#work in the dark to serve the queue

[not-so-hidden-one]

Assassin's Creed Valhalla: Blue and Green

Mmmh such beautiful colours <3

[keferon]

I’ve been reading through your Spellbound AU and thought of something funny, so naturally I wrote a short story for it.

My take on how Jazz came to work for Orion.

———————————————————————

Jazz slunk across ruined stonework overtaken by forest growth. Form shifting as subtly as the shadows he crossed.

Which would it be?

Tall and slim? Nah, that one already served it’s purpose. The twins saw something lank and dark looming in the trees, and now the young knights were distracted looking over their shoulders.

A hulking brute? No, that’d inspire an all out confrontation. Jazz already had all of them keyed up to act on instinct.

The twins were easy. Young and expecting a straight fight. Pax, his target, was harder to ruffle. He had the reputation of a courageous selfless hero and damned if the mech wasn’t dedicated to the ruse.

Pax wasn’t spooked, but he did take his underlings concerns seriously. He marched forward as a pillar of confidence and safety, but Jazz caught the way his gaze scanned the ruins. His white shadow seemed indifferent, but he was just an audience member anyways, not a real fighter.

Primed to play the part. Pax just needed his queue.

Jazz got into place on his stage. He shifted into something small and weak (in appearance alone). Bent a leg at an unhealthy looking angle, and slumped like he was exhausted and chased here.

Jazz sat with his back against the wall, the partially collapsed stone room was small enough that a mech of Orion’s stature would have difficulty moving quickly. It had the nice bonus of blocking anyone else from coming through the main entry point as well.

Through a crack in the wall, Jazz watched as the leader in blue and red got closer, his “loyal knights” lagging behind. The white one lagged as well, distracted by scolding the twins for being distracted.

Jazz focused on his target. Pulled at a thread from within Pax and strung it within his own chest.

Jazz set his new voice and with all the terror and innocence he could conjure screamed.

H̴͉̮́͂͗̐͌̍̇E̸̡̞̅̎̒͗͂L̷̛̻͎̮̽̏͝͝P̴̛̭͈͌̔̃̊͛̓ ̶͉̩̖̔͛͋̃ͅP̴̫͔̖͔̼͗̑̔͘͝L̸͓̣͖̫̭͎̊́̑̀͐̈́Ḙ̶͕̪̳̟̥͂̓̈̅͂͝Á̵̖̳̱͙͋ ̸̭̤̹̔͑͒̈͆̓͘Ȏ̵̡̥͈̪̟͛́̑͆̐͜Ḣ̷̡̻̪̘̯̹̊̂́̒͠ ̷̭̭͕̙̟̬͈̇̄̌̅̂̚̕W̸̺̯̦͔̼͇̄H̷͖͛̎͐̄͊̂͝À̶̘̙̈́̎͛̒͘ͅṰ̴̻͉̜͂̐̽̀̇ ̴̬͓̝̞̀̆̕T̸̙̖̲̺̯̆͛͜Ḥ̵̱͚͕͔̆̉ͅȆ̶͙̆́́̌̋ ̵̧͔͔̰̰̰͕̿͂̆̂̅̅F̵͕̘̰͓̓̔͜͜U̵̧̝̳̔̍̇̅̿͜͜͝Ç̵͎̎̓̒̓̊̂K̷̨̈́?̶̱͈̖̺̘͓͆̄͒͋

He slapped a hand over his mouth.

Outside, everyone went deathly quiet. Jazz didn’t dare move.

“Um.” Spoke their fearless leader.

Who apparently had thing for asthmatic dragons.

“Are you alright in there?”

Movement started to approach his hidey hole. Jazz could still salvage this. He could.

The white shadow came through first. Damn it. New plan: save own life.

Jazz plucked a new voice from him and made himself look as unthreatening as possible.

“ - ?! !”

Nothing. He loves the concept of nothing. Not even a celebrity crush? A favorite singer? The sound of his own voice?

Some of the functionalists were like that. That’s probably half the reason they “allowed” him to take on their commissions. All the money in their coffers wasn’t worth this however.

The white mech frowned, scanning over Jazz with a cold blue look. He turned back to the entrance, “Sir, there is a ‘hypothetically’ injured person inside the building. Most likely they orchestrated our current circumstances in an attempt to assassinate you.”

Jazz lunged from the wall, dagger slipping between armor gaps to pierce the spoil-sports spark, ready to dash past in the resulting chaos when his lifeless body guttered before them.

And just like his voice, Jazz got nothing instead.

He gaped at the way his blade cut into hollow air beneath the plates. Numbly, he pulled out his dagger and stabbed again, like it’d do something different this time. The mech was unamused.

“Sir, the assassin is trying to assassinate me.”

Jazz pulled a working voice, “I̷͕͍̓̒͝ͅ’̵̝̂m̵̼̲̓́ ̷͚̑́͗͜n̶̢̬͈̉o̷̦̓̎͝ṱ̶̟̼͒͊ ̵̨̮̠̿̀ǎ̷̫̹n̶̫̜̚̕ ̸̹͙͐a̵̛̯̻̹s̶͍̈́s̵̳̲͎͂a̷̻͉̅͆̑s̴̛̫̞̽̈s̵̳̑į̸̝̽̊n̷̙̟̤͊!̸̪̃”. And discontinued his failing assassin attempt to cringe.

A massive hand closed around Jazz’s wrist, stopping him cold.

“Do not.” Orion lessened his grip but did not release him, “Harm my friends.”

Jazz had to crane his head back considerably to make eye contact. Orion was built like a brick house and Jazz had enough experience fighting mechs like him to know his kill window was gone.

Groveling it is!

“Į̷̧̲̍͝ ̴̟̩̗̀̿̊a̵̹͙̔m̵̠̜̳͍̀̽̾̏ ̷͕͕̔̿͆̂s̸̡͋ơ̵̦̜ ̶͍̫͔͔̒̈̈́̌s̶̻͓͔̆͜ò̸͙̥̻̀r̷̢̠̈r̵̘͑̎͂y̸̰͓͆͗̔.̵̯͇́̌͒ ̵̳̞̏̇̕I̶̦͚̦͠’̸̞̯́��̟ḿ̵̢̜̅̍͜ͅ ̴̮̩͓̀̓̈͜j̷̻̒̀u̷̯͂͋ŝ̴̭͇̱͎͑͆ẗ̶͎̬͗́͝ ̷̥̰̗̃a̸̼̫̦̾̚ ̶͕͉̓͌͋͝d̴͖̗̰̒̎̈͘ͅe̸̗̞̤̲̽͗̈́͛s̸̖͐p̵̢̎͊e̴̢͖͉͑̿̾͘r̶̩̬̰̈́́ą̵̧̰̋̊͝t̶̻̯̞̦̆e̷̱̥̪̍͜ ̴̠̱̼̣̌̾t̴̙̐̔h̵̟̪͈͛̚ǐ̶͕ě̴̻̺f̸͕̠̯̤̀̆!̷̗̩̩̃̽ ̷̮̩̆̾Ǐ̷͍̭ ̴͕͕́ṅ̸̗̰e̸̯̱̝͚͆͂v̴̛͓͉͇̍́e̴̺̞͖͂͑̏͐͜r̶̢̼͠ ̴̗͙̐͒̋̚m̸͓͆͐e̶̱̩͕̐̚͠a̵͉͇̟̺̋̇̑n̶̢̖̙̣̾͝t̷̘̔ ̵̦̉̈́̈́͗t̵̳̻͇̔̎̃͜o̴͈͖̓ ̵̬̦̞͖͌͋͂͆h̷̲̓͑̎̃a̵̛͇̾͗r̵̠̗̩̾̏̈̚m̸̭̃ ̷̢̗͇͈͑͊a̵̧̠͑̒̚ ̵̢͉̮̌̀k̵̼͈͎̳͒̀̐͂ǹ̸̛̘͈͔í̶͓̜̜͉g̸̨̖̗̜̽͊ĥ̷͉̫͉̻̾̽̉t̵̜̣̲̹̑ ̸̡͒̃o̶̮͉̺͝r̷̬̎̓̚͝ ̵̡̠̩̓̈́̐̏ḣ̶̨͖̼̥̎́i̶̖̋͝s̷̻͍̭̒͜ ̵̢̖͓̿̍̌̾f̶̣̜̒̎r̶̝̈͊̍̋ǐ̶̝͓̱̱̆̐ẹ̷́̅n̴̢̛̘̍ḑ̷̪̈́̀͒̚ŝ̷͍̹!̷̪͙͕̬̐ ̵̨̡͆̏P̸̧̢̼̿͝l̶̡̧͔̳̍̉͋̆ẽ̶͉ȁ̸̦̜̤̀̉ͅs̴̮̙͍̘̐̂̉e̴͇͚͊̔̈́͋ ̸̧̳͒̈̃͠h̸̡̧̰͛̈͐ͅḁ̷͔̗̱̓̌̉v̸͖̼͓̜̽̏ę̵̬̤͎̄̅̓͆ ̷͍̯̗̥̋̀͛̉m̸̹͈͔̑͂͠ͅé̴͎͕ȑ̴̢̖̘̎c̴͙͇͙̤̐̔͒̕y̷̨͈͗͛͛!̶̹͝͝”

Orion cringed behind the mask.

“I- I’m sorry I don’t think I quite understood that.” He paused, “Would…you like a cough drop?”

Orion seemed to take stock of what he had on him, patting his sides with his free hand. He turned to the white mech.

“Prowl, would you happen to…um nevermind.” He turned to the twins, “Sunstreaker?Sideswipe? Do either of you have a cough drop?”

The twins searched their pockets for a magically appearing cough drop. Jazz searched for his sanity.

Jazz plucked a voice from the twins and couldn’t care less which it came from.

“Listen!” Oh thank fuck the twins were normal.

Jazz smiled while slowly uncurling Orions fingers from his wrist. Prowl narrowed his gaze at the new voice.

“You got me! I’m a thief! And I panicked! And I am so, so, so-.”

“A mimic.”

Smile frozen in place, Jazz turned his head so slowly there was an audible grounding noise.

Prowl remained impassive.

“Um.” And Orion…let him? Pull his wrist free. “Are you going to continue trying to kill me?”

Jazz snapped back to Orion, his target. The words aren’t what gave him pause, but how he said them. Like he just asked Jazz “Are you sure you want to go with puce green?” As if the mech was more concerned that Jazz was going to make a poor decision than for his own wellbeing.

“No.” Jazz said definitively. Because Primus knows he lost the upper hand now and wasn’t aiming to try again so soon.

“Are you genuinely in need of money? Food and shelter?” Orion continued, optics softening.

Jazz didn’t recognize the play. He bit his lip beneath the cowl.

Jazz decided to capitalize on whatever got him the most sympathy. He nodded seriously. “Yes. Of course. It’s not easy when the functionalists decide you’re a monster.” A bit of a lie and a bit of the truth. His favorite combination.

“Do you like your current employers?” Orion asked and Prowl started to narrow his optics.

“No…I don’t.” Jazz answered without enough dishonesty to feel comfortable.

Orion kneeled so he was on optic level with him. “Would you like to join my order?”

And when Jazz just stared at him he continued. “You’d be free to leave if you ever found it not to your liking. And your skills would be very useful in keeping people safe. And of course we’d ensure safe lodgings, fair pay and-.”

“Sir.” Prowl ground out with the most emotion Jazz had ever seen from the guy. “He tried. To assassinate you.”

“Well, he wasn’t very invested.” He shrugged.

Orion looked at Prowl. The twins looked at each other. Jazz looked at an opportunity.

“Deal.” Jazz took Orions hand, shaking it before his better thinking caught up to him.

Orion’s optics crinkled in delight. “Wonderful! Welcome to the Autobot Order!”

Prowls face betrayed nothing, but Jazz hadn’t spent his entire life studying people to miss the way something ever so subtly cracked under Prowls stoney facade.

Jazz didn’t need their Order to survive. But he had become desperately curious to know what in Pimus’ sweet name was going with those two. And more importantly, after outing him twice in a row, Jazz was going to BREAK Prowl.

“T̴͓̹̚h̸͖̘̀̈͠e̸̡̗̳͊̓͝ ̴͚̘͆n̶͉̰͐͜ą̸̦̉m̸̮͙͋é̴͉̫̥͘s̴̮̔͑̄ ̶̰̚J̷͎̀͝a̸̟͎̽̒̇z̷̰̆͑͜͝z̵̨͎̈́.̴͎́ ̷̡͉̱̒̾̕N̵̳͚̈͘i̴͙̓̎c̶̪̅̆ḛ̸̂͂ ̷̰̻̊͝ͅt̷͖̤̓͋o̴̗͇̭͑̿͛ ̴̮̹̉̃͜m̴̼͈̝̍e̸��̗̫̘̊͌ē̸̘̹̅t̷̛̞̙̫ ̵͙̎̄y̵̩͂̓̚a̴͉̲̪͌̍.̶̖̻̒”

———————————————————————

The silent sentence was “Did you hear that horrib- Huh?! OH COME ON!”

I just really liked the idea that because Jazz talks in Shockwaves voice around Orion, the first time it happened everyone nearly shit themselves.

-SSTP

"Who apparently had thing for asthmatic dragons."

LMAO

"The twins searched their pockets for a magically appearing cough drop. Jazz searched for his sanity." AHAHAJCZTYLVXFUJKCDYKFSS HELP

Jazz, looking at OP: There is something really wrong with you. Five weirdness points out of five.

Jazz, looking at Prowl: ........I need a new scale

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down

Knock You Down Materlist | Part II

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down.

Word count: less than 2K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts. Part II is already in the queue and will be posted on Friday, 10/11.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, Bucky the player, wild thoughts, kisses on the hand and the cheek. No sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

"Won't see it coming when it happens. But when it happens you're gonna feel it, let me tell you now."

Bucky always scoffed at Steve’s advice. He and Sam never understood his solitary bachelorhood and his one night stand lifestyle.

The truth was, he hadn’t met anyone who held his interest enough to warrant a second date, much less anything beyond one casual hookup. So, he never made promises that he couldn’t keep, and most women said they were down for that. 

Even if they were lying to themselves.

At 42, James Buchanan Barnes was too dedicated to his business, ostensibly as an art dealer, for a serious relationship. The truth was that he dealt in many things, and that was why his business needed so much attention. 

His life and everyone’s around him depended on it. 

Bucky Barnes wasn’t going to get caught slipping.

In love or in business.

—---

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, on what you thought would be a random Monday afternoon, he appraised you in a way that shook you to the core, those ocean blue eyes looking into your soul. You felt as if he were evaluating a piece of art as he gazed at you across his desk. 

You couldn’t know that he felt the exact same way. 

His eyes never strayed from your face as he shook your hand, but he’d noticed every bit of you as you entered his gallery, Rebirth. You were more stunning than any piece of art that he’d ever curated in the space.

While nothing like his normal type, you made Bucky feel as if he’d been so wrong about so much in his life the moment you entered his orbit. He had to get to know you to find what he’d been missing.

This afternoon you were a sight to behold and serving body. Although you were covered from neck to shin in an elegant sheath dress, the high, wrapped waist was giving all of your bounteous curves up to whoever glanced at you. And you had heads turning.

Steve, Sam, and even Natasha craned their necks to watch you as you entered Bucky’s office. And he could have sworn that Nat’s neck was at a 90 degree angle as she watched you leave her desk just outside his door.

You were fine as hell.

Bucky was entranced by dreams of handling your curves and making you smile at him forever.

As Bucky dreamed, you admired the man in front of you. Tall, dark, and handsome, Barnes wasn’t a young man, but the gray in his beard and the crinkles around his eyes made him that much more attractive. 

Even more attractive than in the paparazzi pics of him with various young models and actresses of the moment, waifs and ing��nues with whom he was never photographed twice.

You just knew you were safe from any advances from him.

You thought.

“Enchanté, Ms. Y/LN. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Bucky lowered his head as he greeted you, a slight bow and extended his hand to his desk. You noticed the tattoo that started on his hand and seemed to go up his sleeve and went in the direction he pointed.

"You know, you are quite tenacious. I don’t take many meetings with potential buyers. But all of my people told me that I should.”

The silk of his voice, the unexpected tenor of it, and the way he took your hand made you shiver at the aura of experience that he gave off.

The word Daddy floated around in your mind for a moment until he invited you to sit.

You had to concentrate on the business at hand, that of negotiating for a piece of art for the Art and Culture Center in Brownsville, of which you were the director. The purchase was made possible by benefactors to commemorate a deceased Brownsville artist who became famous, then forgotten, during the Harlem Renaissance.

“You’ve made it past Ms. Romanoff, my gallerist, Mr. Wilson, my business manager, and Mr. Rogers, my gallery director, Ms. Y/LN. What makes you think that I’m going to give you a different answer? Letting that piece go for the price you’ve proposed is not a good business move.”

“You can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity, Mr. Barnes. Yes, you will be taking a loss on the artwork, but you will be on the ground floor of a major rediscovery. You will be known as one of the few who helped to resurrect the brilliance of the artist Howard Benson. You can be the Alice Walker to his Zora Neale Hurston.”

And that is when Bucky leaned back in his chair, astounded at your shrewd calculation.

“I love the way your mind works, Ms. Y/LN.”

You smiled and settled back into your chair, causing Bucky to shift in his chair. He wanted to be buried in you. He appraised and decided that he liked the pout that changed your lips almost as much as the smile that initially greeted him when he replied, “But that price is still unacceptable.”

You raised an adorable eyebrow at him and rose to the challenge that he lay at your feet ready to tangle with the inimitable James Barnes. The conversation stretched from early afternoon to dinner time, making you suspect that Barnes was drawing it out for some reason. You matched him, point for point, until it was dark. But he yielded no ground.

The conversation was intellectual foreplay: art history, sociology, american politics. And it was the most stimulated you’d been in a while. 

You could do this all night.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down. There were several text messages and emails lighting up your screen. You’d been in deep with Barnes for hours. It was after 6 pm. It seemed like only minutes. You noticed that it was only you and Bucky left in the gallery and rose to excuse yourself, albeit reluctantly.

“Oh! I’m sorry to keep you so long. I’m sure that you must have plans.”

You’d done your research and you knew that there was probably someone little more than half Barnes’ age waiting for him. When you searched social media, there was a sighting or spotted every month or so of Bucky and a young, beautiful woman.

You reached for your coat, but Bucky was behind you in seconds, taking it from you and helping you put it on. You shivered at his breath at your throat and his hands on your collarbone as he draped the lapels over your neck. His deep chuckle made your stomach flip. He saw right through you.

“No one is waiting for me but my cat, Alpine. How about you, Ms. YLN? Anyone waiting for you in Brownsville?”

“Not tonight. No.”

Why in the world were you doing the sultry whisper thing? This man didn’t want you. 

Did he?

You cleared your throat and you felt dizzy when you looked up and saw how close he was standing to you. Those eyes and the smile that graced his handsome face had you warm, but the way he licked his lips had you spiraling.

Bucky pushed down a mild sense of panic that someone might be expecting you some other night, but that was irrational. Competition never ever entered his mind when he talked to other women. 

What was happening here?

“Well I would consider myself extremely fortunate and would be honored if we could continue this conversation over dinner.”

—-

The way James Barnes turned your meeting into a dinner date had your head spinning, but the wonderful conversation and easy, light hearted banter eased your mind. As soon as the first course was served at your table at dinner at Bohemian, he agreed to your initial price.

From there, once the terms were settled, the conversation turned to more personal questions, each of you sharing the stories of your life in your town, his childhood in Romania, your childhood in Brooklyn, and lots of funny stories.

At one point early in the night, Bucky stopped you from calling him Mr. Barnes.

“Please. Call me James. Or you could call me Bucky. My Friends call me Bucky. For my middle name, Buchanan. Bucky is short for Buchanan.”

Bucky found himself rambling. He had not been this nervous in a while.

You looked at him quizzically. At that moment, he would give you anything you were about to ask of him.

“Do you have a lot of friends? I mean, do a lot of people call you Bucky?“

Godamn, the husk in your voice, those lips, those eyes. Everything about you was about to set him on fire.

“I have a few who are in my close circle. Natasha, Steve, Sam. They and a very few others call me Bucky. Most people I speak with call me Mr. Barnes...”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips, making Bucky feel it in his cock.

“Then I will call you James.”

He got your subtle meaning. You wanted to be different. 

And you were. So very different.

After almost five hours of the best conversation and laughter, he proposed another time for you two to meet before the week was up, on Friday. He had made it clear at dinner that now that business was concluded that he wanted to spend time with you.

Friday night would be a date, the second one at his insistence.

You debated that fact as his driver took you home, even up until he walked you to the door of your brownstone.

He leaned against your doorframe and checked you out as you retrieved your keys from your purse. When you turned and caught him looking, you gasped, causing him to straighten up and move toward you, eyes dilated.

“It will be our second date,” you conceded.

Bucky’s mouth curled into a smirk as he grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth. Your soul burned as he pressed his lips to your palm. It was like the hint of a drug in your veins and you wanted so much more.

“What made you change your mind?”

That voice. Did you have a voice kink? Good lord.

You flushed, both at the images that were racing through your mind, and at the arbitrary three date rule you’d made up a while ago. Why was that again?

You cleared your throat.

“Because of the way you are looking at me, James. And the fact that you just kissed me.”

“Is this a kiss?”

“Ummhmmmm.”

You hummed as Bucky raised his eyebrow and your hand again. This time, he brushed his lips against your wrist and inhaled the perfume lingering there. You were about to melt.

Bucky didn’t even know what he was doing. The next step in his mind was to open his mouth and consume you, but he opened his eyes and spied you looking at him in that way, and he knew he had to stop. He didn’t want this to be like all of his other conquests.

He straightened up, but didn’t let go of your hand, entangling your fingers together. 

“You are correct, Y/N. In my mind, this is a date. I am interested in you, for more than just your taste in art. I hope that this is the first date of many.”

You were bowled over at his straightforwardness. It was not what you were used to. This was a man, not a boy in mens clothing.

