the buzz of radios and tire updates filling the background. The pace was fast, clean, brutal. Everything was going according to plan. Until Natasha’s phone lit up on the pit desk.

Natasha’s eyes flicked down, barely a glance…and froze. She stared at the number for a second longer than she should’ve. “Yelena.” Natasha said, her voice sharp in her headset’s private channel. “You’re up.”

“Copy.” Yelena answered immediately from the control stand behind her. “Taking lead.”

No confusion. No hesitation. This was protocol. They’d trained for it. Natasha pulled off her headset, handed it off, and stepped back from the pit wall like a ghost disappearing from a battlefield.

You took the chicane tighter than you had all season, DRS humming behind you. Willow was still in your mirrors, but you’d started to gain tenths.

Then your radio clicked. Yelena’s voice came through, “Y/n, brake modulation is drifting into early lockup on sector three. You’ve got one, maybe two pushes before you burn the tires. Stay calm. Adjust on the straight.”

You blinked under your visor. It wasn’t the instruction. It was the voice.

“…Where’s Natasha?”

“Handling something. You’ve got me for now.”

“…She handed off pit command mid-race?”

“Focus, brat. You’re not that special.” That earned a tight smirk from you, but the unease didn’t fade.

Natasha never stepped away during race hours. Not unless someone was bleeding. Not unless something was burning. You kept driving, but your brain wasn’t fully in the cockpit anymore.

Meanwhile Natasha pressed the phone to her ear and turned away from the track noise. “Thank you for calling back.”

“I had a feeling it wasn’t a business visit when your assistant asked for a full day’s access to the main building.”

Natasha didn’t say anything at first. “I want it empty.” Natasha said. “No press. No drivers. Just a few quiet hours.”

“You’ll have it.”

She closed her eyes..and smiled. It wasn’t just a win. It was a statement.

You and Willow didn’t just take first and second, you owned the circuit. Her defending while you overtook on the inside of Turn 8 made the replay highlight reel within minutes. The crowd had been deafening when you crossed the line with a lead wide enough to start waving to the mechanics.

The champagne was still in your hair when Willow wrapped her arm around your shoulder and yelled, “One–two, baby!” into the camera crew’s mic.

Natasha hadn’t been in the post-race picture. Which… wasn’t that unusual. She hated media. But it still felt strange. You found her twenty minutes later, by the garage office, wiping something off her tablet screen like she hadn’t just watched her team win the day.

She looked up just as you approached, her face calm, but there was something in her eyes..an intensity you couldn’t quite read.

“We did it.” you said breathlessly, your fireproof suit half-peeled down, a medal swinging from your neck. “I mean..we actually did it.”

Her mouth twitched upward. “I know. I watched.”

You stepped closer. Noticing how her tablet screen was off now. Locked. Her headset on the desk.

“Why did Yelena take pit for the last ten laps?” you asked. “You’ve never handed it off before.”

Natasha paused..just a breath. “There was a call I needed to take.”

“Important?”

She met your eyes.

“Yes.”

That one word. Was Honest and final. But vague. You wanted to push, but didn’t. Not when she looked like that. Not when her hand rose to touch your back in the exact spot that always melted you.

“Okay.” you whispered.

And she exhaled like she was relieved you hadn’t asked more.

A Few Days Later

The air in Natasha’s office always smelled like iced coffee and motorsport stress. You were halfway leaned over Willow’s shoulder, both of you reviewing telemetry data from warm-up laps, while Natasha sat at her desk, tapping absentmindedly at her tablet, occasionally nodding along.

Yelena stood in the corner, flipping a pen in her hand, pretending to be uninterested while keeping an actual checklist in her mind of every bolt she’d personally tighten later.

“Alright.” Natasha finally said. “Start warm-ups in fifteen. Willow, check brakes with the new cooling setup. Y/n, monitor throttle feedback- if it jitters again, pull out. Don’t push it.”

Willow saluted sarcastically. “Yes, Coach.”

You threw her a smirk. “Race you to the garage.”

“Always.”

You both left laughing, arguing about who had the better turn-in last race, your voices fading into the hallway.

The door clicked shut, and Natasha waited one more second, then reached into the locked drawer of her desk. She pulled out a small, black velvet box.

Yelena stopped flipping the pen. She watched as Natasha turned it slowly in her hand…then opened it.

The ring caught the light, not flashy, not oversized. Sleek platinum. Matte center. A tiny diamond, pressed low into the band, like it belonged there, not showing off. There was something engraved on the inside. Yelena couldn’t see it from here.

Yelena whispered, “Holy shit.”

“I know.” Natasha said quietly. “I kept thinking I’d mess it up. That I’d pick wrong. But when I saw this one…I just knew.”

Yelena stepped closer, voice soft. “You’ve already rehearsed what you’re going to say, haven’t you?”

Natasha looked away, just slightly. “Sort of.”

“Oh, wow. You’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’re fidgeting.”

“I don’t fidget.”

“You’ve been blinking in threes.”

Natasha let out a low breath through her nose. “Yelena.”

But Yelena just grinned, tilting her head. “I’m serious.” she said. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you nervous and not holding a tablet.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and gently closed the ring box, tucking it back into the drawer with care like it was fragile.

“I’m not nervous.” she repeated, quieter now. “I’m just…ready. And I have to wait.”

Yelena’s teasing faded at the edges. “You okay with that?”

“I don’t have a choice.” Natasha said. “The track isn’t clear until next week. I’d propose tomorrow if I could, but-“

“You’re waiting for the right place.” Yelena finished.

Footsteps. “Hey, I left my-”

You stepped halfway inside before pausing, eyes flicking between them. Yelena froze where she stood, clearly mid-sentence before you’d entered.

And Natasha, without even looking, cut the air with a single word: “Don’t.”

Yelena’s mouth snapped shut instantly, blinking twice like someone had unplugged her. You raised a slow eyebrow, stepping farther into the room. “Should I come back?”

“No.” Natasha said smoothly, already recovering. She turned, leaned one hip against the desk. “We’re done here.”

Yelena’s hands shot up. “All I wanted to-”

Natasha shot her a look, and Yelena’s hands dropped. You eyed them both suspiciously, then pointed a finger in Yelena’s direction.

“You’ve got the worst poker face.”

“Disagree.” Yelena said, already backing toward the door. “I am the epitome of calm under pressure.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Something’s going on.”

Natasha only smirked. Then crossed the room and kissed your cheek, cool, easy, perfect Natasha.

“Nothing yet.” she murmured into your skin. And Yelena, thankfully, kept her mouth shut.

The plan was set.

Track was cleared. The manager had sent a confirmation message. Yelena had helped prep the excuse: a “private team meeting off-site.”

The ring was in Natasha’s bag, tucked inside an old glove case, the same gloves you used to wear when working pit crew for scraps and long shifts.

Everything was ready…and Natasha was falling apart.

3 Days left.

She woke up before you. Lay there in the dark, eyes open, staring at the ceiling while you slept with your arm flung over her waist, your cheek pressed to her shoulder.

You shifted in your sleep, murmured something about Willow snoring in the simulator lounge. She didn’t laugh. Didn’t move. Her fingers twitched once. She thought about reaching for the ring. Just to hold it.

Instead, she exhaled and slipped out from under you. She made coffee and didn’t drink it. She sat in the kitchen with the lights off.

2 Days left.

You noticed. Not in a loud way. Not with suspicion. Just that slow, quiet sinking feeling when the person you love starts looking at you like they’re thinking too much.

Natasha wasn’t cold. She just wasn’t present. She’d nod at you during meetings, touch your waist when you passed, give you small, soft looks like she was thinking about something, but she wouldn’t say anything.

And that silence started to hurt. That night, as you stood at the sink brushing your teeth, you caught her watching you.

“Did I do something?” you asked, foam in your mouth.

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You spit. Turned toward her. “I know when something’s in your head. And I’m not mad. I just..don’t want to feel like I’m losing you in it.”

That.

That almost cracked her. Natasha stepped forward, hands brushing your hips, lips finding your forehead.

“I’m right here.” she whispered. And for a second..you believed her.

1 Day left.

Yelena found her sitting in the simulator bay, lights off, helmet bag beside her. “You look like someone shot your dog.”

Natasha didn’t respond. Yelena stepped forward, leaned her back against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

“She’s starting to wonder.” she said gently.

“I know.”

“Why aren’t you telling her?”

“I want it to be perfect.”

“She doesn’t need perfect.”

Natasha looked up. Her eyes were rimmed red, not from crying, just lack of sleep.

“She deserves it.”

Yelena softened. “You’re making her feel like you’re slipping away.”

Natasha closed her eyes.

“I know.”

Hours later, you curled up beside her in bed. She held you, arms tight, jaw resting on the top of your head.

You whispered: “Just talk to me.”

But she didn’t. And you fell asleep not knowing why your chest hurt. And she stayed awake listening to your heartbeat, counting every second she had left to fix it.

The day started too quietly for Natasha, which was dangerous. Stillness meant thinking, and thinking meant spiraling. So she planned every hour. She laid out the day like a race strategy: nothing left open, nothing unstructured. Not for you, and definitely not for herself.

You woke still curled against her side, warm and half-asleep. Natasha smiled against your temple, kissed your hair, and murmured, “Up. Big day.” You didn’t question it. Just smiled, rolled over, and reached for the nearest shirt like it was any other morning.

Breakfast was at a café she’d remembered you mentioning weeks ago, one you thought she’d forgotten. You lit up when you saw it, all soft surprise and sleepy joy, and she pretended like it wasn’t a big deal, even though your smile was the only thing keeping her breathing evenly. She picked at her toast while you ranted about tire data and Willow’s “cowardly” approach to cornering. She barely said a word, but you didn’t notice, not with jam on your cheek and sunshine on your face.

Midday, she roped you into a “gear review” with Yelena at the supplier garage. You were suspicious for about five seconds before Yelena started arguing passionately about zipper strength, and you gave up, laughing. Natasha just stood back and watched, arms crossed over her chest, every muscle tight with the effort of looking casual. When Yelena slipped and said “big day” Natasha shot her a look so sharp it could’ve stripped paint. But you were too busy trying on windbreakers to notice. Barely.

You noticed, just a little. The way she stared longer than usual. The way her fingers tapped her own arm when she thought you weren’t looking. But you didn’t push.

The day stretched into golden hour. You were brushing your hair out in front of the mirror, debating whether Natasha was planning a surprise dinner. She hadn’t said a word about your evening plans. And then your phone buzzed.

From Natasha:

“Meet me at my car in ten.”

You smiled. The answer was yes: she was planning something. Probably a dinner reservation or a rooftop or something ridiculous and romantic. You grabbed your jacket, a little bounce in your step as you took the elevator down to the private garage.

She was already there, leaning against the black SUV like it was a magazine cover shoot. Jacket clean, sleeves pushed up, sunglasses off. She looked calm. Effortlessly cool. But you knew her. Her shoulders were too stiff. Her jaw too tight. Still, she smiled when she saw you. That rare, quiet, completely yours kind of smile.

“Date night?” you teased as you approached.

She opened the passenger door for you, smooth and confident. “After you.” she said.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re being suspiciously charming..”

“Is it working?”

You rolled your eyes, but got in anyway. She shut the door behind you gently. You adjusted your seat, glanced toward the side mirror, and froze for just a second.

Yelena was standing by the car behind you, arms folded, leaning against the hood like she had no business being there. And when your eyes found hers, she grinned.

Then lifted both hands and crossed her fingers slowly. Your stomach did a slow, warm flip, turned toward the driver’s seat.

Natasha slid in beside you. You watched her hands on the steering wheel. She looked at you sideways, almost like she could feel your stare.

“…What?” she asked.

You shook your head, smile creeping up your face. “Nothing.”

But your heart was suddenly beating louder than before. And somehow, you knew, without knowing why- Tonight was going to change everything.

The drive started like any other. You were curled sideways in the seat, one leg tucked under you, gesturing wildly as you told some ridiculous story about Willow and a protein shake exploding in the locker room.

Natasha nodded occasionally, gave soft mhm’s, eyes focused on the road. Her hands on the wheel were steady, knuckles just barely flexing when the streetlights caught them.

You barely noticed. You were too busy rambling, laughing, reliving the way Willow had shouted. You were mid-sentence when something shifted. You frowned, mid-laugh, and glanced out the window.

“Wait.”

Natasha didn’t look at you. You sat up a little straighter.

“Did you just miss the turn?”

“Hmm?”

“To the restaurant. You just passed it.”

Natasha gave a tiny smile. “Did I?”

You blinked. “…Yes?”

“Guess we’re going somewhere else.”

You stared at her for a second, caught between confusion and suspicion. But she didn’t say anything else. Just flicked the indicator and turned onto a quieter road, the city slowly thinning behind you. You watched her out of the corner of your eye. She looked completely relaxed. Too relaxed.

“Nat..” you said slowly, “are you kidnapping me?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst date idea.” she murmured, eyes still forward.

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously, where are we going?”

She didn’t answer. You turned back to the window, half to check the road, half to fight the weird flutter in your chest.

Then you saw it. The building. And your breath caught.

“…Wait..” you whispered.

Natasha glanced at you just briefly, a flicker of warmth in her expression. You turned your whole body toward the glass now, heart starting to race for entirely different reasons.

“That’s-”

“Yeah.”

“My old track?”

She pulled into the narrow lot beside it, the tires crunching softly on old gravel. The buildings looked the same, faded, boxy, industrial and somehow still comforting. You could see the rows of open garage doors. The empty tower. The half-painted line where cars used to queue before testing.

You hadn’t been here in years. Not since before Romanoff Racing. Before Natasha. Before everything..

She cut the engine. You turned to her, breath catching just a little.

“…What is this?”

Natasha’s voice was soft. “Come with me.”

She stepped out, walked around the car, and opened your door for you like it was sacred. You blinked up at her, heart thudding, and took her hand without a word.

The moment your feet hit the pavement, the memories came back in waves. Sweaty days in overalls. Oil under your nails. The first time you adjusted a suspension without double-checking the manual. Your first test drive.

You followed Natasha toward the open garage. It was cleaner than you remembered, maybe freshly prepped for her. But the bones were the same. You could almost see your younger self crouched near the back, tightening something with your whole body, muttering under your breath.

“I used to live in here..” you whispered, eyes wide.

Natasha didn’t speak. She just looked at you. Let you take it in. Then gently reached for your hand and gave it a tug.

“Come on.”

You walked behind her toward the platform above the test track, the one overlooking the straight. You hadn’t stepped foot on it in years. She climbed the stairs first, steady and slow, and you followed.

When you reached the top, the breeze hit your face, light and familiar. You gripped the rail instinctively, eyes scanning the stretch of road. And then you turned.

Natasha wasn’t looking at the track. She was looking at you.

“This is where I first saw you.” she said softly.

You blinked. “What?”

She took a step closer. “I came here scouting test drivers. Just one random day. I didn’t know your name. I just remember watching you storm out of the garage, You were in the car. And the second you hit the throttle…” She shook her head, smile soft. “I knew. Right then.”

“Knew what?”

“That I wanted you on my team.”

Your throat went dry. You blinked again. “And then later..” she added, quieter now, “I realized I didn’t just want you on my team.”

Her voice almost broke there. “I wanted you in my life.”

You stared at her. She reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Her hand lingered on your cheek. You leaned into it without meaning to.

The silence wasn’t empty.. It was full. Your chest felt tight. “Natasha..” you whispered. “What are you-“

But she was already stepping back. Her fingers slipped from your face, and moved toward her jacket pocket.

You felt it before it happened.

The way her eyes softened. The way her hand hovered near her jacket, hesitant, shaking just a little, the kind of tremble no one else would ever notice, but you knew her. And in that flicker of silence, that split-second where the air pulled still and the whole world felt like it stopped moving- You knew.

“N-Natasha.” you breathed, barely a whisper.

She didn’t speak, her eyes didn’t leave yours. Her hand slipped into her pocket. Pulled out the small, velvet box. Turned it once in her fingers.

And then.. She dropped to one knee. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t planned for cameras or theatrics. It was real.

You covered your mouth with one hand, your breath catching so hard in your chest it almost hurt. Your knees went weak. Your heart jumped into your throat and refused to come down.

Natasha looked up at you. Her mouth opened, but nothing came for a second. She blinked, swallowed, and let out a tiny, self-conscious laugh, barely audible. Then she breathed, and started to speak.

“You’ve always scared me.”

You blinked, tears already stinging, but you didn’t look away.

“Not because you’re loud.” she went on, voice steadying. “Not because you’re fast. But because the moment I saw you, I knew. And knowing scared the hell out of me.”

She turned the box in her fingers once more-, still closed.

“I watched you work on a car like it was an extension of your body. Like the bolts were part of your pulse. You didn’t care who was watching, or if someone told you no. You did it anyway.”

Her voice went soft.

“And then I met you. And it only got worse.”

You laughed through your hand, trying not to cry.

“You are stubborn. Reckless. Beautiful. Frustrating. Brilliant. And you are the only person who’s ever made me feel like I could stop running.”

She finally opened the box. The ring wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t meant to be. It was yours. Simple, elegant, crafted like a racecar part, clean lines, sharp setting, engraved words just barely visible inside.

You always win.

Natasha’s voice broke, just a little as she looked up at you.

“I don’t want a life without you. Not as your team leader. Not just as your partner in this sport. But as your person.”

She held the ring like it was fragile. Like it might vanish if she moved too fast.

“I want to be the one who sees you first. Every morning. In every win. In every fall. I want to be the hand that never lets go.”

Silence.

You didn’t move. You were crying now, shaking, lips parted but no sound coming out.

And then..Finally- she asked.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

It felt like the entire world had narrowed down to three things: the sunset bleeding into the edges of the track, the ring in Natasha’s steady hand, and the sound of your own heart thudding in your chest like it didn’t know whether to race or stop completely.

She was on her knees. Natasha Romanoff, your team principal, your partner, your anchor..was on her knees, holding everything she felt in the smallest, simplest gesture. And her eyes..God, her eyes. They didn’t just look at you. They searched you, waited for you, told you every unspoken thing she hadn’t been able to say for weeks.