“I appreciate your honesty, James.”

You went on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering on the black and grey stubble so close to his lips. You turned around, giving him a view of your backside as you opened your door.

“And your ambition.”

You gave him that smile again with a wink, and your “Goodnight, James,” floated up to him on cloud nine.

——-

Let me know if you liked it!

Part II here.

[shouyuus]

send me one + a character and i'll write you a drabble

─── 翔陽 INFAMMABLE BRIDGES

shouyou; 1,600 words; sfw, fluff; childhood friends to lovers; 5 times shou remembers + 1 time that you do

he has never been the forgetting kind -- not as a child, when, after the first time you told him you thought daisies were prettier than roses (who likes roses anyway? not you, eughck), he'd shown up at your door with dirty nails and a fistful of road-side daisies. his missing-toothed smile had been wide as a yawning horizon, bright as the first strip of lemon-yellow sunlight on a summer's day.

he's never been the forgetting kind, not as an middle school student -- even though his grades have always been nothing short of abominable, he's never forgotten that you prefer .7 lead over .5 because it's better for doodling in the edges of your notebooks.

"c'mon shou, you gotta focus if you wanna get into a good high school!" you tap your pencil against his mad scribble of illegible notes even as he whines, peering up at you with those honey-warm eyes.

"but its sooooo haaaard," he drops his face to the table, turning to pillow his cheek to the pages of the notebook, uncaring of the fact that when he picks his face back up, it'll be lead-stained. you fight back an exasperated grin, reaching out to wipe at the dark smear.

he pauses for a second at the familiar warmth of your touch. you drop your eyes back to your workbook page, resuming your work. you don't see him reach up to brush his own fingers along the place where your fingertips had touched.

later that night, with the pair of you sprawled out on your couch, flipping through channels till he settles on the sports channel, showing reruns of the local high school volleyball championships, shouyou turns to you with bright eyes and asks --

"hey! if i win the olympics gold medal for volleyball one day, will you marry me?"

you blink owlishly at him, momentarily distracted by the over-eager announcer as they exclaim over another apparently spectacular spike made by a guy named the little giant.

you shrug, "sure -- if you ever get olympics gold."

he's never been the forgetting kind, not as high school student, a even though you're cities apart now -- he shows up at your culture festival, sweaty and out of breath. you blink at him from behind the takoyaki stand, the smell of slightly burnt dough singeing your nostrils.

"s-shou! what're you --"

"s-sorry i'm l-late! h-had to bi-bike across the mountains --" he pants, propping his palms on his knees, careless of the alarmed looks of the other students still queueing up for their takoyakis, "but i d-didn't wanna miss your takoyaki stand!"

you stare, slack-jawed, wracking your brain for when you'd told him (but of course you had; you tell him everything, don't you?).

someone nudges you and you jerk out of your reverie, hurriedly flipping the takoyakis in your pan, grimacing slightly at the burnt backs. you give the queueing customers an apologetic smile as you scoop them out and drizzle them in sauce.

shouyou waits the entire 45 minutes it takes to get to the front of the line, grinning as he hands over a crumpled bill and asks for two servings. you cock your head, but he reaches over to flick at your sweat-beaded forehead.

"one's for you, duh!"

he's never been the forgetting kind, even though you know he spends all his time practicing, and it's hard, being 3rd years, what with uni apps to worry about and careers to consider.

he shows up at your door at 11:54pm, his hair tousled, his cheeks kissed pink by the cold. his breath frosts the air between you as he shoots you a bright grin and holds out a bouquet of flowers (your eyes linger on the tiny white daisies scattered throughout the bouquet like so many handfuls of lost stars).

"congrats on getting into u tokyo!" he pushes the flowers into your hands, glancing up at the darkened sky just as the first flakes of snow start to fall. you purse your lips, staring down at the flowers, a soft laugh creeping up your throat as you take half a step back to let him in.

"thanks, shou -- but you didn't need to buy me flowers, or anything -- and i know you're training for nationals --"

he shakes his head, stepping into the genkan and patting at the snow in his hair. you giggle, reaching up to dust at his shoulders, wondering vaguely when he'd gotten tall enough for you to have to reach up --

"course i did! not every day your b-best friend gets into the best university in all of japan!" he laughs, but when you join in with a soft giggle, he quiets, looking at you with those dark, steady eyes. you don't ask him why he'd stuttered over the word best friend -- it's what you are (though something inside you clunks)... because that's what you'd always been.

he's never been the forgetting kind, not as an adult, halfway across the world, two oceans keeping the pair of you apart. your phone rings early on a wednesday morning, and you scrub at your eyes, frowning as you swipe up to answer.

"shou? what's wrong? why're you up so late --?"

"happy birthday," he says, his voice still gravely from sleep.

warmth pools in the depths of your belly as you slump back onto your own bed, throwing an arm over your eyes to shield you from the first rays of unforgiving sunlight streaming through your window. you don't try to fight the grin that spreads across your lips as you whisper a soft --

"thanks."

a beat of silence crackles across the line.

shouyou clears his throat; it's a marvel, really, how much a few years a couple thousand miles can change the sound of a person's voice -- roughen it up around the edges, deepen it till it unspools something tucked inside you, or perhaps, it had always been his to undo -- and you'd just been waiting for him to reach out and do it.

"isn't it like... 1am in germany? don't you have a game tomorrow?"

"yep, but... still wanted to be the first one to wish you happy birthday." you can almost hear the light-bending gravity of his smile, all cheek and teeth and half-moon eyes.

you sigh, nodding, before you remember he can't see.

"well, you are -- you always are."

he hums, barely stifling a yawn. you crinkle your nose.

"go to bed, shou. i'll call you before your game tomorrow."

"okay," he says, and you hear the faint sounds of sheets shuffling as he settles back into his blankets. you roll onto your side and stare at the array of small trinkets he's brought back for you over the years -- a volleyball keychain, a tiny crow plush, a christ the redeemer statue from rio, an eiffel tower snow-globe from paris.

"i love you." he says. and there's no hesitation, no buildup, just a simple statement of fact. you sink deeper into your pillow, your cheeks awash with heat.

"yeah... i know," you whisper, pulling your blankets up over your head like you used to when the pair of you were still young enough to build blanket forts in his living room, giggling over stolen cookies and a flashlight clutched between chocolate-sticky fingers.

"good," he says, with a contented sigh.

"sleep, shou," you say. and he hums again, laughing. the sound rocks through you, soft and sweet as a rising tide, coming home to shore.

"yeah, gnight."

you've never been the forgetting kind, not when it's the most important day of his whole life (though he might argue, later on, the pair of you tangled in the sheets of his hotel room, his arm banded over your stomach as he nuzzles his face into your cheek, that the most important day of his life was when he first met you) --

"shou!"

he knows its you even before he turns to see you, the sound of your voice carried above the roaring of the crowd as he wipes at his face with the already soaked bottom of his jersey.

he turns just in time to catch you as you bowl into him, careless of the massive bouquet of flowers clutched in your arms, now squashed between you as he hoists you up with a joyous laugh.

he kisses you in front of the entire crowd, and you let him. of course you do.

later, when an interviewer asks you what it's like to have an olympic gold medalist as your boyfriend, you cut her off to say --

"fiancé."

she blinks, cocking her head, looking bewildered, even as shouyou jerks back, staring down at you, mouth agape.

the interviewer looks between the pair of you before asking, "sorry, did i hear that right? the pair of you are engaged?"

you shoot her a toothy grin, "yep!" before turning to grin up at an utterly shell-shocked shouyou with, "i promised i'd marry you if you ever won an olympic gold, remember?"

at this, shouyou's whole body softens, slackening as he tips into a fit of full-bellied laughter, pulling you into him for another sweet kiss, one that has the interviewer glancing away for just a second.

"yeah... yeah i do... god, i can't believe you remember that!"

you roll your eyes, giving him a playful shove, "i can't believe you forgot."

he shakes his head, "i didn't. i never did. i just..." he trails off, smiling helplessly down at you.

you lean up to give him another little peck on the lips.

"well, no going back on it now, shou."

shouyou nods, turning back to the interviewer with a bright smile, "nope, wasn't ever planning on it."

taglist: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @dira333 @fennecnco @ryescapades @katiekawls @ally-all-around @arahiraaai - join the taglist

shouyou nation: @neiptune @shoyosh @dearru (i hope u guys dont mind being tagged! pls let me know if you dont want to be!!!)

[thehighpriestess1]

Make A Wish Chapter 1 : The Bet

Warning: Self harm tendencies mentioned. Dark themes. 

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Gojo x y/n

a/n: Hi! I hope you all missed me as much as I missed you. This is my first work in a long long long time so forgive me, I am a bit out of practice. I hope you like this. Leave a comment if you want to join the taglist.

30th July 2024, 12:30 AM

The neon blue lights of the club gave a grim hue to the streets. You heels barely on your feet anymore tried their best to carry you from one club to the other. You frazzled hair welcomed the gush of the wind. You took a deep breath, filling up your lungs with the cold night air. Was it even night anymore? You looked up at the sky and chuckled. What a beautiful night this was. After weeks of downpour you could finally see the clear sky. A group of boys ran past you and you almost fell but regained your balance at the last second. 

If anyone were to make a judgement on you they would probably think you are high society women drinking her sorrows away. Some would even try to get close to you to gain a few favours. But little did they know, you had nothing to offer. 

With shaking legs you made your way from one bar to the other. Some didn’t let you enter and those that were allowed were filled with men trying to get into your pants. Maybe if you were a different person you would have found a handsome man and gone home with it. You were not judgemental that way. But you had no heart or soul left to care for anything. You had things to do tonight..or tomorrow morning. Does time even matter now? You reeked of not yours but perfumes of men you had been dancing with for the past 3 hours. 

What brought you here? Heartbreak? Or did you just want the courage to do one last thing right. Having a nice quiet night at home was a suitable option but a part of you feared that you might enjoy your time at home and change your mind. You were on a mission. So you bought a new dress, wore all of your best jewelry, carried your most expensive purse and walked out. 

Now as you stood outside of your 7th bar of the night you could barely see anything. You sniffled and wiped your mascara stained tears. Every place was the same. Crowded, sweaty, and filled with men making empty promises.

Your phone buzzed in your purse. You groaned and took it out, the screed displayed Shoko’s name and a selfie you took with her many moons ago and it made you want to throw up. You cut the call and saw a storm of texts coming from Shoko and Geto. Swiping right on one the texts you opened the chat but could barely read any message. 

Gojo…help…call.. What? Were they still worried more about him?! Him?! They were worried about the one with everything in the world?! You didn’t expect this from Shoko. Even if she had to pick a side, why couldn’t it be yours? Why can’t anyone ever look at you?! You had feelings too! Your lips quivered as you tried to stop yourself from breaking down in the middle of the road. You scrolled through the text..Gojo..find..please

Please….call…

The letter moved in and out of focus and you tried your best to string the words together to just see the three words you had been begging to hear from your friends. How are you? 

Your phone buzzed in your hand but it was Geto calling. You scoffed and cut the call. There was no way you were going to pick up his call. 

You needed to forget everyone. Especially the three of them. You were a fool to think they would ever be on your side. They were thick as thieves. Friends since they were one and you..you were just a cog in the system. Put in place to help them…no.. To serve them..a toy to entertain them. You took a deep breath and walked to your next stop. 

Loud music filled the alley as you looked for the next bar that would let you drink your sorrows away preferably quietly.You didn’t have it in you to stand in queues or flirt with the bouncer .A loud neon pink light snapped you out of your pity party for one. As you looked up, you saw a large neon pink sign, Fate. You had never seen this bar before and there was no queue or bounce so you stepped inside anyway. 

Contrary to the modern sign outside, the bar had an old parlour aesthetic. Leather couches were sprawled in the sets of two and a heavy oak round table sat in between them.Two men sat in a corner silently as they sipped their beer. A woman sat alone on a velvet chair to  your right drinking a shimmery cocktail and talking to herself. The circular bar counter in the center had a halo like effect, beckoning you to have another sip. The bartender was already looking at you with a welcoming smile like one offers to an expected guest. 

“Welcome!”. He called from a distance. 

You walked to the bar counter and sat on one of the velvet bar stools. “Hi, can I see your menu?”. You tried your best to appear sober. You can’t afford to get kicked out of yet another bar now.

“How about I suggest you a drink you really need…y/n?”

“Huh?” Did he just say your name or was it your mind playing tricks again? Must be the alcohol from hours of drinking. “Ummm..yeah sure”.

The man placed a glass of clear liquid in front of you.

“What’s this?” 

The bartender chuckled. “Water”. It’s bar policy to make sure that customers are hydrated, You see our drinks are quite strong”

You looked up from your glass of water to the bartender. He was handsome with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. His doe-like eyes had a spark to them, like it held all the stars of the galaxy. His dark brown hair stood perfectly. His clean vest and crisp white shirt fitted his toned body quite well. His kind smile made you relax in your barstool. 

As you sipped the water you felt your body getting lighter. “Wow..thank you..I needed that”.

The man chuckled. 

“Not that I am drunk…but hydration is good”.

“It is, isn’t it. It’s sad how we forget to take care of ourselves. We don’t need to have a perfect life to take care of ourselves, do we?” He smiled again. 

“This place is quite..” You looked around at the largely empty bar. “...vacant”.

“Oh it’s an exclusive bar you see”. He said nonchalantly as he shook the tumblr in his hand.”Only those you need it can visit”. 

You frowned at him,”I..what?”.

The man chuckled again. “I said our aesthetic doesn't resonate with everyone”.

“oh…I see”. 

“Maybe you can help us. You work in marketing right?”. 

“Yeah..I used to..wait how do you..?”. 

“You told me a few seconds ago”. He said as he poured the drink into a goblet like glass.

“Did I?” You smiled nervously. “But yeah…I used to..I..”

“Got fired?”. He placed the drink on a metal coaster in front of you. 

You stared blankly at him. Maybe you had too much for today. “Yeah…Thank you”. You stared at the drink, it was pink like the sign outside with a hint of golden glitter. “This looks quite pretty”. You smiled widely and took your phone out and quickly took a photo. “What is it called?”

The bartender placed both of his palms flatly on the glass counter and leaned closer and looked at you, “it’s called a second chance”.

Another flirt, you thought to yourself. “Why is it called so?”

“You will find out soon”. He winked and turned away to work on the other side of the bar. 

You sipped your drink and realized that a faint song was playing in the bar that you didn’t hear when you walked in. The song grew louder but just enough so you can hear the lyrics. You were not sure you had heard it before. Change the prophecy…redo the prophecy…cards on the table

You sipped the drink and suddenly had a deep urge to redo everything. God if you could redo everything you would not make the same mistakes again. This wasn’t anger or vengeance. It was a desperate cry for help. Your head spun as the liquor trickled down your throat. The urge grew stronger with each sip.

1st June 2024 1:00 AM

“Hello”.

Hearing your mom's voice on the other end of the line made you choke up. “He..Hello..mom?”

“Y/n?”

You pressed your lips as you knew where the conversation would go but your heart wanted to try one more time. Hoping that she would remember that you were her daughter after all.

“I..I left him”. Your words came out in broken sobs. 

The silence made your heart tighten. 

“Why?”. Your mom asked sternly.

“I..I can’t do it anymore. I tried mom. I real-”

“Well you didn’t try hard enough. Relationships are hard. It needs work. You can’t just give up every time you have a fight”.

All the bottled up emotions came out as loud sobs escaped your lips. Snot and tears mixed and rolled down your chin. Your eyes burnt from hours of crying. “But mo-”.

“You know how much he has done for our family don’t you? If it wasn’t for him your brother would still be unemployed! God y/n….”

“Please..just..I will take care of you and Ren..I ca-”

“No! I..you need to grow up y/n. I..I have always supported you. But please..for the sake of our family..you need to work on it”.

You were speechless. This wasn’t the first sob filled cry for help. It wasn’t 10th either. You didn’t know whether your mother was just sick of your sob story or she loved his acts of kindness more than she loved her own daughter. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny how much he has done for your family. But you could not ignore what he was doing to you either. You knew you could never match up to you everything he had done but that didn’t merit your sad obedience to him. 

“Hello? y/n?”. Your mother called out.

“I..”. You wiped your tears away and took a deep breath. “..you know what he has done”.

You mom stayed silent for a few seconds and you hoped that just for a second she would pity you.

“So what? Men are stupid. They make mistakes. Even your dad-”.

“Do not compare him to dad! He is nothing like him! Dad cared enough to change! He doesn’t! Oh god! I..I can’t..mom I am sorry…I can’t..I can’t take this anymore. Please…just..help m-”

“Do what you want y/n. Just remember that if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have any of this. He is your-”.

“Don’t say it”. You cut her off staring at the ring on your hand. What a joke. “If I stay with him for another day it would kill me..I might ki-”

“Do whatever you want then!”. She yelled from the other end. “I would rather have no daughter than have an ungrateful daughter like you!”. 

Those were the last words she said to you.

You held the phone in your hand and sat staring blankly at the wall. When a fierce thunder lit up the dark room you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You looked no different from a zombie with hair frizzy and falling over your shoulder in knots, eyes red and swollen, skin red and lifeless. You had been wearing the same t-shirt for over a week now. Is this life even worth living? 

Your phone buzzed and Shoko’s text flashed on the screen,

Shoko: You are taking things out of context. You should hear him out.

Shoko: I will support you in whatever decision you take. But you need to talk to him once.

Shoko: It was all planned by Mishki. 

All the texts were about him. Everyone wanted him. Everyone was charmed by him. No one cared about what you wanted or how you were doing. You had no one. No one would miss you if you were gone. 

You looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. 2 months until your birthday. What a nice way to go..on your birthday…

“Excuse me?”You called out to the bartender. “Can I get another drink?”.

The man walked over to you and took your glass away. “Sorry, only one drink per person”. He smiled.

“Wh-”

“It’s time for you to step out y/n”.

You gulped harshly. Maybe you made a fool of yourself again, it wasn’t the first or the third time. Same story every night. “How much do I owe you?”. You asked as you shot an apologetic smile.

“You can give whatever you want”. 

So it was one of those places where customers decided the price. You took the Amex card out and stared at it for a second,hoping that the payment goes through, before sliding it across the table. 

“We don’t take cards, sorry”. 

You rummaged through your purse to look for cash but had none. “I am sorry I don’t have cash”. 

“We take payments in every form”.

You were taken aback with this comment. Swate beads formed on your forehead as you realized what the situation was.

The man laughed heartily. “I mean the bracelet on your wrist looks pretty good as a payment”.

You looked down at  your wrist. You had worn all three cartier love bracelets that he had gifted you. Even the just un clou and love rings. You didn’t know why you were wearing them all at once. Should you even have it with you? Each piece of jewelry brought back bittersweet memories. One by one you took out all your jewellery and the watch and placed it on the counter. The counter was now littered with earrings, necklace, bracelets, rings, and a watch. All gifted by him. “There you go”. 

“Are you sure you will not miss these? They seem sentimental”

You stared at the bundle and shook your head. 1st bracelet for when you caught him in the parking lot, rings for when he stood you up on numerous dates, necklace for when you caught him at his grandfather’s funeral, and the watch for when he didn’t show up for your grandfather's funeral. It was time to let go of these. “Please keep all of this”.

“By the way y/n..”. 

You looked up, sweeping your hair to one side, “Yes?”

“Happy BIrthday”.

“Thank You”. You smiled sadly and hopped off the barstool. 

“I will see you again”. 

“I doubt so. Thank you once again”

You grabbed your purse and made your way to the door. Right above the door was a sign etched in golden on dark wood. Fata Viam Invenient. 

A cold gust of wind blew your hair and welcomed you when you stepped outside. You didn’t want to go home just yet and all the bars where you were not banned were shutting down now. You wanted a few more hours out of life.  Your phone buzzed once more but you didn’t bother checking it this time. You looked down at the black mini kelly and held it in your hand like a mother nursing a child, another gift from him for forgetting your birthday. Last of the painful gifts. You wanted to throw it away but a part of you wanted to hold onto it. To remind yourself that he was real. That all of it happened. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a glorious war that you lost. But god you fought it bravely and gave it your all. 

Someone coughed loudly, snapping you out of your fantasies.On your right you saw a homeless man shivering in the cold, black soot marks littered over his face, salt and pepper hair matted to his head.He was slouching against the concrete wall of the bar .Was it winter already? Alcohol coursed through your veins and a smile grazed your lips as you found your companion for the night. You stumbled and made your way to the man and sat next to him and lit the last cigarette in your 20 pack box. He gave you a sympathetic look. 

“You alright, miss?”. He asked kindly.

You chuckled, “Are you in a position to ask me how I am doing?”. Taking a long drag you rested your head against the concrete wall. 

The man looked down and saw the red scars on your knees. “All I can offer is kindness”. He said softly.

Kindness. A concept foreign to you. “Kindness..” You rolled the word on your tongue. “....thank you..for your kindness”, you said wiping another tear.

“Heartbreak?” The man asked.

You smiled. “I….maybe..yes”.

“Who is the man…”. The man pulled his coat closer as another gust of wind swept the alley. An empty beer clanked and rolled to your feet. 

“He is..a myth….he is not real..not anymore..”. You took out your Burberry scarf and wrapped it around the man’s neck. “Take this..”.

The man rubbed the material between his fingers and gave you a questioning look. “This is real. This must be quite expensive”.

You smiled, “Keep it, I don’t want it”.

“That man must be stupid to let go of a woman like you”.

“Trust me I am not that kind..”. Your cigarette was on its last few drags and it bummed you. “Do you want to eat something?”

The man nodded. 

“Gottit! Let’s order some food!” You took your phone out and began scrolling through restaurants on Ubereats. “Aha!”. With a childish smile you placed your order.

“What’s your name?”. The man asked. 

You looked at him but he looked slightly different now. His face seemed clearer. You shrugged it to the effects of alcohol wearing out. “Y/n..what’s yours?”.