And you…You were stunned. You turned in place slightly, like you were trying to ground yourself, eyes flicking to the track below, the garage behind, the platform beneath your feet. You remembered this place through grease-stained fingers and long nights. Back when you were just a name no one remembered and she was a rumor you didn’t believe.

Now she was this. Right here. Asking for forever. And all you could do was stare. “I…” you started, but it came out more breath than sound.

Natasha didn’t rush you. Didn’t speak. She just looked at you, still and open, like she’d stay in this moment as long as you needed her to.

You blinked hard, breath catching. Your knees wobbled beneath you and you lowered yourself slowly, instinctively, kneeling in front of her without even realizing you were doing it.

Still no words. Just your hands finding hers. You looked down at the ring, simple, beautiful, exactly right- and then back at her. The woman who terrified you with how deeply she knew you. Who made silence feel like safety. Who made love feel like a fight you wanted to win every day.

“I don’t know how you…” you whispered, your voice tight, almost breaking. “You did all this?”

Her lip twitched. She looked like she was about to smile, but didn’t want to break.

“I didn’t want perfect.” you whispered again, “I just wanted you.”

Natasha breathed in softly, like that one sentence was the only air she needed. You lifted your hand. Pressed your fingertips to her jaw. She closed her eyes for half a second and leaned into the touch like it hurt not to.

You gave a breathless laugh. It wasn’t disbelief anymore. It was joy. A kind of wonder that turned your whole face warm and wet and alive.

“…Yes.” you said.

Her eyes opened. You smiled, shaking, overwhelmed. You let it sit there, thick and true.

“Yes..” you whispered again, barely holding it together now. “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you.”

Natasha didn’t move for a second. Like she had to be absolutely sure this wasn’t something her heart made up. Then she reached for you.

Her arms came around your back as you leaned in, the ring still forgotten between you, and your bodies met halfway in a kiss that was slow and fragile and full of trembling, aching relief.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a movie scene. But it was yours.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against hers, and your hands slid up to cup her face. She exhaled through a quiet, shaky laugh. And for once, Natasha Romanoff looked like the most undone woman in the world.

“…I love you.” she said, so softly it almost broke you.

You closed your eyes. And said it back without hesitation, without fear, without air.

“I love you more.”

Forever had never felt so right. You stayed there a long time. Neither of you said a word. Natasha had tucked her arms around your waist, your body folded into her lap, the two of you pressed together on that platform like you’d never need to leave it. Her head rested against your shoulder. Your hands tangled together over your chest. The ring still sat between your fingers, catching the soft orange glow of the setting sun.

Her breathing had finally evened out. Her heartbeat was slower now, steadier, but still there, fluttering against your back like it was trying to believe this was real. She pressed her nose into your neck. Closed her eyes, and suddenly, she was somewhere else entirely.

“The blue car! Who’s behind the wheel?”

“I want to meet her.”

“Are you sure? She doesn’t look like she wants to be found.” Natasha’s gaze hardened. “She’s already been to hell.” she murmured. “She can handle me.”

The present came rushing back in, the warmth of you pressed against her, the faint smell of your shampoo, the tiny little sound you made when you yawned and tried to hide it.

“I was so mean when we met.” you whispered, not even looking at her, just smiling.

“You were terrifying.” Natasha murmured into your shoulder.

“I remember yelling at you...”

“You yelled at me several times.”

You turned just enough to meet her eyes. “Still picked me, though.”

She kissed your temple. “I never looked at anyone else.”

The sun was almost fully down by the time you pulled out of the lot. You were holding her hand on the center console, your body turned slightly toward her in the seat, that dopey, dreamy little grin still plastered on your face. Natasha glanced at you once, then again..and gave the smallest shake of her head.

“You’re staring.” she said.

“I’m admiring.”

“At what?”

You didn’t answer. You just held up your hand, the one wearing the ring, and wiggled your fingers with a soft gasp like it was still the first time seeing it.

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, clearly holding back a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m engaged to you. You made me a fiancée. I am going to be insufferable.”

She squeezed your hand. “Noted.”

“I need to call everyone. I need to call my mum, my dad, oh, my grandparents!!”

You giggled and stared at the ring again, gently pressing your lips to the back of her hand.

“I’m marrying you.”

She glanced over at you. Voice soft, and certain.

“You are.”

-

-

-

-

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: And Then There Were Four...

notes: I had a request a long time ago asking about the fam going to a water park. This took me so long because Its actually quite a big chapter! strong recommend reading! This takes place when Sarah is around 4 but Ellie is not quite born yet. Some Tommy and Maria development here as well!

Warnings: pregnancy announcement, some post pregnant body insecurity, unprotected sex, silght breeding kink, pool sex, mentions of unplanned pregnancies, not proofread

18+ ONLY

- - - -

There’s never been such a hot, sunny, cloudless, beautiful summer day. 

At least, according to Sarah. Who conveniently saw a TV commercial about the local water park, SplashTown, and now is raving about when you’ll be taking her. Calling up the weather forecast each day like the local advertisement “the PERFECT day for a water park!” She exclaims like a salesperson.

Honestly? It was a good call by your almost 4-year-old. It’s been a long time since your family took a day trip to do something fun. She’s starting to get the age that she’s going to remember these things, so making family fun is now a top priority for you. 

Joel agreed, though he wasn’t all that excited about spending an entire day with sun burn and bleached chorine and back bruises on those hot ass plastic slides.

So here you are, all piled in the truck with Joel at the helm, and you in the passenger seat rubbing his thigh; your giddy little girl in the back pointing towards the approaching parking lot signs. and—

“Wow I haven't been to a water park in decades!” Tommy shouts from the other back seat. “Joel, remember we used to go by ourselves when I was like 14?”

Joel just sighs loudly, ignoring his jumpy overgrown brother reverting to his child like stasis.

"Remind me again why we had to bring Tommy?” He asks you grumpily.

"The tickets were cheaper if we bought it as a set of 4 rather than 3 individual.”

Your husband shakes his head with tight lips. “Yet another reason 4 is the perfect number for a family,” he says, recalling that day on the beach where he revealed his not so subtle opinion on just how many children the two of you would ideally have. 

You raise your brows amused.

Tommy shouts from the back, “What are doin’ for dinner, by the way?”

Joel rolls his eyes. He’s focused on the road head while wiggling four of his chunky fingers in your face, mouthing ‘F-O-U-R’ in an I-told-you-so kind of way. You ruffle his soft curls affectionately.  

Your stomach churned uneasily since you woke up at 8 this morning. It’s been a minute since you were out and about in public wearing nothing but a bathing suit. Going to the beach with a 8 month pregnant body is one thing. Going to a water park with a post pregnancy one is another. One you were never really worried about until this very day.

You take a deep breath. 

You know that, no matter where you are or what shape you take, Joel’s always gonna look at you like Mr Owl with the tootsie pop — and you’re the tootsie pop— so the worry on that note settles a bit inside.

There’s other things, very recent things, to be anxious about for sure.

Once parked, walked (and skipped) towards the front entrance, tickets scanned at the gate, the four of you make your way to the cabana’s to get situated.

“Show me your backs, people,” you announce to your little huddle. Sarah, all decked out in her brand new pink and sparkle bathing suit complete with mesh tutu skirt, shuffles over first as you squirt a generous slob of sunscreen onto your palm and begin slathering it all over her body. Rubbing a little too aggressively, she squints and scrunches her face, but she doesn’t protest. You cake her face until her skin is a shade lighter than before.

“You’re gonna give her reverse cancer with all that,” Joel chuckles. You brush him off and smudge the excess on her little cheeks, squishing her cheeks as takes the abuse.

Now she’s whiter than cocaine on Christmas morning. 

You smile.

“You next, big boy.” 

Joel grumbles but sits between your legs and you begin rubbing it all over his face. 

While you don’t notice, he can’t help but grin at how you tilt your head and stick your tongue out like an artist working to preserve her masterpiece—protecting her family from the wretched sun.

“Back please!”

Joel yanks his top one handedly over his head, revealing his pasty skin. 

You hum and bite your lip. Yeah, Joel’s let  the role of ‘Dad’ take over his every demeanor. Body included. and FUck, if that soft tummy and broad shouldered man isn’t a sight for sore eyes…

It gets enough middle aged woman’s heads turning, so you quickly frown, slap his skin up and then usher his shirt back on. That sexy ass shit is for your eyes only.

“Thomas!” You scream, making Joel and Sarah curl inward.

The younger brother holds his hands up and back away. “I’m workin’ on my tan so uh—no I’m good.”

“You’re white as f—heck,” you correct yourself while sideways glancing at Sarah. “You’re gonna burn.”

“He’s too cool to be fearful of sunburn, babe,” Joel says, hoping you’ll forfeit the losing battle.

You all find a nice empty area with a few lawn chairs to set up base outside the tidal pool.

And of course, the child who only passed her toddler swimming lessons a few months ago is dying to get in the giant tub of crashing waves and cascading people.

“Please!pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” she whines, swinging on your arm and shouting it into the air.

You grumble. While you would much prefer she be in a body of water that is no deeper than a foot and is the width of a bathtub, you lessen your worry as seeing the waves aren’t on and there aren’t many people in there. “Can you at least wear your floaties?” You suggest, wagging the two arm holding balloons suggestively.

“Nah, we don’t need those, right bubba?” Joel rubs her hair. “I got her, babe. I’ll carry her the whole time.”

“Nooo!” Sarah protests, but Joel’s already kissing your forehead reassuringly (winning some Daddy points along the way) and scooping her into his arms.

“Stay in the shallow!”

Joel waves you off dismissively as they skip into the chlorine filled open sea.

Once gone, you notice Tommy checking his phone anxiously every few seconds but closing it disappointingly. A few women along the way eye him excitedly, but he just keeps to his phone the entire time.

“You doing okay?”

He shakes his head out of his trance. “Yeah. Just … haven’t heard from Maria today.”

Oh—shit. 

The last you heard, the two of them had a pretty nasty fight and Tommy had been crashing at your place for the last couple weeks. He had supposedly gone back to have a talk with her yesterday. He didn’t come back till morning, and didn’t really update you nor Joel on the situation. If anything, he looked perplexed, pale, and shaken. You feared maybe that was the final straw in their on and off relationship. Unfortunately, you are completely left in the dark as to what really happened.

You rub his shoulder calmly. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, channeling as much zen into his chest as possible before exhaling and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s… its actually—“

Squishing steps in her pool sandals while holding Daddy’s hand with a death grip, a completely drenched and shocked Sarah is walks back towards you. Her expression is just blank, dripping with water like she was baptized 12 times in a row and forgot whether she breathed air or water for a living.

“Sarah? Sarah honey are you okay?” You get to your knees and try to comfort her with warm hands along her arms. She just nods quickly, feinting something of a half smile, half frown all at once. She looks more confused than anything else.

Joel, who’s suspiciously quiet and equally drenched, is shaking. Though not from cold, but from sheer effort of trying to hide his laughs. “She got damn near waterboarded.” His face is so red, wheezing in a high pitched, barely audible tone while recalling the image.

He had taken her way deeper than “shallow”, and made Sarah promise not to tell mommy. The two snickered, and Joel hoisted her on his shoulders and waded into the deeper end, where the water came up to his mid section. The waves came on, and Joel was honestly expecting to be able to jump with him and give her a little ride. She was super excited, smiling giddily while Joel held both her hands in his next to his ears. The first wave came up to Joel’s cheek, and he quickly squirted it out with a smile. She laughed with excitement, ready for the second one—

Instead, the second wave completely kicked his ass and knocked both them off his feet, falling backwards before regaining ground. All he saw were a pair of flimsy pink sandals attached to a little pair of feet wipe past his vision before being dunked underwater. He stood quickly, shook off the water from his head and eyes. Only to realize he was a whole 3-year-old lighter.

 “Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he frantically looks around, already imagining the horror you’re going to have at the fact he just drowned his babygirl before—

He catches a glimpse of her tutu flailing under water with a foot within grasp as she waved her arms to get back up to the surface on her own. He snatched that ankle, yanks her in the air, and sets her upright. 

“Baby, are you okay?”

Sarah nods, blowing water out of nose. She seemed totally fine, really, just a little confused as to which way was up. Joel protectively wraps her body with his, blocks the next wave from knocking her out of his sight with his feet firmly planted and prepared this time.

“Shallow,” she says plainly, pointing back towards the shore, and Joel has nothing more to add but complete agreement. He grabs her arms securely and wades back, never once letting he go.

Now though, the thought of it is a lot funnier than when it was happening. 

“Almost lost her for a sec. Did you know those waves were like 10 feet high?"

"That's so not funny,” you scowl, although you could imagine you two little idiots getting wiped out by a controlled wave like a human sized super soaker, before retiring in defeat.

“Sarah, how about we stick to the toddler pool, okay?”

She gives two enthusiastic thumbs up in extra agreement. 

“Hey wait, I ain’t a toddler. what about me?” Tommy interjects.

Joel tuts. “You’re actin’ like one.” 

“Slides? Anyone?” The younger brother points behind him towards the water slide heaven.

Or as you view it, the bloodied noses, brush burn, cold shock lagoon.

“Can we do floaty one? Please mommy pleasepleaseplease—“ Sarah tugs at your arm incessantly. 

You grumble, but even Tommy is doing his best puppy eyed beg at you.

-

“Why are all these stairs—ugh—made of wood? Falling apart, termite ridden, not up to Miller Contracting Code—“

“They’re just fine, sweetie,” Joel reassures you. Although he too side eyes the state of the construction and wonders if this will be the first and last Miller family trip together.

The two of you finally catch up to the rest of the line, bending backwards to stretch your backs and sucking air.

You glance up at the perky fit ass that’s connected to Tommy above you, who’s just vibrating with excitement. He literally jogged up these stairs, two at a time, not even huffing, and he carried both sets of floats. This particular slide can do a two seater rider.

“I wanna slide with Mommy!” Sarah shouts. 

The four of you then look at the remaining buddies who need to reverse cowgirl floaty.

“I aint little spoonin’ you,” Joel says after they size each other up.

The worker who is helping you and Sarah get saddled up in the slide chimes in on Joel and Tommy conversation. “Smaller rider in the front.”

“That’s you,” they both say to each other in unison.

“I’m taller—“

“I’m older—“

“I’m not bottoming for you—“

“Why would you say it like that?”

“Get in the front, pops!”

“You first, kid, since ya got all that youthful energy—“

“JUST GET IN THE BOAT,” you shout over them, causing everyone to go quiet and look your way.

The light flashes green and you and Sarah are pushed off into the dark tunnel with an echoing “Wooooo!!!!” 

Tommy sticks his tongue out and gets in the front, Joel in the rear, the two of them fighting over foot placement and elbows squishing balls before the worker just kicks them down and hopes for the best.

You and Sarah gracefully emerge, skidding across the water gently before coming to a stop to disembark.

Your back is certainly killing you but you fake only smiles for your excited kid who thought that was a roller coaster.

A second later, Joel and Tommy’s floaty comes barreling down the slide next to yours—with no bodies in it—

OH sorry, one body, Tommy, coming down on his belly face first and—oh there’s Joel a moment later shooting out feet first and slamming into his brother as the two are catapulted way further into the pool than should be possible with the minimal flow of water coming.

Both disoriented Millers jump up from the water, shaking their heads vigorously. Tommy spits water from his mouth, just as Joel grasps his head and dunks him back under.

“I’m riding with your wife next time,” Tommy growls, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. 

Joel spits a stream of water on his face. “Over my dead body.”

“Your husband sucker kicked me in the back!”

“Oh yeah, not before he bit my damn ankles!”

“Maybe don’t shove your feet in my face?”

You sigh heavily. You’re kinda glad you didn’t have boys.

“Me n you next, right?” Tommy says your way, ignoring Joel’s death glare.

“No,” Joel interrupts once again to Tommy’s annoyance. “Because then Sarah would have to ride with me, and she doesn’t wanna, she wants to ride for her momma. Honestly babe, you’d be doin’ a dissatisfaction to your own daughter who’s only wish is to stick with her favorite person in the whole world,” he gleams as if he’d just presented the winning argument for a Nobel Peace award.

You shrug. “Okay, then you can ride with Tommy again.”

Joel’s eyes go wide. “Ya know sometimes kids need to learn hard lessons about not getting what they want and this is a perfect opportunity for Sarah. Sorry kid, you’re with uncle Tommy.”

After the second slide down, you and Joel’s backs are absolutely whipped.

The two of you don’t even need to communicate the envy you have of Tommy’s youthful body, springing back into action when he gestures towards another torture device:

“Let’s do the big one.”

“No. Hell no. I’m not a teen anymore. Body won’t survive it.”

“Yeah Tommy, you go ahead. That’s…Joel nor I would be able to get up from that.”

The younger Miller scoffs. “A slide? Seriously? You guys really are getting old.”

You and Joel look at one another. “Baby are we…getting old?” You ask incredulously.

Neither one of you are upset about it. Instead, you grin warmly at one another.

Getting old with the love of my life sounds like the best thing in the world. 

-

You make your way to the much safer, happier, safer, splashy, safer kiddie pool that is much safer for kids your daughter’s age.

As Sarah wades in the water up to her belly, Joel and Tommy huddle under the jellyfish water canopy of shade, sighing contently under the cool flow of water splashing their heads.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom,” you announce, and Joel waves you off.

He never realized how fucking exhausting just walking and getting wet was. (He wonders if that’s what your life is like) 

“DADDY!” Sarah shouts, jumping in the water for the giant bucket overhead that she’s too short to reach.

Joel slaps his knees and gets to his feet, entertaining her as she gets absolutely pommeled by a few gallons of water.

They splash around together, him hoisting her in the air by her arms then dipping in again with smiles and laughter. It’s all fun, until he gets the odd itch there’s something off with you genuinely not being here.

 A seemingly single, girl dad all wet and shirtless, playing with his kid in the kiddie pool, the ONLY dad playing in the kiddie pool amongst all mothers… He looks up and sees every single woman in here eying him like a piece of meat, and he knows he's in deep shark territory.

Frantically looking around, he picks Sarah up like a football and waddles helplessly through the crowd of predators, desperately needing his wife back. 