“Yojutsusha” The man smiled.

“Interesting name”

You sat in silence for a while watching drunk salary men puking in the corner, Men carrying drunk women out, some waiting for a cab, friends laughing loudly, everyone had a reason to be here..except you.

You tried to recall how this night started. But it didn’t matter. This was your night time routine. While most people preferred serums, moisturiser, calming music, or tea..you preferred the bitter taste of alcohol and stumbling from one bar to another. Drinking with strangers every night. But in every strange face you saw glimpses on him. Some had the same nose, some had the same lips, but no one was wholly him. The thought of him made your heart ache. You ruined everything. You could have had a good life, a job, a loving partner, a friend..but here you were, drunk, lost, sitting in a dingy alley waiting for your food. 

A delivery man on his scooter stopped in front of you and looked around with a Ubereats bag in his hand. You snapped out of your thoughts and raised your hand, “Oi! Here! Delivery for y/n?”.

The delivery man looked apprehensive but shyly walked over to you, “Y/n?”

“That’s me!”. You smiled and extended your hand towards him.

The man seemed unsure as he looked over to the homeless man next to you. He wanted to question you more but also wanted to get out of here as soon as possible so he handed you the paper bag.

“Dinner’s ready!”. You slurred and took out two bags of french fries, fried chicken, and two diet coke. “Here, have this”. You passed a portion to the homeless man. 

The silence between the two of you was comfortable. Neither of you said a word but occasionally you felt the man looking at you. Maybe he pitied you.

“I don’t pity you”. The man chuckled. 

You laughed with your mouth half filled with food. “Sorry..I was just thinking out loud I guess”. The warm food and his company brought you comfort. For the first time in the last 6 months you felt okay. You had a strange feeling in your heart, you were ready to give it all up. Nothing mattered anymore. You have lived your life. You touched the sun and now your wax wings were burning. The pain was your price to pay for dreaming of the glowing sun. If you fall, so be it. It was worth it. Years of pain, guilt, heart break, loss…all worth it. You had touched the sun. 

“Would you like to play a game?”. The man asked, wiping his mouth. 

“What kind of game?”. You asked.

“A bet”. He smiled with his mischievous eyes.

30th July, 2024 12:00 AM

Gojo paced frantically around your living room. He kept on checking his phone every few steps. Hoping to get some updates from you. “Did she answer your call?” He asked Shoko for the 100th time.

“No. But she read the messages just now”. She said, wiping her tears. She looked at her phone in one hand and your letter in another. What if it was too late? What if they were too late?

“That’s a relief. I am getting my men to track her phone down!”. He sat down next to her and hysterically typed instructions to his men who were in a van outside the building praying that they track you down. Their life depended on it. 

How did it all come to this? Gojo questioned everything. Few hours ago he was on his way to your home with a bouquet of flowers and a cake and now the flowers are dead and the cake box is on the floor. He remembered looking all over the apartment for you but all he found was the letter on the kitchen counter. Gojo didn’t believe it at first. But once he looked at the empty fridge, wiped out the closet, and an almost empty house, he knew…He fucked up. He realized everything too late..and now he might lose you forever. All because of his selfish pride and ego. If he could, he would kill himself over and over again before letting anything happen to you. He would take his heart out and stab it thousand times over to feel the pain he has caused you. Did he even deserve you? How could he be so blind?

“Please…god please..”. He begged no one in particular. 

Shoko sat frozen next to him and clenched the letter in her hand. She was the person Gojo called, hoping that she would know something. If she was being honest and had any will to talk she would admit that she was surprised when Gojo called her. She was surprised that Gojo cared at all. “Why did you come here?”. She asked.

“I..I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to-”.

“You turned everyone against her didn’t you?”

Gojo remained silent. He was guilty. But he wanted to make things right now. 

Shoko took a deep breath and continued, “You turned me against her. You told me that she tried to sleep with Geto. Was any of it true?”. Her heart beat loudly against her chest. She didn’t know whether she wanted it to be true or not. Either way she would not be able to live with herself.

“No”. 

Shoko broke down. She howled like a mad woman as she hit Gojo with her fists. “Why?! Why?! Why?! You are a monster! A fucking monster! You were my friend!”.

Gojo tried to hold her down to calm her and one of her fists landed on his nose. 

An eerie silence filled the house as a trickle of blood dripped down his nose. “I deserve it”. He said. “I ..I can’t explain right now…”.

“Try!”.

“I didn’t want to lose her. I did horrible things! I know! But I didn’t want to lose her! She..”, Gojo gulped harshly.”..she would have left me if she had you..or anyone…I couldn’t let that happen..I know I got selfish and made some bad decisions but I..I love her. I love her. I..love her.”.

Shoko stayed silent for a while. She had known Gojo and Geto since she was one. She trusted them. But you were her best friend. You were the friend she needed but never had.  

“If we find her, I will talk to her and I don’t want you to be near her ever again”.

“I..can’t let that happen”. Gojo said coldly. 

“Why Satoru? Why do you want to make her life a living hell again? There is nothing in the letter that mentions you. So you..and your empire are safe! Just do me the favour of finding her and leave!”. 

“Stay here until I get back”, Gojo couldn’t sit here and do nothing. He needed to find you before it got too late so he picked up his car keys and left.

30th July 2022 10:00 PM

Gojo groaned as his phone rang once again. He didn’t need to look who was calling him. He knew it was you. 

“Shouldn’t you pick it up?”. Mishki said as she sipped her red wine and looked a thim through her lashes. 

“It’s nothing important”.

“What if it’s your..fiance?”. 

Gojo let out a tired sigh and chuckled defeatedly. “You got me. It is her”.

Mishki raised a brow prompting him to go on. 

“She is probably calling to check where I am, what am I doing, When will I see her, ugh…it’s never ending…and she is not my fiance".

"Oh but that's not what I have heard"

Gojo smiled charmingly, "Do you know how many women in the city claim to me by girlfriends?"

“I see. Interesting relations you have..Satoru. I hope I can call you that”.

“You can call me anything you want. Shall we discuss our deal now?”. 

.

.

.

Back at home you sat on the couch with your face in your hands. Tear drops rolled down your chin onto the cake that had been sitting out for 3 hours. You knew Gojo was a busy man so you didn't expect him to do much but picking up your call on your birthday was the bare minimum you expected.

On clue, 5 minutes before the clock struck 12 Gojo walked through your living room door and rolled his eyes when he sae your puffy eyes and tired face. "oh come on now!".

"Where were you?", you got up and made your way towards him. "I have been calling you for-"

"For the past 3 hours? I know! Can't you get a hint?"

"Satoru..it's..".

"It's what y/n?! How many times have I told you to not disturb me when I am in a meeting? Don't you get it by now that I am a busy man! I don't have time to play house with you!"

"It's my birthday for fuck's sake!". You screamed.

Gojo was taken aback by your outburst. "So? I work on my Birthday! What is so special about birthdays anyway?!"

You stared at him blankly. "I..I just wanted to have dinner with you on my birthday. It is special to me".

"Why didn't you call Shoko then huh?".

"I did but..but she said she was busy".

Gojo scoffed, drawing the dagger deeper in your heart. "See, not everyone has the free time to sit and celebrate like kids. You need to grow up". He walked over to you and took you in his arms, "Look y/n, you know that everything I do, I do it for us right? So please be on my side here. I am really trying".

His embrace brought you comfort and you relaxed in his arms and nodded. Maybe you blew things out of proportion. "I know, you're right. It's just a birthday. It comes every year anyway".

"Exactly!". Gojo pulled back and smiled at you. "Now go wash your face and let's go to bed. I am tired".

As you lay in bed wide awake you thought about the uncut cake in the fridge. You turned around hoping to wake up Gojo but realised that he would probably call you childish for caring about a cake.

The fridge light illuminated the kitchen as you crouched down and slowly tried to pull out the cake. It was Gojo's favourite strawberry and cream cake.

You lit a small candle on a triangle piece and made a silent wish,"I want to be happy".

As you ate the cake in silence you looked around at the luxurious apartment he generously gifted you. When you first moved in it was your happy place, your sanctuary. But, lately it has been getting cold. You had everything that someone of your standing could ask for. A house, a car, a partner who supported you..financially. It all felt like a gold cage now.

You would happily trade all this comfort for a partner who wanted your company more than he wanted the next big offer on the table. You laughed to yourself. Were these really your problems now? Few years ago you would have taken this happily but now you are bitching about it as you eat an expensive slice of cake.You had touched the your amex card more than you had touched him in the past few months.Being with Gojo made you realise that how wrong you were in running after the money. Guess this was a small price to pay. People in castles are often lonely.

30th July, 2024 2:00 AM

Gojo drove at an ungodly speed across the city, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He visited every restaurant and cafe you had mentioned. His best guess was that you would visit your favourite cafe on your birthday or maybe the place where you had your first date with him. But if he was being honest, he had no clue where to look for you. In the last two months he barely looked at you or spoke to you and it was all his fault. He was so busy fixing everything that he forgot to fix one thing that mattered the most, your heart. 

All your pleas and fights rang in his ear serving a cruel reminder of his actions. His heart raced faster than the time as he thought about everything he could have done differently. God if only he had one last chance he would do things differently. All the money in the world could not undo his actions. He groaned and hit the steering wheel thinking how misplaced his priorities were. By the time he realised what mattered the most, it was already too late. He hoped that it wasn’t too late. He prayed that you were safe and sound somewhere and that when he found you, you would find it in your heart to forgive him. But he knew deep in his heart, the best thing he can do for you is to let you go. But how could he? How could he let go of you? You brought sunshine into his life. Everything he was today was because of you. You were his motivation, his totem keeping his world stable.

He thought about your last Birthday and his actions brought bile to his mouth. He felt disgusted at himself. He imagined himself running out of the meeting to see you and how you would jump in his arms happily and he would kiss your pain away. But he didn't run out of any meetings. He didn't let you go when he should have. Instead he brought more pain to your life. He cursed you. He hurt you.

As the streetlights flashed past him, he wondered what he would say if he found you. Was it too late for a genuine apology? People gave him questioning looks as he ran the streets looking around in every direction. In this big and cold city he felt lost. He stopped and called out to women who looked like you and gave them a disappointing look when he realized he was wrong. 

He ran through alleys with questionable people waiting to take advantage of a vulnerable man. He spent thousands of dollars on strangers hoping to get some direction. He pulled his hair and screamed in empty alleys leading to a dead end. 

He never gave you the time you deserved and now time was slipping through his fingers. With each passing second, with each dead end lead, with each negative response, Gojo was slipping into insanity. 

Gojo stopped his car at a pier where the two of you would often meet. He sat on the bench where you had your first kiss. Defeated, devastated, tired, and hopelessly in love. Broken sobs filled the silence around him. “Please..God please!!”. He hung his head like a soldier who lost the war he was sure to win. His tears stained the light wood near his feet in dark brown. “Please..please..please..!!!”. He screamed. 

His phone buzzed. The message on the screen broke his cracked heart. “Found y/n’s phone by the river”. 

He was too late. It was too late. The world spun around him and then it all went dark.

30th July 2024, 4:00 AM

“How am I losing every time?”. You groaned and looked at the man hopelessly. 

The man shrugged looking at the spread of cards in front of him. “You are not playing with your heart”.

You scoffed looking at the cards in your hand,”My heart has been played enough. I should be using my brain now”.”

“In this game and in life people make the fatal mistake of not balancing between their feelings and logic. Do not force yourself to use logic where you should be listening to your heart”.

You laughed, “You are quite cryptic”.

“What do you want to bet next?”. He asked. Maybe it was the fading effects of liquor, but the man seemed wise and not as ragged as you had found him. 

“Hmm..let me see”. You pondered over his words for a moment.” So far I have lost my heels, my jacket..all I have left is my bag”

“Are you willing to part with it?”.

You held your bag in your hand and took a deep breath, “Yeah, why not”. You took your phone and placed the bag in between the two of you.

“Are you forgetting something?”

You chuckled, “what rule am I forgetting now?”

“Your keys. I am sure a girl like you has a house to return to”.

Your mind went numb. Did you even want to go back? What was the point? “No. I have everything I need”. After all, all you needed was your phone for identification. “Okay, so what do I do now?”.

“Now you pick a card from the deck?”

The deck of cards that the man had pulled out hours before was not the regular cards you had at home. Sure it was the basic 52 card deck, but they felt premium to hold. You felt the card between your fingers, turning it around to see the golden rune calligraphy on the navy blue background. “Oh…this card is blank..”.

The man smiled and began arranging his cards neatly in a pile on top of remaining cards. One can not interfere with fate. Humans think that fate is largely in our hands but little do we know that there are powers beyond our comprehension that work in cohesion to chart our life. Long ago you had cursed the fates, a curse so powerful that it compelled the fate to hear your plea. Now, you were given a chance to redo your life. An apology from the fates. 

“Is it?”

“Mmhmm”. You extended the card for the man to see. 

“What are the other cards in your hand?”.

“Queen of hearts, King of spades, and a-’

“Ace of hearts?”

You looked at the man in disbelief. Was he a con man, did you just get conned? You laughed at yourself. “Yes. An Ace of hearts”

The man smiled to himself and looked at you. A much younger version of him stared back at you.

“You!”. Your eyes widened as you realized why the man seemed familiar. “I just saw you inside!”. The same man who served you the drink was sitting in front of you. 

“What does your heart desire y/n?”

“Who are you?! And..and why..”. You felt dizzy and disoriented. “Did he..did he send you?” You stuttered. 

“Who? The god?”. The man laughed from his stomach. “You called me y/n. Did you forget?”

“Wh..what..no..I don-”.

“Yes you did. You screamed to the thundering skies above and asked for one more chance! So there you go!”. The man stared at you excitedly like a magician about to do the grand reveal.

Your hands trembled as you slowly turned the card to see three golden words appear on it out of thin air, Make a wish. You felt as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. 

The man looked at you with folded hands and dropped shoulders. “Well, since you were going to end your life anyway, I thought today would be the best time to-”.

Before the man could finish you grabbed your phone and bolted in the other direction. Tears ran down your face and the world spun around you. You looked back once to see if he was following you but the alley was empty now.

“Careful now”. The man appeared in front of you causing you to lose your balance. “Oops! Can’t let you get hurt”. He smiled as he caught you with one arm. 

“Please let me go..I will ..I swear I will never tell anyone about this”

“Darling even if you do, no one would believe you”. He shrugged and handed you the single card. “Take it. What’s the worst that can happen?”.

You took a few steps back and gulped hershey.

“Your time is running out y/n. You would be dead in..”. He took out a pocket watch and stared at it amusingly. “..in about 10 minutes”.

“What..why? Please don’t kill me!”.

“Aha!”. The man took one step towards you as you took one step away from him. “I can’t kill you. Since you decided to do the honours yourself tonight, I was just biding time with you. You can either accept this card and start over or…well..”, A shot of smoke appeared from his right palm, “,,poof..you can choose to cease to exist”.

You stared at the card in his left hand and his pocket watch in the right. Was this really happening? 

“Come one y/n, there must be someone you would live for..what about baby ren?”

Your eyes widened. “What..what is the catch?”.

“Oh there is no catch. It is merely an apology from me..I mean us. The only condition..you will be sent to a specific decisive moment in your life and from there…it all you..”. 

“What if..what if I…”.

“This is your last chance. You will never see me again..ever”.

Everything that had happened in the last few years flashed before your eyes. All the lies, betrayal, hurt, why did you have to suffer? You thought about the countless days where you cried in your bed curled up like a baby. Did you deserve that? You thought about all the fights you had in your mind where he gave you a chance to explain. But did he? All the dreams he showed you were all smoke and mirrors in the end. All the promises were just words spewed out in a blissful moment. He used you in the cruelest way and god oh god you missed who you used to be before you.He was a forbidden fruit that you dared to taste and you wished he had left you wondering instead. You would have died for his sins but you were dead inside. You thought about all the times you wished to redo things, to never cross paths with him again. This was your chance. 

You took the card from his hand and looked at him, “What do I do now”.

“Now you close your eyes y/n..”

You nodded your head.

“All the best y/n”. The man smiled. 

With a deep breath you closed your eyes and then it all went dark.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring at your laptop screen. Your heart pounded in your ear and sweat beads rolled down your forehead like a string of pearls. HArsh sunlight blinded your eyes and you squinted to make sense of your surroundings. It wasn’t your room and yet it seemed familiar. Was it all a cruel dream? You gulped down the half empty glass of water kept on your table and leaned back in your chair gasping for air.

You stared blankly at the fan above and then it dawned on you. Slowly you got up and checked the date on your phone.

1st January 2021, 10:00 AM…

So it was all a dream then. But it felt too real. You ran your hands through your hair and took another deep breath. Just as you were about to get up from your desk a faint familiar blue peeking between pages of your diary caught your eye. With a quivering breath you dared to flip the page and the room got drained of oxygen when you saw the same card with the three words written. So it was all real. 

Right above the card scribbled in haphazard writing were cursed words that changed your life, Domain Dynamics Inc Interview : 01/01/21 10:15 AM. 

A team's notification snapped you out of your thoughts and saw a meeting reminder. You smiled to yourself and joined the meeting.

“Hello, y/n! Congratulations on getting through previous rounds! We are ha-”.

“I can not accept this offer”. You said as excitement coursed through your veins.

“Excuse me?”

“I..I am sorry for wasting your time but I can not accept this offer”.

“Y/n..if this is about your salary then we ca-”.

“It’s not. It’s not about the salary. 120k is a lot and I am sure you will find a better suited and more…deserving candidate for this role. I can’t accept this offer. Thank you for your time”. You ended the meeting with a wide smile on your face. Now you will never cross paths with him again.

“Good riddance”. You mumbled to yourself and opened your email. You remembered this day very very well. 

To: n.kento@goldenratiodesigns.com

Hello Mr.Kento,

It has been a pleasure interviewing with your firm and getting to know you and samantha. I would like to let you know that I will gladly accept your offer. I have attached a signed copy of my offer letter. Please let me know if anything else is needed from my end.

Looking forward to working with you and the team!

Regards,

Y/n l/n.

“Fuck Yess!!!!”. You creamed as you punched the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”.

“Y/n! What happened?”. You mom walked in barging through your bedroom. 

You turned around and saw the version of your mom not corrupted by Gojo but your still ached. You got up and hugged your mom like you were afraid to lose her.

She gently rubbed your back and chuckled,”What happened? I thought you had an interview right now so we were all quiet.”

“I..yes I did. But I didn’t accept the offer from Domain Dynamics”. You moved back and looked to the ground like a guilty child caught stealing.

“Why not?”

You could have lied that they didn’t offer a good pay but you wanted to know in your heart that she loved you regardless of how much you earned. 

“They were paying well but I didn’t like the company. People were quite rude and..selfish”.

“Oh, okay. What about the other firm?”.

“I accepted the offer from Golden Ratio Designs! The pay is lower than Domain Dynamics but I loved the team and everyone is really nice and supportive”. Your gulped anticipating cruel words that you had grown accustomed to,

Your mother stepped towards you and gently caressed your cheeks. “I am so proud of you. I am sure you made the right decision”.

Her words brought tears to your eyes and you wrapped your arms around her. “I promise I will take good care of you, dad, and ren! You don’t have to worry about anything!”.

“Oh my baby! If you are happy then we are happy!”. She smiled. “When do you have to move to tokyo?”.

“I don’t have to. The firm is right here in Kyoto”.

Taglist: @missybrat @lem-hhn @byakuya61085 @starlightanyaaa @inlove-maze

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bitter

Azriel x Reader - One Shot - Angst

Elain orders a couple shots. Azriel’s ex serves her.

“Now I’m sick in the head and it’s not even my fault”

She laughs as she approaches the bar. Lovely, beautiful, kind. Gods, she smells like honey and roses too. She even says “please” as she orders two shots of Patron.

I’m almost surprised, Patron for such a flowery thing. The most girls like her typically order are Lemon Drops. A sugar sweet rim with a bit of sour beneath.

I’m sure he encouraged her. Tequila, his drink of choice for the ladies. The clothes fall off easier that way.

I’d know.

Four years, four years I’d worked here and never gone home with a customer.

Until the Shadowsinger.

He had those sad brooding eyes that you can’t help but want to fix. Hazel irises that seeped into the marrow of your bones like a cancer, seeking out the guarded depths of the soul.

“He’s been gone for nearly fifty years now.” He’d say as he threw back another two finger pour of whiskey - neat.

“The court isn’t the same without him. Even from a business standpoint, our imports are lacking. Which is fine, but it’s a testament to the effect the High Lord has on this court.” I’d reply as I poured him another.

“Yeah…..” he’d trail off. My heart clenched at the emotion disguised by a stoic facade, the slight feathering of his jaw before throwing back the next shot.

I’d take care of a few other patrons, returning back to the Shadowsinger with another round from the occasional guest who’d send him a shot. Despite the “Illyrian bastard” reputation he blasted, he’s revered in Velaris, he fares quite well in the bedroom. What’s the classic phrase? Tall, dark, and handsome? Yeah, he’s got all that. That and a tragic backstory, a perfectly symmetrical face, and the highly gossiped about wingspan.

Females and males alike line up for a chance to have those scarred hands wrapped around their throat. A chance to win his heart through sexual prowess and witty one liners.

I didn’t even want him. Perhaps that’s what caught his eye. A customer who tipped well? Of course he was that. I gave him a free shot once for being patient while an influx of customers waved dollar bills at me desperate for their next shot in advance of the rest of the queue.

The nights that he sat at the bar extended later and later until it became routine for him to pop in, take a seat, and shut the place down- all from the shroud of wispy shadows.

When was the first time he fucked me in the alley? The first night he walked me home? The first night my cat curled up behind him as my head rested in the crook of his arm?

“It’s not serious.” I told myself as I came to depend on him like heroin. He sure as shit didn’t make it feel that way.

There were plans. Plans for what we’d do together when things settled down.

Rosehall was beautiful in the spring but a winter wonderland in December. Even the Illyrian Steppes had lovely secrets if you knew where to look. He couldn’t wait to cradle me in his arms as those membranous wings took flight to all the wonders he’d share with me.

There was the attack on Velaris. My apartment building was wrecked. He never came to check in.

Then the war came and I understood.

I was certain he was busy.

But I didn’t see him again.

Until tonight.

And here she is. Warm and lovely, she tipped well before walking back to the table with those two shots of Patron. I told her they were on the house.

I want to hate her. I want to loathe him. It would make me feel better, right?

But being bitter leaves the soul weathered, so I pour another shot, serve the next customer, cash out, and saunter home.

And if a stray shadow lurks in the dark as I wander, that’s not my business anymore.

—————————————-

Tags:

ACOTAR General: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @ahaha0246

[princessofghosts-posts]

[Headcanon]

Headcanon that Nico,Persephone and Hades go out to eat together twice at month in the mortal world,in extremely luxurious restaurants,like a normal family. The thing is that they aren't quite a normal rich family,they give off Adams family vibes.

They would eat in a 5-Stars restaurant with beautiful clothes that are extremely extravagan for mortal standard (that are usually black or with dark colors) and beautiful jewelry never seen before. Their behavior is totally different from the high society they fit into and the people that usually interact with them loose their mind.

A waiter passes by their table and hears a conversation about Persephone explaining to Nico that poisonous flowers are pretty and extremely useful,and that she finally had the chance to grew them in one of her gardens. Nico is curious about them and ask about their benefits,and if he can extracted their poison,while Hades is asking if she also want to have carnivorous plants too. Persephone is delighted by it and their conversation continue. The waiter? He decided to have someone else serve them because they are too much for his mental health. The few people that have their tables close enough to them are horrified by their conversation.

Another time Nico is ranting about his last quest and how he,Percy and Thalia almost went to jail because he killed off someone in an incident and felt guilty about it. Hades start to comfort him,telling him that a mortal life aren't worth it and he doesn't need to feel guilty at all since it was a little mistake,while Persephone give him some suggestions to have some funeral rituals to make him feel less guilty and chase away negative energy. Nico isn't pretty much convinced but he eventually feels better thanks to them. The waiters that were serving their table? They run the fuck out of there because they thought they were serving people in a cult.

Another time Hades start to talk about how much work the war (the one against Gaia) is going to cost him,and how many souls will have to be sorted. He ask Nico for help and his son agree with him. The two start talking about how to get rid of the queue the fastest way possible,and Nico want to personally design Octavian and Bryce tortures,while Persephone sometimes give an opinion or two on the administration plan. The tables around them are all watching them in horror as if they are crazy.

Both Hades and Persephone are also extremely protective of Nico when they are in pubblic and in the mortal world,so sometimes they have bodyguards (read: skeletons) with them that follow them around. They themselves are also pretty intense with their declarations of love and most of the time Nico just want to dissapear and let them alone.

Since they are immortal Gods,mortal rules don't apply to them and most of the time they completely forgets about the mortals presence. Nico is a bit aware of what's happening around them but it's extremely funny to see everybody's horrified expression,be it for their richness,their weird aesthetic or their conversations,so he let everything unfold and he usually start the most insane conversation ever to create more chaos.

They are the OG Adams family for greek mythology.

[turtletaubwrites]

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

requests are closed but asks are always open! feel free to pick an emoji signature for anon asks, & let me know what you pick! here's my anon's so far: |⭐|💌|🍊|💗|

Hi, you can call me Lynna! I hope you enjoy my lil words! 🥰🥰 Currently writing for One Piece. All of my fics are Fem!Reader and NSFW unless listed otherwise.

THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY BLOG. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

WIP Updates: Current WIPS: Currently on a WRITING SPREE for NUMBERS GAME Upcoming WIPS: Sanji Request, We've All Got Needs 28, Misty Eyes 6, Wrong Side of the Bars 2, a few WAGN extra scenes, and 4 requests that came in while they were closed) Announcements: Requests will remain closed until I complete the next batch of Numbers Game, as well as the requests on my list. I'm sorry for the delay, I keep turning them into multi-chaptered fics! If you've submitted a request, please know that it is on my list, and I've already started outlining! Notes: I have a queue that reblogs super cool shit once a day. I never tagged it because I'm on here everyday. I use the queue for my ADHD, otherwise I wouldn't reblog anything for two weeks, and then I'd spam the shit out of your feed, lol.

Recent Works: Numbers Game ~ Ch. 40 ~ One More Chance ~ Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ??? Numbers Game ~ Extra Scene ~ Rabbit's Fur ~ Mihawk x Fem!Reader x Crocodile Misty Eyes ~ Part 5 ~ Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past) (DARK CONTENT) Such a Softie ~ Law x GN!Reader (SFW Drabble) Wrong Side of the Bars ~ Crocodile x Fem!Reader

One Shots & Requests ~ Masterlist ~ Here's all of my fics for various characters that you can read on their own including: Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Law, Katakuri, Shanks, Crocodile, Zosan, Buggy, Luffy, Zoro x Nami, Zoro x Robin, Sanji x Robin, Zeff, and more on the way!

Misty Eyes ~ Masterlist ~ Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks) ~ DARK CONTENT ~ Ongoing ~ You were the weakest member of the Donquixote Family, so Doflamingo found another way you could serve him. Until your childhood crush found you, freeing you from those chains. What will Law expect in return?

More series masterlists, fic rec masterlists, fic playlists, & my #tags below the cut 💜

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist ~ YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader ~ (Completed) ~ DARK CONTENT ~ You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Numbers Game ~ Masterlist ~ Ongoing poly fic series (Paused but returning soon!) ~ Cross Guild x Fem!Reader ~ You left your stable/boring life as an investment banker to have some adventure. Unfortunately, that sweet Warlord of the Sea didn't follow your financial advice, and now you and your clown are at the mercy of his biggest lender and his new business partner.

We've All Got Needs ~ Masterlist ~ Ongoing poly fic series ~ Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader, Robin x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Robin, Sanji x Fem!Reader x Robin, (and a spinoff with Zoro x Sanji and Zoro x Fem!Reader x Sanji) ~ Enjoy the smutty shenanigans as you agree to be 'crewmates with benefits' with a certain surly swordsman. Things may get a little out of hand.

What You Need ~ Masterlist ~ Sanji x Fem!Reader (Completed) ~ You’ve been a member of the crew for a few weeks, and although you feel welcomed, you’ve been feeling a bit out of place. And your distracting crush on a certain ship’s cook isn’t helping matters. (Reader has a condition that makes intimacy difficult and sometimes painful, but Sanji is ready to prove how much he values your pleasure.)

Take Me With You ~ Masterlist ~ Buggy x Fem!Reader (Completed ~ May return after OPLA season 2) ~ Buggy takes a small town hostage and the reader asks to join him. You take this chance to leave this shithole of a town, one way or another. Buggy gives you the perfect opportunity to take some revenge before you do. What kind of life will you lead if you pass his violent audition and become one of Buggy's freaks? (Starts shortly before, and then follows the OPLA timeline.)

Fic Rec Masterlists: | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | I adore the incredible fic writers on this site! Please enjoy my Fic Rec Masterlists and go show them some love!

Fic Playlists: I just started making playlists for fics, and it's been so much fun 🥰✨ Here's what I've got so far! These are YouTube playlists, and you can play them on the regular YouTube app/site or on YouTube music. I have YouTube Red, and I refuse to be judged for my clearly superior music app 😅😅 (I live for shuffle and music videos, okay!)

Numbers Game ~ YouTube Music Playlist | YouTube Playlist Misty Eyes ~ Law x Reader ~ YouTube Music Playlist | YouTube Playlist Bend Until You Break ~ YouTube Music Playlist | YouTube Playlist More to come, and feel free to send me song recs, they make me so happy 🥰🎶

Tags I Use: #turtletaub fics ~ (all of my fics, including headcanons & drabbles) #turtletaub talks ~ (announcements, random thoughts, etc.) #turtletaub fic recs ~ (what I'm reading, and you should too!) #turtletaub reblogs ~ (fanart, other fandoms, etc. filter to only see my stuff) #turtletaub responds ~ (answered asks) #turtletaub screencaps ~ (feel free to use and enjoy the screencaps I take) #turtletaub self reblogs ~ (filter if you don't want reruns) #turtletaub shitposting ~ (me having the sillies) #about lynna ~ (for more personal topics, vent posts, or just about my life) #lynna's health updates ~ (any physical/mental health posts and updates) #✨final edit time✨ ~ (When I started editing the final draft before posting!!) Fic Series Tags (will be editing to make more personal soon) ~ | #numbers game | *Please feel free to filter any of the tags above that you wouldn't like to see.

| rules | about me | ao3 | ko-fi |

[sunschay]

An Unwanted Guest || Natasha Romanoff x Male Reader

You return home after two years serving in the American army, having been forced by your father to enlist. But you didn't expect to have another stepmother in such a short space of time.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Inappropriate language, swearing, sexual tension, age gap (Reader is 21, Nat is 42, she's a milf ugh), Bruce is a terrible and disrespectful husband. *

Also, this is not fully proofread yet, so it may contain some minor spelling errors.*

Word count: 10k

You wake up to the sound of banging pots and pans and a loud bell ringing in the back of the dormitory. It must be about five in the morning, but that's the time everyone here is obliged to wake up anyway, as early as possible. Sleep isn't important, but your work and your duties? Without a shadow of a doubt. You hear the recruits getting up from their bunks and putting on their uniforms, berets, boots and belts before retiring to the mess hall. You get dressed as well, brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face and almost jump with fright when you turn around and see a man standing in front of you.

“Private Banner. There's new mail for you at the post office outside the base.” Sam Wilson says, almost like a robot, the dark circles around his eyes giving away his bad sleep during the night.

“Thanks, Wilson.” You press your lips together and nod, retreating to the cafeteria.

It's an ordinary cafeteria, at least 30 to 40 square meters, with 25 tables and chairs scattered around. The canteen is a rather small kitchen that houses large pots and pans, two built-in stoves with four burners each and a huge fridge taking up almost half the space. The soldiers form a queue with trays everywhere to eat.

“Combatant Banner, how's your day going? There are three letters and correspondence from Mr. Banner waiting for you.” Your most familiar and talkative friend, Steven Rogers, greets you with the same smile as every day.

“Hey mate! Thanks for that, really. How's your day going?” You reply and give him a brief hug. “Good so far, no women around unfortunately.”

Steve is a good man, he's also an excellent and extremely competent soldier, unfortunately life (in this case, the top lieutenants) has placed him as a letter carrier indefinitely supposedly because Rogers doesn't reach the level of skill and strength as other recruits. But he's still a nice guy with his straight-edged blond hair, his friendly smile, his blue eyes and his pumped-up muscles.

“Thanks for this, Steve. I bet my old man is just asking me how things are going. He should know by now that I'm coming home tomorrow.” You snort and pick up the thick envelopes, seeing that the other letters are from your 13-year-old brother, Derek.

It was probably one of his drawings that he's always sent you since you joined the army.

“I hear you've got a new hot stepmother- I say, I hear you've got a new stepmother, comrade. You know, Derek tells me everything. I love that kid.” He gives you a nervous wink and you choke on air.

“Stepmother!? Wait, bloody hell! That's the fourth woman my old man's taken in two whole years.” You shake your head in disbelief.

“Come on, Y/n. He's single and still a bit young, a man should celebrate his freedom as he sees fit. But sometimes, with a new woman comes new problems.” Steve laughs lightly, finding your nervous expression amusing.

“The thing is, he's been having fun with several women for a long time, Steve, and he always gets into trouble with all of them because he doesn't know how to deal with break-ups. I bet she's a bitter old woman with a bunch of kids. Thanks, man, I'll have to accept another little woman wanting to boss me around anyway. See you in the cafeteria.” You roll your eyes and say goodbye to Steve with a high five.

After picking up the tray, you sit down and start opening the cards, barely touching the food in front of you. As soon as you finish opening the first letter, a long sigh leaves your lips before you start reading.

"Hey, my firstborn, how are things going over there? If I remember correctly, you're just finishing your service and will be going home soon. Derek misses you, I helped him send you his many drawings of dinosaurs and of you painted next to him in a soldier's uniform. He can't stop talking about you. I've also heard that you're as strong as a big Nutcracker doll. That's my boy. On the other hand, I imagine that Rogers has already told you everything. Son, yes, I'm in a relationship with another woman. Natasha is the most incredible and fascinating woman I've ever seen, and it's the best thing that could have happened in my life, I think you'll like her. We can't wait to see you, firstborn, come home soon."

Running your hands through your hair, you let out a heavy, tired sigh, taking a few bites of the not-so-juicy apple on the tray and looking at the mashed potatoes mixed into a soup with a strange texture. The food isn't always the best, but there's nothing to complain about, at least you have something to eat.

“I told you, new stepmother, new problems.” Rogers giggles as he enters the cafeteria and then laughs when he sees your frown.

“At least I hope this one doesn't try to burn our house down.” You say with a frustrated half-smile, eating with some effort.

“Relax, she must be a good woman.” Steve places the tray on the table, looking away for a moment.

You continue eating and frown when you see that he's practically drooling, staring in the opposite direction. Your head turns slowly and you see Second Lieutenant Stark and Agent Carter enter the cafeteria, walking together as they talk. She's pretty, with short brown hair, light eyes, a light button on her lips and a military uniform, wearing high boots. Agent Carter is actually the first General of the United States Women's Army, so basically, she's a well-known woman around here and sometimes makes a visit to the men's military base to do "research", evaluations and things like that.

“I'm going to have to get a bigger bucket if you keep drooling over her like this.” You smile, feeling Steve throw a stuffed potato at you.

“Ew, I wasn't even looking like that. Mind your own business.” He scolds you, fiddling awkwardly with his food.

“Oh, the one who spoke is no longer here.” You laugh and finish eating, getting up when the lieutenant calls you to run around the courtyard.

This time, you wake up before the bell rings and the noisy pots start banging to wake up the rest of the soldiers. Today is "vacation" day, if you can call it that. You're coming home after two years away. Finally. You'll be able to sleep when you want, when you want, drink, do all the rebellious shit you share with Steve. As you enter the bathroom, you pick up a razor and fit a new blade into the razor, washing your face with warm water and spreading shaving foam over your face as you shave. After removing the loose hairs from your face, you wash it thoroughly and face the new pencil moustache covering your skin, all the rest of your skin shaved and clean.

“It's not so bad.” You whisper, running your fingers over the moustache.

As soon as you've finished the rest of your hygiene, you pick up your farewell uniform, putting on your camouflage collarless shirt, pants and boots. You run your fingers through your black hair and comb it gently until it's neatly aligned, then you put your beret on your head. When you return, the dormitories are already empty and the commanders take the rest of the conscript soldiers outside to catch the bus home. You wouldn't take a bus home if Bruce came to pick you up, but with a brainless father like him, it wasn't good to risk being late. You stand in the queue and immediately feel someone tugging your ears back slightly, turning to see Steve right behind you.

“Hey, buddy, you look like you've just stepped off a modeling cover. If I were a woman, I'd be wet just looking at that moustache.” Rogers jokes and you roll your eyes, joining in.

“Yeah, and you look like a nomad with that much beard, the girls will love that.” You put your hands behind your back and he sighs. “I wish.”

“Private Y/n Chase Banner, 21 years old, British, sergeant correspondent. You may board.” The man hands back your papers.

“Sometimes I forget you're British. It's a bit ironic, you don't even like a cup of tea.” Steve says, straining his accent and making you laugh. “Why tea when we have whisky and beer in America?”

Steve laughs and takes the documents out of his pocket, handing them to the driver. Quickly all the soldiers board and you press your head against the hard seat, looking out of the window as the base slowly moves away and the bus accelerates. You hear Steve chattering non-stop next to you about Agent Carter, saying how divine and beautiful she was, and saying how much he wished he had a chance with her. The trip from Kentucky to Washington DC would take at least 8 hours and something more, it was still early in the morning and you'd be arriving in the afternoon or even evening, so you just answered Steve with nods and brief 'um, yeahs' as you drifted off to sleep.

“Hey, buddy, this isn't bedtime! Wake up!” Steve shook you, making you jump in your seat slightly.

Your fingers rubbed your eyes and you shook your head, gradually adjusting your vision. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, delivering a warm and muggy evening, the clouds gradually disappearing as the larger group of soldiers began to get off the bus at the Washington terminal. Steve laughed as he commented on your sleepy face and you grabbed your backpack, following him off the bus. It was clear that Bruce hadn't made any effort to come and see you in Kentucky, so it annoyed and irritated you at the same time, but there was no point in wasting time with your grumpy old dad.

“You're coming to dinner with me. That's not a request.” She joked with him as they started walking together.

Your house wasn't three blocks away, it wasn't that far, so it would be nice to walk.

“If it's to meet your hot stepmother, I'm always up for it.” He said and you punched him in the bicep.

“How do you know she's hot and not some old lady with a herniated disc who's obsessed with plants?” You opened a packet of mints, handing him another.

“Derek told me she's not old. And I know Mr. Banner doesn't date old ladies. Come on, Y/n, it's only been three times.” He replies, making you let out a laugh.

“Three times describes my father's character very well, Steve. Well, let's face it, there are a lot of hot old ladies out there.” You blink, feeling his critical gaze on your back.

“You're a fucking pervert. I didn't know you liked old ladies, man.” He laughs, pushing you slightly.

“I didn't say I liked old women! I'm just saying that there are some older women, in their forties and fifties, who are hot, depending on the individual. There was a friend of my father's, I think her name was Wanda, something like that, and she was in her late thirties or early forties. She looked like she was in her twenties, I swear to you, she was crazy as hell! Of course, not all women get to that age looking good, it's a question of grooming and vanity, you know.” You explained, kicking a few stones along the way.

“To me, that's like saying: 'I'm definitely into fucking an older woman's brains out', there's no limit to that, bro, you're an adult and single.” He winks and you laugh out loud. “Wait, why do I feel like something happened between you and this Wanda?”

“She gave me head in the bathroom at her nephew's birthday party. If that answers your question.” You smile mischievously and Steve shakes you like he's made a great discovery. “I knew it, you tricksome pervert! If she really is that hot, then I understand you.”

“You say that as if Carter wasn't a little older than you." Your eyes narrow and he shrugs.

“That's another matter, Banner.” He smiles smugly.

As soon as the two of you arrive, you stop to look around the house. It looks the same, but at the same time it looks like a different house. As if you didn't belong here. The house is still surrounded by orchids and tulips that you planted years ago in memory of your mother, something you did every year to remember well what she liked to do when she was alive. The house had worn-out paintwork, ajar windows and a tall lawn, which made you wonder if Bruce was so useless as not to mow a simple garden lawn. You walked up to the front door and knocked lightly against it, hearing some loud voices talking from inside.

“Just a minute!” A female voice shouted from inside and you slowly turned to face Steve, who had a small smile on his lips. “Time to meet Mom, Banner.”

You rolled your eyes deeply and tried to ignore him, scratching your moustache nervously as footsteps approached the door.

When the door opened, the first thing that came into your mind was that Steve was probably right. She wasn't old at all. Or she was Bruce's own age and she was fucking well preserved, which you thought, fuck, that's got to be it. The vision lit up before you, with a redhead opening the door of your own house with sweet wavy red hair down to her shoulders, big curious green eyes analyzing you as if she already knew who you were before you even said a word, her face as delicate as pieces of porcelain, her nose turned up and the most beautiful lips you could find. She was much shorter than you and than Steve, which meant that you had to look up to meet your eyes and that you had to move your head down to see her.

A black dress falls over her body with delicacy and a deafening elegance. There are a few buttons from the opening, which shows a little of her pale neck, to the middle of her waist, which has a belt around it. It's a simple garment. But it doesn't exude any kind of vulgarity, although this woman... she exudes lust through her eyes. She has slight expression marks under her eyes, almost imperceptible, but which give away the fact that she is much older than you. And she hasn't even said a word to you. A pearly necklace is around that elegant slender neck and you hold your breath, locking your jaw before you speak.

“May I ask who you are?” Your whisper is precise and firm, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that her cheeks are flushing.

“Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. You must be Y/n. I'm your father's wife.” She answers you just as firmly, although her nervousness shows through a little and Steve's eyes widen behind you.

You would never have thought that your father would get married so quickly, even if it was his way of getting into bed with any woman for one night and then telling you that he was in a relationship with her. But he had married her! That was too much.

“It's me, yes.” That's the only answer that came out of his mouth and Natasha seemed to swallow with some bewilderment.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Romanoff. I'm Y/n's friend, Steve Rogers. I hope you don't mind my presence, it may have been a little unexpected.” Steve greets her with a light handshake.

“It would never be a bother to receive you, please, the house is more yours than mine.” She smiles and turns to you.

Without a word, you lean in as Steve pulls away from her hand. Her nails are painted a bright red, which contrasts with her red hair. Your hand brushes against hers, which makes Natasha almost gasp and electricity runs through her body when your hand gently squeezes hers. Without further words or affirmations, this is much more than Natasha would have expected to feel. You raise your head and she quickly moves to the side, making room for you and Steve to enter.

You won't admit it, but you're fascinated by Natasha's beauty. You also know now that you were wrong to think that she was older than Bruce, he only went out a few times with some noble ladies full of money with arrogance stamped on their faces.

“Y/n!” A weak, childish voice shouts at you, and you laugh as you feel little arms go around your legs. “Hey, big boy.”

You greet Derek, feeling him cling to your neck and hug you tightly, as if he hasn't seen you for decades. Well, he hadn't seen you in almost three years, so it made perfect sense.

“Doesn't anyone miss me?” Steve mocked. “Stevie!”

You laugh and let them talk, quickly answering a few of Derek's questions before seeing Bruce off down the stairs. He's got his black hair tangled and all out of order, his glasses are crooked on his face and he's wearing a white coat, with a scruffy beard. He looks a mess, with dark circles under his eyes and a breath of something like campari. You look him up and down with judgment and press your hand on the strap of your backpack.