As if sensing his trouble, he sighs relief when he sees you pumping your arms, steam billowing from your nose like a ranging bull and wading in like splitting the Red Sea, dead set on his rescue. His one and only great white shark here snap them all away with your snarls, growls, and hinged jaw. 

Joel immediately wraps his arm around you and never leaves your touch.

Eventually you all sit in the sand pit while Sarah sits between the three adults, making castles.

Joel clears his throat. “So how’s Maria doin’? Ain’t heard much lately.”

Your eyes go wide as you slap Joel’s shoulder.

“Ow—what!”

“They’re” you lower your voice, though sheepish Tommy can hear perfectly well. “They’re taking a break.”

“Oh—oh! Oh I’m—okay no that’s … good. Some times some space—“

“Actually,” Tommy says, but the way he brushes his elbow makes you snap back at Joel. 

“Stop it! You’re making this worse—“

“Nobody tells me anything!” Your husband whispers.

“Yeah and this is why!”

“Maria and me—“ Tommy starts again.

Joel winces when you bring your hand down on his bicep again. “Stop slapping me! You’re gonna give me slap AND sun burn!”

“Joel, seriously!”

“Woman, I swear!—“

“We’re pregnant.”

You both go silent, minus the clank of your sunglasses siding off and falling on poor Sarah’s noggin.

The younger Miller brother is radiating more anxiety than the sun UV rays right now. 

Joel quietly raises his hand up for a calm high five. You bare your teeth and quickly slap it down.

Tommy rubs his shoulder tensely. “I’m just…I don’t know. Nervous.” 

“Are you two…?”

“We’re …together. I think it was a cold shock but it—kinda put shit into perspective, ya know? I think even she admitted breaking things off was probably because of the pregnancy—before she even knew it. Was off hormonally but didn’t realize why until the test.”

“What did you two even fight about?”

“Tommy chuckles, suddenly realizing how stupid their argument was. “She got mad cause I left the toothpaste cap open on the sink.”

“Oh man, even I could have told you she was pregnant. Better get out now. They don’t get any better,” Joel teases sarcastically, bumping your shoulder in jest.

You smile warm bright and with an underlying venomous sting that even he can’t detect. “Hey Joel sweetie? Can I see your tongue?”

“Mmhm why?” He says, already sticking the whole thing out on display, wide and ready and trusting as always.

You toss a fistful of sand in his mouth. Joel doubles back and chokes, taking a moment to hack up the grains sticking to everything. As he coughs and spits and sputters, you rub Tommy’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay. How are you feeling about it?”

He shrugs with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know what comes next. You guys did it after you were married. Feel like I’m all out of step now,” he laughs nervously. 

“Honey, it really doesn’t make a difference. Joel and I…we didn’t—“ you look down at Sarah who’s busy making bridges for her smudged up castle, before covering her ears with both palms slapped together like a head sandwich. “We didn’t plan her either. It just happened to be after we were married.”

Joel returns to the conversation with a hoarse choke. “Earned that one,” he croaks. After clearing his throat a bit, he finally slaps Tommy’s back. “Congrats, man. It’s really…it’s really the best thing…” he glances back over at you and Sarah, glowing in more ways than just the hot sun. He almost forgets time hasn’t stopped, that he’s not just oogling at his wife and baby like the greatest sight in the world (minus the fact he’s still got grains of sand under his tongue). He shakes his mind from your hypnotic glory before reassuring Tommy that everything is one day at a time.

Tommy agrees. “I just needed a minute to process it. I think—I’m actually—well… I’m excited…?”

You chuckle. “Is that a question?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I never gave it a thought. Never thought family life was for me. Maria is all for me, but I didn’t… I never really thought about having a family with her till …uh.”

“Till you saw how freaking awesome we are,” you boast proudly with your hands on your hips. Sarah has no idea what’s going on, but one look at you, your head held high with a dignified glint in your eye and sun radiating off you like the queen you are, and the little one mimics your posture to the tee like a mini me.

Tommy giggles and shakes his head. “Yeah. Something like that.”

You kiss Sarah’s head with a big smooch before she goes back to making holes in the sand. 

“So you’re happy.”

He smiles. It’s soft, sincere, and so easy to overlook unless you knew what a genuine human being Tommy Miller can be once you strip back the ego and playful charisma. “I’m happy. But still … anxious.”

You can’t contain your inner excitement, shaking and then launching into a Tommy with the biggest, tightest hug you can muster as you swing him side to side. “Listen its gonna be rough sometimes but its gonna be magical, and I know you two are going to do great. You’re gonna be such a great dad Tommy, I know it.”

He’s relieved to hear it from someone for the first line. As if it was the one thing he needed to know.

“I love you, and I say this respectfully, but you better get your ass back over to her as soon as we get home.” You put your hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah yeah I know.”

Your smile wains for a moment, quiet yet almost threatening. He can feel the tightening of your finger tips digging into his muscles.

Tommy picks up on your thoughts real quick.

 “You can’t get all angry at Maria just cuz she didn’t tell you first.”

“I guess I’m just CHOPPED LIVER to her, her BEST FRIEND and she doesn’t even—!” you start stammering, getting louder and more agitated before Joel puts his hand on your head like an off button. “I need to calm down.” You pinch your fingers to your thumbs and take a deep breath, channeling inner zen. It suddenly dawns on you, the convenient timing of this all. “Oh my god, I can’t wait!”

“For what?” Joel asks curiously.

“Um—to be an aunty! Sarah with a cousin!” You quickly reply. “Uncle Joel!”

Shit. 

Joel gives you a confused look. It definitely wasn’t what you were gonna say. He knows that.

“Are you—?”

“Hot dogs!” Sarah shouts, pointing towards the cart that is sizzling up some fresh wieners and whose scent is wafting into your baby’s bloodhound-like nose. Thank goodness for it, as Joel and Tommy are seemingly distracted now with their equally hungry bellies.

Joel stands and dusts off his creaky knees from the sand. “You want one, babe?” He offers a hand out to help.

You rub your belly with a frown. “I’m good, I’m just gonna sit here for a bit. You go get her two.”

He winks at you before rushing off to Sarah, who’s already dragging Tommy to the cart about to con him in getting her some ice cream too.

-

By the End of day, everyone has warm skin, dried hair, droopy eyes. Sarah and Tommy and passed out on each other in the back. Tommy’s skin is tender to the touch, already starting to flake since he didn't want sun screen. 

Joel drives silently. He looks at you, who's slowly succumbing to sleep on the passenger as you stare out the window peacefully. 

At home, you rinse Sarah’s hair in bath and she's barely able to sit up. You pat her dry before she collapses in bed. 

Joel asks Tommy to watch after Sarah. The younger Miller nods, crashing on the couch with the fan on high.

“Psst!” Joel taps your shoulder. You were about to get undressed yourself when he nodded his head to follow. 

“What?” You ask curiously, closing the front door behind you as he sneaks you off to the community pool that’s closed after 6. Joel had maintenance keys to do any service stuff for the neighborhood, which included access 24 hours.

“Are you breaking into the pool?” You scoff.

“Me? No. I got clearance to work here. You? Yeah. Sneaky bad girl—“

The gate clicks open and Joel ropes you inside quickly.

You giggle as he latches the gate shut, his arm still around your waist. “What are we doing here, Miller?”

“What? It’s adult swim hour.” He draws you in close, his body pressed against yours. “Don’t ya wanna go skinny dipping’ with me?”

“I’m gonna keep my suit on this time.” You strip off your shirt and soaked shorts, and Joel does the same, making sure to watch you fully before he blinds himself with his own shirt.

You slip into the pool, sighing. It’s calm and quiet, cool to your sun-warmed skin. You were looking forward to just floating and unwinding until—

Joel rushes to you, wading in the water. You let out a shriek as he grabs your ass under water and wraps your legs around him. Cupping your face and kissing you, he backs you up against the wall. 

“I wanted to do this all day,” he rasps, sucking your neck with passionate kisses. “You look so fuckin’ amazing.”

Despite the arousal, the needy whimpers you let out as he ruts his hard on against the seam of your crotch, you gulp. Your mind had been distracted all day, but now seemed like a good a time as ever.

"I had that appointment,” you tell him softly.

He continues to pepper you with hot kisses, taking your bathing suit strap down your shoulders. Mmm? Which one?" He bites into your shoulder blade teasingly.

"Ya know. With Spoon being protective around me..."

"Yeah, she loves ya,” he hums. He pulls your body flush against his, feeling the hard and soft outline of his torso and chest. 

“…And… all the Pepsi, I’ve been drinking.”

He chuckles softly. "That ain't a medical emergency baby.” He continues to kiss down your neck. “Besides, ya only get like that when you're...." 

He stops kissing, pulling away with realization in his eyes. H parts his lips, as if he’s let out a breath but hasn’t sucked another in. Looking to you, really, genuinely, as if it’s the first time today he’s actually put all his attention to you. Consciously knowing he should have known the whole damn time.

And you confirm it all with casual smile:

“I’m pregnant.” 

There’s a frog that croaks from the grass next to you. The water filter plugging every so often in the distance.

"You’re....pregnant,” he repeats.

"Um yeah. What do you … think about that?”

He tries to find the correct words. Its like a bunch of lines of code are rambling through his brain, visibly on his face, but he can't help the first honest thought that tumbles out his mouth: “My dick is hard.”

You both combust into laughter.

He rubs his forehead on your collar embarrassingly. “I’m sorry shit that’s… that was my first thought. Oh my god, are you serious? Like really???"

You nod biting your lip.

"Holy shit, oh my god thats--! Wait are you… are you okay, are you excited? I mean, shit, I know we talked about it, kinda, but—but you don't have to be, we don’t have to--"

You can’t hide the gleeful smile bursting through your teeth. “I’m excited.”

He hugs and kisses you. “Me too!” He lets out a breath before gyrating his hips deeper against you, grinding the excitement directly against your cunt. “M’sorry, I cant help it. Fuck oh my god."

“Me too—Joel—please—I want to—“

He slips himself out of his trousers while rubbing your clit through your bottoms. "I knew you were glowing today. Thought it was just me. Fuck. Gonna make me a Daddy again. Wife's got such a fertile pussy. Shit. When do ya think it was?"

"That night--in the car. We went onna date"

"Shit really did breed ya on some back road. Fuck—“ he squeezes his eyes tight. “M’ not gonna last.”

“Should we be—doing this? In the pool? Thought no bodily fluids…”

“Its fine—I’ll clean it—“ he hastily rubs himself against your entrance

You chuckle. “The whole pool? That’s too much. We can get out and—“

“No—baby fuck I gotta have you now. Can’t wait another—“he slips his tip inside, and the two of you groan, frozen and clinging to one another. “ahhhhhh—second.”

You wrap your arms around his broach shoulders tightly, your noses rubbing against one another. You both huff, mouths gaping. You begin to ride him slowly. 

“That’s my girl—that’s my momma,” he groans. One meaty hand is planted firmly under your ass, assisting your bounces, the other flat against the pool edge, holding you up so you don’t bruise your back. His biceps flex deliciously in the water. 

You feel dizzy and alive all at once. Panting against one another, neither of you can contain your excited smirks. The thrill of your pregnancy, of doing it in a pool, of being sneaky and yet being the age you are now…it felt surreal. 

Or maybe that was just the pregnancy hormones all over again…

It’s as if he read your mind. “Holy fuck I can’t wait—I can’t wait—“ he mumbles again and again. He’s thinking about your body, your belly, breasts, milk, 2am cravings and baby shoes and a new crib he can make, strollers and car seats and you and his whole family in his arms—

“I love you so much,” you keen. He fills you just right. He always had. A damn professional at making you sing every time. 

“I love you.” He thrusts a little more incessantly, as best he can through the water. Your bodies ripple waves outwards from your motions, disturbing the pool’s serenity. 

“We’re gonna have a baby,” you jeer.

“F-fuck—say it again—“ he growls.

“Gonna—gonna be a mommy—make you a Daddy again—!“

“More—Fuck—gimme more—“

neither of you have more to give at the moment. Seizing up, fingers clawing into one another’s skin, you both gasp, stilling with his cock rammed deep into you until you could feel his balls twitch against your bottom. He lets out an animalistic grunt with the first squirt of his cream into you, and your walls soon follow with perfect flutters that has him stuttering.

“I’m —so in love—“ he gasps, teeth grinding as he ruts his seed deep into you. He can barely see straight. 

“Me—me too,” you moan. You feel like you’re on fire despite the cool water surrounding you. Everything hot and tense and heavenly as you ride out that high. 

It takes a moment for you two to relax, still wrapped in each other’s embrace. It feels like home.

As he’s huffing into your shoulder, he starts laughing. Big and hearty and full of love. “You know what this means?”

You shake your head.

“I can finally kick Tommy out of family gatherings!”

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smirk.

“FOUR!” He shouts. “I’M GONNA HAVE ANOTHER BABY! That Makes FOUR OF US! Fantastic F—!”

You slap your palm over his lips. “Have you forgotten we’re not supposed to be here??”

He shrugs, kissing your hand instead.

You get yourselves as decent as possible before sneaking back out and over to your house. What was a very exhausting day just reinvigorated both your spirits for the rest of the night.

Tommy is still drooling into the couch when you tip toe back inside with shushed giggles.

“Oh my god—“ you gasp. Your earlier thought dawning on you.

Joel cups your belly, holding you close. “What is it?”

You smash his cheeks with both hands. “Maria and I are both going to have babies—together!”

Joel’s face frowns despite your obvious excitement. He glances at Tommy—the poor bastard having no idea what storm is about to hit.

You stomp your feet happily, smiling like a clown. But it quickly fades, and suddenly you’re breathing heavily, eyes shining with tears that begin to spill.

“What—what’s wrong baby?”

“I— I don’t—“ you hiccup and sniffle, unable to hide your emotional turmoil. “I want—I want—“

He’s desperately wiping your sudden tears with his thumbs, terrified of what’s going on right now.

“I WANT A MILKSHAAAAAKKKEEEE!” You bawl, finally tilting your head back and crying loudly into the air.

Tommy stirs awake, confused. “What’s wrong? What the hell did you do?”

Joel stares off at him. Jesus. it’s absolutely insane how quickly it all was happening again.

Sarah walks into the living room, awakened by your raucous crying. She rubs her eyeballs. “W-what’s wrong with—mommy?” She asks, concern dripping from her voice. 

“Nothing baby, mommy is just—“

But the sounds of your loud, child-like sobs triggers Sarah’s worry, making her eyes water and tears spilling too.

Now both of you were crying.

Tommy covers his ears, looking between the two of you. “What is happening!”

The older, very older, Miller just puts his hands on his hips. He’s certain by the end of this pregnancy, he’ll lose full hearing in his left ear.

“We’ve got a rough year ahead of us, brother.”

Tommy tilts his head. “We?”

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @urlivingdeadgirl @yourmommycallsmemommy @kellielovesmovies @whoaitspascal87 @yournameyn @jeewrites

[ruruumin]

true rivals

₊˚ ☘︎ huntr/x! mira x fem! reader.

⤷ inspired by extraL by jennie

as the saja boys made themselves comfortable in their shared table with huntrix, mira’s glare was unwavering. resisting the urge to pull herself from this misery, she sucks up her frustrations and smiles wide for the audience. while the two men beside her chatter with superficial comments about her hair and face, a third voice breaks through the noise.

“didn’t know you were something to be shared, mira.” you say, tilting your cap upwards to expose part of your face. mira’s expression changes from annoyance to shock when she recognizes your smirk beneath the black mask. “i thought we had something special.” 

standing in front of her was a very, very special guest. mira’s lips press tightly against each other, gaze hardening on your figure. had you debuted with huntrix, the world would have united in glorified cheers. instead, you parted from them during your trainee days, choosing to go solo with your agent. 

mira didn’t believe it at first until she saw you walk out of the conference room. the expression on your face was dark and your agent trailed behind you like a puppy. the ceo was hot on your feet, begging for you to reconsider your choice and join the rest of the girls. you had a lot of potential, he kept saying. losing you would mean the entire program might sink under. regardless of his words, you left to create your own small company, one where you could have absolute reign over your debut.

the pink-haired idol thought that when you left, you took her heart with her. all those gentle gestures of affection, sharing water bottles and practicing difficult choreography late at night— she spent years shaking them off. when she closes her eyes, she still imagines your hot breath brushing up against the nape of her neck. she can feel the seething heat from beneath your finger tips as you guide her hips to the beat of the song. 

back in the present, mira closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. to some extent, she hoped you could have joined her in this new group. you would have been good friends with both zoey and rumi. and maybe there could have been more between the two of you. the spark she saw in you was still there. but she has to admit, you looked better alone. at the very top of the music scene, you shined brighter when you were by yourself. being held down by other people wasn’t your cup of tea. 

you wanted all the lines, the hardest dance moves, full control over the field. mira admired that most in you. this feeling of perfect authority that you wield. as long as you put your mind to it, you could do absolutely anything. you’ve done numerous collaborations that garnered both western and eastern attention. your stage presence was absolutely breathtaking when she got the chance to see you.

yet despite being at the height of your career, you’ve never once stopped teasing her. even now, you snuck through heaps of people to be in front of her. acting like one of her other fans, you gesture back to the poster.

her fingers are nervous and the palms of her hand was starting to grow clammy. a bead of sweat threatened to break through her foundation. underneath the gaze of the saja boys was tense, however, it was nothing compared to your sharp, almost calculating stare. 

“haha. very funny,” mira replies, picking up one of her posters, “who am i making this out to then?”

you slowly tilt your head to the side. humming a familiar tune she recognizes as your latest release, mira’s body starts to shiver. “how about… your number one rival?” 

she chuckles, signing the poster. subtly drawing a heart beside your name, she playfully rolls her eyes, “you got some real nerve showing up around here.” 

mira doesn’t waste a second giving you the poster, the excitement in her veins being almost as palpable as her many fans here. the two saja boys sitting beside her don’t bother signing the poster. instead, they sit back in their seats, exchanging looks to each other. the tension as so thick, you couldn’t cut it even with the sharpest of knives.

“i couldn’t help it. i wanted to see my favorite girl.” 

this mouthy response has mira at the edge of her seat, ears burning a brighter shade of pink than her hair.