“Hey, big boy.” He approaches you and gives you a firm hug.

“Hey, old man. I thought you'd see me at the Fort.” You say, frowning with annoyance masked as irritation.

“Well, you're already a big man, Y/n. Not to mention I was looking after your brother, he needs to brush his teeth and do his homework.” He says, turning away and fixing his glasses.

“Of course, you're always worried about my brother stinking of pure alcohol.” You say firmly, your jaw locking with some force.

“Is that any way to talk to me, kid?” He looks at you, slowly approaching as Natasha comes back into the room.

“Oh, I believe you're both hungry. I'm making an apple pie before dinner, love, can you help me?” She grasps Bruce's shoulders, who turns away from you. “Of course, darling.”

Your eyes roll back and Natasha gives you a look as if she's analyzing you. It's a fact that, although much older, Bruce is shorter than you, and his bone structure is even smaller, as if you were the older one here. You cross your arms earnestly, feeling the tension start in your broad shoulders and work its way down your burly biceps. Yes, you really have become an even bigger man than your father and Natasha seems to be looking at this before turning her face away and entering the kitchen.

“Hey, man. Relax, let's just enjoy the night.” Steve grabs your arm, visibly tense, and pulls you over to the sofa.

You sit down with him, try to relax but it's almost unavoidable. Bruce Banner has always been the kind of guy who is a compulsive alcoholic. He goes to support groups every weekend to try to get some support from other people who suffer from the same problem, but he keeps drinking as if he depended on it. He wasn't exactly a friendly father to you, it's as if he was always there but absent. He didn't teach you how to shave, so you learned on your own – with support from Steve who has a great dad – he didn't teach you how to pick up girls or how to flirt or how to drive, let alone how to listen when you had any doubts. He's like a ghost who breathes, eats and sleeps. But he's never really there for his children.

That's probably why your mother divorced him in your teens before that accident. Bruce is a difficult person to deal with, something you clearly took from him, but you're completely different. You're a good man, you're there for Derek, you're good with children, you're civilized, patient – when you want to be – and you're everything your father would like you to be.

“Look, I drew a picture of my school friends, Uncle Stevie and Y/n/n!” He says, handing you a drawing.

In it, Derek is drawn wearing the same blue sweatpants and plaid shirt at the actual moment. His hair is messy and slightly disheveled, his round glasses are crooked and you straighten them on his pale face, seeing that there is a blond boy next to him and a girl in a pink dress with long red hair.

“Who's that, little guy?” You ask as you stroke his hair.

“That's my friend, Emily!” He says between jumps and Steve looks at you with a smile. “Friend, huh?”

“Do you fancy her, mate? It's okay to talk to us, it's boy talk here, we won't judge you.” You ask and then smile, listening to Steve chatter something. “Fancy? Is that any way to say you're into a girl? You Brits are funny.”

“Give it a rest, Steve, it's noble English. You can talk to me, mate." You stroke Derek's hair and he laughs nervously.

“I think so... Dad says that when you like a girl a lot, you start admiring her, praising all her tastes, her hair, her expressions and everything about her, I see Emily like that. But I'm afraid she likes another boy.” He closes his expression into a sad little beak and you lift him onto your lap.

“Listen, you're a young boy. You're handsome, you've got nice hair like the bloke here.” You look at Steve who starts bragging and you interrupt him. “Maybe Emily is your first love, but you're still very young, you've got a lot to live up to. You've got to finish school, get a good job, make new friends, find a hobby, something you enjoy doing. Life isn't just about girls or love, it's about you and how you want to live it. And if Emily ever lets you down with another bloke, send her home to the grumpy toad.”

“What's the Grumpy Toad's house?” Steve blinks in confusion and you lean in to whisper. “A polite way of telling someone to fuck off. He can't swear because he's still a polite little boy.”

“You're unpredictable.” Steve laughs, disbelieving what he's heard.

The conversation between the two of you continues between laughter and irresponsible advice from Steve, who makes you laugh every second at the absurdities he tells you about past relationships, and from Derek, who starts showing you a folder full of his drawings. Lovely doodles. Natasha enters the room after a while, pressed between the doorway and shyly clears her throat.

“Hi guys, I don't mean to interrupt, but dinner's ready.” She says and you stand up, ruffling Derek's hair. “Go brush your teeth, kid. Girls don't like guys with breath.”

Derek mumbles something but climbs the stairs to the bathroom, determined to follow any of your advice, because you're the oldest and he sees tremendous wisdom in you. When you enter the kitchen, you sit down and Steve sits right next to you at the square table, and Bruce is there, scribbling something down. Always working, never with time for his children. Or too drunk to care.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He says, and barely blinks as Natasha places a plate of food in front of him.

“No problem, my love.” She says and her gaze settles on Natasha, who moves gracefully.

Is it wrong to be completely attracted to an older, more experienced woman who is unfortunately your new stepmother? Most likely, but you can't help it. Everything about Natasha is too sexy. Her light-lipped smile, her curves, which even covered by that very covered dress, manage to be somewhat naked. Her legs, the way her knees bend to grab something from the tallest cupboards in the kitchen. You can imagine the way her knees can bend in front of you... and fuck. Stop it, you tell yourself.

“How was your time serving, Y/n?” She asks you, and seems to be talking, or trying to.

“Same as always.” Your answer comes, it's short, but not rude, just disinterested.

The best thing is to look like you're disinterested in her. Not out of rudeness or rebelliousness. But because you feel the adrenaline in your veins that tells you it's dangerous to be so enamored of your stepmother, knowing that this is also something immoral and incorrect. You don't want to lose control.

“Men giving orders. Proud men doing what they want to do. Discipline masquerading as arrogance.” You prolong your answer, and you don't expect Natasha to understand, after all she is a woman and has never been in need of serving her country.

Natasha, on the other hand, is struggling to stay focused on getting more plates and cutlery to distribute to you and Steve during dinner. She's fascinated. Shocked. Silently drawn to you. The difference between you and Bruce is glaring. While he seems sloppy and uncivilized, you speak so calmly and politely that you don't even sound like his son. You're both very similar in appearance, hair, face, expressions, eyes a little, but the difference in size from your father to you is absurd. You're like a wall of muscle compared to him, who clearly makes sense as a fatally alcoholic and careless man.

She rubs her thighs discreetly as she places a plate in front of you and fork and knife on either side of the embroidered plate, hoping you haven't noticed her indecent act, but you're even watching the way her throat moves when she breathes. She feels impure, filthy. She shouldn't look at her husband's son as prey, as if she had never seen such a beautiful and majestic man, a man who, as soon as he entered the house for the first time, left her breathless.

No, you were younger. Perhaps more naive, too young. And you were her husband's son. Her stepson.

“If I may ask, does that make you uncomfortable? Taking orders?” She asks, placing her plate and cutlery in front of Steve.

You lick your lips slowly. Natasha stares at you. She likes that. An act so simple and ordinary that it made her almost drool all over that table. She was a depraved and incorrect woman at that moment. Natasha loses herself in you at that moment. The intense green gaze flees from your calm lips to your drawn jaw, sculpted beyond her comprehension. Your eyes are wild yet calm, they exude...a hard life. A life full of challenges. They're dominant and Natasha doesn't like the way they intimidate her without you even realizing it. But that's you, a mystery to her, silent and solid. A black ocean with no comprehensible answers.

“I only do what I'm asked. It's my job.” Her whisper comes, quiet, yet icy.

“A man who works without complaining becomes a good worker. I think that's what I taught you.” Bruce speaks for the first time, taking a bite of his food.

In front of you, the smell of food fills your stomach and you barely notice Natasha serving you as you are busy facing even the worst fears of her soul. Your hands move nimbly and you cut off a piece of meat, putting it in your mouth and chewing slowly. It takes her a few seconds to realize it's a stew and the salty broth with potatoes, carrots and peas melts in her mouth perfectly.

“First of all, you cook perfectly well, that's great, Natasha.” You say as she sits down to eat and you see her pale cheeks develop a slight blush. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

No one had talked about her food in a long time, not even your father.

“Secondly,” You take a few more mouthfuls, managing to eat half the stew in minutes, and then look at Banner with a certain disgust. “Is that why you sent me to the army? To teach me your own kind of passivity?”

“You seem to like offending me sometimes, kid.” He laughs dryly, helping Derek to sit down and assemble his plate. “What's wrong with being passive?”

“Nothing, nothing wrong with it. Except that whenever someone confronts you, all you know how to do is roll over and show your belly like a puppy.” You cluck your tongue, listening to Bruce grumble.

“I think we'd better calm down a bit here-” Steve begins, still starting to eat when you cut him off. “No, I won't calm down.”

“I sent you to the army to control your rebelliousness and lack of control!” Bruce replies, starting to get upset.

“My rebelliousness? Don't fuck with me, Bruce.” You spat, completely disbelieving that you had heard such a thing.

“You've always acted in a problematic way, breaking laws, coming home late without giving explanations, disrespecting your own father! What did you want me to do? Shake your hair and tell you how to act, as if you were actually going to listen to me?” He shouted back, pointing a finger at you.

“You never cared about me yourself. You send me to the army to control me by saying I'm a rebel and all that shit and now you treat me like some fucking bum you don't even know. You sit on your ass here all the time, you only go out to work or to drink like you always have, you think you're an example of something?” Your hand hits the table and Steve gets up next to you, trying to stop anything worse from happening.

“You shut up when I talk to you, kid!” He growls and Natasha grabs him by the shoulders. “Bruce, please, let's put this aside. Derek's here, sweetheart.”

“Enough, please, let's calm down, man.” Steve puts his hand on your arm, suddenly getting serious.

Your chest is rising and falling through the camouflage uniform, hitting your ribcage with some violence. Natasha is frightened, even though she tries not to show it, it's quite transparent. She's heard Bruce's stories about you, that you had the same explosive temper as him even though you were different, that as a teenager you got into fights frantically and that you were suspended from school for 'vandalizing' the bathroom walls and things like that. Most of that was true, but the only friend you had was Steve, you were both often chased by the good-looking guys and bullies for being "skinny and weird" and ended up being extremely excluded and beaten up at the time. As if the confusion came to you both on purpose.

In any case, Natasha didn't know you and became involved with Bruce shortly after you officially joined the army, where you were promoted to the rank of Private E-2 a year later. Although Bruce was her husband, he generally behaved unpleasantly some of the time, especially when he got drunk in front of Natasha, which also discouraged Derek and made him sad, wishing he had more time with his father. She wanted to get to know you better, she felt that you had a good heart and she didn't really want to believe all the absurd stories that Bruce told her as if he wanted to make you a bad son for his wife.

“I wish I didn't have to look at your face.” Your answer came, harsh, indifferent.

Bruce didn't move, however, as if it hadn't hit him. He really didn't care about you at all. You felt an extreme pang of guilt when you saw Derek at the end of the table, hunched over with his hands on his head. He hated arguing and shouting, and it often happened between you and Bruce, but you avoided fighting in front of the boy as much as possible to prevent that kind of thing from happening to him there.

“All right, darling, come here.” She called to him, hugging him and trying to calm him down.

The rest of dinner was a terrible, deathly silence that pressed down on her throat, absolutely wanting to break Bruce in half. But you wouldn't, you already felt bad enough for scaring your little brother. When you'd finished eating, feeling Steve stare at you in fear of another fight breaking out, you got up and put your cutlery and plate in the sink, emptying a glass full of orange juice that you'd barely touched minutes before.

“Oh, Y/n, you don't have to do that, I could really do it-” Natasha intervenes, but you respond subtly. “It's okay, I don't mind.”

She stops in place, her lips parted in shock. It was rare for a real man to be there to do something as simple and minimal as washing dishes without her having to ask. Because for that very reason, Bruce wouldn't do it on the grounds that 'he worked too much' and Natasha had to take care of the cleaning and everything else in the house on her own. But it weighed on her, she felt alone there, even if it seemed silly. Bruce Banner described himself as an old-fashioned man, but something about him pointed more towards a misogyny hidden under the carpet. You really were different from the man she married.

“Oh, all right.” She sighs, the corner of her lips curving slowly.

Putting a little detergent on the yellow sponge, you subtly scrub the plate and then the cutlery and glass. You turn on the tap and wash everything silently, watching a few bubbles of foam disappear down the drain and everything become clean, then you take a dry cloth and dry everything, placing it inside the cupboard in the proper places for each object. You knew how to do everything apart from washing dishes. Washing your father's rusty car, cleaning the whole house, absolutely everything that would be considered 'women's chores' that your mother taught you before she died. And he silently despised you for it, but it didn't matter, because there had been a helpful and very useless man in this house and now that man was back.

“Are you staying for dessert?” Natasha asks as she watches you dry your hands and Steve also wash his dirty plates and cutlery quickly.

“No, Steve and I are going to stay in my room for a while. We can eat later if there's anything left, thank you very much.” You shove your hands in your pockets, watching her nod a little tensely and pick up all the remaining dirty dishes when Steve gives her a nod.

The two of you climb the stairs and soon reach your room. It's not a small room, but it's spacious enough to hold everything you like. Philosophy books, art books, porn magazines that you used to swap with Steve when you were teenagers, – yes, this is kept secret – some toolboxes in case you needed them when something broke in the house, a collection of old CDs by the Beatles, Led Zeppelin and a thousand other bands and singers from the 70s and 80s. The room is still tidy, with a single bed lined with thin blue sheets and a gray pillow. There's also a desk and a medium-sized cupboard in the corner next to an old window.

The smell of your room and nostalgia is cozy, almost intoxicating.

“Hey, man, do you really keep them all? No kidding!” Steve laughs, picking up the magazines with the half-naked women on the covers.

Although you didn't have an addiction to this kind of thing, you and Steve were once two curious teenagers with hormones running wild in the middle of puberty. You'd get excited and buy these magazines on the sly, but even so, you weren't the type who needed to see a naked woman's body to get completely turned on. No, you were better than that, and you knew that real bodies worked better, were beautiful and much more objective.

“Of course, I left the army and ended up forgetting all this garbage.” You laugh, opening the drawers and leafing through some superhero comics, watching Steve laugh as he sees a cover with a blonde woman on one of the covers wearing pink lingerie. “No, no! Fuck, man that was the worst, I remember you gave it to me with the pages sticking together, you fucking pervert!”

“Sorry, man, I couldn't help myself! I still remember the look on your face when you got it full of life.” He says and you rolls your eyes.

“Jesus, that was disgusting. I'm going to throw it all away anyway, unless you want to keep it as a souvenir.” You laugh quietly and he makes a vomiting noise.

“No, thanks.” Steve shakes his head, walks over and picks up some comics to read too.

You put on a band CD while you lose yourself in conversation with Steve, remembering everything. You both laugh out loud when you remember the time Steve put a live frog on the head of a girl who was terrified of frogs, because she just thought it was funny to make fun of your worn-out shoes and said you couldn't afford new ones. He's never been so furious, no one could mess with you, only each other and all in jest, of course.

It was a great pastime for you to play pranks on bad students and grumpy teachers, or to skip important classes to drink cheap beer while listening to a small radio given to you by Steve's father. Those were incredible times, which only got old in the best way when Steve and you decided to enlist for the first time at the age of 18, getting kicked out because of arguments you had with some of the lieutenants. Anyway, you both found a way to get into the American army through the Kentucky fort, and obviously, together.

So Steve and you knew each other practically from your mother's womb. Joseph and Bruce met during high school before they got involved with their respective wives. They both served in the army, but only Mr. Rogers decided to make it a career, although he didn't succeed and decided to go into medicine. They were extremely close throughout your and Steve's adolescence, until one day they drifted apart over a mysterious fight in which you never really found out the motivation.

Even so, you and Steve could fight for centuries and still remain good friends.

“Hey, there's someone at the door.” Steve yawned, signaling the light knocks on your bedroom door.

With a light sigh, you put your comic aside, turning down the volume of a small, still-functional radio that was playing Black Sabbath in the background. When you opened the door, you saw her again.

Natasha. Your 'lovely' stepmother. She was standing right in front of the door, with two pieces of pie on a large plate and a tense, apparently shy look on her face. You still didn't understand why she looked at you as if she was going to dismount at any moment. She was wearing a beige apron over her dress and her hair was now slightly wavy at the ends, her face flushed.

“I know you may not be that hungry anymore, but I can't help trying. The pie is still warm, it's apple with caramel on top and blackberries and you know, I'm sorry about Bruce. Your father didn't have a good day, Y/n.” She sighs, looking away for a moment.

“Did I hear the word pie!?” Steve jumps out of bed already excited.

“I appreciate that. I'm sorry about the argument. I think he always tries to take it out on me, but that's okay. How's Derek?” You blink slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of Natasha staring you down to the core.

“Fine, I guess. I fed him dinner and some pie, got him to brush his teeth and now he's sleeping like a newborn after reading your stories about bigfoot.” She laughs softly, making you smile.

“He'll end up having nightmares about it. Thank you, Mrs. Romanoff.” You say, your voice already husky and slightly sleepy.

“Natasha, call me Natasha. There's no need for formalities here.” She replies, licking her lips slowly.

“Natasha.” You whisper back, hearing Natasha's breathing increase as you spell her name perfectly on the tip of her tongue.

“Have a good night. If you need anything you can call me and I'll be in the next room.” She says, almost stuttering, and nods as she walks away. “Good night, Natasha.”

“God, I thought you were going to eat each other and leave the pie behind!” Steve grumbles, picking up a piece with one of the forks and takes a bite, closing his eyes. “Wonderful!”

“Bloody hell, Steve, she's my father's wife!” you laugh incredulously, taking a piece of the sweet pie. “It's really good, it's fucking delicious.”

“But I know that. She's still got the hots for you, don't you see?” He shrugged, starting to devour the pie in seconds. “And even if she wasn't your father's, it must be worth losing yourself...you know, in that woman.”

“You're absolutely shameless. And I would never do that, no matter how much my father deserves it.” You roll your eyes, taking another piece of pie and Steve smiles. “I'm paying to see how badly this goes.”

Your wristwatch reads at least 6:10 in the morning. You don't know why you woke up so early on a Monday when you were on vacation from work, so to speak. Perhaps waking up at 5 a.m. every day at the Fort to paint walls and curbs, patrol, and other exhausting military services has made you accustomed to waking up at those times as if you were an uncontrolled robot. So you took a shower, brushed your teeth and ate an apple before going to Steve's house to pick up some cans of paint.

Your house was in a deplorable state, with the paint on all the walls outside peeling off, the garden with its extremely high lawn dirty with leaves thrown over it since last fall, dead plants and flowers everywhere and the appearance of the house itself sad and gray. You had to do something about it, since Bruce hasn't done it in two whole years.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, the clock now reads 7:19 in the morning. You finish running the roller full of paint up to the top of the back wall of the house, not even needing a ladder because you're so fit. In an hour you've managed to paint the whole house and now you're going to rip down the wooden fences and put up new, clean ones.

“Y/n! What are you doing? It's so early and it's roasting hot out there!” You hear a familiar feline voice and drop the paint roller on top of the empty can.

You step away from the can and container and wipe the excessive sweat from your chest, your skin was probably all sunburnt, exposed to the bare torso and shapely legs on display. Natasha is at the door, dressed in a red sweater. Holy shit. You turn your face away, feeling deeply warmed, and run your paint-smeared hands over your face, clad only in baggy shorts and barefoot.

“I'm painting the house, Natasha.” You answer simply and matter-of-factly, watching out of the corner of your eye as she puts a thin blouse over it, certainly embarrassed.

“At 7 in the morning! You must be dying of heat! Have you applied sunscreen?” She asks, approaching quickly.

You missed the maternal concern and affection, but considering the current situation, it was totally inappropriate.

“We didn't use sun cream during our time in the army. Especially during patrols on the patio with direct contact with the sun, or anywhere else where it was necessary. They simply didn't hand out sunscreen to us.” You say and shrug, discarding the empty tin and the rest of the used items.

“That's horrible, you could get serious burns!” She replies and puts her hand to her head, making you laugh. "I'll be back in a minute."

Natasha leaves and you wash your hands in a sink at the back of the house, removing as much of the gooey paint as you can and wetting your head and chest to try and cool off. As soon as you've finished, you go down to the basement and get a box full of new fences that haven't even been used before. First you get the rest of the tools and put everything in the garden, then you get a lawnmower, which luckily isn't rusty.

You push the lawnmower as soon as the blades shoot out, starting to cut the grass quickly. Your hands are steady and nimbly, you're finishing off the first row of grass. Pressing the button on the side of the mower, you snort and sigh deeply, resting your hands on your waist.

“I'm going to melt like this, my Lord.” You say to yourself with a laugh.

Going round to the back, you find a sack and a shovel and start gathering up all that grass and throwing it into the sack. It could be useful or reusable at some point.

“Hey you! All right, take a break from that and come and eat properly.” Natasha appears as soon as you've collected all the grass in the sack and walks over to you gently.

She's now wearing a black tank top, which emphasises her perfectly marked collarbone and her pale neck, which is as delicate as any detail can be. On her legs are a pair of denim shorts, neither short nor baggy, but you can still see how her shapely thighs look so perfectly...thick in them. And she looks so natural, nothing forced, just there, for you, carrying a plate with a cut sandwich, a glass of juice and a bottle of water. I mean, your father was lucky but he was an idiot, why on earth would he deserve someone like that?

“Natasha, really, you didn't have to do that. I don't want you to bother with me.” You say, feeling your face very red, from the sun - and from a certain effect it has on you - and sweaty.

“I'm not bothered at all. I'm not going to let you die of dehydration in this heat, it must be 30 degrees or more!” She exclaims and you carefully pick up the plate, cautiously dropping the other equipment. “Wait, open your arms a little, don't let go of the plate please.”

You frown and open your arms, pushing the plate as far away from your torso and body as you can. Natasha approaches you, taking a plastic bottle from the pocket of her shorts and opens the lid, pouring some kind of cream onto her fingers. You stare at the words written in blue and white, trying to decipher the smudges, and your jaw drops in disbelief. It was sun cream.