“h-huh? what are you—?”

at this moment, the rest of the table is staring at her interaction with you. bobby is inching over with curious eyes. this level of attention has mira gripping onto the pen with a force strong enough to break the heavens. instead of entertaining the others at the table, both saja and huntrix, you think its a good time to leave.

“i better get going then. it was nice seeing you again, mira.” without wasting a breath, you straighten your back and start your departure. pulling your cap down to conceal your face, you weave through the crowd without looking back. 

she doesn’t need to hear it from you. she’s sure that when you left, you promised to see her next show.

[savanir]

DP x DC Prompt [28]

Danny messed up...

During a fight in the zone he accidentally went through a random natural portal that closed once he went through and he's been looking for a way back ever since.

While looking he's come into contact with a colourful bunch of people who call themselves the legion of superheroes.

It appears they are a collective of heroes from all kinds of planets working together to help all over the universe.

Despite the whole; several heroes his age thing and, the aliens thing, Danny can't really enjoy the experience because they were also the ones to tell Danny that time travel is illegal, so they can't really be of any help.

And Danny might be a little more stuck than he originally thought.

The situation is getting somewhat worrying, he's not gonna lie...

But! He did get introduced to this Brainy guy and maybe, just maybe, if he's nice enough or something, he can convince him to make a portal back into the realms anyway.

Meanwhile Querl has now met someone who can emotionally read him completely.

It's a surreal experience to have someone around him who just knows how he's feeling without him having to explain himself.

Now if only Phantom had a higher level of intelligence and they could have some really interesting debates...

Alas, can't have everything. Too bad.

Still, Phantom's stories about this 'Infinite Realm' place sounds absolutely fascinating.

And it just so seems to be that the ghostly hero has blueprints for the construction of a gateway to the place on his absolutely archaic communication device.

"Phantom, allow me to have a look at those blueprints you mentioned."

Querl already holds out his hand to accept the device from Danny without waiting to hear if he'll accept or not.

Danny can see some of the people around them giving him an apologetic look, probably figuring Danny would find Querl to be rude.

And maybe Danny would, if he couldn't feel the curiosity pouring off of him.

So before anyone can say anything Danny chirps, "sure! Here you go."

And hands him his phone.

As Querl pours over the data, Danny internally figures that its now only a matter of time until he's back home.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (31 - Paradise Calling)

Chapter Summary: After several weeks of looking for her, you do eventually find Wanda Maximoff after she leaves Westview, but not in any way you ever imagined.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: violence, mention of blood and injury

A/N: The story continues in the aftermath of Wanda’s release of Westview. I’m still debating whether to stick with the canon concept of Billy and Tommy’s souls being real but bodiless since I started this story long before Agatha All Along entered the picture. Also, there might not be an update next week as I'll be out of town. Thanks to everyone who still continues to follow this story :) You guys are awesome. P.S. can you guess which mutant attacked y/n? :P // More author's notes here. // gif

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The Hex dissolves completely at midnight.

By then, more and more of Westview have become accessible, its walls shrinking like the last breath of a dying storm. Throughout the wait, Monica’s order remains ironclad, which is that no one who isn’t a Westview resident is to step across the boundary.

It turns out to be the right call. Letting Wanda end it on her own terms—without pressure, or interference—is the last mercy anyone can offer. So they wait at the edge of town, in the solemn dark, while those inside slowly begin to come back to themselves.

And when the last of it winds down, Monica gives the signal. The military moves in, not with weapons this time, but with medics in tow. People stumble into the streets, dazed and hollow-eyed, like toys winding themselves up after years on a shelf. Some of them rush to scoop their children into their arms, while others just stand there, holding each other, staring at their hands like they’ve only just remembered what it means to move on their own.

It’s harder than anyone on the rescue team expected. Because how do you assess damage like this? These people aren’t injured in any conventional way. Their minds weren’t broken so much as hijacked. Puppeted. Made to smile and speak and move without their consent. It’s not madness, and it’s definitely not grief that they are experiencing. 

It’s something more…alienating. Locked in the backseat of your own body, watching your hands move and your mouth speak, knowing none of it is you. It’s the kind of trauma that leaves even seasoned therapists unsure where to begin. So the medics do what they can. Blankets for the cold, water for the dry-mouthed, and a hand on the shoulder for those who can’t seem to stop shaking. 

And you—you stay rooted at the edge of the ground where Wanda’s house once stood, silently taking in the aftermath. It’s the first time you’ve really looked at the lot you bought on a whim five years ago. It feels larger than you remembered, and standing here now, it stirs more regret than pride.

“There’s no sign of her,” Clint says as he approaches. He glances between you, Monica, and Darcy. “She’s gone.”

Monica exhales sharply. “Of course she is,” she mutters.

Agent Woo’s already packed up and gone too, reassigned mid-crisis to another urgent matter. Those left behind are burdened to help pick up the pieces.

“I guess she escaped?” Darcy offers.

You wince. “Don’t say ‘escaped.’ She didn’t—” The sentence stalls, the logic collapsing halfway out of your mouth.

Monica catches it and shrugs. “Yeah, maybe ‘escaping’ wasn’t her plan.” Then, more pointedly, “But what did you think was gonna happen? That she’d stick around? Turn herself in? Like you did, Y/N?”

Right. You’re still technically a prisoner. Still walking around on borrowed time, under a conditional release that’s quickly running out, especially now that Wanda’s vanished, and no one has a clue where she went.

You’d been hoping for a moment—just one—to talk to Wanda alone. And now, you’re starting to think your presence never mattered at all. The other you, her you, was the one who got through to her, who helped her bring down the Hex.

All you’ve ever done here was make it harder for Wanda.

“And her children?” you ask quietly, turning to Clint, your voice stripped down to worry.

Clint just shakes his head. “No sign of them. Or your copy.”

Everyone’s face falls at that. They’d all felt so real, the idea that they simply blinked out of existence is hard to swallow even if the theory always seemed to suggest that direction.

Darcy breaks the spell. “Shame, really. I kinda liked that Y/N.” She shoots you an apologetic grin. “No offense to the original, it’s just... we never got our moment.”

You manage a weak smile. “None taken.”

Monica claps her hands together. “Well, I guess… that’s it.” 

You turn to her slowly, frowning. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

Monica’s hands drop to her sides. “I mean… she’s gone. The Hex is down. Everyone who was trapped is free. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Clint gives a weary shrug. “Sometimes disappearing’s the only thing a person has left.” You shoot him a glare, but he honestly seems oblivious that his words just struck you straight on.

Before you can argue further, a young S.W.O.R.D. tech jogs up, tablet in hand.

“Uh, Director?” He gestures vaguely at Monica. “We found a vehicle just outside the old perimeter. Abandoned. Figured you’d want to take a look.”

Monica glances between you and Clint. “Yours?”

You shake your head no.

“Color?” Clint asks.

“Deep maroon,” the tech says. “Old Volvo wagon. New Jersey plates.”

Clint lets out a low whistle. “That’s Wanda’s.”

You’re already moving before the words finish leaving his mouth.

“Y/N—” Monica calls after you, but you don’t look back.

Clint mutters a curse and follows. Monica and Darcy hang back, letting you go.

You’re desperate for any sign of Wanda, anything that might tell you where she went. You haven’t run this far or this fast in years, and your lungs are burning from the effort. But the thought of her out there, alone and possibly hurt, keeps your legs moving, pushing through the ache.

Soon, just past the edge of the boundary, you spot the Volvo.

You slow as you approach, heart thudding in your chest.

Clint catches up beside you. “That’s definitely hers.”

You nod, already reaching for the handle. It shouldn’t open, but it does. The door gives with a soft click, swinging open without resistance. You slide into the driver’s seat and glance around. 

“She didn’t even lock it,” you murmur.

“The keys?” Clint asks.

You check the ignition. Nothing. Then the cupholders, under the seat, the center console. Still nothing.

“Glove box,” Clint says, leaning in through the open door.

You press the latch. The compartment drops with a soft thunk, and something slides forward: a single manila folder, edges crisp, your name penned in Wanda’s looping cursive across the tab. Your breath catches. Carefully, almost like it might break in your hands, you lift it. It feels like it holds everything you’ve been chasing.

Inside, everything is heartbreakingly familiar. The property deed you mailed Clint weeks ago. Photographs you never had the courage to burn when you first became convinced that Wanda wasn’t coming back. Letters and notes you randomly wrote to Wanda throughout the years she was gone. 

And resting on top of it all, catching the faint moonlight—

Your wedding ring. The one you gave her. The match to the one you still wear around your neck.

With trembling fingers, you turn the band over between thumb and forefinger; it’s still warm, as if she’d only just set it down.

“She left this car here,” you whisper. “Because she wanted me to find this.”

Clint drifts a few steps back, giving you space but not leaving. He folds his arms and waits, giving you time to come to terms with Wanda’s clear response at having found out you lied to her. And it’s not pretty.

After a long, brittle silence, he clears his throat. “So… what are you going to do now?”

It’s the same question everyone’s thrown at you all day, and you still don’t have an answer.

Instead of answering, you whisper, “Did I make a mistake, Clint? Walking away back then, leaving her to sort through the rubble alone, was that when everything started to fall apart?”

He exhales and lowers himself onto the curb beside the car. “We all made mistakes,” he says, rubbing a thumb over a scar on his knuckles. “But no one could have known it would lead to this. We were careless, sure, maybe blind to how much she was really hurting. But this,” he says, nodding at the folder in your lap, “this was Wanda’s pain. Her choice. Not something you could have predicted.”

“I should’ve seen her slipping. I asked you to look after her and—”

“I know,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “And I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t there for her like you asked. I was drowning in my own mess, trying to keep my family together once we got them back… I missed the signs.”

You nod slowly and slip the ring into your pocket. Then, flat and quiet, you say, “I’ve still got about a decade of my sentence to serve.”

“I can buy you more time,” Clint offers. “Tell them Wanda escaped. Technically, this whole thing isn’t over.”

You huff a humorless breath. “It won’t matter. I don’t want to go back.”

Clint studies you for a long moment, brow furrowed. “You mean that?”

You nod again. “The second I saw her… I wanted to take it all back. The deal. The surrender. All those years I spent trying to convince myself that moving on was the right call.”

He sits with that for a while, then says, quiet and honest, “You know I can’t turn myself in either.”

You glance over at him. “I’m not asking you to.”

“I’ve got my family back,” he says. “I’m rebuilding. I can’t walk away from that.”

“I know,” you reply. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

He gives you a sidelong look. “Then what are you thinking? You planning to go back on the run? Because you remember what it was like after the Accords, right? We didn’t end up in the Raft, but we weren’t free either. We were always looking over our shoulders.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Wanda was with me back then.”

He raises a brow, watching you carefully.

“And somehow,” you add, voice soft, almost to yourself, “that made all of it bearable.”

After a long lull, Clint asks, “What were you hoping for, Y/N? When she saw you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug. “Maybe that… that she’d recognize me, at least.”

“She probably did,” Clint says. “That might be why she destroyed the Hex herself.”

You shake your head, hard, unwilling to accept that. “I doubt it was that simple.” 

The idea feels impossible. You remember the look on Wanda’s face: hurt, disappointment, the unmistakable sting of betrayal. You have put that look there before, but this time it was different. This time, that betrayal caused her this guilt she now carries with her for something she’d done out of her mourning you—

When she never should have had to mourn at all.

—

With Clint’s quiet blessing, you slip into the night, becoming a fugitive once again, determined to reach Wanda before the authorities do. It isn’t enough that Wanda released the town willingly; the damage is already done. Westview’s residents remain traumatized and disoriented, and dissolving the Hex doesn't absolve her actions. This is exactly what Tony always fought for—the idea that even heroes, even Avengers, must answer to laws meant for everyone, not just hide behind the duty of saving the world.

You don’t blame them for hunting her. You just don’t trust them to understand her.

So you go first.

You swap your jacket for a plain coat, leave your comms behind, and start reaching out to contacts you haven’t spoken to in years. A woman like Wanda can’t move without leaving a ripple, and eventually, you learn to follow a pattern: unexplained power surges in rural areas upwards north. Clint checks in with you every now and then, but you don’t expect anything more. He’s busy these days—a civilian fully occupied with being a father. 

The first few weeks blur together. Deep down, you keep hoping Wanda will be the one to find you—not because she misses you or wants to forgive, but because she finally wants answers. Isn’t there at least one question she needs to ask? Maybe she hates you too much to bother. Maybe she hates you enough to stop caring about your reasons altogether.

That thought hurts more than you’d like to admit. Still, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve put her through. You don’t know how you’ll face her when the time comes. All you know is that she’s hurting—and a hurting Wanda Maximoff isn’t just a danger to the world. She’s a danger to herself.

Late one evening, while tracking rumors of strange sightings in the forested mountains of Vermont, you feel unease settle in your gut. The trees grow denser, their branches knitting overhead, and the pale yellow moon offers little light. Shadows slither and shift across the narrow trail. You stop, breath misting in the cold air, certain now that you’re not alone.

You hold still and listen. Over the thud of your own unsteady pulse comes a faint rustle in the undergrowth. It’s too careful, too deliberate to be wind or wildlife.

“Who’s there?” Your voice is brittle, an uncertain challenge.

In the dark forest, you know you shouldn’t make a sound. But if it’s Wanda—

A low growl answers, so deep and guttural it sends a chill racing down your spine. You spin, eyes straining through the gloom, just as a shadow barrels toward you. The movement is fast, smooth, and completely inhuman.

It slams into you with brutal force, all muscle and claws—definitely not Wanda—knocking you hard to the ground.

You scramble to your feet, breath ragged, eyes sweeping the darkness in search of your attacker. The figure rises slowly, towering and hunched, its skin a sick, mottled gray. Its limbs are grotesquely stretched, ending in claws slick with fresh blood (yours).

Its face—

No. That can’t be right. Tony’s snap wiped out all of Thanos’ army. This thing shouldn’t exist. So how is it standing here? How did it survive?

“What the—” you gasp, stumbling back.

It lunges again, jaws gaping open with teeth glinting sharp and savage. You swing your arm wildly, and your fist connects with its jaw. The impact jars painfully up your arm, but the creature barely reacts, snarling viciously as it swings one massive clawed hand toward your face. You dodge by inches, claws slicing the air with a sharp hiss.

You stagger back again, trying to regain your footing. Your breath comes out in uneven bursts of fogged air. The creature circles slowly, blocking any clear route of escape. You study it, desperately searching for a weakness, but its movements remain erratic, unpredictable. 

Your combat skills are still there, but you’ve aged some, and it’s not as easy to fall back into your old rhythm and speed, especially when facing such an aggressive foe.

“Stay back,” you warn weakly, your voice trembling despite your attempt at bravado.

It snarls louder, head twitching, neck muscles spasming unnaturally as it stalks closer. You backpedal and your foot slips on wet leaves, throwing you off-balance. You hit the ground hard, skull cracking sharply against something hidden beneath the foliage. Stars burst in your vision.

As you struggle to sit upright, the beast approaches slowly, enjoying this, you realize sickeningly. It flexes its claws, taking its time.

“Wait,” you choke out, tasting copper as blood fills your mouth.

It stalks towards you leisurely as if hearing nothing. It snarls again, lips peeling back to reveal teeth sharp as blades. It raises a hand for the final blow, claws poised high—

And all you can think is how ironic it is. That this is what you craved, once.

Back when you were Ronin.

When death felt like the only honest language left, and violence was the only thing that could answer it.

You spent five years chasing this moment. And now? Now, with Wanda back in the universe. Now, when for the first time in years, you actually want to live.

Now is when death decides to show up?

Of course it is.

You laugh, or try to, but it comes out as a choked breath through blood. The creature roars, the sound tearing through the trees. And as the snow drifts down and your vision begins to fade, you manage one last word, soft as a prayer.

“…Wanda.”

—

You wake slowly to warmth, a fire crackling nearby. Every part of you feels bruised, sliced open, and carefully stitched back together. Bandages wind tight around your ribs, your shoulders, your arms. Your throat burns dry, but you're breathing. Miraculously. 

You push yourself upright, careful and slow. The world sways around you as the blanket slips from your shoulders.

Blinking up at the slanted ceiling overhead—wooden, rough-hewn, beams exposed, nothing familiar about it—you realize you’re still in the forest. The earthy, damp scent of pine needles teases your nose. There’s no electricity, just lanterns, candles, heat from flame and old wood. The furniture is simple, hand-built, and worn from use.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet sinking into a rug so soft it draws a quiet sigh from your lips. You have no idea how long you’ve been unconscious—hours, maybe even days.

Unsteady, you find the hallway, one hand trailing the wall for balance. You pass a small kitchen, simple but well-stocked. A kettle rests near the fire, still warm, like it was used not long ago.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the front door slightly ajar, a narrow strip of gray light slicing into the room, dust suspended in its path.

You drift closer.

Outside, there’s Wanda.

She sits on the porch steps, wrapped in a thick sweater, her back to you. Her hair falls in loose, tangled waves, longer than you remember. Despite the biting cold, she’s barefoot, her arms draped over her knees as she stares into the woods.

You stop at the doorway, saying nothing at first. 

She looks so… peaceful. 

“Wanda,” you say at last, barely above a breath.

She doesn’t move.

You try again. “Wanda.”

Still nothing. You can’t tell if she’s ignoring you, or if your voice is simply too weak for her to hear.

Of course it was her who found you. Of course it doesn’t mean anything’s been forgiven. You take a step back, and the door eases shut behind you with a quiet creak.

You head deeper into the cabin. It’s not large, but in your condition, it feels like a maze.

At the end of a narrow hallway, you find a door left slightly open.

Something pulses beyond it—low and red and constant. Your fingers graze the frame as you nudge it open. 

The hair on your arms rises.

Wanda’s there, too.

She’s floating a few inches off the ground, legs crossed. Her eyes don’t blink. They don’t move. Just glowing red, unwavering and endless.

She’s reading. The book in her hands is anything but ordinary. Its pages shift and shimmer, symbols rearranging themselves the moment you try to make sense of them.

You open your mouth, but your voice doesn’t come. You’re frozen.

Slowly, like she already knew you were standing there, she lifts her head.

Her gaze locks onto yours.

The book snaps shut.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Helping Hand

Content: Non proof-reader; Android! Caleb + Overstimulation + Fake cum + Size difference + Dacryphilia + Praise kink + Aftercare

Summary: You chose to buy one of those new androids in the market, after all, with the little time you had, it was logical for you to get one! But after your birthday party, you can't help but feel like something has changed within Caleb...

Note: I'm finally done with exams but now my brain is dry... On another note, I have to keep on writing my novel! It has nothing to do with my usual work here, but I really should keep on writing cause I have so much ideas for cool characters! Wish I could draw them... I hope people get the ideas of how Android! Caleb lower half works...

Note 2: I just put some fake nails and writing has become so difficult... Had to use two pens towards the end...

Android! Caleb who opens his eyes and encounters your face. He was programmed to be cold, always following the orders of the person who bought him. At least, that was what he had learnt, as you soon rebooted his whole system, changing his personality to a softer and more "human" one. He is still quite confused, why would he need to have a personality for serving a human? Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange rush of electricity run through his system, maybe he had a strange type of malfunction?

Android! Caleb who becomes accustomed to taking care of you. He is always close to you, always waiting by the door of the house a few minutes before your arrival, food still warm and waiting for you to eat, the house completely in order from him cleaning it... Gosh, you could even feel all the tension leaving your body as soon as you entered your house. You allowed him to carry you to the bathroom, head resting against his soft chest as you let him undress you, letting your clothes carefully folded as he helped you get inside the lukewarm bath.

Android! Caleb who becomes your only caretaker. It took him less than a few days to get completely used to your body language, knowing exactly what you wanted, when you wanted it and even how you wanted it. He was basically reading your mind, always one step ahead, letting you rest your exhausted body on his bigger body, his soft hands caressing your hair as his mechanic heart kept pumping the blue liquid all over his system. You knew you shouldn't get so attached to him, but how were you supposed to stop yourself from it when he knew you like the palm of his hand?...

Android! Caleb who receives a strange update. It had recently been your birthday, so you decided to make a small party, nothing big, really. You invited a few of your friends from work, together with some other friends from when you were still studying, organising a small party at your house for all of you to drink and have fun while watching some low-quality films. It was around 3:00 when you started to feel your eyelids dropping, with your friends too focused on the climax of the film for them to notice, you chose to simply fall asleep in the cozy sofa, surely someone would wake you up sooner or later, right?

Android! Caleb who becomes much more... domestic. You didn't notice the first few days, still unaware of the strange update your friends had added as a "gift" for you. Yes, it was a bit strange for Caleb to always greet you with a hug and a kiss on your forehead, but hey, maybe it was something that they had added in one of the millions of updates Caleb had, maybe some client had complained about them being too stiff? Whatever, it wasn't as if you were particularly concerned about it, in fact, you did like it a bit...

Android! Caleb who finally puts his update to good use. It was late at night when you suddenly felt the urge to do it. It wasn't something particularly strange, with you being alone most of the time and all the stuff you liked reading and listening... What was strange was the moment the door to your bedroom was knocked. You quickly hid your naked lower half with the sheets trying your best to get your phone to hide the content you were seeing. "Caleb?" You whispered, heart beating rapidly in fear of having been discovered by him. "Pips? I'm sorry for disturbing you so late at night, but my systems have warned me that my owner, that is you, is currently in need of my assistance." You furrowed your brows, slightly confused about what was he even implying, still, you knew Caleb was unable to cause any harm to you, so you simply sighed, letting him enter without much thought. "So what was wrong, Caleb?" Caleb smiled, sitting close to you and petting your hear with his rough hands. "My system told me you needed my help, do you need it? I have been upgraded with the latest system, allowing me to help you in this kind of delicate activity." Still confused, you simply nodded, after all, the system tended to be right. As soon as you did so, Caleb removed the sheets that were covering your body, his huge hands lifting your legs with ease, getting them closer to your face, just enough for your slick pussy to be in front of his face.

"Caleb! Just-- Just what are you doing?" You tried your best to get him to let go of your ankles, squirming around with not much luck, with Caleb still retaining his sweet smile.

"I'm fulfilling my new tasks, you allowed me to do so." Caleb's arm moved, changing his grip on your thigs to keeping your body in position with just his arm. "Now, no more moving, pips, I need you to remain calm so I can help you appropietly." Caleb's tongue stick out, this time looking slightly longer than usual, his right hand making his way to your entrance as his mouth got closer to your clit.

"Wa--Wait a second! I'm pretty sure this was NOT included when I bought your model--!" Caleb stopped for a second, his expressions remaining as sweet as always.

"It wasn't. Your friends added it to my program in hopes of making you happier, they explained it to me and I agreed. I believed it would truly help you destress. I hope I will actually ." Caleb moved closer, spreading soft kisses all over your lower tummy, making a small path towards your pussy. At the same time, his hands started to glide towards your entrance, teasing it with his fingers by simply gliding up and down on it but never actually inserting them, simply coating his fingers with your lewd fluids. "Let me know if you feel any discomfort." Caleb's mouth slowly got closer, wet kisses being left around your clit as a way to tease your sensitivity, being unable to not smile after seeing your back arch from the sudden touch. Following the set procedure, Caleb slowly entered one of his fingers, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue and making you cling to the sheets, soft whimpers leaving your mouth even despite you tried to cover your mouth with your hands as a way to avoid letting even more shameful sounds escape. Suddenly, one of Caleb's hands moved, grabbing your wrists with ease and pinning them on top of your head. "I need to hear you so I can know exactly what you need." Caleb moved, his face now facing yours before diving himself into a deep kiss, his right hand still playing with your clit, making short circles around it regardless of your poor attempts of squirming away.

"Ca... Caleb! Too much-- it's too much!" You whispered, chest puffing up and down as you tried to recover from Caleb's kiss.

"My name is not the safe word, you should probably know that." Caleb suddenly switched positions, letting your back rest against his chest, his legs tangled around yours to avoid letting you try to close your legs, his lips kissing yours as he moved one of his hands to your chest, playing with your nipple as the other hand kept slowly moving inside you, searching for that sweet spot until you let a whimper escape you. "This must be your g-spot, right? Gotta make sure you enjoy this." Caleb kissed your face, peppering soft kisses all over your face as he slowly introduced another of his digits, his fingers constantly hitting that spot even as you kept trying to move away from him, with Caleb simply laughing softly against your ear, pushing his fingers even deeper inside. "You're so cute... Humans always react so vividly to the stimuli..." You could't help but feel embarrased, with Caleb's mocking tone reverberating inside your head as he kept forcing you to cum around his fingers, using his other hand to pinch and twist your nipples with just enough force.

It had been over 20 minutes since your sweet torture had begun, with Caleb moving and hitting the exact place you were craving, forcing you to close your eyes from the overstimulation. "Caleb~... That's enough... I don't think I can cum more..." Your voice sounded now raspy from all your whines and moans, with Caleb obviously ignoring them, simply cooing you.

"That's alright, then we can finally move to the main course, right?" Caleb finally let you move a bit, getting up and removing his trousers, leaving them on your chair before returning to the bed. "Let me syncronise my tools, alright?" Suddenly, Caleb's lower half changed from the usual plain surface to the shape of an erect cock, his . "Let me just..." Caleb got on top of you, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, moving his hand to grab his cock and starting to rub it against your entrance, letting some of his self-lubricating fluid just for extra caution. "I'll do it slowly, open wide now, pips." You took a deep breath as Caleb's cock entered you, softly biting against his shoulder as a way to stay calm. "Such a good girl... Just a bit more." And you could simply whine, your insides already feeling as if they were about to tear as Caleb finally bottomed out. "So good for me..." Caleb caressed your cheek, kissing your forehead as he started to move, barely moving a few centimeters before pushing back in, nails digging on his back as he kept pressing his body against yours. "Just a bit more... It will feel so good in just a few minutes..." Caleb pressed your mouths together, sucking on your tongue before starting to french kiss you, a strand of saliva connecting you both the moment the kiss ended.

As the minutes passed, you were finally able to get used to his size, the slight discomfort changing into pure pleasure, making your eyes roll back each time he rubbed that spot. "You feel so nice wrapped around me... Let me help you a bit baby." Caleb lifted your body with ease, laying your body on your front before moving back on top of you, his cock entering you, the pressure of his weight making you bite on the pillow that was close to you, whinning as Caleb's hand made light pressure on your lower stomach, just enough for you to start feeling his length even more, each thrust making your walls wrap around his cock, the system of Caleb slowly getting overheated each time you clenched around him. "Be careful... My system may get a bit overwhelmed if you keep clinging so much to me..." That was of course easier said than done, after all, it had been such a long time since you had been able to feel so good... Still, you tried your best, taking a deep breath and hugging your pillow, a few tears falling down your cheeks as you felt your mind slowly slipping away.

"Too big... You're crushing me~..." You whined, the heat radiating from Caleb mixed with the feeling of having your insides scrambled being enough to make your head feel overwhelmed. Regardless of that, Caleb kept going, his hips bumping against your ass each time he forced his whole length inside you, his hands petting your hair whole he whispered soft praises against your ear.

"So good... Cum all around me pips, show me just how much you're enjoying this..." Caleb's raspy voice echoed inside your mind, the embarrasment of having your own android seen you so fucked dumb suddenly leaving, letting you only focus on how much you wanted Caleb to praise you... So of course you did just as he asked, your gummy walls pulsing around his cock as you felt a warm liquid filling you up, forcing you to cum for who knows what time, toes curling as you felt Caleb increasing his rhythm at the same time you came, then slowing down as he felt your breath become even heavier.

After letting you recover your breath for a few minutes, you felt Caleb lifting you up from the bed, carrying to the bathroom with ease and letting you rest inside the warm bathtub and using a soft towel to scrub you, removing all the sweat together with the mixture of his cum and all your fluids. He then left for a few minutes, returning with a huge towel, wrapping your whole body around it before taking his sweet time drying it. After that, all you could remember was te warm embrace of Caleb, mixed with the fresh smell of a new set of heet together with the citrusy smell that emanated from him.

[neinoko]

⌗ 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭 ᵎᵎ ━━ 𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒊

♱ pairing. megumi x fem!reader

♱ synopsis. a pair of retired delinquent junior high students are surprised to find themselves reunited at jujutsu tech, overtime, the pair find themselves falling back into old habits in each other’s company, resulting in an intimate explosion of emotions.

♱ tags. mutual pining, explicit language, suggestive language, underage drinking, use of marijuana, smut, piv, praise, teasing, orgasm denial, overstim, oral f&m receiving, brat taming, possessive megumi, fingering, squirting, creampie.

knock knock knock

you paused right before putting the joint to your lips. groaning, you set the freshly lit cone down and stood up, getting mentally prepared to explain the rapidly spreading scent of weed filling your dorm to what you worry is a teacher.

another small string of knocks comes from the door right as you reached it.

you swung the door open aggressively, irritated by whoever decided to bother you now of all times only to be met with the slightly surprised face of megumi.

you sighed out of relief. megumi was probably the best person who could be at your door right now.

megumi was your old friend from junior high who you used to get wasted with all the time before your aunt pulled you out of school for your bad behavior.

of course, you lost contact with him and hadn’t seen him since.

so you were very surprised to see him at jujutsu tech after all that time, you hadn’t even known he could see curses.

it had been a few days since you started at jujutsu tech, so you weren’t expecting to see him at your room, it had been about 2 years since the two of you last hung out together.

“smoking?” megumi asked, his deep and raspy voice snapping you back to reality.

he had that same irritated and tired expression he's always had, one hand scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “yeah, wanna join?” you asked without thinking, perhaps habit, but you almost immediately regretted it.

what if megumi had a change of heart and now miraculously hates weed and anyone who does it— “sure.”

you felt your shoulders relax as your worry ceased, not even realizing you were that nervous. stepping aside, you invite him in. you watch him step into your room, one hand in a pocket, with the other still scratching the back of his head as he looks around your room.

closing the door, you stare at him for a second, soaking in his figure.

he’s gotten taller and rather toned yet somehow still slender, noting how his hair was the same as it was all that time ago. you can’t ignore the feeling burning in your gut. a sensation you forgot existed, something you've only felt with him alone.

megumi looks back at you, those familiar aquamarine eyes squinting at you. “y’just gonna stand there?” he asks condescendingly before sitting on the floor in front of your coffee table.

embarrassed, you walk over and sit down adjacent to megumi, having stolen your spot. you watch as megumi picks up your customized lighter and admires it for a moment before commenting, “you still have this? i thought your aunt would have made you throw it away…” he trails off before picking up the joint and relighting it.

“yeah… well, i made sure to hide it from her well, so...” you trailed off, distracted, earning a hum in response.

staring hard, you watched as he held it between his blushed lips while lighting before taking a long puff, the end glowing, he was still well experienced.

you gulped, feeling rather awkward. it had been ages since you had shared a smoke, let alone been in each other’s company. megumi inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes as a peaceful expression melted into his features before blowing the smoke out, humming in satisfaction.

“here,” he said, handing the blunt to you.

you held the cone lightly between your fingers, bringing it to your mouth and finally being able to get the puff you had been dreaming about the whole day.

“y’started rolling yourself?” megumi asks, gazing down at your rolling tray and table littered with weed and raw papers. you nod in response, taking another hit before having to give it back up. megumi stares at you for a brief moment, watching intently as you enjoy a second long puff.

“i had to learn after we stopped talking, since you always did it for me,” you reminisce, handing the blunt back to him. “you’ve gotten pretty good,” he says before hitting again.

“i remember your attempts back then were so shit it was funny,” he chuckles a little at the thought, eyes staring off into the distance as he relishes in the memory.

you grunt, “shut the hell up,” you bite back playfully, a smile pulling at your lips as you sit up straight to reach for your rolling tray and toss it in front of megumi.

he looks at you with a little smirk, eyes meeting yours again and like it’s telepathy, he understands what to do. “roll for me again, for old times sake,” you say despite knowing he already knows what you want.

megumi reaches for the weed and raw paper and you decide to put on some music as he rolls a crisp joint like always, a wave of nostalgia hitting you like a truck.

giddy, you snatch the blunt and admire it before lighting it, relinquishing your first one to megumi. you smile widely at megumi, who stares at you through long lashes and a little smile.

you two sat in a comfortable silence for a minute before you got an idea, “want a beer?” you asked, standing up and approaching your fridge. “sure,” megumi responded and you walked back with two icy cold beers.

sitting down, you handed him the can and you both cracked open yours before doing a little cheers and subsequently chugging the whole can like it was tradition, because it really was.

slamming the can down, you winced in pain as the gas bubbled in your chest.

you let yourself fall back onto your palms, your arms the only thing holding you up and you reveled in the ecstasy that was megumi and all you did with him.

“let’s do a blowback,” megumi said suddenly.

your breath hitched and you shot up to look at megumi to see if he was serious.

all he did was stare back with a sloppy smile and glossy reddened eyes, looking rather hopeful as his eyes analyzed your reaction.

“for old times sake” he added, a persuasive tone lacing each syllable.

you were stunned at his suggestion, not because blowbacks are anything crazy, but because of what happened the first and last time you did one with him.

when you first heard about blowbacks, you were curious and decided you wanted to try one with megumi to see if it was as good as people say it is. however, you chose the worst possible night to try it.

you and megumi had been excessively drunk that night and as two hormonal teenagers, of course something as intimate as a blowback would get the both of you riled up. apparently, it was meant for couples to do and not friends.

that night ended in you being sent home by megumi’s older sister, tsumiki, after she walked in on you and megumi in the midst of an intense makeout session, with your clothes halfway off.

you blinked at him, he knew exactly what his words meant but it didn’t seem to bother him. “c’mon,” he said, pushing a little harder before you finally decided to give in.

you don’t know if it was the alcohol or the weed that made you say yes or made megumi even suggest it. “fine,” you say, huffing as megumi chuckles lowly with satisfaction, “there we go,” we drug out his words in a whisper.

you scoff, watching as he taps off the ash of his blunt into your ashtray before taking a long puff, staring at you with unreadable eyes the entire time.

you struggle to decide if he deliberately chose to use his blunt, which happened to be shorter.

you and megumi scoot closer together in a tense silence.

before you could lean in, megumi grabbed you by the chin with one hand and pulled you closer, holding your head still as he placed the join into your mouth with his other hand, slender fingers ever so slightly grazing your lips.

your fingers replace his on the blunt and both hands meet on either side of your jaw to steady you and keep you right where you are, his hands are hot on your face and you feel his soft fingers gently rubbing your ears.

like it’s instinct, your other hand comes up and lightly grasps megumi by his chin.

your eyes dart up to meet his, already staring right into your irises like he’s searching for something.

his eyes are soft yet dark and you can’t quite read the mysterious emotion lingering behind the deep hues of his irises. you study his features, more mature than back then and it seemed like he can only get more handsome the older he gets.

it’s like you’re staring at each other for an eternity before you feel him start to blow his smoke through the other end, making you suck in.

megumi does it slow, teasingly, all while maintaining eye contact and still rubbing your sensitive ears with the same look in his eyes like before, making your head spin and you feel like you’re about to go crazy.

suddenly, megumi lets out a soft moan, making a wave of electricity run up from your core and it hits you just how horny he’s making you, your whole body is on fire as wetness slowly pools in your panties.

he finally pulls away, one hand leaving your cheek and pulling the blunt from your lips, you breathe in and it hits you harder than you hoped it would. “good,” he cooes, making your face burn.

your eyes darted back and forth between megumi's, his breath heavier than before, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down before he licked his lips, his hand coming back to your face and continuing to rub your skin soothingly like he knows that hit you hard.

you’re almost panting now, and you’re trembling, you’re sure megumi notices because you watch as he lets out an amused exhale and his usual neutral demeanor has now fully shifted into amusement, faux concern.