“Natasha, look, it's okay, I've got used to the sun-” you say, but it's too late.

The woman is smearing sunscreen on your face, and you're so red that even under the sunscreen, you can see how flushed and hot you look. Oh, shit.

“The sun doesn't get used to any of us, though. Once when I was half your age, I went to a beach in Miami, Florida, with my parents and some friends. I slathered sunscreen all over my body except my buttocks and um... I definitely couldn't sit up straight for a week after that, the burns weren't kind to me and it wasn't the sun's fault.” She laughs lightly, gently rubbing the sun cream into her cheeks and forehead.

The heat in your cheeks spreads even more violently and you gently bite your lower lip, something that Natasha notices and strangely makes her legs wobble. I wonder what else makes her unable to sit down for a whole week. Fucking stop it, you cut off your thoughts before they spread, but they're dirty all the same.

“That must have been hard.” You answer, and your voice slowly begins to die.

What is she doing now, my Lord?

Natasha finishes spreading the sunscreen on your face and neck, her fingers still smeared with protector trailing down the start of your chest. Your skin is burning, but that's not what fascinates her, it's the hard, burly, extremely rock-hard flesh of your pectorals, covered in a very thin, sparse line of hair. She gasps as discreetly as she can, trying her best not to grab his every muscle and touch and squeeze. In fact, she knows now that you look like more than a wall, it's as if you were made completely of muscle and only a little 'skin' covering everything.

Romanoff's hand slides to the end of your chest on the right side, and she doesn't even know what she's doing, for her, she's just spreading the rest of the sunscreen on her fingers. But you feel it, you feel her grip, her electrifying, mundane, specific touch, as if she wanted to scratch every part of your skin as well as touch it, as if she wanted to do everything you could imagine there.

“I'm sorry.” She says, swallowing dry and trying to swallow her own shame as well.

But she still feels your warmth. She feels your minty fresh breath, pleasant and peaceful, she feels how affected you were by a single touch of her delicate, soft hand. You want more and maybe she knows it, but that's wrong, it's inappropriate.

“You can leave the sunscreen somewhere, I'll put more on after I've cut everything here.” You say and she nods quickly, hugging her own body.

“This is going to be a lot of work.” She says and you nod, taking a bite and moaning slightly.

The sandwich is a spicy mix of tomato, toasted wholemeal bread, smoked turkey breast, mayonnaise, a little mustard, bean sprouts, cheese and a spicy dressing. As well as being kind, intelligent, seductive, completely attractive, the woman cooks like hell, what more could Bruce want? Absolutely nothing.

“Fuck, this is fucking divine, the work will be worth it. Thank you so much.” You thank her without knowing what else to say, the scouse accent making Natasha wince.

She had time to notice your accent and your voice as soon as she arrived with Steve at the residence yesterday. She, however, had no idea that you were British or anything. Not least because all Bruce ever really said about you were the most unpleasant compliments in the form of criticisms. He proved to be a good father to other people, but it was different with you. You could see why.

“No need to thank me, really. I hope you didn't forget your sunscreen.” She says, raising an eyebrow as she tries to look serious and you laugh. “Sure, no problem.”

Your bites are precise and hungry, and you can tell that a single apple an hour ago would never have satisfied you. You finish eating, drink all the pineapple juice and hand it all to Natasha, taking the sunscreen again and spreading it on your fingers, your hands flying across your sweaty pecs, ribs and abs. Natasha walks away towards the house, her gaze lingering on you several times.

She's a married woman. Married to your father. That's not right, it's far from it.

But just taking a look is okay, right?

You hurry, organize everything and start up the machine again, cutting another row of grass. Then another, another, until you've finished with all that tall grass that could end up with some animal hiding there. You put all the grass in two sacks and put them in the corner of the garden, then you start to remove and tear down the old, dirty and soft wooden fences, which are practically falling apart.

After marking out the right height for the fences with lines and stakes, you make a quick calculation and grab a spade, digging the holes where the picket panels will be. It takes about some hours, between quick breaks, your feet are dirty with dirt and now your body is really bathed in sweat, but after lining up the pickets, checking that they're all in the same vertical position, digging non-stop and cleaning dirt off your grass, everything looks perfect. You even do a quick and precise finish, and smile when you see that your work has turned out perfectly.

“Great. I just need to replant the plants soon.” You whisper, feeling tired.

After putting away all the equipment, cleaning up all the grass and briefly painting the fences, you walk away and enter the house, dripping with sweat from head to toe. You wipe your feet on the carpet, imagining that Natasha is the kind of woman who will freak out if you get dirt all over the house and yell at you for hours. Now, however, she's sitting in the living room, with Derek by her side as she appears to help him with his homework.

“Looks like I'm late.” You smile, adjusting the black cap on your head and her gaze quickly falls on you.

She has to control herself, she has to. She's in front of a child.

But it's inevitable.

Bruce would probably show off if he looked like that too, but he's got the typical 40-something dad-beer-belly physique. You, on the other hand... you're majestic, even though you're completely sweaty and give off the classic manly odor of a man who does everything for his family, your muscles being highlighted by sticky sweat, probably swollen from working outside the house. She is silently awestruck, the heat rushes through the blood in her cheeks and her thighs rub together painfully.

“Y/n! Nat said you were painting the whole house.” Derek jumps up, running to hug your legs and you wave.

“I just went to give this house a new look, it was looking sloppy and abandoned. I painted it, put up new fences and now it looks decent, all that's missing is a few details on the inside. And you, big boy, go back to Aunt Nat and do your homework.” You kiss his forehead and the boy runs back to the woman.

“Aren't you hungry? It's practically lunchtime.” Natasha starts talking, looking tense.

“Maybe I'm a bit too hungry, but I need to take a shower and get rid of that skunk smell. Where's Bruce?” You cross your arms, looking around the house for your old father.

“He's gone out to sort out 'work matters', he said he'll be back in the afternoon. You can take your shower, when I've finished here I'll make you something to eat.” She says, smiling gently and you sigh.

You're definitely not used to this motherly treatment. You've always looked after yourself, but Derek first, and Bruce second. You always prioritized family, but that didn't mean you were at ease with Natasha doing it all for you. After all, you've never had anyone really care like that. Natasha seemed to want to take care of you like a newborn baby and that seemed strange, but you didn't want to give her so much trouble. You could look after yourself, so why worry so much?

You didn't want to be so close to her either. You were afraid of what might happen when you were alone, because that sexual tension was evident, it was dry and eager. She looked at you the way you looked at her, with silent desires that even without emitting sound, understanding, could be understood just by looking at you, by searching for you.

The warm water falls over your body, relaxing every tense muscle from your back to your exhausted chest. You lean your forehead against the wall and relax for a moment, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of relaxation and calm.

“Fuck.” You whisper softly, feeling a wave of warmth hit your body.

No. No dirty thoughts about an older woman. The problem wasn't that she was older, it was that she was your stepmother.

The foam-filled sponge glides over your stiff, tense body, your eyes closing as you imagine... Natasha on her knees, or lowered to the floor, or bent over with her face buried in the pillow as she smiles at you. A grunt leaves your lips and the blood rushes violently to your semi-hard member.

“Jesus, no.” You say, washing yourself and running some shampoo through your slightly overgrown hair, wiping away all that sweat.

After taking a few more minutes in the shower to get rid of a possible erection, you wash your face and leave the bathroom, drying yourself with the first towel you find there. You're still hot, but you have to control yourself. You want to take her right now, admit it. Your head shakes and you climb the stairs to your room with the towel around your waist, hoping you've been unnoticed, and enter the room, drying yourself quickly.

Passing through the open door, you put on sports shorts and boxer shorts underneath, quickly finishing drying your hair while putting on a tight compression T-shirt. Just wearing it makes you realize how much you've really grown physically.

“Hey, it's time to take Derek to school.” Natasha says as you walk down the stairs with running shoes in your hands.

“Sure, I can do that without any problems, my dad didn't use the car to go out today. Are you coming?” You ask, trying to understand the blush on her cheeks.

“I'd love to. I'm just going to finish tidying him up.” She smiles tensely, and you see your brother waving frantically as Natasha changes his clothes.

Derek then turns around, his hair combed back like his mother used to do with hers, the backpack a little bigger than him slung over his back and wearing a simple blue shirt and shorts, the sneakers identical to yours. Well, Natasha really was a good stepmother. You just couldn't see her the way you were seeing her, because that was incorrect and dirty, but it was almost inevitable.

“Ready?” You lick your lips and the two of you nod quickly. “Good, let's go.”

The road is quiet, peaceful. Natasha tells you where Derek goes to school because he was transferred not long ago and you drive along calmly, listening to them chatting about random, common things. Your hands turn the steering wheel skillfully, and through the rearview mirror you feel Natasha's gaze on you, although you can't say why.

The car stops and you park it in a wide parking lot, turning off the engine and taking off your seat belt. Stepping around the car, you help Derek out of his seatbelt and open the door for Natasha, who looks ecstatic about something but climbs down next to your brother, stroking his hair.

“Professor Carter!” Derek says, and runs out to a female figure standing a few meters away near a silver golf.

Natasha closes the door, giving you a grateful look, and the two of you approach the scene gingerly. Derek is hugging an older woman, she wears a long dress just below her knees in a wine color and her hair is straight blonde and well aligned, her brown eyes surprisingly calm, welcoming the boy and leaning down to hug him back. She... She's familiar to you.

“Hey, pretty boy, how are you? Natasha, good morning. Oh.” She greets the redhead and then looks at you, a surprised look filling her face.

More than a few years ago, you and Sharon Carter had a little fling together. You grew up together and had a lot in common. Steve introduced you to her at a party when you were 16 and she was 19. She's not that much older than you, and that didn't seem to be a problem, until Sharon said she'd fallen in love with you. And indeed, Sharon has fallen in love with you.

But you were the classic bad boy who liked to drive without a license, who spent the early hours of the morning away from home because your father constantly found any reason to fight with you, to complain about you as if it hadn't been his choice to have a son. You weren't the typical nice guy Sharon needed, like Steve for example, and you didn't know if you were in love with her, but you two had sex often, and that made her even more attached to you.

When you disappeared with the simple warning that you were going to serve in the army and didn't know if you'd be back any time soon, Sharon was disappointed. She wanted to spend time with you more than anything, but you had gone to serve your country and she had a career ahead of her, which she chose to become a teacher even though she wanted to be a psychologist. She liked you, she really did, but sometimes you acted like a bomb about to explode, just like Bruce did.

“Surprised to see me? Yeah, I knew you were going to become a teacher, Sharon. You always knew how to get along with children.” You say and squeeze Sharon's hand with a gentle but firm touch, which she blushes at before replying.

“I thought you were going to spend even more time in the army, Y/n. It seems to have done you a lot of good.” She says, biting her lip discreetly and smiling.

Natasha crosses her arms, an impassive expression on her face. She can already completely tell that the two of you know each other, that's for sure, but for some reason, the way Sharon looks at you and acts towards you makes Romanoff feel a big pang of discomfort in his stomach.

“Teacher, I have to show you my new drawings!” Derek says excitedly, hugging the woman tighter by the legs.

“Of course, darling, I'll look at them all, okay?” She says, running her hand over his bangs. “I thought Bruce was coming today.”

“You know how he is, always 'sorting out work stuff. Thanks for taking such good care of him, Sharon.” A minimalist smile curves your lips without showing your teeth and Sharon nods.

“No need to thank me, apart from being my job, it's a pleasure to look after this little one. We should have a coffee together one day, perhaps.” She says and makes you sigh, grabbing the car keys and giving Derek a kiss on the forehead.

“Yeah, maybe one day. Good morning, have fun, we'll be going for now, see you soon.” You nod and she agrees, expecting more from you, but turns and walks into the school with the boy.

As soon as you get into the car, put the key in the ignition and adjust the windows, Natasha gets in. Her face is slightly twisted with frustration, perhaps? That, and a hint of discontent. It looks like someone has stepped on her toes, but why?

“So, you and the teacher...” She says calmly, although her eyes seem distant and indifferent to you.

“What?” You turn the wheel, steering the car out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

“There seems to be something between you.” She replies and you laugh awkwardly, shaking your head.

“There's nothing between us.” You say and look at her out of the corner of your eye, Natasha's face turned completely towards you.

“She made it sound like there was, you know.” She shrugged, seeming not to want to bother you with the subject.

“Steve and I have known her since we were teenagers. Teenage parties, drinking, drugs, you know. Sharon was a fling of mine. If I can call it that.” Your voice answers quietly and you look at Natasha discreetly.

"Well, she doesn't seem to have forgotten you. You know how it is, when a woman loves, she's willing to do anything to make up for lost time, but it doesn't just depend on her." She says relaxed, still trying not to let her jealous face overflow.

“Sharon isn't in love with me. At least I don't think so. Even if she was, I'm not what she's looking for.” You say and on the one hand, Natasha reassures herself.

“And what is she looking for?” Romanoff looks at you from the passenger seat.

Her lips are pressed together, her breathing seems slightly unregulated. She's frustrated, yes. She's jealous, yes. She hated the way Sharon looked at you as if you were a toy she could ride on top of. Absolutely. Yes. But why should your stepmother be jealous of you? That was wrong, immoral, maybe a bit problematic, she'd only just met you anyway. It made your skin hot, but the hairs on the back of your neck were rising and your fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the road before your eyes.

“What most women are looking for, I believe. A protective, self-assured, confident man. She wants a man who is one hundred percent there for her at all times. I didn't learn to be like that.” You brake at a red light and buckle up, your head resting against the seat.

“Don't you think she's the right woman?” Romanoff swallows, trying her best not to sound intrusive.

If anyone else were asking you these questions, it would be a different story. But her, she brought you comfort. She was...good. She was a good woman, as Steve assumed.

“I'm not in love with her, Natasha, even if she was right, what good would it do?” You look at her, and she nods quietly.

You've never found someone who makes your heart soar as if you were in one of those cheesy movie clichés, who makes time stand still around you, who makes you feel like the luckiest man in the world. No, you've never experienced any of that. You've only had nighttime adventures with older girls or even girls your own age, adventures with kissing, sex without commitment and conversations thrown away to be remembered. You never knew what love was.

And the only person who could teach you that was right there beside you, annoyed for some reason at the possibility of you falling in love with someone other than her.

“All right.” That was the only answer Natasha gave you, watching the car pull into the driveway of your house.

When you got in – and there was still a certain murderous silence in the air – you just took off your shoes, sat down on the sofa and picked up the remote control, looking for a live American soccer program, trying to distract yourself. Natasha went into the kitchen to do something, and the door creaked open a few minutes after you arrived, revealing Bruce's early arrival. He looked at you, but overcome by pride, said nothing and passed through to the kitchen.

“Hi, darling. How was work?” Natasha's distant voice said to him, who caught her kissing him, answering disconnectedly. “It was business as usual. I've never waited so long to get home and have my wife all to myself.”

You rolled your eyes, lay back on the sofa and turned up the volume slightly, watching two American league teams fight for a title. For some unusual reason, the sound of wet kissing bothered you deeply. You shook your head and tried to focus on the match, then you heard footsteps approaching the room and Natasha's warm hand touched your shoulder, making you turn almost instantly.

“Hey, do you want something to eat?” She asked, her lips slightly swollen and her face flushed.

You'd love to see her like that, but you'd love it even more to have that effect on her.

“No, thanks, Natasha. I'm going to take a nap, you can relax.” You replied and she nodded, smiling slowly before heading up the stairs, Bruce right behind her.

Your head pressed into the pillow and you let out a short curse, feeling uncomfortable and disgusted by the situation. It was your father's house too, but you were still there. Anyway, you forced yourself to sleep and it worked, your eyes became heavy and you completely relaxed your muscles against the not-so-spacious sofa, knowing that you would wake up with a sore neck as soon as you woke up.

“Fuck.” You cursed, rubbing your tired eyes.

The house was the same, but the afternoon was beginning to fade, making it clear that it would soon be dark. You grabbed the black clock on the table, seeing that it read 5:48 in the afternoon. There was still an hour or so before Derek would be released from school, so you were relieved to see that you weren't late to pick him up.

“What?” You sat groggily on the sofa, listening to a lot of noise coming from upstairs.

There were sounds coming from upstairs, and at first you thought there was something wrong there, since you were still groggy from sleep and tired. But gradually you noticed. The creaking of Bruce's bed, the loud sounds of skin hitting skin, of the headboard hitting the wall. They were having sex.

“Fuck, holy shit.” You say, completely lost in disgust and cover your head with your hands. “This can't be serious.”

But you could still hear it. It completely disturbed you. But it was also wrong, being jealous of your stepmother when she's married to your father. It's not as if Natasha hadn't been upset with Sharon about you too.

But she was married, you weren't. Still, that seemed contrary to morality.

“Fuck.” You cursed to yourself, getting out of there and going to the kitchen.

There was a case of beer in the fridge. You hated looking like your father, because whenever something bothered you or upset you, you always drank too, but not like him, he was worse. You grabbed two bottles and opened the caps with your teeth, spitting them into the trash can. Five minutes passed, and you emptied half the bottle of beer, lying on the sofa when Natasha came downstairs.

Your head turns subtly in the direction of the stairs and there she is, walking down the steps like an art exhibition that could never be bought. A misunderstood muse. Yet not something that could be conquered, but touched, felt. A woman, with a deceptive young girl's face, with an older woman's mature soul with gifts you could never guess. Married to your arsehole of a father. He didn't deserve her, that much was clear, but what could you do, if not mourn in the corners of the house, silently wishing this woman was yours?

Her skin was pale, although tanned by her own sweat. Her impeccable red hair was now dishevelled and out of order, falling in light waves to her shoulders. Her body, which could reveal to you many dangerous curves and paths to the most silent sin, was covered in a long black dressing gown, and you could see that she was wearing a baggy T-shirt that wasn't hers on her body. Her lips were swollen, dry. You could see a glimpse of her shapely legs, and wow, what legs. Although you knew exactly what she and your father were doing up there, she didn't look pleased. Her eyes looked confused, troubled, even sweaty, she was unhappy. And how could she not be unhappy with Bruce Banner?

But you couldn't look away. She was so well preserved, my goodness.

“I'm sorry, Y/n, I thought you were still asleep. I didn't want to appear like this, I must look like an unnatural stepmother.” She laughs, and it's so natural that you want to hear that sound more often.

“Yeah, well, I just had a nap anyway. It seems my father didn't take care of his work properly. I heard it, without meaning to, but I heard it.” You say, and as soon as you realise what you've said, you swallow bitterly.

Natasha looks at you deeply, she doesn't feel offended. But embarrassed? To the extreme. Bruce doesn't even look after the house, imagine if he could handle wife when they're in bed? He was an arrogant arsehole – and sometimes you were a bit arrogant yourself – but he was terrible at a lot of things. That made him a complete failure.

“Y/n. I wish you wouldn't comment on my sex life with your father.” She says, and she's not blunt, but firm and offhand, even.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to.” You reply calmly but you want to say much more to her.

Yeah, if I had you, you'd really moan, Natasha. In fact, you wouldn't even be walking unless your legs were completely weak and you wouldn't even be thinking. That would be having a real man.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you grab it, seeing messages from Steve inviting you out for a drink at a newly opened bar. It didn't sound too bad. And you weren't going to stand there listening to your incredibly hot stepmother having sex with your slacker father who didn't even know how to treat a woman. You answer Steve quickly and grab a camouflage jacket, put it on over your shirt and change your shorts for trousers and shoes before heading back down to the living room.

“I'm going for a walk with Steve, we're going to a pub with an old high school crowd. When I get back, I'll probably bring Derek from school. So don't worry, I'll take care of everything.” You say and walk across the room, but Natasha holds your arm.

“Hey, don't drink too much. You're driving and you're bringing your brother, Y/n.” She says, her green eyes clouded with worry.

“I won't. You can relax.” You whisper firmly, and the smell of her sweat hits you.

It's something like vanilla, but at the same time mixed with a specific sweet, fruity flavour. Delicious. She's delicious. Even when sweaty, her scent remains impeccable, and you've noticed it ever since you first saw her. You see a slight bite mark on her neck and you want to touch it, but something bothers your stomach, because you know it's not you who's caused it. And you can't. Natasha sighs, she knows you're so close that just by looking at you she could stop breathing, because you're like a masterpiece hidden deep inside her genius mind.

“I get it. You take care.” You say, forcing yourself to get away from her before you do something thoughtless.

Natasha regrets your departure. She wants you to stay, but it's your choice and you want to be with your old friends, it's your right, so she just watches you walk out the door. Your words are still jumbled and struggling in her mind. Bruce really wouldn't know how to satisfy her. But what about you? How deep could you go for her?

The place is cosy like being in an old cottage in the middle of a field away from everything, but it's a pub nonetheless. A pub, with the appearance of a pub, of course. With lots of chairs and tables spread out in an orderly fashion, with decorative signs with drink brands, with people laughing and exchanging small talk with each other, with a woman carrying more mugs of frothy beer than you can count. The smell is pleasant, a mixture of burning wood and live alcohol seeping through the walls, as well as jazz and blues playing in the background. Now that should be a lifestyle. You stick your hands in your pockets and catch up with Steve, who is chatting distractedly to Private Wilson, none other than Maria Hill and James Barnes, a school friend who has disappeared from your sight to go live with his parents in Germany.

Maria was a great friend of yours and Steve's, and he even told you that she liked you a lot, but you only saw her as a sister, something that annoyed her, but she would never push it.

“Hey, look who's here! When Steve said you looked like a wall, I couldn't believe it, I had to come and see for myself.” Barnes laughs and hugs you, patting you on the back. “And you look great, mate, if you were blonde you'd be considered a German citizen straight away.”

“You're impossible.” Maria laughs and hugs you too, as tightly as if she hadn't seen you for years, which was true.