“you okay?” he asks in a soft whisper, his hot breath hitting your skin, enough to make you shift in your seat.

you can only nod, lightly biting at your bottom lip and thighs pressing together for some kind of release. you could only pray megumi didn’t notice.

you notice megumi's eyes fall to your lips and lick his own in a slow bite before finally looking back at you with an expression clearer with what you now realize is yearning.

his pretty face and alluring eyes make you fully crumble, and before you could stop yourself, you slammed your lips against his.

it was sloppy—greedy, years of desire came flooding out all at once and before you could process any of it, megumi's tongue was in your mouth.

megumi's hands retreat from your face to land on your hips, pulling you onto his lap to straddle him, your arms wrapping around his neck and tangling your fingers in the hair above his nape.

his hands slowly traveled down your thighs, giving the plush flesh a gentle squeeze before reaching back up to rest on your ass, fingers slipping under your loose pajama shorts, hiking your panties higher up your ass to reveal more skin.

you gasp when you feel a much firmer squeeze followed by a smack, hard enough to make you jolt and yelp into megumi's mouth.

you turned your head slightly, deepening the kiss and uniting tongues sloppily, earning a needy groan from megumi.

pulling away, megumi looks at you in a daze, his lips glossy and swollen, cheeks red and hot, he was panting. megumi studies your expression as his fingers begin to gently fondle the pliant fat of your ass.

you lean back in for more, already missing the feeling of his lips against yours and the eager movements of his tongue.

a small moan escapes your lips as he pulls your body even closer to his and the sudden feeling of his growing erection beneath you only serves to make you wetter than before.

megumi's hands cautiously rock you back and forth on his clothed cock, positioned perfectly so that you can feel him growing harder against your pussy.

you felt your lower stomach tighten as your arousal builds, your clit pulsating, feeling like you could cum at any moment.

you grind your hips down in search of friction to ease your aching cunt, feeling his cock twitch angrily at the sudden movement, forcing a moan from megumi's lips.

you feel electricity shoot to your core, his moan making you even needier and you’re sure he can feel your wetness through his sweats, moaning as his dick catches your clit perfectly, making you shudder.

megumi's hips buck at the feeling of your cunt pulsating against his throbbing erection, making him hiss as he pulls away from your wet and sloppy lips, head dropping down to plant wet kisses along you collarbone and neck, biting and sucking your sensitive skin.

you whine at the feeling, rolling your hips so you could hear more of megumi's whines and grunts. "mmm... fuck," megumi pulls you to his chest, moaning into the crook of your neck. he was so close, he needed you to stop but couldn't bring himself to tell you.

like a blessing, you stop, noticing how his cock desperately twitches, begging for more. you slid off him and stood up, looking down at his antsy figure, seeing the tall tent in his sweats.

you cup megumi's face, his hands gliding up your legs, staring at you with the most desperate expression. you bent down and gave him a kiss before pulling away, reaching down and pulling megumi’s shirt off, revealing his toned abs.

"sit on the bed," you whisper, staring deep into his eyes.

obediently, he stands up, legs shaking ever so slightly from his arousal as he walked over to your bed and plopped down at the edge, spreading his legs expectantly, you smirk when you notice how his cock twitch through his pants.

you plant your hands on his knees while slowly sitting down between his legs, maintaining eye contact with megumi the whole time, amused at how oh so desperate he looked.

his breath hitched as you ran your hand over his hardened dick. megumi's hips bucked and his whole body twitched, a strained moaning tearing from his throat, his cock jerking as you palmed him with enough force to ruin him.

you giggled, watching mercilessly as a string of moans flew from his lips, exciting you.

you stopped to grab the hem of his sweats, megumi lifting his hips to help you pull them down, tossing them to the side, revealing the outline of his girthy cock and a stain of precum right at his tip.

you smirk, looking up at the blushing megumi, his hand over his face, trying to shield himself from the utter embarrassment he felt. teasingly, you leaned down and placed a kiss on his erection, megumi whining at the erotic gesture, "y-you're so lewd..."

"you can barely handle it," you hum, resting your cheek on his hot dick, loving the way it reacts to your touch, "and yet you're still begging for more," you taunt.

"screw you-nghh," megumi tries to bite back, but you cut him off with a firm lick up his shaft, jumping at the feeling of your hot wet muscle dragging along the underside of his cock. "i can't possibly give you more, i mean-look at you," you say provokingly.

"you're already about to cum and i've barely even touched you," you mock.

"p-please..." megumi muttered shakily, "i'm begging you, just please stop teasing me..." you couldn't help but laugh a little at his pathetic protest, and just to toy with him on more time, you plant a slow, torturous kiss on megumi's tip.

“fine,” you say, reaching for the elastic of his briefs, slowly pulling them off of him, your eyes trailing down the veins on his lower abdomen that led straight to his cock.

you pulled until his briefs revealed the trimmed hairs decorating his base to the beginning of his girthy shaft with pulsing veins wrapped around it all the way until his cock sprang free and revealed his red weeping tip, sticky with precum.

his balls we’re heavy and obviously ready to release his loads, tightening in excitement.

an embarrassed moan falls from megumi as you admired at the cock you fantasized about all these years. it was so much more impressive than you hoped.

you were practically drooling at the sight.

you pushed megumi’s thighs farther apart, moving your head until your breath hit his cock, making his leg twitch.

sticking your tongue out, you dragged it from his balls all the way to his leaky cockhead. “agh!” megumi yelped as you ran your tongue over his slit, gathering the salty precum on your tongue.

wrapping your lips around him, your swirled your tongue around his tip and sucked, staring at megumi with fiery eyes. “goddd, fuck,” megumi growled, head thrown back and chest rising and falling rapidly.

you pull back, lapping up the precum spilling from his tip before taking him in your mouth again, fully sinking down until your lips met his base. megumi cried out followed by high pitched whines as you bobbed your head.

“nghh… please, s-slow down! ‘s too much,” whimpered, hands coming down to fist your hair, tugging desperately in an attempt to slow you down. you stared up at him, teary eyes with drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, a sight that megumi wanted to burn into his memory.

he watched intently as he disappeared into the wet warmth of your mouth, your small moans vibrating against him.

you give megumi no time to breathe, coming up for one breath before slamming your mouth back down on his cock, reveling in the sensation of his veins pulsing, forcing your tongue out to lick his balls while thrusting your own face on his cock.

“god, you’re a fucking-hah! bitch,” strained moans following his insults as you gagged around his length, your throat tightening as you forced yourself to swallow down his thick girth.

“ahah-oh shiittt,” megumi’s eyes rolled back into his skull, his jaw was slack with a silent scream, the feeling of your mouth around him was like ecstasy and my god, he was so close already.

“oh fuck!” megumi’s cock stiffened even more, his balls tightening and he knew he was gonna cum.

suddenly, he felt you pull back right before you pushed him over the edge. whining like a bitch at the orgasm denial, all while an evil smirk plastered your face, watching as megumi’s cock pathetically jerked and twitched violently.

“ohh, that was a close one,” you mewl with a little giggle, resting your head on his thigh and staring up at him and like the bully you are, you ran your fingertips gently up and down his angry cock.

“i fuckin' hate you,” megumi said shakily, his tip pulsing and hot red, a thousand times more sensitive than before.

“aww, don’t say that,” you start, “you know you love me,” you whisper lowly, seductively, the inflection in your voice daring megumi to fight back.

“shut up, you’re gonna regret this,” megumi grumbled, still embarrassed but now more irritated. you’re not allowed to tease him when you’re the one who was so horny earlier he could see you rubbing your thighs together for friction.

“oh yeah?” you say, egging him on. “make me regret it.”

your eyes widened, megumi’s hand now around your throat and yanking you up off your knees before he threw you onto the bed mercilessly, taking your place on the floor.

before you realized what was happening, your shorts and panties we’re torn from your lower half and discarded to the side, megumi’s hands grabbing your things and forcing your ass to the edge of the bed, parting your thighs to reveal your glistening cunt.

the cold of the air was quickly replaced by the feeling of megumi’s hot breath on your pussy. you watched shocked as he planted a kiss on either side before sinking his teeth into the fat of your thigh, his sharp teeth nearly drawing blood with how hard he bit down, a small punishment.

“you wanna be a brat?” megumi grumbled lowly, his eyes staring directly into your pussy, admiring every last bit of your perfect cunt he so desperately needed.

you gasped as megumi dipped his head down to lick between your folds slowly, only stopping to kiss your clit before pressing his lips against your pussy and lapping at your juices, moaning at the sweet taste of your essence, his hands coming up and slipping under your bra to fondle your breasts, pinching and twisting your hard and sensitive nipples.

he groaned into your pussy, your delicious taste and the scent of your sopping cunt making his cock pulsate. you don’t know how long he’s fantasized about this, every time he’d abuse his cock at the thought of ravaging your wet pussy and now it’s finally all his.

megumi flattened his tongue on your cunt and dragged it over your clit tortuously, making you jolt up and tangle your fingers in his black locks, and string of whines and mewls falling from your lips as he goes back and forth from dipping his tongue into your cunt and licking between your folds before stopping to suck your clit.

“o-oh-fuck! megumi!” you cry out, throwing your head back as you tugged on tufts of megumi’s hair, your thighs shaking as your hips twitched against his mouth.

megumi only growled in response, his tongue exploring your hot tight hole, the muscle pressing against your clenching walls before replacing it with two thick digits, curling his fingers right against your sweet spot, tongue flicking over your clit.

“agh-'s too much, s-stop!” you scream, the feeling of your sensitive bud being tortured by megumi’s determined tongue throwing you over the edge and you swore you were going to squirt but megumi didn’t let up.

“fuck-please!” you restarted to begging, clenching megumi’s hair as your whole body convulsed, your pleas falling to deaf ears as megumi continued relentlessly, fingers pumping faster, harder.

you squirmed as the impending feeling that you were going to both squirt and cum simultaneously hit you, your whole body tensing as you moaned.

“m-megumi, i’m gonna s-squirt!” you stuttered, fumbling your words as the feeling welled in your stomach. “don’t care,” megumi mumbled into your pussy lips, “you wanted this.”

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean-“ your plea was cut off by a shriek tearing from your throat violently as megumi latched his lips onto your swollen clit and sucking, hard.

you came undone beneath megumi, back arched and squirting all while your pussy clenched and fluttered around megumi’s fingers, your juices coating megumis chin and dripping to the floor. your loud moans filling the room as megumi’s tongue continued to lick firm lines over your pussy, he was not about to let you go unpunished.

it was like his tongue got faster and stronger, his lick and sucks becoming more aggressive the more the squealed for him to knock it off until you were full blown screaming in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"f-fu-stop! meg-nghh," you writhed beneath him, not able to breathe and seeing stars.

he finally pulls away, looking up at you with glossy eyes, his lips and chin glazed in your juices, proud of how well he ruined you.

soft moans fell from your lips and you came down, falling back onto the mattress as megumi dipped his tongue back in for a few more kitten licks, chest rising and falling as you gasped for air.

megumi licked his lips and stood up, crawling onto the bed to hover over you, one hand running up the side of your naked body before reaching your bra and t-shirt, hiked up to reveal your breasts.

sliding your shirt off, megumi slides a hand under your body, fumbling with the clasp of your bra before finally undoing it, leaving you fully naked.

in somewhat of a daze, you reach up to glide your hand up his abs, admiring the body you had always longed for. megumi hummed at the feeling, his hand landing on yours and guiding it towards his face, placing the palm flush against his blushing cheek before planting a gentle kiss to the center of your palm.

you wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him into a sloppy kiss, messy yet intimate and passionate, like your lips were made for each other.

megumi plants himself between your legs to lay flat against you as he deepens the kiss, snaking his arms beneath you and pulling you flush against him, his cock pressed against your sensitive pussy.

he moaned into your mouth as grinded his twitchy length against your folds, you whine each time his tip glides over your puffy clit, his precum adding to the sticky slick of your cunt.

impatient, megumi reaches to grab his cock, aligning his tip at your entrance. reluctantly pulling away from your lips, dropping his head beside your before turning to whisper in your ear, "i'm gonna put it in now, okay?" he asks sweetly, concern lacing his voice.

"mhm," you agree, still feeling the affects of your orgasm. megumi breathed heavily as he slowly thrusted his hips forwards, his swollen tip stretching you open, he was so thick you felt like he was going to tear you in half.

you gasp as he fully bottoms out, stretching you deliciously and stuffing your cunt full of his length, his cock twitching in your warm, tight walls that fluttered around him. "mm, fuck," megumi moaned, stilling himself to give you time to adjust.

"'s so big," you whine, straining to take all of him. "you okay baby?" megumi asks, mindlessly throwing a petname at you. "y-yeah," you stutter like an idiot, the fact that megumi is balls deep in you and the name he just called you fully processing and now you're suddenly embarrassed.

"'m gonna start moving now, okay?" megumi says caringly, his hips rolling eagerly. you can only moan in response, his tip already nudging your sweet spot. he can't take anymore waiting, he needs to fuck you the way you deserve.

you can feel every bulging vein as megumi pulls his hips back before snapping them forward with a loud clap, his hips making bruising contact with yours. you cry out and megumi groans deeply, his voice reverberating in your ears.

"shiiittt," megumi grunts, rolling his hips even rougher, loving how your cunt feels around him and the oh so beautiful whines falling from your lips.

megumi pistons into you, pulling out just to slam his cock so deep you can practically feel him in your stomach, each deapstroke making your eyes roll back. you clawed at his back with your head thrown back, mouth agape in a silent scream.

"fuck, so fucking tight," megumi growled, sitting up to angle his cock at your g-spot, earning a sensual moan from you.

the sight beneath him was so erotic, your naked body splayed beneath him, his cock shiny with your arousal, a creamy ring building around his base with each thrust, and your face twisting in pleasure.

"oh m'god, you're so fucking sexy," megumi muttered, lifting one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, holding your thigh and bringing a hand down to rub tight circles around your clit, itching to make you cum again so he can see that gorgeous face you make.

you mewl and claw at your bed sheets, his thumb rubbing your sensitive bud and making you twitch. his cock forcing it's way in and out of your tight cunt, bullying your cervix and stretching you soo deliciously.

"megumi please-agh-harder!" you beg needily, making megumi forcefully slam into you, your gummy walls swallowing his cock so well.

"takin' me like such a good girl," megumi says, planting kisses on your calf, "milking me so fucking good."

megumi starts to ramble, his orgasm creeping up on him, "you like that? you like the way my cock feels in your pretty little pussy? ngh! this pussy was made f'me."

"just f'me" "mine, all fucking mine"

megumi threw his head back, mumbling in deep moans about owning you, being all yours, and how he's never gonna let you go; his voice raising an octave the closer he gets to coming, his balls tightening and cock pulsating.

"godd, you're never gonna leave me," those words were enough to shoot electricity straight through you, making you clench around megumi's cock at how much his words turned you on.

pussydrunk, megumi cries out, hips stuttering. "say you're mine," he starts, slurring his words, "say you're all fucking mine."

"fuck! i'm all yours!" you squeal, his thrusts sloppy but rough. "say it, say you belong to me," he says in a strained moan. "i belong to you," you obey, too fucked stupid to refuse, your lower belly tightening and pussy pulsating. "who? hah-who do ya' belong to, baby?" megumi demands, his hips stuttering. "megumi~! ngh, i belong to megumi-agh!"

you fall apart beneath megumi in a scream, pussy clamping down on his cock and milking him for all he's worth as his cock twitches and jerks violently as he yells out, falling on top of you as his hips twitch and thrust into you as shoots thick ropes of cum deep inside your cunt as your orgasm waves over you violently.

the feeling is euphoric, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you clawed at megumis back, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him deeper.

"fuck!" megumi growls with one last thrust, burrying his cock as deep as he can and dumping the last of his hot sticky cum in your pussy, a string of curses and moans following.

sweaty and gasping as you both come down from your orgasms, loosening your grip on his body as he lifts his hips, pulling out his softening cock.

megumi's tense figure relaxed into yours, small whimpers and pants still leaving him as he came down from his orgasm, holding on to you as he rested his face next to yours.

absolutely spent, you both stayed like that in a comfortable silence before megumi turned his head and kissed the shell of your ear lovingly, "i love you," he said hesitantly, and you can't tell if the pounding heart beat you're hearing is yours or his.

you turned your head to look into megumi's, wondering if you heard right or if the weed and alcohol were playing cruel tricks on you. his eyes darted back and forth between yours expectantly, his cheeks still dusted pink.

"i love you too," you finally say, something you've been waiting to say for years.

you feel your chest tighten with doubt but you're quickly eased by the megumi leaning in and placing a loving kiss on your lips, smiling as he pulls away with glossy eyes like he's about to cry.

"i really love you," you reiterate, feeling like you hadn't made yourself clear enough. "i love you too, baby," "you're sure?" "yes, i'm all yours,"

"and you're all mine."

@ -NEINOKO ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[miss-m-winks]

Yeah honestly, I just appreciate fantasy that puts thought into its world. I don't think every fantasy needs to go into detail about like, why there are potatoes there. A lot of the time, "potato" is also just an easy shorthand to tell the audience "starchy root vegetables exist here", like in LotR where a lot of the details you might consider anachronisms are very easily overlooked with the "this is a translation" explanation. And LotR makes that explanation work because of all the other unique details present in the worldbuilding.

The problems with anachronisms usually come in when they don't feel like they've been integrated well with the rest of the world. I can believe Hobbits have potatoes because of how much farming they do. Of course they've managed to breed their own starchy root vegetable they can call a potato. It's easy to picture them having every fruit and vegetable known to man, because they love food and they do a lot of farming. That's all it takes to make the potato and the cornfields fit into their world.

But if I'm reading a book set in a standard UK-ish middle ages/vaguely old fashioned time period, and out of nowhere they're using oranges as a casual common breakfast fruit, or coffee just shows up to be a regular morning drink, or cheap chocolate candy just exists now, all with exactly the same connotations they have in our real modern world, i find that weird. It throws me out of immersion.

I don't need the author to write a whole paragraph explaining where those things came from, but I am going to need a little more set up and a reason to feel like those details actually fit the world. They need to fade into the background, easily overlooked. If they stand out, they end up feeling weird. If your worldbuilding can't stand on its own enough for me to glance past the morning coffee, there's a problem.

I think the root cause is authors who just toss in details from their own modern life experiences without really considering whether or not it fits. They're not immersing themselves into the world they're writing, and you can kinda feel it. So authors just need to get into their own worlds and think about what it's really like to live there, and I think that fixes most of the immersion problems.

All it takes is a little description of a fantastical orchard and I can believe the oranges. Mention the import market and I can believe the coffee. Maybe give it a new cultural context while you're at it.

For the longest time I opted on the side of "no coffee, potatoes, etc" in fantasy writing, on the argument that if I was writing a pseudo-european medieval story, featuring elements brought to Europe by colonialism would imply the existence of colonialism, and if I was going to include that kind of elements, I could not just mention them casually, it would have to be a major theme of the story.

Then I scrolled past a post on tumblr specifically about "can you have potatoes in a fantasy setting for no reason" that had pics of Peruvian potato farmers and asked "are you really too much of a coward to not write these people into your stories?" (the tone was probably not that accusative, I paraphrase from my own perspective of this), and something clicked in my head, and this epiphany manifested in my head as Gordon Ramsay yelling

"IT WAS NOT THE FUCKING COLONIALISM THAT INVENTED THE FUCKING POTATO."

[keraiiszn]

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

It all started at 3:12 AM, when I woke up feeling like my uterus had a personal vendetta against me. Like it had been plotting this moment for nine months, sitting in meetings with my back, my bladder, and my ankles, strategizing on how to make me suffer.

I didn't scream. Not yet. I just laid there breathing heavily like I'd just done a HIIT workout while eating a burrito, and whispered, "Oh no." Because I knew. I KNEW this wasn't Braxton Hicks. This was the real deal. The baby was clocking in for his shift, and he was apparently the type of employee who shows up early and ready to WORK.

"Elijah…" I nudged him with the gentleness of a mother waking her child for school.

He snored. Not just any snore—the deep, satisfied snore of a man who had eaten a full plate of his mama's mac and cheese and watched two episodes of The First 48.

"Elijah," I said louder, with the tone I usually reserved for when he left dishes in the sink.

Nothing. This man was in REM sleep like he was getting paid for it.

I balled up my fist, stared at it like it held the power of Thor's hammer, and thumped it against his chest with the precision of a drummer hitting a snare.

"HUH—WH—WHO—Y/N, YOU GOOD?! We getting robbed?! Where the gun?!"

"I think I'm in labour."

Now let me paint you a picture of how this grown man—this six-foot-six, business-owning, tough-talking man who had practiced birth affirmations with me in the mirror, packed my hospital bag with lavender oils and those expensive soft socks from Target, watched seven birthing videos (and cried during three of them), and made a playlist called "Welcome to the World, Lil Bro" complete with Stevie Wonder and John Legend—got out of that bed.

He moved like his soul was leaving his body and he was trying to catch it.

"Wait—you sure? Like, contraction contractions? Or like when you thought you were in labor last week but it was just gas?"

I gave him a look that could have curdled fresh milk.

"I don't know, baby. I just woke up screaming on the inside and feeling like someone's playing dodgeball with my organs. What you think?"

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I waddled to the bathroom like a penguin in flip-flops. Sat on the toilet. That's when it happened.

My water broke.

Now see, I thought it would be graceful. Maybe like a gentle spring rain or a leaky faucet. Something manageable. Something I could clean up with a regular towel and some dignity.

Nope.

That thing gushed out like Niagara Falls decided to relocate to my bathroom. Like someone turned on a fire hydrant. I stood up and yelled, "ELIJAH! WE GOT A FLOOD! NOAH NEED TO BUILD AN ARK IN HERE!"

He came flying in—and I mean FLYING, like he had wings—with a mop.

A mop. Not a towel. Not a change of clothes. Not even a "baby, you okay?"

A whole mop.

"Elijah... what are you doing?"

"Cleaning up the water?"

"Baby, that water came from INSIDE ME. You gon' mop me up?!"

He stood there holding that mop like it had betrayed him. "I... I panicked. I heard 'flood' and my brain said 'mop.'"

Another contraction hit me and I had to lean against the sink. "Get me some clothes. And throw that mop away. We ain't mopping up no birth water."

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While I was bent over the bed trying to breathe through a contraction like the doula taught me—in through the nose, out through the mouth, imagine opening like a flower (which, by the way, is the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever told a woman in labour)—Elijah decided, out of nowhere, that the hospital bag I had meticulously packed three weeks ago was "completely unacceptable."

"This can't be all you bringing! Ain't no snacks. What about your bonnet? The good bonnet, not the raggedy one! What about the baby's sound machine? THE LOUNGE SET! You ain't bring the three-piece lounge set you made me drive to three different Targets for?!"

"Elijah—" I started, but another contraction cut me off.

"AND YOUR CHARGER! Lord Jesus in heaven, you forgot your phone charger. We gon' have a baby with no damn phone battery. How we gon' take pictures? How you gon' post on Instagram? Your mama gon' kill us both!"

This man—this grown man who I had watched parallel park a truck and negotiate business deals—was now tearing apart our linen closet, throwing robes and random items into a duffel bag like we were fleeing the country.

I was having a contraction on the floor, bracing against the couch, doing my breathing exercises, and he walked past me and handed me my eyelash curler.

"Elijah. I'm. In. Labor. I don't need lashes."

"You always say you hate looking dusty in pictures! What if someone takes a photo for the hospital newsletter? What if Channel 7 shows up? You said you wanted to look cute meeting the baby!"

I wanted to fight him. I wanted to throw that eyelash curler at his head and then follow it up with the bonnet he was frantically searching for. But another contraction said, "Nah, we're not doing violence today. We're breathing."

"Baby," I said through gritted teeth, "if you don't stop packing like we're going on a three-week vacation and help me get to this car..."

He stopped. Looked at me. Looked at the chaos he'd created. "You right. You right. Let's go have this baby."

Then he grabbed the eyelash curler anyway.

Getting to the hospital should have been simple. We'd driven there twice for practice runs. We knew exactly where to go.

But at 4:30 AM, with me contracting every five minutes and Elijah's adrenaline making him drive like he was in Fast and Furious, everything went wrong.

First, he missed the exit.

"ELIJAH."

"I see it, I see it! I'ma get off at the next one!"

"There IS no next one for three miles!"

Then the GPS decided to recalculate and took us through the scenic route. Through downtown. Past the 24-hour donut shop where Elijah had the audacity to say, "You want anything?"

"DO I WANT ANYTHING?! I want this baby out of me! I want to not feel like I'm being split in half! I want you to drive like you got some sense!"

"I'm just saying, donuts might help—"

"ELIJAH MOORE, if you stop at that donut shop, I'm having this baby in the parking lot and naming him Krispy just to spite you!"

We finally got to the hospital at 5:15 AM. Elijah pulled up to what he thought was the emergency entrance but was actually the loading dock for medical supplies.

A security guard knocked on the window. "Y'all lost?"

"My wife's in labor!" Elijah announced like he was Paul Revere.

The guard looked at me, mid-contraction, gripping the door handle. "Maternity ward is around the front, baby daddy. Follow the pink signs."

"Pink signs," I repeated through my breathing. "Follow the pink signs, baby daddy."

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We got there. I got checked in. Got hooked up to all the monitors. Got examined by a nurse who had clearly seen it all and was not impressed by my dramatics.

"You're 3 centimeters," she announced.

I almost cried. three? THREE? After all that suffering, all that breathing, all that flooding and mop drama, I was only three centimeters?

"That's it?" Elijah asked. "She been in pain for hours."

"First baby?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled the knowing smile of a woman who had probably delivered half the babies in the city. "Oh honey, you've got a long day ahead of you. But don't worry—" she looked at Elijah "—daddy's gonna take real good care of you, ain't you, daddy?"

Then Elijah, this man who had just driven through half the city like a maniac, who had packed our entire linen closet, who had brought a MOP to clean up amniotic fluid, looked at this nurse and asked, "Can she get the epidural now? You know, as like a courtesy? Since we here early?"

The nurse blinked at him. Slow. Deliberate. Like she was processing whether he had really asked what she thought he asked.

"Sir, labor doesn't work on a courtesy system. This ain't the Ritz-Carlton."

I would have laughed if I wasn't busy trying to breathe through another contraction.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I labored all day. ALL DAY. I walked the halls like I was training for a marathon, bouncing on that big rubber ball they gave me (which I decided was invented by someone who clearly hated pregnant women), and did squats in the bathroom because apparently that's what helps.

My mom came around noon with a bag full of snacks and that worried look she gets when she thinks I'm not handling something right.

"You doing okay, baby?"

"I'm fine, Mama. Just bringing your grandson into the world."

Elijah's mama arrived an hour later with enough food to feed a small army and immediately started rearranging the room to her liking.

"This ain't set up right. Why is the bed facing that way? The baby needs to see the window when he come out. Elijah, move that chair. Y/N, you need to eat something. You can't birth no baby on an empty stomach."

I saw Jesus at one point around 3 PM. Not in a religious way—in a "this epidural is hitting different" way. He told me I was doing good and to stop telling Elijah to shut up so much.

I told Jesus that Elijah deserved every "shut up" he got.

Between contractions, I called Elijah every name I could think of. Not mean names—well, not too mean—but I definitely questioned his intelligence, his common sense, and his ability to handle stressful situations.

At one point around 4 PM, this man brought in a Bluetooth speaker and tried to play "Pum Pum Bring Life" by Kalado because "it's to brighten the mood and it’s true that I was bringing life through my pussy."

I threw a cup of ice at him.

Not the whole cup—I needed the ice. Just the ice. It scattered across the floor like musical notes of my frustration.

"Turn it off."

"But baby—"

"TURN. IT. OFF."

The nurse came in to check the commotion and saw Elijah collecting ice cubes from the floor while I glared at him from the bed.

"What happened here?"

"Musical differences," I said.

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By 10 PM, I was 8 centimetres. EIGHT. We were getting close, and I could feel it in my whole body. Everything was different now. Intense. Real.

Elijah had been chewing the same piece of gum for four hours—nervous chewing, stress chewing—and the sound was about to make me lose whatever sanity I had left.

"If you don't spit out that gum right now, I'm going to make YOU birth this baby."

That's when he cried. Real tears. Not "I'm overwhelmed" tears or "this is scary" tears, but genuine, deep, emotional tears.

He was holding my hand, looking into my eyes, and saying, "You so strong. You doing so good, baby. Look at you. You growing our son and you ain't even complaining—"

"I've been complaining for nine hours."

"Okay, you complaining, but you DOING it. You really doing it. You got this."

And I believed him. I felt strong. I felt capable. I felt like Wonder Woman and Beyoncé and my mama all rolled into one.

Until I looked over and this man was eating a Slim Jim.

A SLIM JIM. During labor. During this sacred, powerful moment of bringing life into the world.

"Ain't no way. There is absolutely no way you're having a meat stick while I'm pushing out a human being."

He looked at the Slim Jim like it had materiized in his hand without his knowledge. "I'm stressed! I eat when I'm stressed! You know this about me!"

"Throw it away."

"But I just opened it—"

"ELIJAH."

He threw it away. But I could tell he was mourning that Slim Jim.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The nurse checked me one more time. "We're at 10 centimeters. Time to push."

Everything changed. The room got serious. The doctor came in. More nurses appeared. Elijah stood beside me, holding my hand, and I could see in his eyes that he was scared and excited and proud all at once.

"You ready?" the doctor asked.

Was I ready? Was anybody ever ready for this?

"Let's do it."

I pushed. And pushed. And screamed things that I'm pretty sure my mama pretended not to hear from the hallway. I might've said some things that require forgiveness and possibly some Hail Marys.

The doctor kept saying "I can see the head!" and Elijah kept crying and saying "That's my son! That's my son!" like he had just discovered fire.

And then.

Then I heard it.

That cry.

That tiny, loud, miraculous, earth-shattering cry that changed everything.

Elijah sobbed. Full-body sobbed. The kind of crying you do when something so beautiful happens that your body doesn't know how else to respond. His forehead pressed against mine, tears falling on my face. "He here. Oh my God, baby, he here. He really here."

They let him cut the cord, and his hands were shaking so bad the doctor had to help him. Then they laid our son on my chest, and everything else disappeared. I forgot the mop. I forgot the Slim Jim. I forgot the ice throwing and the GPS drama and the four-hour gum chewing. It was just us. Me, Elijah, and this perfect little brown baby with his daddy's nose and what I could already tell was going to be my whole attitude.

"Hi, baby," I whispered. "We been waiting for you."

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Around 6 PM, after I had gotten cleaned up and the baby had been checked and weighed and declared perfect, the door opened.

Elias walked in first, all 6'4 of him, ducking slightly under the doorframe, carrying a teddy bear that was bigger than the actual baby and three foil-wrapped casseroles that smelled like heaven.

"I ain't know what y'all was gonna be hungry for, so I brought mac and cheese, green beans, and cornbread. And some of mama's pound cake for later."

Renee came next, wearing a full fur coat—mind you, it was 71 degrees outside—screaming before she even got through the door: "WHERE MY NEPHEW?! I need to see this baby that had y'all acting crazy for nine months!"

Maya trailed behind with a camera and a ring light. "I'm vlogging the first meeting. Y'all don't be weird. Act natural. But also, maybe look towards the camera when you hold him."

Toni brought wine.

"I can't drink that," I said.

"It's for me," she whispered. "Labor stories make me nervous."

The baby was sleeping in his little hospital bassinet, wrapped up like a tiny burrito, completely unbothered by the chaos that was his family.

Elijah was trying to swaddle him for the visitors, and Elias had the nerve to start coaching him from across the room.

"Nah, bro, tuck that corner tighter. You want it snug but not too tight. Like when you—" he paused, looked around the room full of women "—like when you fold a fitted sheet."

"Boy, you don't know nothing about folding fitted sheets," Renee said, pushing past him to get to the baby. "Let me show you how to swaddle. I raised four kids."

Maya was crying because "the baby yawned with purpose" and trying to get it on camera.

Renee asked if we wanted to make him a TikTok account. "For the brand," she said seriously.

Toni kept threatening to take him home. "Just for a week. For bonding. Cozy auntie bonding."

My mama was trying to organize all the gifts they brought while simultaneously making sure everyone washed their hands and didn't wake the baby.

Elijah's mama was critiquing everyone's baby-holding technique and rearranging the flowers they brought "for better energy flow."

The nurse finally had to come in and diplomatically kick them all out. "Visiting hours are over, and mama and baby need their rest."

"We family!" Renee protested.

"Family visiting hours are also over," the nurse said with the authority of someone who had managed many chaotic families.

As they filed out, each one of them kissing me and the baby and promising to come back tomorrow, I realized this was going to be our life now. This beautiful, loud, chaotic, loving circus was our baby's family.

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It was quiet. Finally quiet. Just me, Elijah, and our son. The baby was sleeping in Elijah's arms, bundled in the blanket that Elias had wrapped him in with surprising gentleness for such big hands.

Elijah was in the chair next to my bed, staring at our son like he was trying to memorize every detail of his face.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you more," I whispered back.

"You cussed me out seventeen times today."

"You deserved every single one."

He smiled. That soft smile he gets when he knows I'm right but doesn't want to admit it.

I leaned over and kissed his hand, the one that wasn't supporting our baby. "Thank you. For being here. For the panic packing. For bringing a mop to clean up amniotic fluid. For the Slim Jim stress eating. For everything."

He kissed my forehead. "You made me a dad. You made us a family."

Our son let out a tiny sigh in his sleep, the softest sound I had ever heard. Like he was perfectly content to be exactly where he was.

And just like that, the hardest, funniest, wildest, most chaotic day of our lives became the best day of our lives.

I looked at Elijah holding our baby, both of them peaceful and perfect, and thought about how this little person was going to grow up with the most loving, crazy, dramatic family in the world. He was going to have a daddy who packed entire linen closets and brought mops to floods, a mama who threw ice during labor, uncles who brought too much food, aunties who wanted to make him TikTok famous, and grandmamas who rearranged hospital rooms for better energy.

He was going to be so loved.

And probably so confused.

But mostly loved.

"What are we gonna call him?" I asked.

Elijah looked down at our son, then at me. "I don't know. But whatever we choose, he's gonna have some stories to tell about the day he was born."

"Starting with the mop?"

"Definitely starting with the mop."

Our baby opened his eyes for just a moment, looked around like he was taking inventory of his new world, then closed them again with what I swear was a satisfied expression.

Welcome to the family, little one. It's going to be a wild ride.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

[trippinsorrows]

grief

authors note: if you not tryna cry or be mad at me, just go on and skip this.

no tags at all, cause i ain't tryna traumatize anyone.

words: 800

warnings: angst

Their arrival is something felt more than anything.

The way the guards who keep a good but safe distance suddenly stand at attention, shoulders straight, chin jutted in the air, mouths set into perfect lines. 

Acknowledgement. 

Solana uses the pencil in hand as a makeshift bookmark, closing the the sketchbook. Usually, she has no qualms about her children seeing her artwork. Never has. She’s always welcomed the sharing, but this….this is different.

Personal.

Hers.

Using her hand to shield from the sun, she makes out the three bodies that walk towards her. Each wear white, Leya’s long dress floating and waving with the wind. Lina’s is short and more form-fitting. It’s Tama’s matching white shirt and shorts, however, that make her take pause. From the moment she held Tamasa after giving birth, she saw him. Something that’s continued over the years. When he was just a toddler, then a boy, but now as a man, it’s all she sees. 

Roman.

She sees Roman.

She has to ignore that weight in her chest that’s been present for now exactly a year to the day but even heavier this day.

She focuses on the items in hand of her children. Flowers for Leya and Tama, the ula fala for Lina. Hers. 

Roman’s.

“Mama.” Her eldest son calling for her pulls Solana from yet another memory. Tama moves to one knee, hand gently resting on her shoulder. “You alright?” She can see it, the way he closes his eyes and looks down.

The way he mentally answers his own question.

Of course you’re not.

Solana offers a warm smile, offering reassurance, even when today, of all her grief riddled days, she's struggled the most. “As long as I have you all, I’ll always be okay.” 

The same thing she’s repeated to herself every day that’s passed where she wakes up to the other side of the bed being cold, untouched, and empty. 

That she’s woken up without her best friend. 

Kisses to her temple from her three eldest children who then redirect their focus to the reason all of the children, grandchildren, and in-laws have gathered here at various points in the day.