The five of you get lost in conversations between the past and the present. Maria, who was a classmate at the school where you and Rogers studied, had completed her studies and was studying law for some time, something she was very proud of. Barnes, who was now living in Germany but took time out to see old friends, had opened a workshop in Stuttgart, one of the country's most influential industrial cities. Wilson was certainly in the army, as you already knew, but according to him, he planned to finish another year of service and open a carpentry shop to honour his late father's memory. Even Steve was planning to leave the army, he said he'd like to become a 'police chief', which didn't sound too bad. You, on the other hand, weren't even sure what to do.

All you knew was that you wanted your own car, to move out of your grumpy father's house and find a place of your own, even if it wasn't in the city centre.

But you would still happily visit Derek as often as you could.

“Hey, baby! Why don't you come round and give us a bit of attention? Let's have some fun!” A bald guy with yellow teeth exclaimed from the table a few metres away from yours on the left.

This guy was with two other men at his table, one of them had spiky hair and wore dark glasses, the other had gel-slicked hair and blue glasses. They were all wearing jackets and dark clothes, with helmets on the floor under the table where they were standing. They all looked fucking weird, though, and were already staring at Maria in a completely uncomfortable and sexual way that was putting you off. She paid no attention for the first few minutes, of course, trying not to care, but they were becoming increasingly unbearable to put up with.

“Hey, mate, stay cool. She's with us.” Steve said, noticing your shoulders tense with nervousness.

He didn't want to risk it, he knew you had a certain problem with anger but Steve was a man of order and hated arguments unless he felt it was 'necessary'. You, on the other side, had already downed three shots of straight whisky and were ready to blow the ugly faces off those ogre bikers.

“And who said I asked you anything, hero hair?” The frizzy-haired guy asked and stood up, passing behind Sam and subtly squeezing Maria's shoulders, who was startled. “Could you please take your hands off me?”

"You don't like it, do you?" He laughed and approached her.

You practically jumped out of your chair, using both hands to push the man's chest, who staggered backwards with your violent force and almost fell to the floor. He growled a dry laugh and approached you again, punching you in the air as you nimbly sidestepped him. Your group laughed and whistled in your direction, making him even angrier, and you drove your fist straight into his nose, hearing something break and fresh blood splatter on your skin.

“She said to let go of her.” You grunted, hardly caring about the pain.

“What the fuck, man!” One of them shouted and you felt the thud of something glass against your face. “Y/n!”

You punched the same man and kicked him in the stomach, hearing a loud grunt of pain, blood staining the refinished wooden floor. The second man approached and you head-butted him hard, feeling his blood splatter on your forehead and nose. The bald man pushed you, making you stumble with a bleeding part of your face, noticing that he had smashed a fucking glass bottle over your head. Fortunately, there was a single deep cut on your eyebrow going halfway down your pale cheek. He nearly blinded you. Steve pushed him hard and kicked him in the stomach, and you elbowed the third man who approached you in the face.

“That's enough! Out of my pub, NOW!” A middle-aged man with a full moustache said and Steve and the others pulled you out.

“Bloody hell, mate, you nearly fucked your face up for that! That was insanely crazy!” Barnes shouted, trying to analyse your bruise.

“It's okay, it's just a bit of blood.” You sighed heavily.

“What were you thinking! Jesus, Banner, you could have hurt yourself badly or something worse!” Maria grabbed your shoulders, visibly worried.

“Exactly! We need to take care of this.” Steve pointed to your bruised face.

“I wasn't going to let that disgusting worm harass you, Hill.” You whispered furiously, your fists shaking.

“And I didn't want you to get hurt because of me, Banner! God, you're so impulsive.” She shook her head.

“All right, Hill, I'll take care of it from here. Don't worry.” Rogers touched her shoulder and Maria nodded nimbly.

“Wilson, Barnes and I were thinking of going to a party a few blocks from here, are you coming? It's a friend's birthday.” She asked, brushing a lock of her fringe out of her face.

“I can't right now, I have to pick Derek up from school. I hope you have a good time, though.” You say and pull her into a tight hug, which she returns.

“And I'll be keeping an eye on this tough guy. Good night, take care, gentlemen and...lady.” Steve says goodbye to them and you look at him out of the corner of your eye. “Don't give me that look, you know I won't let you drive alone in this state.”

And Steve does. He drives to school as soon as you've said goodbye to the rest of the group, looking at you every five minutes as if you might jump out of the car if you had a mental breakdown. You were still bleeding, no matter how hard you tried to stop the bleeding, the cut had left a wide scar on your eyebrow sliding in a crooked loop to the beginning of your right cheek. It stung like hell, even, and there might have been a few shards stuck in there, but you'd convinced yourself to put up with as much pain as possible and Steve not to drag you to the nearest hospital.

“Stevie! Y/n!” Derek ran towards you both, hugging you and jumping into your arms.

“Hey, little brother.” You ruffled his hair, hearing voices all over the car park, parents gathering with their children and kids everywhere.

“What happened to your face?” The boy held your chin, his black eyes wide.

“Well, what can we say, mate? Your big brother took on a bad guy to protect a friend of ours and ended up with a war wound.” Steve smiled, crossing his arms as he looked directly at you.

“Hey, that's an honourable act. Let's just say it's what separates the men from the boys.” You shrugged, opening the passenger door for your brother and sitting him down, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

“In other words, he's a tough guy.” Steve laughed briefly, getting into the car and you patted Derek on the shoulder. “And we say...”

“We should always protect and look after women, sir.” The boy said before you could even think and you nodded positively, sitting down next to him and pulling on your seatbelt as Steve started to drive. “That's my boy.”

The journey home is a bit hectic. Derek tells you and Steve that the girl he's supposedly tremendously in love with, Emilly, has taken a liking to a guy who certainly loves to pick on him. She also seems to be ignoring him. You and Steve try your best to comfort the boy, who is quiet for a few minutes only until you mention that Natasha must be preparing something for him to eat when he arrives. The boy jumps out of the car as soon as you park it and helps him with his seatbelt, and you joke about it with Steve as you approach the house after locking the car.

“You're here, baby! How was class?” You hear Natasha's voice from inside and sigh.

The first thing that unfortunately crosses your mind is that she literally fucked your father while you were awake listening to everything.

But it's okay, because apparently Bruce didn't get the job done, but he should be calmer now.

“It was great, Nat! Emily kicked my arse, but it's okay because Stevie told me I'm a big guy who deserves better things and now I'm starving. Look at that, Y/n's got a new war scar!” He exclaims, pointing at you as you enter the room.

Natasha is now wearing neutral-coloured baggy trousers, a striped T-shirt and slippers that you've never seen before, but which make her even more adorable considering the situation. Her red hair is tied up in a messy bun and a few strands fall across her face, making her look completely and fucking ten times hotter than before. But no, you shouldn't see your stepmother like that, mate.

“What? My God, Y/n! What's happened?” Natasha moves away from the cooker where she was standing and switches off the fire, running over to you.

“Natasha, it's no big deal, just-” You try to explain yourself, but Romanoff is quicker.

“Oh, God. What's wrong? I told you not to drink, especially as you had to bring Derek back home! Say something, how did this happen?” She exclaims, practically on the verge of collapse.

You almost laugh at the situation, because you find the way she cares for you subtle and kind, but your smile falters when Natasha is so close that her breath brushes your face. Her fingers are on your jaw, some run over your ears, and you smell her, feel how close she is now, and her touch is simply the icing on the cake. It lights you up.

“It was just a silly bar fight, Natasha, it's fine. Steve and I were with some friends, Maria, our friend, was being bothered by some weirdos and I had to take action.” You explain, swallowing.

“And by that he means: he took on three men practically on his own and got his head bashed in. That's why he's bleeding.” Steve commented, not looking threatened by your fatal stare.

“Jesus Christ. You've got to be out of your mind, you should be in hospital right now! Hang on, I'll take care of it.” Natasha said, moving away to rummage through the cupboard drawers.

Just then, Bruce appeared, coming down the stairs. He had his glasses in his eyes, his hair crumpled and dishevelled, a crooked posture and a grumpy, grey look in his eyes. He didn't look very friendly for someone who'd had sex this afternoon. Well, it's not as if he's the type who knows how to leave a woman satisfied. It seemed to make sense.

“Leave the boy alone, Natasha, he can look after himself, he's practically a grown man.” He said and she replied. “No, he's bleeding, he won't know how to look after himself.”

“You're stubborn, just go and serve the dishes and stop voicing your opinion-” Bruce said rudely, but she cut him off.

“Shut up, Bruce. Sit down. I'll take care of Y/n's wound first.” She practically grunted, bringing with her a first aid kit.

Bruce looked static, probably furious that his wife had hit him for the first time, but he went to sit down at the table and remained silent.

“Natasha-” You sighed, feeling her sit you down in the living room armchair and shake her head.

“No Natasha, Y/n. You're hurt, the least I can do is clean it up and hope it gets a bit better, but if you were in hospital, you'd probably need a few stitches.” She shakes her head, opening the small suitcase. “And that's going to hurt a bit.”

You close your eyes and shake your head subtly, trying to ignore the way her breath was practically in your face and judging that her full breasts were so prominent inside her striped shirt, she was probably without a bra. Fuck, don't look over there, kid. Natasha takes a piece of gauze, her hands already clean and sanitised, and presses it gently on the cut, trying her best to stop the bleeding without hurting you.

“You know, I was a nurse when I was about your age. For a few years. I served in the army in Manhattan. I was good at what I did, but I didn't think it was for me.” She whispered softly, her eyes fixed on every part of your face.

“Can't stand the smell of blood?” You asked rhetorically.

“Not just the smell. I don't like seeing the consequences caused on the body of a man who is trying to defend his country. I didn't have the stomach for it.” She swallowed dryly and you nodded softly.

“What do you do now?” The question escapes her mouth faster than she realises and Natasha pulls out the bloodstained cotton wool, fiddling absent-mindedly with the case.

“I make cakes, sweets in general, it's been a long time since I married your father. I was unemployed anyway, so as I'm almost obsessed with baking, I put one thing together and that's what happened.” She replied, bending down to wipe the dried blood from her brow.

“Do you make them and have your own shop or?..” You stared at her.

“No, well, I cook them and prepare everything myself. Young Thor, from next door, delivers them on his bicycle, and I pay him accordingly. He's a great kid.” She says simply.

Your jaw clenches, the fingers of your hand squeezing the seat cushion indiscreetly. Annoyed? Certainly. But why? She's your stepmother, she's married and well-off, even though she has your idiot father for a spouse. Apart from that, you shouldn't be jealous of her.

“Got it.” Your eyes flash dangerously and Natasha suddenly blushes, looking away.

“I'll put a saline solution over the cut to make sure it's cleaner. Then I'll cover it with gauze, but please make sure you go and see the doctor, Y/n, I don't want you to get an infection or anything.” She asks and you nod.

Romanoff leans over and with a new piece of damp cotton wool, she dabs it over his still open cut with the utmost caution, cleaning the area as best she can. A grunt comes out of your mouth as the wound burns all over, the blood running cold through your veins. Natasha notices and pulls her hand away slightly, feeling your gaze on her.

“It's all right. Take a deep breath.” She says and you do as she says, your chest rising and falling.

She moves closer again, and feels your hand on her wrist, which makes her breathing increase slightly, intimidated by you. But you follow her every move, and she cleans the wound as much as she can, pulling away when she's finished. With a clean towel, she carefully dries around the wound and takes a piece of gauze, making a few improvised cuts because of the angle of your wound. She quickly covers the area and sticks the cotton fabric there, making sure it sticks well but also doesn't cover or obscure your vision.

“Thank you. That wasn't necessary.” You say, your heavy accent making Natasha's legs tremble discreetly.

“It was necessary. And please don't get into any more fights if you want to kill me and your father with worry.” She says, and her hand accidentally brushes against your broad shoulder.

“I'm sure he doesn't mind, but I really appreciate it, Natasha.” A crooked smile curves her lips.

“I care about you.” She says simply.

Natasha's gaze on you is surreal. Everything about this woman is surreal, her eyes, her voice, her completely gentle and naturally full demeanour. Fuck, she should be unwanted here, but you're starting to completely ignore the very rules you've built behind the wall you're hiding behind, because deep down, you want this woman in every way possible. It doesn't matter if she's your stepmother, or a forbidden woman.

“Aren't you coming round for dinner?” Natasha smiled softly, a bite on the lower lip being enough to end your evening.

[not-so-hidden-one]

Assassin's Creed Valhalla: Fog & Dust

I love it when it gets all misty and witchy

[everettswritings]

this is a bit of a strange tkl request, so it’s perfectly fine if you don’t wanna do it! this is just kind of out of pure curiosity…/gen

[ler!golden cheese, lee!licorice]

I don’t know- I just think the fact that licorice is a necromancer combined with golden cheese’s unfortunate situation would make for an interesting dynamic between the two, and I’m curious to see what can be done…

again, it’s weird and unconventional, so don’t feel pressured to do it! take care of yourself and welcome back!

This request was definitely a hot minute ago, but I’ve been dying to get to it. I also find the thought of them interacting interesting, plus it’s kinda silly and that’s how I love my things. Silly. Goofy. Absolutely nonsensical. (Kink/NSFW accounts DNI!)

Well wasn’t this a predicament? None other than Licorice Cookie was standing before the Golden Sovereign herself. She requested a necromancer, so the cheesebirds did the only natural thing they could think of and… uh… “acquired” one. It was a compliment, sure, to be considered good enough for a mission of this importance. However, it didn’t erase that he served Dark Enchantress Cookie and she despised that woman.

“This was the best you could do? Bringing me a servant of Dark Enchantress Cookie?” Golden Cheese Cookie asked, her arms crossed over her chest as she addressed the cheesebird.

“W-We couldn’t find anyone else, Your Radiance. Chirp!” The cheesebird replied “As far as we chezbirdz are aware, he’s the only necromancer in the game. Chirp, chirp.”

“In the what?”

“Do not worry about it, Your Radiance. Chirp.”

Licorice Cookie was standing by awkwardly, feeling like he was a child seated in front of his arguing parents again. He waited for Golden Cheese Cookie to address him, and sort of hoped that she would just say “forget it” and let him go. Wait. No! He is good at his craft, this kidnapping was a blessing in disguise! Finally, someone would see his talents! But he couldn’t act desperate in front of Golden Cheese Cookie. No, no, that wouldn’t do. He’ll have to carry himself with a little extra pomp this time around.

As if on queue, the radiant Queen turned her attention to him. “So, can you do it?” She asked, her eyes flicked up and down his raggedy robes skeptically.

“I can!” Licorice Cookie proudly exclaimed, “However! I ask for a very steep price and-“, before he could finish his sentence, Golden Cheese Cookie tossed down a few solid golden coin onto the table. “I can pay it, whatever it may be.” She said, feeling a bit smug. “Your Soul Jam?” He offered, a Cheshire grin on his face, “Nice try.” The Queen said back. Licorice Cookie snapped his fingers with mock defeat “Then I guess I can’t do it-“ as he tried to walk away, Golden Cheese Cookie grabbed onto the hood of his robe and pulled him back, she put a few more coins on the table and a necklace of the highest quality. “I didn’t say you could leave! Look, we can drop our differences for now. Please, I need my kingdom- my treasures- back.” She pleaded, her voice choking up and trying to crack.

Licorice Cookie hummed, but really the sight had tugged on his heartstrings. The thing about only meeting someone in battle is that you never learn about them, only their weapon. For all you know, the soldier you’re dueling with could have a family eagerly awaiting his return or a dying relative he’s desperately trying to care for. “Okay… Maybe I’ll do it.” He finally conceded, cursing himself for caving into the hero’s demands, all because she looked sad.

“I’m not taking ‘maybe’ for an answer!” Golden Cheese Cookie huffed “C’mon, do your thing!” She started putting down more hold on the table, in seconds it was already covered with many a sparkly treasures. Necklaces and earrings, bracelets and anklets, coins and bars, goblets and the rest of the works. Licorice Cookie’s eyes widened, he had never seen so many riches before! In fact, he couldn’t even visualize what this all would’ve looked like for most of his life. Heck, it was still hard to believe what he was seeing!

Swallowing, trying to push down anything that suggested he was poor and-or needed the wealth, Licorice Cookie nodded. “Fine, I’ll get to work on it. But maybe not right now, maybe later.” He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. Golden Cheese Cookie always despised the word “maybe” more than anything. If she wanted something, the only answer she should hear is a resounding “yes”!

“Fine, have it your way!” She scoffed, then immediately wrapped her wings around the sorcerer, “If I can’t pay you to do it, I’ll make you do it!”. Before Licorice Cookie could object, he felt quick hands with sharp nails digging into his sides. He couldn’t even try to suppress the giggles that erupted as soon as he felt the contact. “BWAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! N-Nooo!! Stahp!” He laughed, trying to wriggle away desperately. The radiant queen’s wings joined in on the fun as well, the shiny golden feathers were brushing up underneath his chin and right along his ears, making him laugh more shrilly. “EEK! HAHAHAHA!” He snorted between laughs “HAHAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHA!” He couldn’t even get a single word out anymore!

Licorice Cookie squealed again as Golden Cheese Cookie started raking her nails up and down his bony little ribs. He was smiling so wide that his cheeks were hurting already. “NAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! HAHAHA!” He just kept laughing and laughing in the sovereign’s grasp. Golden Cheese Cookie chuckled as well “Will you do my bidding now?”, Licorice Cookie stubbornly shook his head, “Oh really? Then I guess I’ll just have to tickle you more!” She grinned and doubled down on her efforts, purposefully moving her wings to brush and rub against him more.

Somehow, his laughter grew even louder! Now his gray cheeks were flushed with a pinkish-purple color as he snorted between every other giggle that poured from his mouth like a waterfall. Golden Cheese Cookie shook her head, her smile growing more fond than teasing, “You remind me of a certain subject of mine. He and I would always butt heads day in, day out! But he was quite ticklish, just like you.” She paused, her hands slowing down to a stop, “His neck was his worst spot. I wonder if the same applies to you?”. Licorice Cookie gasped and tried to break free, but he was being held in place by her strong arms, “N-No! There’s no need for that! Please!” He begged, but she already had her mind set.

With a deep breath, her head came crashing down onto the crook of Licorice Cookie’s neck with a loud “PBBBBTTT!”! Licorice Cookie squealed like a shrill little piglet, “EEEEEHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! HAHAHA! OKAHAHAY!” He finally caved in and Golden Cheese Cookie let go. He embarrassingly fell down to the ground, heaving to catch his breath. “I-I’ll do it… I’ll try.” He conceded, sighing with defeat. At least the gold would still be on the table. “Aww, really?” Golden Cheese Cookie pouted “I just noticed how you’re barefoot-“ she reached down for him, but he immediately crawled away. “NO NEED FOR THAT!” His voice cracked, he then cleared his throat and tried to speak more professionally, “I’ll g-get to it. Just no more tickling, yeah?”.

Golden Cheese Cookie grinned “We’ll see, but no promises!”.

She felt a pant of deja vu when she said that. It was quite a familiar line. Probably because she said it many a times whenever that one subject of hers asked her to stop tickling him so much. Well, she couldn’t help it, darn it! It was so easy to grow greedy for another’s laughter, as there’s never another sound like it.

The end

Yippee! I did a request! Golden Cheese is such a fun ler to write, I love her. I need to be wrecked by her. But yeah, that’s it. Thanks for all the patience, folks, and all the messages about how you’re glad I survived SAT day. It was no easy feat, but hopefully my efforts will bear some fruits! Only time will tell because they take forever to get the scores out. That’s all, have a good one 🫶

[macabr3-barbi3]

Alastor x Reader who has temperamental issues and decides to throw something at him which leads to him fucking the tantrum out of her.

well shit, I’m fucking obsessed with this idea lmao to the top of the adhd queue it went! I tried to keep it a little more bite sized, sometimes the plot does get away from me lol

As usual the ending is rushed once the smut is over but I hope this works with what you were looking for 🖤

Tags: light bondage; vaginal sex; just a tad bit of begging

Everyone else in the hotel knew it was easiest to just give you your way when you were pissy; except Alastor apparently. You came home after a rough day to spot him in the kitchen with the last chamomile teabag in his steaming mug; you asked him to trade for something else so you could have what was currently steeping in his ‘Oh Deer’ cup, so you could sleep.

“You don’t need it to sleep; really all that one needs to sleep is a bed and silence! You have your own bedroom and everyone else is asleep so I think you’ll be perfectly fine.” 

Some childish part of you decided that the best course of action upon his refusal would be to throw your own empty mug directly at his head in retaliation.

The sickening crack you heard almost made you think you had hit your mark- but no, that was just his fucking neck snapping as he cocked his head far enough to the side to avoid the ceramic projectile. The mug shattered harmlessly on the floor and Alastor turned to look at you, his eyes black, red dials in place of pupils. “Surely you can’t be so foolish,” he had growled, and the kitchen faded into darkness as he transported you to his bedroom.

How exactly that led to where you were now- hands suspended above you by shadows, Alastor’s claws digging ridges into the flesh of your hips while he bounced you on his thick cock- was a bit beyond you at the moment. You were overwhelmed with the feeling of it, the sensation of his hardness inside you, the smell of his sweat and your arousal combining into some olfactory aphrodisiac that served to hurtle you closer to the edge of orgasm than you had been since dying.

“Have you remembered yet, darling?” Alastor’s eyes are lidded, cast low enough to watch your pussy swallowing him. “What do we say when we want something?”

Ahh, that’s what it was. Reintroducing the concept of manners, he had said, though he failed to mention that he would be fucking it into you. You had honestly thought he was going to kill you, shadow tentacles wrapped around your wrists, his eyes dark and dangerous until he noticed the embarrassed flush to your cheeks, the subtle dilation of your pupils and sharp intake of breath when he trailed his claws down the bare skin of your arms. “Perhaps there’s a better way to get the idea across, hm?”

“P- please,” you whisper, your voice strained.

“Mmm, and when we do get what we want?” He accompanies this with a hard thrust, and your head drops forward with a moan, gaze captivated by the flex of his stomach muscles while he grinds up into you, his shirt discarded when you had climbed onto the bed.