Leya is the first to speak, stepping forward and carefully laying down the flowers. “Hi, daddy...”

Tama follows, clearing his throat. “Hope this wasn’t too much socialization for you today, old man.” He also lays down his flowers, stuffing his hands in his shorts afterwards. “Though something tells me you wouldn’t have mind.”

“No,” Lina speaks up, voice soft as she moves towards the headstone, hesitating slightly before gingerly laying the ula fala across, fingers glossing over his name. “He wouldn’t have.”

Solana says nothing, and neither do her children. Together, they sit in this shared grief, a first of many, an anniversary no one ever wanted to think about but a time that’s finally come.

The first anniversary of Roman’s passing.

“What do you think he’s doing up there today?”

Leya’s question is quiet, hesitant almost. 

Tama scoffs, reaching over and taking his sister’s hand. “What he does everyday probably.”

“Acting a damn fool.”

A smile breaks across Solana’s face at Lina’s answer. Same with Leya.

“Him, Uncle Dwayne, Uncle Matteo. I can only imagine the trouble they cause.”

Tama shakes his head, also smiling, running his hand over his bearded face. “Man, if there was ever a case of people getting kicked out of heaven, it would be those three.”

“Especially daddy,” Leya joins in, the small smile previously on her face settling into something unspoken but also felt by everyone. “I—I miss him.” 

At that, Solana looks over at her daughter, sees the way her irises expand and minimize, the slight tremble of her bottom lip, the way she turns her head, lifting her hand to her mouth. While Lina and Tama move to comfort her, Solana moves to stand, Tama, naturally, senses her movement and offers his arm, helping her to her feet. 

Tama keeps his arm around her, Lina turning and angling her body as well as Leya’s, who cries quietly.

She shakes her head, offering unnecessary apologies for showing what everyone else is feeling. “I’m sorry, mommy….”

Solana eases towards her, lifting her hands to her daughter’s face, never once missing the way Tama and Lina, so alike, so much like him, work to hide the unshed tears in both of their eyes.

Unlike their sister. 

Unlike Solana. 

The mother of nine shakes her head, pulling her little girl into a hug, holding her the same way she did so many years ago. 

“I know, baby.” Her voice breaks, eyes shutting, emotions cascading. “I miss him, too.”

[jedi-luca]

Head Over Feet: Chapter Seven This Kiss

Summary: You didn’t know Dina before she came back to Jackson. She’s guarded, jaded, and carrying the weight of too many goodbyes. Now you can’t stop thinking about her. It’s a slow burn, and you’re patient… but will she ever let down her walls? Or will someone else reach your heart first?

Pairings: Dina x GN!Reader slowburn

warnings: spoilers if you haven’t played the game or seen the show. Slowburn 🔥❤️‍🔥

Previous Chapter

The sun had warmed the valley by late morning, burning off the last of the mist. Jackson came alive in these hours dogs barking, kids chasing each other between greenhouses, laundry lines swaying with wind-dried shirts.

You sat cross-legged in the grass outside the house, showing Charlie how to braid a daisy chain. Lili sat nearby, watching the two of you with a soft smile, while Mr. and Mrs. Cooper unpacked a modest lunch on the porch steps.

Charlie’s brow furrowed in concentration. “It keeps falling apart.”

You gently repositioned her hands. “You’re pulling too tight. Gotta be patient with it.”

Lili leaned over, offering a fresh daisy. “Try this one, bug. It’s got a long stem.”

Charlie looked up at her, grinning. “You’re good at this.”

“She’s always been good with messy things,” you said, glancing at Lili. “Art projects. Broken toys. Me.”

Lili met your eyes and held them for a second longer than necessary. “You weren’t broken.”

You gave her a little smile, quiet but warm.

Mrs. Cooper handed over a Tupperware full of peeled apples and peanut butter. “You still hate crusts, Y/N?”

Charlie gasped. “You hate crusts?”

“I don’t hate them,” you said, mock-offended. “I just respect the rest of the sandwich more.”

Mr. Cooper chuckled. “Some things never change.”

Lili added, “They used to hand me their crusts at lunch like I was a human trash can.”

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “That’s gross.”

“Character-building,” you teased.

For a while, it was just simple: apples passed between fingers, sun on your face, Charlie showing off her daisy bracelet to anyone who would look.

Then Lili asked, softly, “Do you ever think about your parents here?”

You looked down at your lap, fingers stilling.

“I do,” you said. “They would’ve liked this place. My mom loved birds; she’d have planted something for every kind. And my dad would’ve fixed every busted window in Jackson, probably would have been head of patrol.”

Lili was quiet.

You didn’t mind.

You kept your voice soft. “They tried so hard to prepare us. Our cabin was full of backup plans. But they never expected me to have to carry everything alone.”

Charlie crawled into your lap with a piece of bread in her hand. You kissed the top of her head and held her a little tighter.

“Your parents and brother would have been very proud of everything you’ve done here. They were good people.” Mr. Cooper says gently squeezing your shoulder.

You looked up. And Lili was watching you not with pity, but with that same grounded awe she’d had as a kid, like somehow you always made her believe in things again.

Mrs. Cooper smiled from the steps. “You’ve built something beautiful here and you’re raising a beautiful little girl.”

Charlie beamed. “I have two houses now!”

You laughed. “That’s right. And too many people sneaking you snacks.”

Charlie blinked up at Lili, then at her parents, a soft furrow between her brows.

“Did you know my mommy and daddy?” she asked.

Lili’s smile flickered, caught off guard. “Yeah, sweetheart. I knew them.”

She looked at Mr. and Mrs. Cooper for help.

“I remember your daddy when he was your age,” Mrs. Cooper said kindly. “He was always chasing your mommy around, always with dirt on his face.”

Charlie smiled a little. “My mommy?”

“Hmhm she lived next door to your daddy that’s how they fell in love.” Mrs. Cooper smiled lovingly

“She had the sweetest voice,” Lili added.

Charlie nodded solemnly, like she was trying to hold those details tight in her mind. “I think I remember her hair. It was soft like mine.”

You swallowed, something catching in your chest.

“And what about Y/N’s mommy and daddy?” she asked. “My grandma and grandpa?”

The Coopers exchanged a glance.

“They were good people.” Mr. Cooper said softly. “But I remember her mom made the Spaghetti I’ve ever had. And her dad?” He chuckled. “Your grandpa could scare off a mountain lion just by looking at it.”

Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Swear it,” he said, hand on his heart.

Charlie looked back at you. “Do you think they all miss me?”

Your breath caught.

You cupped her cheek gently. “They never stop.”

Charlie leaned against you, quiet now, little fingers twisting the hem of your shirt.

Lili reached over and rested her hand lightly on your knee. You didn’t look at her right away, but you didn’t pull away either.

And in the warm quiet, surrounded by a patchwork family stitched back together by time and grief and love, you let yourself wonder…

Maybe this was how healing started.

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Lili wasn’t living with you, but she might as well have been leaving a sweater on your chair, coffee mugs in your sink, little things like spare hair ties and half-used tubes of lip balm on your bathroom counter.

She liked to read next to you while you worked on repairs. She’d sit cross-legged on the couch, flipping through whatever old paperback she’d found in the library, occasionally interrupting to read you a line she liked.

Sometimes you cooked. Sometimes she did.

Once, you caught her slow-dancing alone in your kitchen to a record she found buried in your cabinet. She pulled you in without hesitation. You hadn’t danced like that goofy and loose, laughing into someone’s neck. She couldn’t keep her hands off you and vice versa.

And when she said, “This feels like something real,” you didn’t answer. You just kissed her again, because you felt it too and didn’t trust the way your voice would shake if you tried to say it out loud. You were in so deep you never brought up Canada.

There were still questions you hadn’t asked.

How long would she stay?

Where would she go?

What would happen to this, to you? When her family moves on?

You hadn’t said it, and neither had she.

But it hung there.

Every time her mom talked about their route to Canada. Every time Lili curled closer to you at night looking at you like she wanted to freeze time.

Still, you didn’t press it.

Because it was good. It was better than good. It was the kind of thing you didn’t want to break with heavy conversations or stupid expectations.

You weren’t naïve. You knew this might end.

But it didn’t feel like a fling. Not even close.

You’d loved Lili once, in the way that a teenager does — shy glances, passing notes, that electricity when your hands accidentally touched.

But now?

Now you were starting to fall in love with her as the person she’d become. As the woman who saw your scars and didn’t flinch. Who listened when you couldn’t find words. Who kissed your shoulder when she thought you were still asleep.

It was scarier than you expected.

But also… it made you feel alive again.

🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄

Lili’s fingers traced soft circles on your forearm as the two of you lay on the bed, half-covered in the glow of the window, half-wrapped in the hush of dusk.

You thought back to Cam picking up Charlie earlier.

“I’m betting on you losing it tonight. If I win I don’t have to do laundry for a month.” Can smirked, leaving with Charlie.

“You’re quiet,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along the inside of your wrist.

“I’ve been thinking..”

“About?”

“About you.” you whisper, turning on your side.

“Dangerous,” she teased, and you smiled faintly.

She leaned in, kissing you slowly, like she had all the time in the world. And maybe, in that moment, she did.

“I want you, Lili.” you said, voice barely audible.

Lili stilled, lifting her head to look you in the eye. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, breath catching. “I’ve never done this before, but I'm in love with you.”

She kissed you again, this time with something deeper, reverent, patient, grounding. “I think I’ve loved you since we were kids.” She whispers.

It was perfect to you. It wasn’t choreographed. There were nerves and laughter and quiet moments of hesitation. But none of it mattered. She guided you through it with nothing but love. Because with her, it felt right. Safe.

The sounds of her moans spurred you on and on. You wanted to hear every whimper, every sigh, groan and moan from here on out. Mapping every inch of her body.

After, you lay tangled in the sheets, chest to chest, her fingers combing gently through your hair. You didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. Curled up in your arms like she understood the weight of what had passed between you. Like she wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight.

And for the first time, you felt like you’d stepped into something new. Something whole. Something real.

The morning after, you woke first.

For a long moment, you just stared at the ceiling, listening to the hush of the room. The soft, steady breathing beside you, the rustle of sheets when she shifted, the quiet creak of the house settling.

Lili was still asleep, tangled up in your blankets, half on her stomach with her face turned toward you, blonde hair fanned across your pillow.

You felt weightless and strong all at once.

There wasn’t a single part of you that regretted it.

You didn’t feel different, exactly not the way movies or books made it seem. But you felt anchored. Seen. And when you looked at her again, you felt calm in a way that hadn’t existed in you for years.

You brushed a piece of hair from her cheek. She stirred, eyes fluttering open.

“Hi,” she smiled, voice raspy with sleep.

“Hey.”

A pause.

“Last night wasn’t a dream, was it?”

You shook your head.

She smiled wider. “Good.”

You leaned in and kissed her as she giggled, slow and warm. It felt easy now. Familiar.

Like this was always where you were supposed to be.

She made you breakfast and coffee barefoot in your shirt. You kissed her shoulder just because you could. She smiled without looking up.

You were in love with her.

And it didn’t feel confusing, or unfinished, or like something you were chasing after. It felt like something that had found you. It truly felt like a love story unfolding, and to the town it was.

It started with a kiss.

Not the nervous kind. Not the careful, aching first one by the fire.

But the one a few days later, in the middle of Jackson’s main road, when Lili pulled you toward her and kissed you in front of everyone quick, soft and sure, like she’d never known hesitation. Her fingers curled around yours like she meant to keep them.

And you let her.

You smiled into her mouth.

And the town noticed.

It spread faster than news ever should. Whispers behind tomato crates. Smirks passed between kitchen staff. A few knowing nods from people you barely talked to.

But none of it mattered. Not really.

Because Lili looked at you like she knew your soul. And every time you touched her, the noise faded.

You rode into town with her hands around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder. You split peaches on your porch, juice sticky on your fingers, her laugh easy and unbothered in your ear.

You’d never had something like this.

Never known what it felt like to be chosen out loud.

She reached for your hand during dinner. Called your name like it was a love song. Rested her forehead against yours at the stables and kissed you like there wasn’t a crowd nearby watching it all unfold.

And Charlie adored her.

She held Lili’s hand like she was made to fit there, all tiny fingers and soft trust. The three of you walking home from the mess hall felt like a picture you never thought would exist for you — warm, full, right.

Lili braided her hair on the porch. Read her stories at night. Kissed her on the forehead like she’d known her forever.

You didn’t want to think too hard about how fast it all came together.

You didn’t want to ruin it by asking how long something this beautiful could really last.

Still, you noticed Dina.

Not at first. Not in those first flushed days, when your world had narrowed to warm hands and sunlit bedsheets and the way Lili whispered your name when she thought you were asleep.

But then… little moments.

You caught her once in the market, standing behind a cart of squash, her eyes on the two of you like she’d forgotten what she came there for.

You passed her by and smiled. Just a small thing — polite. She didn’t smile back.

Another time, at the stables, she walked in mid-laugh, mid-kiss, mid-something private between you and Lili. And you felt it. That flicker. That pause.

She didn’t say anything. Just turned, and left.

It started to happen more.

You’d feel her eyes on you in the mess hall. Out on the field. After patrol. Nothing was said but you could feel her pulling back, pulling in, like she was quietly making herself smaller.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

You had everything now. The love you’d waited for. The sweetness of being wanted back. It felt unfair to mourn someone who’d never really been yours.

But sometimes when Lili was asleep and the fire was low you’d remember the sound of Dina’s voice when she said she wasn’t ready.

And wonder. Could you have felt this way if it was her instead?

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Dina noticed a difference in you Not all at once, but in the way you carried yourself. The quiet peace in your face, the way your eyes didn’t search the crowd anymore.

She felt like she was an audience member watching a storybook romance come to life. The whole town talked about how cute and picture perfect you and Lili were together.

How could they not? You; this perfect dreamboat of a person and Lili a sweet blonde green doe eyed girl that made you lovesick.

Dina saw you walking through Jackson with Lili’s hand in yours. Saw you play with Charlie together, whispering and laughing about something no one else knew.

And it hit her one morning in the market when you passed her and smiled but nothing more.

You had truly moved on. You had given Lili something so sacred and not just your virginity but your heart.

And she hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding onto the idea that you wouldn’t.

She thought back to the moment she found out it was the last time she spoke with you.

A few weeks back

It wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

Cam had swung by the stables to grab some supplies. Dina was there, brushing down her horse, sleeves rolled up, brow sweaty from patrol. The two hadn’t talked much lately, not since the last town hall where things got heated over security detail. Still, there was a loose familiarity between them. The kind that lingered even when you weren’t feeling especially friendly.

“Hot out,” Cam offered, grabbing the reins beside her.

Dina nodded. “Yeah.”

They worked in silence for a bit. Just enough for Cam to let her guard down.

“You hear about the infected run near the old tracks?” Cam asked.

Dina shook her head.

“Y/N and Lili handled it. Took down ten, cleared the entire tunnel. No backup.”

Dina paused, just briefly, before continuing her work. “Of course they did.”

Cam side-eyed her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Cam let out a soft whistle. “You’re never ‘fine’ when you say it like that.”

Dina’s jaw ticked. “Why are you telling me this?”

“No reason,” Cam said with a shrug. Then, too casually: “Just… damn. You’d never know that was their first week together. They work like a team. Maybe it’s all the… practice.”

Dina blinked. “What kind of practice?”

Cam froze. Shit.

“I mean-” she started to walk it back. “Nothing. Just-”

“You mean sex,” Dina said flatly.

Cam winced. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you meant it.”

Cam blew out a breath. “Look, I figured you knew. Y/N told me after it happened. It was… special. Not just sex. Like, real. The kind of first time people hope for.”

Silence.

Dina’s hands stopped moving. Her fingers curled tightly into the reins.

She nodded once. Too slow. Too controlled.

“I see.”

Cam backpedaled hard. “Hey Dina come on. I wasn’t trying to be cruel. You’re the one who told Y/N they deserved a better first time, remember?”

“I still said no,” Dina said, voice sharp now, low and bitter. “Even if I wanted to say yes.”

Cam hesitated. “Then maybe it’s good they’re with someone who wanted to say yes back.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Dina stepped back from the horse, stiff.

“I have to go,” she muttered, grabbing her pack.

“Dina…”

But she was already walking off. She didn’t turn back.

Later that evening you found Dina sitting on the edge of the greenhouse steps, half-shaded, legs stretched long across the stone path. The afternoon rain had passed, leaving the air thick and soft, the smell of wet leaves still clinging to everything.

She didn’t look up when you approached.

“Hey,” you offered gently.

“Hey.”

You sat beside her, keeping a bit of distance. The silence hummed between you. She was peeling a pear with a knife, slow and methodical. She handed you a slice without looking.

“Thanks.”

A bird chirped somewhere overhead. You watched it flit between the branches, trying to read her face from the corner of your eye.

“You okay?” you asked.

She shrugged. “Long patrol. Cam got on my nerves.”

You hesitated. “She say something?”

Dina paused. Her knife slowed for half a second.

“Nothing important.”

You nodded, but you felt the shift. Something had cracked between you, something small but sharp. You didn’t know what she’d heard—but you knew enough to suspect.

She finally glanced at you. Her eyes weren’t angry. Just… tired. Guarded.

“You seem happy,” she said softly.

You blinked. “I… yeah. I guess I am.”

She gave a hollow smile, then looked away again. “That’s good. You deserve that.”

You swallowed. “Dina…”

“Don’t,” she said, too fast. Then quieter, “Don’t say anything kind right now.” Her voice wavered on the edge of crying.

You sat back, hands curled on your thighs. “Okay.”

A moment passed. Then she whispered:

“Did you ever think about what it would’ve been like if she didn’t show up that day? After I poured my heart out?”

You looked at her. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. But her voice trembled like something had broken loose and she didn’t know how to catch it.

“I did,” you said honestly. “Of course I did.”

That made her inhale sharp through her nose.

“I told myself I was protecting you,” she murmured. “But maybe I was just scared.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

She looked down at the slice of pear in her hand, untouched. Then she set it aside and stood.

“I should go. I told JJ we’d read before bed.”

You nodded.

“Dina-“

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

She didn’t wait for you to respond.

And this time, you didn’t stop her.