“Oh, fuck- thank you.” 

His smile is pleased. “Lovely, chérie. You know, I’ve kept that cup of tea nice and hot on your desk over there- I could be persuaded to part with it if you can be polite.”

He thought you still wanted the tea? “Don’t care,” you gasp out. “Just- fuck me.”

His hips still, hands leaving your waist to fold behind his head, the picture of casual patience, like his prick wasn’t twitching inside you. “That’s not how we ask, dear- whether it’s for tea for pleasure.”

“God damn- please, Alastor.” You can’t stop the roll of your eyes as you try to grind down, the shadows around your wrist pulling you up at the last moment to prevent you from gaining any of the delicious friction you were seeking. 

“I think you can do better. Keep in mind that I’m being merciful, darling- I’ve killed greater demons for lesser crimes than trying to crack my skull open, you know. I’ve certainly never rewarded whining and demands in such a way before.” He reaches a clawed finger out, trails it down your neck and between the mounds of your breasts, continuing down your frame until he reaches the sensitive juncture between your thighs. The hard press against your clit has you groaning and trying to press down, only to be stopped by the grip of his shadows still on your wrists. “Once more- try for some sincerity this time!”

“Fuck- please, Alastor.” You make it as saccharine and earnest as you can, and you’re rewarded with being lowered back down onto the Radio Demon’s cock, slow and sweet. The pleads fall from your lips unbidden then, his hands coming back to your hips and pace picking up with every repetition; “please please please, oh God, fuck, Alastor-”

“Beautiful, dear,” he says, and he guides you over the peak with a gentle finger to your sensitive clit and an angle of his hips, driving into you with a frantic fierceness that has you wishing you could dig your nails into the flesh of his chest to ride it out. 

Like he can hear the thought, the shadows on your wrists release and you fall forward and sink your fingers in the way that you want to. You want to demand that he finish, that he follow you over the edge, but this whole thing started because of you demanding something from him, and pitching a fit (and a mug) when he didn’t comply. You could take his lesson to heart- show him just how effective a method of teaching it was.

“Please,” you moan in his ear, and his fingers tense against your skin. “Cum for me, I want it- I’ll ask nicely, Al, please?”

He groans against your neck, dragging your hips down into his and grinding up against you, the clench of your body pulling him into the abyss along with you.

There’s a moment of quiet filled only with the sounds of your panting before Alastor clears his throat. “So, darling, what have we learned?”

You sigh, still irritated at the reprimanding but satisfied with how it turned out- your eyelids are dropping shut. “Mind my manners, I suppose.”

Alastor hums into your hair. “That’s right. Now, the offer does still stand for the tea- what do you think?”

“I don’t have the necessary equipment or angle to throw a cup so I guess I’ll be polite. Can I please have the last cup of chamomile?” Despite the request your mind is fuzzy, eyes harder to keep open.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, and you hear the gentle clatter of ceramic on your nightstand. “I did tell you that you didn’t need the tea to sleep, darling.” The soft vibrations of his voice are the last thing you hear before dropping off into blissful rest.

[another-lost-mc]

a/n: inspired by this ask and the others that have flooded my inbox since. rofl. I might tinker with these a bit more. a nsfw version might be coming later, maybe? we'll see.

➤ shadow-walking with mc | the demons + solomon

1.9k words | gn!reader | sfw | descriptions of canon-typical violence

Shadow-walking requires the demon and human to have a pact. MC is a rare human that shares this ability with all the demon brothers.

Solomon shares this ability with Barbatos and Asmodeus but rarely uses it.

It's normally used as an offensive or defensive ability as needed.

The demon brothers re-purpose it as a way of still "being" with MC and spending time with them even when they can't physically.

The demon and their human master share a telepathic bond that lets them communicate through thoughts and emotions. This allows them to "speak" to each other.

Only one demon can share MC's shadow which means there's usually a queue of demons waiting for their chance to sneak in next.

None of the demon brothers believe they need a formal system to decide who gets to spend time shadow-walking with MC because that's just embarrassing to admit. It ends up being a first-come first-serve free-for-all unless they negotiate some sort of agreement in advance (which usually involves threats or bribes).

Belphegor spends the most time in MC's shadow—his subconscious is constantly trying to gain access even when he's asleep.

Only powerful demons can sense when MC is shadow-walking with another demon if their shadow form hasn't manifested yet. This would catch arrogant lesser-demons completely by surprise if they think MC is a lonely, vulnerable target.

When the demon's shadow form "awakens," MC's shadow changes to the shape of whichever demon is shadow-walking with them at that time. This usually happens when the demon senses something is wrong or MC is troubled; it gives them more access to MC's surroundings so they can detect danger more easily.

Shadow-walking's final form is a corporeal version of the shadow come to life. It manifests as a dark, muted visage of whichever demon is present. They are generally not capable of regular speech and rarely make noise or sounds at all.

The shadow forms are capable of offensive and defensive magical abilities, and some may even fight with conjured weapons. They all have increased agility/reflexes and enhanced strength.

Shadow forms are able to communicate telepathically with Little Ds that share their sin attribute. Little Ds can also be controlled as offensive minions in MC's defense.

The demon brothers have limited control over their shadow forms. The shadows function on instinct fueled by emotion and their natural desire to protect their precious human master at all costs.

MC can use direct commands or pact magic spells to temporarily block the demon brothers from entering their shadow. This prevents any unwanted interruptions if MC is doing someone something private, or if MC simply wants to be alone.

LUCIFER

Lucifer sometimes shadow-walks with MC as an alternative to stringing up his brothers when he's frustrated.

He also shadow-walks with MC when he's working in his study or relaxing with a glass of Demonus by the fireplace. Their link allows MC to hear whatever cursed record he's listening to without succumbing to any of the negative side effects.

Shadow Form manifestation: appears in a gust of wind behind a flurry of black feathers. He hovers off the ground behind MC. Even though the shadow forms are dark and generally void of colour, his eyes and gloves are still noticeably red.

Shadow Form offensive and defensive abilities: In addition to enhanced physical combat abilities, he is capable of telekinetic control of objects. His shadow form's wings can also block MC like a shield and the feathers can slice through most materials including demon flesh.

MAMMON

Sometimes he claims he does it when he's bored or it's "his turn to babysit MC" but really, he does it because he misses them.

If MC goes to the club or casino without him, he's usually lurking in their shadow instead. MC's luck is amplified when Mammon is in their shadow, but he can't replicate that same good luck in-person which frustrates him to no end.

Shadow Form manifestation: He spawns in a pool at MC's feet and then sprints past whatever is bothering MC. The threat turns around and sees Mammon's shadow, crouched low and grinning with his fangs on display before he pounces.

Shadow Form offensive and defensive abilities: Capable of flight and is the most agile of all his brothers in this form. He normally uses hand-to-hand combat to overwhelm whoever or whatever is threatening MC. He can summon a protective barrier around MC that reflects spells/physical blows back at the attacker.

LEVIATHAN

He gets very jealous of the others when he has to wait to shadow-walk with MC.

Sometimes he'll keep gaming when he shadow-walks, but most of the time he goes to his bathtub so he can focus all of his attention on MC instead. He's more confident communicating with MC this way. He's less awkward and more outgoing, especially when he can sense how happy MC is too.

Shadow Form manifestation: His shadow ripples like inky black water before he emerges. His silhouette almost looks like a naga until he steps forward and his tail uncoils itself from around his body.

Shadow Form offensive and defensive abilities: He uses shadow-infused water magic. He can summon a defensive water shield around MC to absorb any magical or physical blows. His tail is strong enough to wrap around and crush the body of most weaker demons. If the threats are too strong or if he's particularly angry, he can summon Lotan whose immense power is enhanced with shadow magic. (He's never had to do this because he knows it should be used as a last resort—the collateral damage would be catastrophic.)

SATAN

Shadow-walking is one of the easiest ways for him to calm down.

When they shadow-walk together, they talk about school or books or movies or their other shared interests—it's like walking for a casual stroll together, but with extra steps.

Shadow Form manifestation: He crawls out of the shadow, and his sharp claws leave visible marks on the ground. The wispy shape of his feathered boa and his tail curling around his body makes him look bestial and menacing.

Shadow Form offensive and defensive abilities: His teeth and nails are longer and sharper. He attacks brutally with uncontained fury and his opponents are often left in bloody, mangled messes by the time he's ensured MC's safety. His shadow form is capable of distorted growling noises when angry or purring noises when content.

ASMODEUS

His motivations for shadow-walking are to spend quality time with MC but he's also extremely protective of them. He gets worried when he can't be there with MC directly.

He likes to shadow-walk with MC when he's having a spa night or when he's out shopping. He sends MC visual images of things he's doing or clothes he's trying on so he can get their feedback. He will purposefully block out any images of things he buys for MC so he can surprise them with gifts later.

Shadow Form manifestation: The first thing you notice before his shadow appears is a soft, condescending chuckle. It's distorted and deeper, like an old audio recording. A pair of shadowy hands curl over MC's shoulders—or around their waist—as he slowly wraps his arms around them from behind. He pulls MC against his chest and hooks his chin over their shoulder, eyes flaring and mouth widening in deadly amusement while he assesses the threat.

Shadow Form offensive and defensive abilities: His wings are stronger and capable of flight easier in this form. He uses shadow-infused charm magic that tortures his enemies with pain and batters away at their mental defenses. Sometimes he prefers a personal touch and conjures a pair of poison-tipped daggers to eviscerate anything that dares to harm his MC.

BEELZEBUB

He feels bad that fights literally break out over access to MC's shadow so he tries not to be greedy for MC's sake. Belphie will usually give up some of his "shadow time" so Beel can have that time with MC too without feeling guilty about it.

He likes shadow-walking with MC when they're out shopping or doing other errands. He can boost MC's strength so that it's easier for them to carry things that might ordinarily be too heavy on their own.

Shadow Form manifestation: His shadow form is a blur that launches itself from the ground into the sky. His wings flutter rapidly against his back while he assesses the threat. When he goes in for the attack, he's like a comet plummeting to the ground.

Shadow Form offensive and defensive abilities: His wings are constantly buzzing and he can use shadow-infused wind magic to attack enemies or create protective barriers around MC. If he enters a rampage, he prefers to attack with his bare hands and teeth—his and Satan's shadow forms are the most gruesome to witness. (Satan doesn't usually eat his victims, though.)

BELPHEGOR

He would camp in MC's shadow forever if he could. Even when he's sleeping, his subconscious is still capable of communicating with MC but he uses raw emotion and abstract images rather than telepathic speech in that situation.

Shadow Form manifestation: His shadow grabs onto MC's clothes while he climbs up their body and pulls himself off the ground. He nuzzles into MC's neck or shoulder while he yawns and flicks his tail in annoyance.

Shadow Form offensive and defensive abilities: He can attack threats personally if he needs to, but usually he's too lazy. He drapes himself over MC's shoulder and wraps his tail around them protectively while he summons the Dark Specter of Despair and lets that do the work for him.

DIAVOLO

He's inspired by the bonds MC shares with the demon brothers but he's also regretful that he doesn't have a pact with them too.

He's able to expel the demon brother in MC's shadow with his own power, but usually they know better than to try and intrude on MC's visits with Diavolo out of respect.

BARBATOS

He can shadow-walk with Solomon but rarely chooses to do so. However, he shadow-walks with Solomon if he knows the sorcerer and MC are together. (Sometimes he and Asmo fight over Solomon's shadow if another demon brother is in MC's.)

Shadow Form offensive and defensive abilities: he mostly ignores Solomon and lets the wizard take care of himself; he focuses on protecting MC instead. He can use time-altering shadow magic to freeze or slow enemies. He can also teleport MC directly to his physical body's location out of harm's way.

MEPHISTOPHELES

He doesn't have a pact with MC and he swears he will never have a pact with MC (and will never ever want one, ever). However, he still feels prickly when he senses MC is shadow-walking with one of the demon brothers. He doesn't insult MC as much, but he does insult Lucifer loudly and with even more colourful language than usual. Most of Lucifer's brothers think this is hilarious.

SOLOMON

Most of the corporeal shadow demons are surprisingly hostile towards Solomon for no apparent reason. He finds it odd that they always appear whenever he's trying to cook something for MC. The shadow forms that are more tolerable of him are Asmo, Barbatos, and to a lesser degree, Satan.

Solomon doesn't get many opportunities to shadow-walk with his pact demons so he finds it fascinating to watch, but none of them will tolerate his experiments. He's also jealous that he doesn't get to spend much time alone with MC because one of the demons is usually lurking within MC's shadow.

[muffinsin]

hello muffin! in case you don't see this until later: happy halloween!! I hope that, amidst writing and other blog-related activities, you have a great holiday and enjoy some spooky festivities!

I was wondering: how do you think the sisters would react to their significant others having pierced nipples?

Please and thank you!!

Did I move this to the front of the editing queue? I might have…! XP

Hey hon! :) Happy-late Halloween! XP Does it still count? I think it might!🎃 Awhh, thank you, hon! I had a fun time🙌 how was y’all’s Halloween, if y’all do anything fun?

My, my, as of now I can already say they’d be quite thrilled…let’s get into it though, shall we?

Masterlists

Bela

While Bela finds your nipples cute without the piercings, she can’t deny the feeling she gets when looking at them

She isn’t a fan of too much or too big piercings

She likes them delicate, almost like subtle pieces of jewelry

Elegant

She likes little silver rings a lot

When wearing them, you can be sure she will hold you down, her skilled tongue working around your nipples and flicking them and the rings a little

She rather sees it as decoration, a piece of art

Her favorite colors are silver and red, and occasionally golden piercings for your nipples

She doesn’t like anything too dark or too big

Her favorite, though, is a set of red nipple piercings in the shape of red jewels at either side of the nipple

She loves to add more red to it, occasionally bite at your chest and lick it back up

Never too much, just enough for your body to match the red of the gems

Her red

The first time she sees your pierced nipples, she’s reasonably surprised

It’s incredibly rare to see one with such…accessories…at the castle, or the village either, really

You’re rare, intriguing

Of course, she’s curious too

She drags her tongue over them and likes to play with your breasts until she figures out just what grants her which reaction

She loves to see you squirm and writhe on the bed below her

Pinned by her, licked

Caressed

Your body hers to explore

Your breasts sucked and groped, your nipples played with

When sporting the metallic rings she likes, she might bite and gently tug your nipples by them

Likely, she will leave you sore, but she’ll take good care of you after

Bela very much so enjoys sucking your breasts, too, and dragging her tongue across whatever piercing you have in at the moment

Like with earrings, she’ll personally ensure you have a variety to choose from, some selected by her, others by yourself

And when you undress, it always serves as a nice surprise to her to see which you’ve picked out

Cassandra

Cassandra loves nipple piercings for various reasons

Of course, as a sadist, she likes the thought of using them to torture you

At many points has she begged you already

Please, oh please, allow her to pierce your breasts and privates, too! Your nose, ears, lip, whatever you like!

She wants to see you squirm!

She wants it so bad

And really, if you do allow her to add some more piercings, she’ll do an amazing job

Often, she tends to put specific piercings on your nipples

Light rings, connected by a light chain she loves to tug at times

Never too hard, just enough for you to fear and squeal for her

Never enough to tear through the little buds

Only ever enough to add more pressure

If she could, she’d have nipple piercings herself, really, as well as a clit one

Sadly, her body is far too quick to regenerate to properly allow this

At times she could keep you tied to the bed for hours

She’d tug your nipples and lick across them, kiss you and run her razor sharp nails across your sides

With every pull of your nipple piercings she gets hungrier, her pupils dilating, her mouth watering

Occasionally, she’ll bite into your breasts, just around the piercing

And she’ll eagerly lick the blood away, moaning and sucking at your breast

She’d lick across the piercing, dip her tongue into the wounds she’s caused

And lastly, she finds it thrilling to put a little larger ones on you

She loves to rock your body, to get a strap and use it on you

To watch them bounce with your breasts with every move into you

The first time she sees them, when she practically tore your shirt off, she’s taken by surprise

So beautiful, so perfect

So delicious

You’re sure she’s ready to eat you alive

And she might just be

Instead, she grabs your breasts and licks your nipples, her strong tongue rolling over your piercings

So eager, so hungry…

Daniela

Daniela loves nipple piercings!

Multiple times she’s tried to have one of her own, squirming and whining and crying out when her nipple got pierced

Her excitement when she got to sport a piercing too, though!

And, far too soon, her annoyance and frustration when she had to take it out for her body to heal the small “wound” left by the needle

How frustrating!

You, however, don’t share these struggles

The first time she finds out about your nipple piercings is, funnily enough, when she kisses you and gets a little too excited

Reaching up with her hands, her lips gently moving against yours, her fingers suddenly flinch back when she feels something odd under your shirt, just where your nipples are

You giggle at her shocked, surprised reaction

She’s adorable, really

And when you eventually pull up your shirt and let her see, you can see her eyes go wide

She lowers her head immediately, lapping at your pierced nipples with kitten-like licks

Still, she does so, almost every time she gets near your chest

She loves to suck your nipples and to feel the piercing under her tongue

At times, you help her pierce her nipples again, despite how they never stick for more than a few hours until she needs to remove it again

She squirms adorably beneath you as you do, whimpering, gasping, whining in pain

But, when her pierced nipples rub up against yours, it usually ends with her orgasming harder than ever before

She likes to try matching sets in those times

At other times, she likes to buy you piercings to match your underwear or any toy of hers

She thinks it’s cute

[shoyostar]

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( 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 ❣︎ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 )

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fireworks brazil!shoyo.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 4

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

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

Part of The Club AU

You check yourself in the mirror. The black bob isn’t a bad look. You tilt your head back and forth making the sleek strands wiggles back and forth. The sunglasses complete the look and you ponder overhauling your usual style. You look dangerous.

You resist scratching under the wig and give yourself a smile. You look almost devilish in the get up but you can’t chance being recognised on your mission. No, this is very important. This is revenge. Served tepid.

You sneak out the backdoor and check your phone. You have another message from your new friend. She texted you earlier that she had a new cell already. You hang onto yours like gold, you’re not really sure what you would do if you lost it. Probably turn to the primitive lifestyle.

‘I’m headed to the club, meet you at the cafe.’

‘Sure thing, 🐔💸’ You text.

She texts back a simple question mark.

‘Chicken wing’ you clarify and smack your forehead. You’re such a dweeb. You follow up quickly; I’ll be there.

You head downtown, catching a bus halfway and tossing the transfer. You could use the walk as your nerves are starting to flurry. You approach the cafe and see your friend. She wears a denim skirt and an off-the-shoulder red shirt. Her shoes are the same shade as her top. She looks towards you then the other way, not acknowledging your approach.

You near and give a short ‘psst’. She whips around and sneers in your direction before blanching and saying your name.

“Like it?” You pull down your sunglasses. “I feel like Sandy from Grease. Well, more like Rizzo.”

“Uh, sure, why are you dressed like that?”

“Oh, I didn’t want that guy to recognize me so I figure I could sneak in like this.”

“Ah,” she nods and lets out a sigh, “right. Well, try going to the other one when they card ya.”

“That works too. You’re so clever.”

“Thanks,” she says dully, “come on.”

You give a bounce and follow her down the street. She marches on, set on her path as you skip to keep up. She’s a lot more graceful in her heels. And angry. You worry about Cole, he might not be ready for what she has in store.

“Hopefully that jackass is there but those types usually don’t have anything else going on,” she snarls as if reading your mind.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You make sure you point him out when you see him. And don’t get to close, I’ll take care of him. No drinks, either. Let’s not take that chance.”

“Sounds like a plan. Well, kind of.”

“Don’t worry, I can slip this guy something. Don’t you worry. Men are stupid, he gets distracted by his next mark and I’ll strike first,” she turns the corner and you flutter along with her, joining the queue outside the club.

“You’re so brave,” you admire.

“No, I’m pissed,” she insists as she crosses her arms, slowly shifting with the line.

You peek out around the bodies. You see that man, Auggy. He’s scowling at an ID. You watch him and his eyes flick up as if he can sense you. You recoil quickly and put your chin down.

“Hey, be cool,” your friend touches your elbow, “busy tonight, you just gotta blend in.”

“Mmm, yeah,” you murmur, “I just… I don’t know what I did. I was nice–”

“He’s an old grump,” she scoffs, “who cares how he feels.”

You approach the front of the line and make sure to veer towards the other bouncer, the one with the pudgy belly. He barely looks at your card as he waves you inside. The two of you enter to the buzz of the crowd and blare of speakers. 

“Now, we hunt,” she says, “keep your phone on you. You get close to him, let me know. Oh, and take a picture if you can.”

“Right, uh…”

“I’ll get upstairs, you stay down here,” she directs, “we’ll meet back up in half an hour if we can’t find him.”

“Sure.”

“Look, I got you. Anyone gives you trouble, text me. And give em a punch like I showed you.”

You put your fist up and pat your elbow as you reenact the brief lesson she gave you earlier. She smiles and squeezes your arm.

“Good,” she praises, “now, let’s do this.”

She turns and struts off. You admire her from afar. She’s so cool. And she likes you, you think. She’s a lot nicer than Amanda or Kam. You frown and spin around, looking around at the dancing figures and the bar shining at the far end of the room.

Where to begin…

You twiddle your fingers and give a huff. You have to get in the mindset. The grindset. The findset. Find him. Hmm, you’re not great with faces…

You go to take a step forward and you're suddenly hauled back by your arm. You yipe. No one around you reacts as you’re slammed against the wall, a shadow towering over you. You look up as your sunglasses are torn away and a light is shone in your face. The bouncer lets out a gravelly growl as the small bulb of the flashlight glares in your eyes.

“I knew it was you,” he grits.

“Oh, hi, Auggy!” You chime, “how are you?”

“Don’t act like you fucking know me,” he clicks off the light and leans down until your encased in the blackness of his silhouette. “You don’t want to know me.”